Chapter 6

Lucas

My first stop in Tarrytown is the gym. I like to watch at least thirty minutes of scrimmage, imprinting on precisely how the players move. During a break, Leroy and Tyson approach me. "

"Hey, Doc!"

"Hi guys."

Leroy grabs me by the shoulders and addresses the whole team. "You guys won't believe it. We're at a club Saturday night, Tyson, LeVon and I and in walks the doc, with two of the hottest babes I've ever seen."

"Way to go, Doc!"

"You guys should have seen those two. He wasn't greedy either. One of them went home with Tyson here."

"Jeez, man! That redhead rocks. I tried to get her to go out with me again, but she blew me off."

"Next time try to show her some lovin' man. This thing of watching the Hallmark channel all night is getting old." They all laugh.

"That brunette was something else, man! She even knows her b'ball! I tried to get her number, but that one went home with the Doc."

"Yeah, Dawg! Nice going."

I get tired of the whole embarrassing exchange and decide to end it. I pick up a ball, bounce it a bit and do a jump shot, from near the midfield line. Swoosh. Nothing but net. That generates a little silence.

"What was that, Doc?"

"Can you do it again?"

I shrug, pick up the ball, bounce it and shoot. Nothing but net again. Coach laughs. "So, you kept it up."

"I guess I did."

"Listen, guys. Dr. Scott here was captain of the high school team that won the North Carolina state title back in '02. He had one of the meanest jump shots I've ever seen. What you've just seen is an encore of the winning shot of that game. Can you still move?"

"Well..." I pick up a ball, dribble, do a fast run up to the basket and dunk it, hanging from the rim for a second or two. I don't have the endurance, although HCM meds improved a lot over fifteen years, but I still got the moves. I can actually keep up with Nate, winning one-on-one about one time out of three.

The team looks stunned. After a couple of seconds, Leroy slaps me in the shoulder. "Ain't you full of surprises, Doc! Why don't you join us for scrimmage every once in a while?" I glance at Coach and he shrugs.

"Fine, I will." It's going to be embarrassing, but I can't really pass that up. "I have one request, though. I'd like to bring my little brother too, if he is in town."

They look puzzled, but Coach opens a big smile. "He's keeping it up too, Doc?"

"He sure does."

"Well, that would be an honor. It would be nice to see the you two playing together again." He blows his whistle. "Now, back to practice, ladies!"

Later I ask Coach Wellerman whether the state title had anything to do with me getting the job. He just smiles and says that they like to work with people who can really appreciate the game.

And then I find myself itching to tell Brooke about scrimmaging with the Knicks.

Brooke

The Victoria's Secret design department is in an old office building on East eighty-seven, near First. There's no indication of what's functioning there. The elevator opens to a large open floor, with dozens of people looking too busy to pay attention to a lost newbie next to the elevator. I can feel the energy of the place, the creative juices flowing about, and I'm truly excited that I'll be working here soon. I approach one of the people working there, a skinny, androgynous looking twenty-something, with purple hair and funky clothes.

"Hi, I'm looking for Ms. Lassiter."

The person looks up with a hostile grimace, and points at the back end of the room, to the right. Most of the people around are working individually with design software computers, but there are several working on paper, some in pairs or triples and even some people working with samples of fabric, decoration and functional elements, like buttons or zippers. I cross the room successfully avoiding bumping on anyone or anything, and reach the back wall. I go to the rightmost door and knock timidly. After I get no response, I knock louder. Someone answers from the other side.

"C'mon in!"

I cautiously open the door and slide in. The room is a little reception area, with a desk, several filing cabinets, a two seat sofa and a desk, with a pretty brunette behind it, doing her nails.

"Hi, I'm Brooke..."

"You're the nine o'clock. Have a seat. Ms Lassiter will be with you shortly."

She goes right back doing her nails, and occasionally answering her phone. They say New Yorkers are hostile. I kinda find their shortness refreshing, after all the fake politeness back home. There, most people think I'm rude. Here, I suspect I'm gonna fit right in. Truth is I'm nervous as a polecat and the last thing I need is inane chatter. I play with my pendant and try to remember one of Lucas' pep talks.

A door opens and a platinum blonde head makes an appearance. "Monica, where is... Ah! There you are. You must be Brooke. I'm Veronique Lassiter, chief lunatic in this asylum, and this very busy person is my assistant Monica." The girl grimaces and flips her boss the bird, and Ms. Lassiter giggles.

"Come on in. Brooke. I've been looking forward to meet you." I must have looked very puzzled, because she giggled again. Mrs. Lassiter is a platinum blonde, tall and skinny, shoulder length straight hair, mid forties, Dressed stylish, but with an informal vibe, white and navy top, no sleeves and high collar, a long dark blue skirt and boots and a mustard wool cardigan draped in the back of her chair, ethnic jewelry. She has a broad mouth with thin lips, a sharp blade of a nose, faint laugh lines and green expressive eyes that, right this second, glow with good humor and curiosity. "I was very impressed with your portfolio, young lady. My job here is to discover, nurture and channel creative talent, in order to keep Victoria's Secret fresh and unique, and from your portfolio, you're one of the best I've come across in a while."

I look at my feet, thoroughly embarrassed. "Hm. Thanks."

"Someone as pretty as you should be a little more accustomed to compliments, Brooke."

I look into her eyes. "To my appearance, yes. To my ability, no."

"Well, as an intern, you're expected to spend twenty hours per week in our creative sweatshop outside, basically under order from one of our staff designers. They would have you sharpening and detailing sketches, inputting them in our system, researching materials, helping to dress the models for shoots or the runway, and a few other things. Hours are pretty flexible. You sign into the system as you come in, and sign out as you leave. We're open from six in the morning to ten at night, Monday through Saturday, and you can come at any time. This is our, say, standard package. I have something slightly different in mind for you."

That peaks my interest. "All right. What?"

"I want you here eight hour per week plus and a half-shift in one of our retail outlets, to learn how our customers interact with our products. I also want original designs from you. I'll count each one as sixteen hours of work, which you can do here, or anywhere you want. This means one original piece every two weeks or so. These will be evaluated by our senior staff, and those that meet our standards may go into production. Don't get too upset if we don't approve any of your designs for several months. This is a steep learning process. I have added a little incentive clause to your contract. Any personal design of yours we put in production will earn you point five percent of gross retail, as a year-end bonus. In addition, you're supposed to start September 5th, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"I'm starting you today, with a little homework. I expect you back here in five weeks with half a dozen design proposals for any of our lines. To inspire you, personnel will be issuing you a V.S. Credit card. Go into any of our retail stores or the e-commerce site,, pick whatever you want, and charge it to the card. We'll pick up the tab. I want this used, Brooke. I want at least a hundred items charged the card before you come back."

"Don't worry. I'm real good at shopping."

"Any questions?"

"I could use some samples of individual designs in the form they are are usually presented. "

"I'll have Monica take you to Personnel, while I put together a sample package for you. Come back here when you're done signing stuff." She gets up and extends a hand. Her handshake is dry and firm. "I suspect I'm going to enjoy working with you, Brooke."

"Thank you, Ms. Lassiter. I think I'm going to enjoy working for you too."

"You should call me Ver. Most of my friends either call me that, or shithead. I answer to both, most of the time."

I giggle. "I'm either Brooke or slut."

Her eyes brighten for a moment. "Our contracts have a morals clause. What that means is, please, avoid arrests or sleeping with married celebrities." She looks closely at me. "Looking like you do, you may be asked to model, at some point. Is that something you'd consider?"

"I don't know. I like to show off my stuff, but a giant outdoor in underwear?" I smile. "Well, maybe."

"You're going to be interacting with our marketing people, and they are always looking for talent. As you know, we like to stay away from anorexic storks in our Angels."

"Well, that's cool, I guess. But, my focus is design, not showing off my fine, sculptural ass."

She laughs. "Understood. See you in a bit."

I play with my pendant. I think I'm going to love working for Ver. I'm just dying to tell Lucas about my new job.

Lucas

It's half past four when I finally get down to the ER. Leroy arrived after lunch, and I made a high resolution MRI and CAT scan of his left forearm and hand. Indeed, as suspected, some of his wrist tendons show adhesions usually associated with a improperly healed injury. The plan is to perform a laser ablation microsurgery to remove the adhesions, and immobilize his hand and forearm for a couple of weeks. The procedure is simple enough, and I've done similar work several times, so Callie and I agreed it is not necessary to bring in a specialist. Even if I'll be operating on a multimillion dollar limb. I booked an OR and reserved the microsurgery equipment for Wednesday.

I find Allie stitching a large scalp wound on an older gentleman. Not unexpectedly, she is a very neat stitcher, despite not being a surgeon.

"Hey."

She smiles. "Hey, yourself."

"I'm leaving. Just came to say goodbye."

"Gimme a couple of minutes, we'll go for a coffee."

The coffee cart in the ground floor had a little line. While we waited, we gave each other a picturesque French kiss that had quite a few people staring.

"There. High school style. We're an item."

She gives me one of her smoldering looks. "You're such a great kisser, Big boy."

"You're damn good too. I'm glad we can continue what we just started later."

On my way back to the hotel, I stop at the offices of the wealth management firm of Welles & Sons. My own manager is a balding midget with watery blue eyes and a razor sharp mind, called John Welles. The place is beyond posh, smelling of quiet power and vast amounts of old money. At a net value around fifteen million, I'm not the poorest client of the firm, but I'm far from the richest.

"Hey, John. Anything to report?"

"Good earnings on the medical tech stock. Lost a little on overseas investments. Looking good overall."

"The walk-up?"

"I don't understand why you insist on buying that. The address is all wrong..."

"Never mind, John. I have my reasons."

"The documentation is in order. I'm still waiting for the report on the physical condition of the place. Any instructions?"

"I'm willing to offer the asking price, if the owner includes the full garage."

"Why?"

"Security, actually. It gives me control of an alternate egress for the building. And I do have two cars and a bike."

"All right. Noted. Anything else?"

"I want to move in sometime next week."

"That means rushing the closing. It might cost you."

"That's fine. Within reason, of course."

"Very well, Lucas. Anything else?"

"Not for the time being. What about you? Any recommendations?"

"Keep an eye open for opportunities in the health and sports sectors."

"Noted. Bye."

"Goodbye."

I have a quick shower, and manage to put on a clear pair of boxers when I get the insistent knock on my door. "Just a sec, Brooke. I'm coming." I open the door and she barges in. Lucas, I want to talk to you, before we go out..."

Again, Brooke gives me the Christmas morning feeling. Wonderful surprises, big and small, wrapped in a heartbreakingly beautiful little package. She is wearing the green Valentino from yesterday, with silver stilettos, hair in a soft cascade down her back, jewelry and make up to match.

"Wow. Stunning, Pretty Girl."

She stops and smiles, twirling around. "You'd seen the dress."

"I'm admiring the whole package."

She slides a manicured finger down my chest. "Well, thanks. I like your whole package too, but I think you need a different look."

I had a Bill's Brothers suit and a white shirt pressed and ready, and she watches me dressing as she talks.

"I went to the interview at Victoria's Secret this morning."

She looks excited, eyes bright, as if she doesn't fit in her skin. "So, it went well."

"It went so well, you won't believe it! I love my new boss. Her name is Veronique, and she is so cool. I can't wait for you to meet her. She is going to give me a free hand in designing for them. The place is a mess, but there's such an energy! I'm going to love working there. And I'm going to learn so much. Ver, that's Veronique, said I'm one of the best she's seen in a while. Oh, Broody. I just hope I don't disappoint..."

I laugh a bit at her tirade. "You're going to do just fine, Pretty Girl."

She hugs me, still bouncing around. "I haven't told you the best part. They gave me a card, a Victoria's Secret card, that I can go to any store of theirs, pick whatever I want, and they will pay for it. You should see the purple underwear set I'm wearing. It's to die for. "She starts unzipping her dress to show me the items in question, but I physically stop her.

"Please, Pretty Girl. I'm not made of stone."

She gives me a sharp look. "If I can see you in your underwear, you can see me in mine, friend ."

"If I see you in sexy underwear right now, I'm not sure I will be able to keep my hands to myself, friend."

"And what if I want your hands on me, Broody?"

"I'd say I'm flattered, and that we can talk about this when you come back in three weeks. We shouldn't start anything now."

She looks at me defiantly. She is probably used to getting her way in this. "You sure you don't want a piece of this? Just a little fun?"

I look straight into her eyes. Her eyes are shining, with defiance, desire and a bit of fear. I enunciate slowly and as gently as I can. "There is nothing casual in what's happening between us." We stare at each other for a bit. I feel the nearly irresistible impulse to kiss her. She is staring at me with longing matching my own, and confusion. I break the moment by speaking. "I don't want either one of us hurt, Brooke. We need to talk, and we need to take it slowly. When you come back from California, you can model all your pretty underwear for me, and we will talk, all right?"

She pouts, speaking in a little girl voice. "Promise?"

"Pinky swear, Pretty Girl."

"All right." She seems to recover her bubbly mood. "Adult relationships suck ass, Broody. I'll take a cute surfer any day."

I laugh. "That's the spirit. Anyways, something happened today that I wanted to tell you too." I'm not going to contemplate exactly how the idea of Brooke in the arms of a blonde surfer makes me feel. She probably doesn't enjoy thinking of me and Allie either.

"What? You broke up with your girlfriend?"

Bingo. I almost laugh. Instead, I give her an ironic comeback. "You want me to stay lonely here, while you party with the surf boys?"

"Well... yes."

I laugh a bit. "At least you're honest."

"Why, you aren't?"

"In truth, I'm not crazy about you and the surfer boys either."

She gives me the happiest smile I've seen on her yet. "That's what I wanted to hear."

"It's too much, too soon. Keep your life, and I'll keep mine for now. I can live with a little jealousy, if you can."

She thinks a bit. "That's fine." There's a long silence, while I put on my shoes and she fidgets in place, avoiding my eyes.

"You'll meet my girlfriend tonight. She is supposed to join us a bit for drinks after dinner. I'll tell you a secret. We are just two adults, keeping company for fun. It's not deep, and it's not meant to last."

She looks skeptical. "You mean, you and her are casual. We are not."

"That's right."

"I guess I'll see that tonight. What is it that you wanted to tell me after all?"

"Ah. I almost forgot. I'll be joining the scrimmage on some of the Knicks practice."

"Oh, wow! That's big." She narrows her eyes. "Can you hold your own?"

"I'm afraid they're going to hand me my ass. But I can take humiliation."

She looks as excited as I feel. "I'll want to know all the details."

"I'll be happy to report every sorry detail."

Brooke

The show was great and watching Rachel make a fool of herself flirting with Lucas over dinner was also pretty entertaining. I keep mulling over the conversation with Lucas. There's so much there to think about. I'm not used to frustration, and every time I look at him, looking gorgeous and relaxed in that suit and tie, smiling at me, I feel the heat right between my legs. And I know the jackass feels the same way. Now his fuckbuddy is coming, and I'm curious and afraid in equal parts.

She is wearing capri skinny jeans and a sleeveless silk button shirt and low white wedges. My first impression is old. She's my mother's age, give or take. Looks a lot better, though, despite the struggle mom puts into it. If I look half that good at her age.. The second impression is the one that really kills me. She looks beautiful, smart and classy. Small smile, bright amused eyes, eyebrows I'd kill for, a fond look in Lucas direction. I feel like an overdressed little girl. My heart skips a beat, as I realize that, instead of standing and kissing her, Lucas has a hand firmly grabbing one of mine.

"Allie, these are Brooke and Rachel. Girls, my girlfriend Allie."

"It's nice to meet you two. You guys look amazing."

Politeness not being Rachel's strong suit, I decided to reply. "Well, thank you Allie. You're looking mighty fine yourself."

"Thank you. I know you two are going back to California tomorrow, and I wanted the opportunity to meet you in person. Lucas has spoken a lot about you two."

I give a half-smile. "Good things, I hope."

She looks into my eyes. "Yes. You've made quite an impression." I feel curiosity and a bit of concern in her eyes, but no hostility. She's not threatened by me. She saw his hand on mine. It should be killing her. Or maybe, Lucas is telling the truth. They just aren't very deep. I realize that the same can't be said about me. Losing him, whatever it is, little thing that lies between us, would hurt me. I begin to understand Lucas' cautious approach. The stakes between us may be higher than I know how to play. I relax and smile at her.

"I sure hope so. I work hard at it." Lucas squeezes my hand and lets go.

"I understand you're probably going to be neighbors."

Rachel decides to take part in the conversation. "Is that true, Doc? Are you buying the fourth floor apartment?"

"I made them a good offer, but I haven't heard yet."

"I hope they take it. We're going to love having you on top of us."

I can see Allie's smile deepening a bit. Is she actually amused by Rachel? "Would you let us know?"

"Sure. I'll drop you guys a text as soon as I know something definite. I'll be waiting for you two, to help with the move, and for the promised massage."

Allie looks at him, amused. "You promised them a massage?"

"Well, Brooke asked for it, and I said I would do it. They will be arriving from a cross country drive."

She pokes him in the ribs. "You're just trying to get your hands on them."

"True. But they will enjoy it. I can give you one after your next twenty-four hour shift. I'm really very good."

"I can attest to that."

"You're on, big boy. Next Sunday, noon, my place. I'll cook you lunch afterwards."

"I think we should head up. You two have a nice trip. Keep in touch."

Rachel gives him a hug and a kiss in the cheek, pressing her body against him a second too long. I also give him a hug. He whispers in my ear. "I'm going to miss you, Pretty Girl." Allie shakes Rachel's hand, but gives me a brief hug. She looks me in the eyes. "Have fun, girl. He'll be here waiting for you." Lucas signs the tab to his room and leaves with Allie.

I'm still processing their parting statements when Rachel sighs. "Well, that's one question answered."

"What?"

"That is one well-fucked little bitch, whore. Our boy is good."

"I have no idea how you see this, so I'll take your word for it."

"What's eating you?" She looks at me and scowls. "It's him, isn't it? You're jealous of the little old bitch, aren't you? You're falling for Doc."

"Shut up, Slut."

"The queen of cool herself, Brooke nobody-can-touch-my-heart Davis is falling for a boy? It's about time, too!"

"You're crazy. I like him. I'm not falling for him."

"Keep telling yourself that, Whore."

Later at night I keep tossing and turning. I already went a couple of rounds with my little vibrator, trying to settle myself down enough to sleep, but that doesn't work. It's not Lucas and Ally, a couple of floors up, although I can't deny I'm green with envy. It's something else. The idea that you should take things slow because you might get hurt. Suddenly, like a curtain rising, I get it. In a rather painful way. I look back at my only experience at a relationship. With Julian. He liked me, so we went straight in. He was a little awkward at first, but soon he was proficient enough, and I had a nice couple of months of single-partner fun. Then he said he loved me. I was like Allie, enjoying the company, but I didn't really care. I was fond of him, but I never really fell for him. He knew that. That's what made him mean, needing somebody who didn't need him back. He got so clingy and annoying, and I just pushed him away, disgusted. Suddenly I realize what I did. I broke his heart for my own amusement, and, when I was done, I just discarted him. Suddenly I'm ashamed. I owe that boy a huge apology, although I'm perfectly aware that won't do much good now. I promise myself I'll be more careful in the future. I think of Lucas, playing with my aquamarine. I'm pretty sure I can trust him. He will not just break my heart on purpose like that. I'm not so sure he can trust me. I know I can be a fickle little bitch. Suddenly I'm happy it's Allie up there with him. He is right. I'm not ready for him. Not yet.