Chase's Anatomy : Chapter 1
Annabeth Chase . . .
~Nooks & Books; a cozy cafe, New York City, New York, U.S.A.~
I tapped my foot patiently as I waited for the line to progress. The smell of coffee wafted in the air as the baristas danced around behind the counter, pouring steaming hot coffee into paper cups and swirling whipped cream on top, fulfilling their customer's orders.
The cafe that I was in was quite popular to native New Yorkers, but tourists would barely give this place a second glance.
I am grateful for that because, 1) it then isn't as crowded as Starbucks or Dunkin' Donuts, but, 2) those people don't know what they are missing out on.
The cafe was just so welcoming and homey. The aroma it gave off was dreamily pleasant.
The cafe was also a small library and diner. The shelves were tall and lined up neatly, filled to the brink with books. Tables and couches were spotted everywhere. Retro booths dominated a secluded corner that led down into a hallway and, eventually, into the diner.
There was even a second story, an indoor balcony, above the counter where the drinks were made.
I was in absolute paradise.
The architecture was breathtaking, too. Arches and domes made up of the ceilings, expertly painted of a cloudy sky. It felt like another country, right in the middle of the hectic bustle of New York City. This place was gorgeous.
I felt my phone ring from the inside of my blazer's pocket. Pulling it out, I frowned at the caller's name.
"Good morning, Jason," I sang, into the phone.
"Hello, Annabeth," He replied, briskly. "I have some bad news."
I sighed solemnly. My shoulders dropped and I crossed my arms across my chest tightly.
"Don't you always."
"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry, but you know how this bastard works. His legal team are ruthless pigs as well."
Jason Grace, one of my closest colleagues from university. We met because we were both students studying abroad at Oxford. But while I studied medicine, Jason studied law.
His girlfriend, soon-to-be fiance, was also my best friend, and an English model, Piper McLean.
"I don't even understand why this would be such a difficult case," I argued, annoyed of the pesky situation that I am in. "All of the evidence points out that Luke is a stalker, which by the way is illegal, remember? Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act of 1994?"
My arms waved around as I ranted, some people around me threw concerned or disdainful looks. I rolled my eyes, human nature and their confusing manners.
"Yes, Annabeth," Jason said, I could hear his teeth grit. He was just a frustrated as I was. "I know, but things always get personal in court. They are going to show pictures of what you modeled, and then be like, 'Oh yeah, I can see why she got stalked'. The patriarchy sucks. There are men believe that the female psychique is meant for them - the overall male population -, idiots. And, with the way how society constantly judge the female anatomy, ever demanding and negatively - never fucking satisfied -, people cannot help but make this personal. Either way, no one is not not-offended, one side has to submit to the other; the sacrifice of pride."
In med school, I was a part-time model, courtesy of Piper McLean. Unfortunately, though, I became significantly popular (sorry if that made me sound like a stuck-up bitch).
I didn't want to model as a career. I was on my way of becoming a surgeon, for god's sake! I just wanted to pay off my college debts and live a comfortable college life.
But, during my residency years at Johns Hopkins Hospital, though, I noticed that I was being stalked by Luke Castellan, who is some creepy barista at my go-to cafe. So, I called up Jason who helped me file a restraining order that would be effective (and because I was too busy). But then things got so out-of-hand, that right after I finished residency, I moved to New York. (Johns Hopkins is in Maryland)
I stayed with Piper for a while, who moved to New York with Jason after he finished law school. But since the place that they live in was a little inconvenient for my work, I now share at a penthouse that was closer to Goode Hospital, with a roommate. I haven't even met her yet or seen the place, my stuff was still at Piper's.
"I hear you Jason," I sighed, biting back a rant. "I'll call you back after work, k? I'm in line right now. Thanks for the update though. You and Piper are helping me move my stuff out tonight, by the way."
"Yup, we gotcha," he replied, a little distant. Probably thinking of ways to humiliate Luke's team of lawyers in court, after we win the case, of course.
"And no problem Annie, don't worry we will win this case." He hung up before I can scold him for calling me Annie.
I was almost to the cash register, so I took a step forward and felt steaming hot coffee spill down on my blouse.
Really? Today of all days the universe could hate me, why did they chose today?
No bothering to look up at the person I ran into, I grabbed some napkins from a nearby table and vainly tried to pat off the stains from the coffee, off of my white blouse. My hair fell over my shoulder, creating a curtain between me and reality, even though it was kind of hard to ignore.
"God, I am so sorry" a man said hurriedly, a masculine and tuneful voice; the perfect voice for a man to have (not too deep and not too high, just right), in my opinion. But, it was also, the voice of the prick whose eyes don't fucking work and spilled coffee all over me.
"I am late for a meeting, so here's my card; contact me and I will take care of it." He handed me a crisp business card and rushed off.
I pucker my lips in distaste.
Fuck my life.
Now I can't present myself at the meeting the way I wanted to. I will have to change into surgical scrubs and introduce myself as any other surgeon, not a professional Chief.
Great.
I shoved the card into my bag not bothering to look at it, and stepped up to the cashier, I was next.
"A cup of black coffee, please," I smiled at the girl, probably a college student. "And a croissant: heated. Thank you."
"That would be six dollars, ma'am"
I fished the money out of my purse and handed it to her. Separately, I gave a twenty dollar bill as a tip: obviously for not mentioning my ruined, now see-through, blouse.
"Thank you," she said, a little confused, with a bright smile.
After I got my coffee and croissant, I left the cafe with my blazer and coat pulled tightly around me. The wet blouse pressed against my skin, wet and cold, I shivered and winced.
Ugh.
I walked down the street, about four blocks, to where Goode Hospital was located.
Today is my first day as an Attending there. Chief of Neurosurgery. Amazing isn't it?
~Goode Hospital, New York City, New York, U.S.A~
I strolled through the entrance of the emergency room of Goode Hospital, taking bites off of my croissant and delicate sips of my coffee.
I admired the modern architecture of the hospital, whoever designed this place knew what they were doing. It wasn't like down-played modern, like all of those other hospitals. It was filled with natural light from all of the big open windows. And the geometric allusion was amazing.
Overall, the hospital's main shape was a large "hexagon", with eight levels total.
There are two sublevels, that are each a full flooring under all of the buildings, and all of the odd numbered floors were one complete floor. Basically, think of the hospital like a large, completed, jenga tower; taking the shape of a hexagon (with the exception some add on "buildings").
You can tell which floor is which, because all of the odd numbered floors had an exterior of concrete with classic contemporary windows; perfectly framed with glossy steel beams that were spaced apart evenly. The even levels to stood out because they were entirely made of glass with steel beams to support the building.
The hospital itself was simply modern and admirable; surreal.
Obviously, every advance in technology and an immense amount of money was used to create this glorious sanatorium. It was the height of perfection.
Half-way through the emergency room, I collided with something hard, again. This time, it was my coffee that spilled all over me.
Are you fucking serious? Twice? Really? Twice?!
"So sorry," a man frantically muttered, his voice sounded vaguely familiar. "I'm late for a meeting, but I promise that I will take care of this, somehow." And he ran off. He didn't even look at me.
Is that how New Yorkers act all the time in an accident? Apologize, give an excuse, and then run off?
Oh Annabeth, check out the back view, though.
I stared at the retreating figure, who ran into the elevator, just before it shut closed. He was tall. At least 6'2 feet tall, long legs, and an athletic and lean figure. I caught a sight of the butt; cute, toned, and all, before the doctor coat flashed in front of it. He had this mop of messy, raven hair, as if he had just rolled out of bed.
I wished I had seen the front side, cause damn. . . he's hot.
I need to get laid.
I arrived in the Attendings' lounge, which was empty, and started to fill my cubby. A new lab coat was nestled snugly in the center of the cubby, folded neatly and looked freshly pressed. 'Dr. Annabeth L. Chase, M.D., Surgery of Neurology' was embroidered onto the left side of the coat, above the breast-pocket. Placed in a slot inside the main compartment of my cubby, was my badge. I held it up and examined it. Printed boldly, under my photo, name, degree, and specified practice of medicine, was 'Chief of Neurosurgery of Goode Hospital'.
That was a good picture, I thought, smiling proudly. Good label, too.
I placed my bag inside the cubby and pulled out my scrubs.
"Time to change," I muttered.
The uniformed attending scrubs at this hospital looked better than the one at John Hopkins and the material felt more comfortable, too. They were navy blue, v-neck, soft, and flexible. Whereas the scrubs issued at John-Hopkins were scratchy and a murky green.
I slid off my trench coat and blazer, and pulled my blouse over my head.
"Dr. Solace? Are you in here?"
A resident entered the room. Abruptly stopping when he saw how indecent I was. I covered my chest with my blouse.
"This is an Attending lounge," I said pointedly, my eyes glared at him.
He had obsidian hair and dark brown eyes. He was also only about 5'7, a little taller than me, 5'6.
"Uh, yeah, sorry," he stuttered, his eyes averting to the floor. "Don't worry though; I'm gay."
I rolled my eyes. I didn't care about his sexuality, I just wanted to change, alone.
You should've just change in the bathroom, I thought to myself. Or lock the damn door, oh well.
"I'm Nico Di Angelo, a senior resident here at Goode Hospital," he announced. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets awkwardly.
I set down my blouse, and grabbed a few wet wipes in my bag, and patted down at my chest. It was still sticky from all of the coffee that was dumped on me earlier.
Pulling the scrub shirt over my head, I replied, "Annabeth Chase, first day here at Goode. I'm, obviously- given that I am in the Attendings' Lounge, an Attending"
"Really, an Attending?" he said, astonished. "Aren't you that model, who's, like, only 25?"
I nodded. I am younger than most interns. People usually start interning at age 26, but since I skipped two grades in middle school and crammed all of the first-four-years of college during high school and summer, I end up being younger than other Attendings by almost five years.
And for the 'model' thing, my reputation precedes me.
Nico muttered something to himself.
"What was that?" I asked. Sliding off my heeled ankle boots and jeans, and yanking on the scrub pants.
"Oh, nothing."
"You were looking for someone?" I asked while slipping my feet into black converse and started tying the laces.
"Yeah, um, Dr. Will Solace," he answered. "But since he isn't here, I'm just gonna go."
"Nice meeting you, but I gotta go do rounds." With that he spun around and marched away. Head in the clouds and mumbling to himself.
I shook my head. Humans, they are so weird. Standing up from the bench, I walked over the the other side of the lounge and poured myself a cup of black coffee.
'Black, just like our souls' Thalia would say. I wonder what she's doing now?
After Thalia graduated from med school (one year after I met her), she applied for internship at a military base somewhere- I can't remember- and finished her residency there as well. The only contact I've had with her was through Jason and some calls. She said that she is now a trauma, attending, surgeon somewhere in New York.
I miss her. The last time I saw was when we spent a week together to celebrate my 18th birthday at Oxford. I should call her later and ask her to meet up sometime.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, my eyes widened.
Shit! I was going to be late for my meeting, well the time I planned to arrive . I was supposed to meet with the team of surgeons here at Goode Hospital before I started work.
I grabbed my lab coat and shoved it on as I ran into the nearest elevator to the Attendings' Lounge. Some people fussed and grunted as I thrust myself into the already cramped elevator. I jammed my finger onto the 6th floors' button. I clipped my badge onto the breast pocket of the coat and started combing my fingers through my hair. Realizing how pointless it was to attempt to tame my hair, I fastened it into a hastily arranged ponytail.
I anxiously waited as people got off the elevator at their designated level. Soon enough, it was only me in the elevator.
I have about five-seconds until I reach the 6th floor. I breathed in-and-out deeply; calming my heart rate, and ran through different scenarios in my head of how the meeting could go.
Ding!
Just as the elevator doors opened enough for me to get through, I flew out of the box and ran. I memorized the layout of this hospital ever since I applied. So, it wasn't that difficult to find my way around.
I burst into a conference room, mere minutes before the meeting would start.
Phew! At least something went well, so far, today!
Surgeons were scattered around the room, munching on their breakfast, sipping their coffee, or chatting comfortably with one another.
Pastries, fresh fruit, and yoghurt cups, were littered across the conference table, placed there for all the doctors to enjoy. I strolled to the conference table and awkwardly sat down. Just as I was reaching for a cup of vanilla yoghurt, the office chair I occupied was spun around, and I was crushed into an aggressive hug.
I stiffened a bit, then realizing the familiar arms around me. I threw my arms around the person who was suffocating me.
"Thalia!" I squealed, pulling back to see her face. Her skin was just as pale and smooth as I remembered, and her black hair was spiky as ever. Her nose was still sprinkled with freckles that spread out to her cheeks faintly. Her electrifying, piercing blue eyes sparkled, crinkling at the edges.
"How are you? You look amazing!" I exclaimed. For a person who is just 31, Thalia still looked like the 22 year-old that I met almost a decade ago.
"Bitch, have you seen yourself?" Thalia replied, smiling wide. "You still look like you stepped out of Paris Vogue!"
I rolled my eyes, blushing faintly at the compliment. I was good at throwing them out when I was impressed (when they have significance), but never really knew how to accept them.
"Why didn't you ever tell me that you worked here?" I demanded, pouting a little.
"It never really crossed my mind that a Beverly Hills girl would ever come to New York, so I never mentioned it," she replied nonchalantly. "How is Auntie Natalie and her family?"
Thalia met my family through our usual FaceTime meetings once-a-week. My Aunt adored Thalia, and vice-versa.
"They're great! Magnus is graduating in two years!" I exclaimed. "You are obviously welcome to come to the celebration. Afterall, you are still trying to convince him to join the medical field."
Magnus is in his sophomore year in high school right now. When my friends, Thalia, Piper, and Jason, met him, he was eleven. Magnus had shown interest in the medical and law, so naturally; Thalia and Jason started a competition. Whichever career pathway Magnus chose to pursue (that was the same as theirs'), they would win. And the loser has to pay for dinner whenever we go out together for a year.
Thalia laughed. "Yup, it's still my number one priority."
We chatted for a bit until it was time for the meeting to start.
Doctors gathered around the conference table and waited patiently as the Chief of Surgery walked to the front of the room.
"Good morning, fellow colleagues," he said. "Today we welcome a new member to our team here at Goode Hospital, Dr. Annabeth Chase."
He gestured for me to stand up, I did. Applause broke through the room and I smiled, my gaze sifting through the faces of my new co-workers.
I felt the judgemental eyes on me as they applaud, the whispers of my reputation. I also noticed that I was the youngest of the Attendings. Saw that one com-
My thoughts were silenced as my gaze connected with another. I drew in a breath.
This man is fucking gorgeous.
His jet black hair was familiar, but I couldn't place where I've seen him before. His eyes were a mixture of an indescribable shade dark blue and green. Like sea-green. His jaw was drool worthy; a clean, sharp, edge and perfectly squared. His white teeth winked at me as he smiled. He looked pretty young to be an Attending, and also the classic fuck-boy/troublemaker.
I blinked a couple times and continued to look around the room. Acting as if time hasn't stopped for awhile, there. Or that you totally weren't turned on.
I sat back down as the claps dwindled and faced the Chief of Surgery again.
"Welcome Dr. Chase, it is a pleasure to have you joining our team here at Goode Hospital," he said, his warm brown eyes twinkling.
"Dr. Jackson," he called. "Would you please take over."
As the Chief sat down, the hot guy stood up and walked to the front of the room.
"That's my cousin," Thalia whispered in my ear. "The one I wanted to introduce you to, remember? He's only 27. I invited him to your 18th birthday party, but I was too wasted to remember if he even showed up"
I nodded, still looking forward.
She invited him to my 18th birthday? Was he the guy that. . . no he can't be.
The moment he opened his mouth though, my thoughts flew out the window.