Page 16 of Moto
“I guess it could be worse. You could not care at all.” I can’t tell you how many kids I knew growing up whose parents couldn’t give a shit about them. Didn’t feed them, clothe them, or even care when they were arrested at age twelve for stealing or doing drugs. It’s just the plight of this forgotten area. Redneck riches, a bottle of moonshine, and a police record a mile long.
“That’s true. Just use your head, okay? Promise me.”
“I will.”
* * *
After the most fattening breakfast ever offried eggs and greasy home fries, I pull into the parking garage of Mercy Medical. I’m going to have to run ten extra miles after work to burn off breakfast.
I hop out of my truck five pounds heavier and head to the elevators. As I approach them, what sounds like barking echoes in the nearly empty garage.
What the fuck?
I walk faster down the pavement, listening to the aggressive attack get louder and louder. It sounds like a kennel in here. As I turn the blind corner, I come to find Dr. Lipschitz being harassed by two men baying at him like savage dogs. I can’t see their faces, but I can see Dr. Lipschitz’s and the blatant terror in his eyes. He looks like he’s about to shit himself, pressed up against the brick wall.
“Leave me alone!” he yelps, petrified.
I get a small amount of satisfaction from the show, considering he’s a fucking asshole, but know my conscience will eat away at me if I just leave him to the wolves, literally speaking.
“Hey!” I bellow from behind the two men. They both turn. They’re starkly different—one a tall African-American man with knots twisted all over his head, and the other is a shorter, stockier white guy with a teardrop tattoo under his eye. “Beat it!” I snap. “Go do the world a favor and play in some traffic or something!”
They both stare silently, amusement almost alight in their eyes.
The short one cackles insanely, and I take a step back. “You’re cute,” he sputters with a twitch.
You’re scary.
I stand with my defenses up, awaiting their next move. I may only be five-foot-four and one hundred twenty-five pounds, but I’m armed with pepper spray and not afraid to blind their savage asses.
If it comes down to that. Hopefully not.
“Be out.” The tall and, frankly, intimidating black man shoves his partner. Teardrop nods. But before they take their leave, they turn to Dr. Lipschitz and verbally attack him once more, barking viciously as they hop on their sports bikes. Dr. Lipschitz just stands there horrified as they rev their engines, the sound deafening, and then speed away.
I roll my eyes. Idiots.
“Are you okay?” I walk swiftly to Dr. Lipschitz. The older man with thinning hair and permanent scowl barely acknowledges me.
“Heathens!” he spits, then disappears into the stairwell.
I just stand there, shocked.
You’re freakin’ welcome, asshole.
I huff into the stairwell behind him and climb the stairs utterly annoyed.Where is the gratitude?
Once I get settled into work, I look at the roster and decide to check on the surliest patient on the planet first. Rip the bandage off, so to speak, so all the bullshit is behind me for the morning.
When I enter Reese’s room, I stop short. Along with Dev, the twoheathensfrom earlier are standing by his bedside.
“Nurse Kincade. We were just talking about you,” Reese relays with a deceptive undertone.
“Oh, really? I can’t image why.” I cross my arms and glare at the two men.
They both actually have the audacity to smile at me.
“I should have guessed they were friends of yours.”
“What gave it away? The bikes?” Reese asks.
