Medical Center. Emergency Room
"Dr. Lewis!"
"Adam, you're here!"
Susan flashed Adam a warm smile.
"Anything I can help with?"
As he spoke, Adam casually picked up Mr. Lark's chart. The name read: Gator Lark.
Hmm, definitely not Earl, he thought.
"What are you staring at?" Mr. Lark snapped, shooting Adam a sideways glare.
Adam paused, caught off guard by the guy's sharpness, then chuckled. "Do you know Earl?"
"Do you know Dick?" Mr. Lark fired back, his tone dripping with defiance.
"Dr. Lewis, I'll check over there," Adam said, brushing him off. He nodded at Susan and walked away.
"Why'd you stop talking?" Mr. Lark shouted after him. "All us Black folks look the same to you, huh? Well, you white folks all look the same to us too! Bunch of—"
"Enough," Susan cut in, frowning. "Mr. Lark, quiet down."
"Go piss off!" Mr. Lark barked, lashing out at anyone within earshot.
"For someone with no kidneys, that's a pretty ironic thing to say," a nearby nurse muttered with a smirk.
"You got a thing for that pretty-boy doctor? Already defending him?" Mr. Lark turned his venom on the nurse.
"Dr. Lewis, there's a patient over there who needs you," the nurse said, giving Susan a look that screamed get me out of this.
"Mr. Lark, can you calm down?" Susan asked, her brow creasing.
"What, I don't even have the right to speak now?" Mr. Lark sneered, his voice mocking.
"You do," Susan replied firmly. "But this is a hospital. You're disrupting our ability to treat patients. You're in end-stage renal failure and blacklisted from multiple hospitals. We'll help you, but only if you pipe down. Otherwise, security's escorting you out."
"You're all a bunch of—" Mr. Lark grumbled under his breath but finally shut up.
He was a real piece of work, but even he wasn't dumb enough to push it too far. Before landing here, a dozen hospitals had already turned him away. If it weren't for Susan's kindness, he'd be out of luck—especially after getting blacklisted for insulting medical staff. With end-stage renal failure, he could keel over any day without treatment.
"Get him ready for dialysis. I'll grab the portable machine," Susan told the nurse before heading off.
Nurses' Station
"Adam, you okay?" Susan asked, her voice laced with concern.
"I'm fine," Adam said with a grin. "I've dealt with guys like him before. But Dr. Lewis, here's the thing: pitiful people usually dig their own graves. Don't get too attached, or you'll be the one who burns out."
He genuinely didn't care. If a dog barks at you, do you bark back? No way was he letting this jerk tarnish his spotless record. That said, if Mr. Lark crossed the line, Adam had the cash and clout to make him regret it.
Susan sighed. "But we're doctors, Adam. We have to help everyone, even if they're difficult."
She knew why Adam felt that way. Not long ago, she'd taken pity on a homeless guy. After treating him, she slipped him ten bucks for food. His grateful look had warmed her heart. But the next day, he showed up again, asking for a hundred dollars "for an emergency." When she said no, he dropped it to fifty, then twenty.
You can help in a pinch, but not with endless problems, she'd realized. The guy flipped out, cussing her out and nearly getting physical before security hauled him off. It was a mess. For someone as big-hearted as Susan, it hit hard. She'd been down for a while but still couldn't shake her drive to help—even total jerks.
"Dr. Duncan!" a nurse called from across the room.
"What's up?"
Adam shot Susan a quick smile and jogged over to the paramedics rolling in.
"42-year-old female, car lost control and hit a bridge. Conscious, oriented, vital signs stable," the paramedic rattled off.
Adam nodded, took over, and started checking the patient. Then his mouth twitched. Wait, is this a woman? Dressed in women's clothes, makeup flawless—but Adam wasn't buying it. He bit back a comment and focused. No internal injuries, just some scrapes. He glanced at the nurses' station and had an idea.
"Miss Carlton, hang tight," he said, then strolled over.
"What's up, Carter?"
"Dr. Duncan!" John Carter sprang up, waving a pig's trotter like a trophy. "I'm practicing sutures on this pig's foot! The texture's so close to human skin—perfect for training. I've got six more in my fridge at home…"
"Nice," Adam said with a grin. "Pig's feet are great for practice. Want to try the real thing?"
"Absolutely!" John nodded like an eager puppy.
"Over there, Miss Carlton needs stitches. You're on," Adam said, pointing. "You good?"
"No problem!" John chirped.
"If you hit a snag, have a nurse page me," Adam said, clapping him on the shoulder.
John strutted off, buzzing with energy.
"Dr. Duncan, you think he's ready?" a nurse asked, eyebrow raised.
"Why not?" Adam shrugged with a smile. Ambitious, sharp, and practicing on pig's feet—with six more stashed at home? Adam half-wondered if John secretly liked eating them too. That's a lot of trotters to waste otherwise. If the kid wanted to tag along, Adam was happy to give him a shot. Maybe I'll score some fancy braised pig's feet out of it. Could be a fun perk of the job!
"Who are you?" the patient asked, frowning. "Where's Dr. Duncan?"
"Hi, I'm John Carter," he said with a beaming smile. "Dr. Duncan's tied up with other patients, so he asked me to handle your sutures. Miss Carlton, ready to get started?"
The patient looked bummed, rolled onto their side, and said nothing. John took it as a green light and checked the wounds, prepping to stitch. Then he froze. Makeup's great, but up close under a doctor's eye? No hiding the truth. His face scrunched up. Some of the cuts were in awkward spots… but this was his first gig from Adam. No matter how tricky, he'd power through.
Nurses' Station
"Pfft!" The nurses caught John's weird suturing stance and realized the wounds were lower down. His awkward grimace sent them into giggles.
Adam laughed too. "The kid's got potential."