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The phone on my desk rang and I growled before picking up. “This is Dr. Wright.”
“This is Dr. Wright.” Suzie pitched her voice low and mimicked my greeting. “Don’t you sound so grown up?”
“That’s because I am a grown up, Suzie. What’s up?”
“Just checking on…things.”
“Things?” She wanted to know how things were going with me and Zola. “That depends on what you’ve heard.”
“Nothing,” she sighed, that one word heavy with disappointment. “Strangely you and Zola seemed to have dropped off the hospital gossip train but I know you, and I’m getting to know Zola, and I don’t believe it for one second.”
“Or,” I shot back with a heavy emphasis, “you’re more bored than you thought you would be on maternity leave and now you’re in search of drama anywhere you can find it.”
“Oh please, I don’t have time to get bored. But given recent developments, I feel it’s my duty, no, my obligation to check in on you, the head of cardio, and my cardio fellow.”
“Things are fine. We’ve maintained a civil distance that seems to be working.”
“Good.” Suzie’s relief was palpable and it made me feel bad to be one of the things she needed to handle while on maternity leave. “Have you seen the interview in Medical News of Tomorrow? Zola comes off great, intelligent and measured, like she really cares about her clients. She even gives a special thanks to JRMC for helping to develop her skills.”
I blinked so fast my vision blurred. “What are you talking about, Suzie?”
She growled into the phone. “Nothing. I guess things haven’t changed quite as much as you want me to believe. Nice, Drew. Really nice.” The call ended abruptly and I stared at the blinking screen until it went black.
Interview? What interview was she talking about? I punched my subscription ID into the system and pulled up Medical News of Tomorrow. It wasn’t a peer reviewed medical journal, but it was a great platform to talk about upcoming research and almost-breakthroughs. So what in the hell was Zola doing giving an interview?
The more I read of the three page interview, the angrier I became. Who in the hell did Zola think she was, going out there like a rogue agent, promoting research she hadn’t conducted and speaking of procedures she hadn’t yet tested? “Damn stubborn woman.”
I shoved away from my desk, grabbed my personal tablet and went in search of Zola. I found Melanie Gibbons first, and she was as good as any search and rescue team. “Hey Mel, have you seen Zola?”
Melanie nodded knowingly. “Finally ready to bury the hatchet? Good. I love good gossip as much as the next gal, but you two are enough to make me want to intervene.”
“No, I’m not ready to bury anything.” Except maybe one annoying cardiac fellow who was too smart and too sexy. “Have you seen her?”
Melanie grumbled. “I have.”
“Well, where is she?”
Melanie raised an eyebrow at my tone.
Instead of shouting at her the way I wanted to, I took three deep breaths and let them out slowly as I reached for my composure. “Can you tell me where she is, please?”
“Cafeteria. Stop by the gift shop on your way down and see if they have any manners on sale,” she grumbled loud enough for me, and the whole reception area to hear.
I didn’t bother to remind her of hospital hierarchy because it would do no good. Melanie Gibbons was an institution around these parts and pissing her off could mean trouble for my department in general, and me specifically. Besides, I had a doctor to speak to. Very firmly.
I spotted Zola first, sitting at a table, smiling and laughing and gesturing wildly as she chatted with Dr. Persy Vanguard, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
Not yet, anyway. Marching across the cafeteria, I told myself to keep my temper in check, that nothing good would come of making a scene in such a public space. “We need to talk,” I grunted when I arrived at her table.
Zola sighed before she even turned to face me. “Do you have some work that I’m needed for?”
“No.”
“Research you’d like me to conduct or double check?” Her bored expression annoyed me.
“No. I don’t have any work for you.”
She nodded and that one movement said so much, I swear that I heard every word in that brief moment of silence. “Then no, we don’t have anything we need to talk about, Dr. Wright.”
“We do,” I insisted, feeling my anger and frustration grow. “I caught your interview in MfT. Care to explain?”
“No.” Finally, her brown gaze slid up my body until it connected with mine and I could see that she was equally annoyed. That was it, just no, as if that was an acceptable answer.
It wasn’t. “You should have spoken to me first, Zola.”
