Read Online Deadly Diversion: A Medical Thriller by Eleanor Sullivan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eleanor Sullivan
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you see where police cars are gonna have ads on them?” she asked.
“Like taxis?” Lisa inquired.
Serena giggled. “Next thing you know we’ll have ads on our scrubs.”
Conversation drifted to Serena’s boyfriend as the canned music stopped and we turned toward the stage.
“They’re starting,” Serena said, bouncing on her seat. She squeezed my hand and smiled up at the stage.
Five young men shuffled up onto the stage perched on a wide pedestal behind the bar. They fiddled a bit with guitars and cords and speakers, and soon started up. Talk was impossible. The drinks arrived along with a basket of peanuts in their shells.
Lisa stood to excuse herself and reached behind her to snag her bag hooked on the chair, revealing a small gold ring in her navel. Peggy joined her and they headed toward the restroom. Bart stared at Lisa’s back until the restroom door swung shut. I leaned over and asked him if she was all right. He nodded and stirred his Sprite with the straw, glancing toward the restroom until Lisa and Peggy finally emerged.
Between songs, the talk turned back to the hospital. Accreditation was on everyone’s mind.
“We’ll do fine,” I tried to assure them. “Joint Commission’s just doing their job, and it really helps us.”
“Helps?” Serena asked. “How can it help to be on warning?”
“It makes the hospital do what they’re supposed to. Hire more people.”
“And pay them more than many nurses who have been there for years,” Peggy added.
“If that’s what it takes,” I said, defending administration.
At the next break, Serena introduced us to her boyfriend, Ray, the band’s drummer. Ray sported multiple piercings—nose, eyebrow—and a braid of brown hair dangling down his back. A straggly goatee marred what might have been a good-looking face. I thought I detected a glint of metal in his mouth and wondered idly what it would be like to kiss someone with a tongue stud. Ray apparently let his music do his talking; his mumbled answer was lost in the noise of the bar. He acknowledged the group with the briefest of nods. The sickly sweet odor of marijuana lingered after he left.
After another set, I told them I had to leave, and Peggy joined me when I stood up. Outside the smoky bar we stopped and took a breath of the still-hot evening air.
“What’d you think about Bart’s girlfriend?”
“What about her?” I asked, pulling my keys out of my shorts pocket.
“She’s on drugs,” Peggy said simply.
“Drugs? Maybe she just had too much to drink. You heard her. She doesn’t work tonight, and Bart’s driving.”
“I saw her in the ladies’ room. Her pupils were dilated.” Peggy’s hair, which she had let grow long, swung across her shoulders as she shook her head.
“She had just come from a dark room,” I said as we reached Peggy’s car. “They should have been dilated. Yours probably were, too.”
“Nope, this was when we were washing our hands. She’d been in there long enough for her pupils to constrict. I looked in the mirror. Mine were tiny slits. Hers were huge. She was acting funny, too.”
“Maybe she’s on some medication that dilates her pupils. I think she was just having fun.”
“It’s no fun,” Peggy said, unlocking her car door. As she slid into the driver’s seat, she looked at me and said, “Believe me.”
I didn’t say anything. I thought Peggy was seeing drug problems in others because of her own problem in the past, and now that she worked in psychiatry, maybe she was diagnosing mental illness all around her. Much like nursing students do when they develop symptoms of every disease they study.
“Addicted people will do anything to get their drug of choice. Anything,” she added, slamming her door.
After she left I climbed into Black Beauty and fired her up. Let Bart handle her, I thought as the top slid back and I looked up into the night sky. Earthbound problems seemed minuscule at that moment. A pickup truck squealed
“Like taxis?” Lisa inquired.
Serena giggled. “Next thing you know we’ll have ads on our scrubs.”
Conversation drifted to Serena’s boyfriend as the canned music stopped and we turned toward the stage.
“They’re starting,” Serena said, bouncing on her seat. She squeezed my hand and smiled up at the stage.
Five young men shuffled up onto the stage perched on a wide pedestal behind the bar. They fiddled a bit with guitars and cords and speakers, and soon started up. Talk was impossible. The drinks arrived along with a basket of peanuts in their shells.
Lisa stood to excuse herself and reached behind her to snag her bag hooked on the chair, revealing a small gold ring in her navel. Peggy joined her and they headed toward the restroom. Bart stared at Lisa’s back until the restroom door swung shut. I leaned over and asked him if she was all right. He nodded and stirred his Sprite with the straw, glancing toward the restroom until Lisa and Peggy finally emerged.
Between songs, the talk turned back to the hospital. Accreditation was on everyone’s mind.
“We’ll do fine,” I tried to assure them. “Joint Commission’s just doing their job, and it really helps us.”
“Helps?” Serena asked. “How can it help to be on warning?”
“It makes the hospital do what they’re supposed to. Hire more people.”
“And pay them more than many nurses who have been there for years,” Peggy added.
“If that’s what it takes,” I said, defending administration.
At the next break, Serena introduced us to her boyfriend, Ray, the band’s drummer. Ray sported multiple piercings—nose, eyebrow—and a braid of brown hair dangling down his back. A straggly goatee marred what might have been a good-looking face. I thought I detected a glint of metal in his mouth and wondered idly what it would be like to kiss someone with a tongue stud. Ray apparently let his music do his talking; his mumbled answer was lost in the noise of the bar. He acknowledged the group with the briefest of nods. The sickly sweet odor of marijuana lingered after he left.
After another set, I told them I had to leave, and Peggy joined me when I stood up. Outside the smoky bar we stopped and took a breath of the still-hot evening air.
“What’d you think about Bart’s girlfriend?”
“What about her?” I asked, pulling my keys out of my shorts pocket.
“She’s on drugs,” Peggy said simply.
“Drugs? Maybe she just had too much to drink. You heard her. She doesn’t work tonight, and Bart’s driving.”
“I saw her in the ladies’ room. Her pupils were dilated.” Peggy’s hair, which she had let grow long, swung across her shoulders as she shook her head.
“She had just come from a dark room,” I said as we reached Peggy’s car. “They should have been dilated. Yours probably were, too.”
“Nope, this was when we were washing our hands. She’d been in there long enough for her pupils to constrict. I looked in the mirror. Mine were tiny slits. Hers were huge. She was acting funny, too.”
“Maybe she’s on some medication that dilates her pupils. I think she was just having fun.”
“It’s no fun,” Peggy said, unlocking her car door. As she slid into the driver’s seat, she looked at me and said, “Believe me.”
I didn’t say anything. I thought Peggy was seeing drug problems in others because of her own problem in the past, and now that she worked in psychiatry, maybe she was diagnosing mental illness all around her. Much like nursing students do when they develop symptoms of every disease they study.
“Addicted people will do anything to get their drug of choice. Anything,” she added, slamming her door.
After she left I climbed into Black Beauty and fired her up. Let Bart handle her, I thought as the top slid back and I looked up into the night sky. Earthbound problems seemed minuscule at that moment. A pickup truck squealed
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