Part 19 – Boys at Work
Deon got up from his half-eaten lunch and reached for his locker. His phone buzzed one more time.
A message from Amina.
Hey, looks like I'll be in your neck of the woods next week. I'd love to meet up—dinner, movie, drinks at your place? You know we've always had the best sleepovers. 😉
He smiled.
Say when, he sent back.
Wednesday. I have to be somewhere earlier that day, but I'm all yours after.
Bet. Hit me with a text.
It's a date.
He tossed the phone into the locker and headed back to the floor.
⸻
"Finally, D! The patient in 204's been calling for you," a nurse said as he walked by.
"Is it emergent?"
"I don't think so, but she says she'll only let you treat her."
"...alright. I'll go there now."
"Thank you."
⸻
He pushed open the door to Room 204 with his usual mix of focus and faint annoyance.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Bailey. You called for me?"
"Oh my God, yes. Deon, could you please help me get changed?"
"I can help," he said cautiously, "but I'm curious—why couldn't one of our many capable nurses assist you?"
"I just trust you to do it right."
He raised a brow. "You expect me, a man, to help you, a woman, properly get dressed?"
"I get the feeling you know your way around a bra."
He let the silence hang.
Ms. Ashley Bailey: twenty-five, admitted for acute pancreatitis. Former gymnast, cute face, honeyed voice, straight brown hair. Likes hip hop and R&B. Currently, a pain in his ass.
"Ms. Bailey, this feels a little inappropriate unless I bring in a chaperone."
"Do we need an audience?" she teased.
"It's a CYA issue for me."
She giggled. "I'm only teasing. I can dress myself. But I think it's time for my pain meds."
"I'll check, but I think you had them an hour ago."
"But it hurts—here." She lifted her gown, baring her chest as she pointed to her side. "Come feel."
He moved closer, palpating the area clinically. She moaned softly when he did. He ignored it.
"Feels normal. Maybe a little inflamed," he said, stepping back. "I'll let your doctor know you're improving. You might even get discharged within the hour. Congrats."
"Awwww. Nurse Deon, you're no fun."
"I'm a professional."
"Even after hours?"
"Especially after hours."
"I doubt it."
"You have your call light," he said, already turning for the door. "Try not to use it."
Deon settled into his seat at the nurses' station and started his usual charting routine.
"Popular as ever, I see," a voice said.
He didn't look up. "Conner, what are you talking about?"
"Ms. Bailey," Conner replied, leaning against the counter. "Bro, she only calls for you."
"As ever," Deon muttered. "She just likes to tease. I'm sure she gives it to you way worse."
"Me? Dude, she won't even talk to me. And I've tried."
"To hook up with a patient?" Deon asked, eyes still on the computer.
"Yeah. She's cute, bro. I figure once she's discharged, she's fair game, you know?"
Deon smirked. "Do you, man. I don't work in HR."
"Come on, put in a word for me."
"I don't have that kind of rapport with her."
"Bro, you're the only one who does. She clearly has a thing for Black guys."
"Then you're kinda cooked anyway, right? You're the definition of stereotypical white."
"Exactly! That's where you come in. Tell her I'm cool."
"Having to have someone tell a woman you're cool is... the opposite of that, though."
Conner squinted. "You want her, don't you?"
"The patient?"
"Duh."
"Nah. She's outta my league."
"What? How so?"
"Objectively, she's a solid eight. That's way out of my range."
"What are you—"
"Hey, Conner."
They both turned. Amber, another nurse, was passing by.
"Sup, Amber."
"Nothing," she said with a grin. "Haven't seen you around, stranger."
"I was off a few days," Conner replied, flashing a natural smile.
"Well, a few of us are going out for karaoke and drinks tonight if you wanna come." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Sounds legit. Let me know when."
"Sure. I'll text you," she said, walking off.
"Don't do it," Deon said.
"Do what?"
"Amber." He didn't even look up.
"Why? She seems like a sure thing."
"A girl with an ass shaped like a heart will break yours."
Conner laughed. "Where do you get this shit?"
"Random thoughts."
"Anyway," Conner continued, "why's Ashley out of your league? Something about being an eight?"
"Right. You can't date more than two points out of your range," Deon said.
"I don't follow."
"Okay. I'm a solid five outta ten. Ms. Bailey's an eight. She's out of reach. I can pull a six, maybe a seven on a good day, but not an eight. I'd need real personality for that."
Someone scoffed from behind him.
"You are not a five," a female nurse said as she passed. "And I don't want an HR issue, so I won't say more than that." Then she disappeared down the hall.
Conner blinked. "What was that about?"
Deon shrugged. "She probably thinks five's too high for me."
"You trolling me right now?"
Deon just smirked, typing another note.
Elsewhere
"Director, I need you to take a look at these forms."
Keyon looked up at his secretary, phone pressed to his ear, and motioned her over.
"I understand, Sierra, but work comes first. You like the nice things you have, right? The bags, the cars, the clothes?"
"They're just things, Keyon. I'd rather have time with my husband."
"Yeah, okay. We just spent an entire vacation together."
"I hardly saw you," Sierra said, trying to sound calm.
"Whose fault is that? You brought along your lovesick bestie."
"He doesn't like that term. And you agreed too."
"He's my boy. But also, I feel kinda guilty."
"For?"
"Marrying the love of his life. That's why I'll swallow my pride and let y'all have your thing—if you can seal the deal."
"I'm working on it. Alone. Even after you promised to help."
Keyon sighed heavily. "Look, I can't talk about that right now. I'm in the office."
"Right. Appearances."
"Exactly. Anyway, I gotta get back to work. We can talk about this when I get home."
"When will that be?"
"I don't know. The partners are getting together for drinks."
"Right. The 'partners.'"
"Glad you understand. Love you."
"Sure," she said, and disconnected the call.
"Your wife?" the secretary asked.
"Yeah."
"She seems kinda high-maintenance. Does she always call when you're at work—providing for her—only to stress you out?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Feels like she's getting more out of hand lately."
"I would never do something like that. In fact, if I was your lady, you'd only get surprise visits. You know—the kind where you have to close the doors and shut the blinds."
He looked up from his documents. Was this woman really coming on to him? At work, of all places?
He gave her a small nod, and she moved to close the door.
Of course she was. He was him, after all.
"When's my next meeting?" he asked her.
"Twenty minutes."
"We might have to push it back."
"Should I make the call?"
"Only if you can talk during," he said with a smirk.
"That might be hard."
"Accurate," he said.
She sat down on his desk, crossed her legs slowly, then picked up the phone.
"Hi, Mr. Brown. Keyon is a little tied up with paperwork at the moment and doesn't think he'll be able to make the meeting. Are you able to move it back?"
"How long?" she said as Keyon slid down her stocking.
"An hour from the original time?" she said, looking down at Keyon for confirmation.
He shook his head.
"Make that two," she corrected.
"Great. He'll see you then."
"Only two hours?" he said.
"We are trying to run a business, Director."
"That we are," he said, turning her around on the desk. "That we are."
The sounds of her breathing filled the room, trailing into the office space outside—a familiar discomfort overtaking the room.
"He's at it again."
"What is that, like three times today alone? Does he ever work?"
"Yeah, it's gotten bad. This new girl has him wrapped around her finger."
"Yeah, I've never seen him like this."
"True. Not even with you. Right, Angie?"
"Stop. It was just a little office fling."
"With your boss? Yeah, okay."
"Whatever. He got off and I got off. It's not that deep."
"Sounds like he got pretty deep."
"You know what—"
"Alright, let's shut down this HR nightmare and get back to work."
"Can we at least turn on some music? I can't work under these conditions."
Everyone seemed to echo the sentiment. Soon, the sound of classical music drowned out the not-so-subtle noises coming from Keyon's office.