Page 22 of Rock Me

"How do you know?"

"Because if I were dreaming I'd be standing beside a bed that had a naked Jason Momoa waiting for his sponge bath in it, not your pale, scrawny self."

I gasp. "I'm hurt!"

"Oh, where? Your arms hurt?" She glances at them.

"No, I meant, you hurt my feeeeeeelings."

She rolls her eyes and one hand comes up to rest on her hip. "Oh, is that all? Those ain’t my department, sugar. I'm purely blood pressure taking and butt sightings, only. For feelings repair, I'll have to call the Boo-boo Doctor. But he's usually pretty busy... in the children’s' ward."

"Ouch. You did it again. I would clasp my chest if I could bend my arms. Do they teach sass in nursing school?"

"No, honey, that's all me." She grins proudly.

"Anyway, back to the music."

"Ah yes, that's a new patient that's just been moved up to our floor. She's been playing the... what do you call it... um..."

Please don't say 'ukulele', I think to myself. That would be too weird considering I was just thinking of Toilet Girl playing the ukulele last night.

"Now, what IS it called, you know,” she circles her finger in the air, as if that will conjure it up in her brain, “... that mini guitar thingo."

Shit.

"A ukulele?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"I guess. Mini guitar works for me."

"A guitar has six strings, a uke only has four,” I tell her.

She just shrugs. "Yeah, you're not convincing me 'mini guitar' is the wrong name for it. Four is mini version of six."

We're quiet for a few seconds, listening.

"She's really good. Don't you think?" I ask her.

"I guess. I'll see if she can play some BB King on it, then I'll decide."

"What's she like?" I ask, trying not to seem too interested.

I get a look before she answers. "The new girl? Why?"

I shrug, "No reason. Just making conversation."

She raises her eyebrows, and I can't help but wonder how she can make me squirm with just a look. She must be hell on her kids.

"She's ... delicate. Don't you be practicing your playboy ways on her,” she waggles a finger at me.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Oh, I know all about you and your ways, Mr. Petrescu...I watch the DMV just like everybody else," her mouth purses, like she's giving me a silent lecture in her mind.

"You mean TMZ?” I laugh, and her lips purse even more. “Don't believe everything you see."

"Did you or did you not get caught on a certain rooftop with a certain person who may be referred to as her royal highness?"

I quickly avert my eyes. "Don't you have some other butts you need to be sighting?" I get a laugh for my trouble. "So, when did the new girl moved up to this heaven on earth?"