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“No. I mean, technically, I am his patient, but I’m not here to see him as a patient today.”
The nurse narrow
ed her eyes to slits. “Then why are you here exactly?”
“I’m a writer, and I just needed to ask—”
“You one of those desperate ladies in here lookin’ to date the doctor?” Her steely gaze flickered over Mel, and Marti stifled a laugh. “Cuz if you are, you can forget it. He doesn’t date his patients.” The nurse cocked her head, waiting.
“Ew. What? No.”
The nurse practically vibrated with the statement. Any second and she’d explode. I mean, what was this lady’s deal? Regardless, Marti was kind of enjoying Mel’s discomfort at least a little. If she had to find a boyfriend for her column, Mel could endure a little speculation from an overly suspicious nurse.
“I mean, not that I wouldn’t date him,” Mel corrected. “He is pretty hot, but I’m just not . . . I’m . . . Oh, just give me the freaking gown,” Mel said, snatching it up. “I didn’t even shave my legs. It wasn’t my week,” she grumbled.
Satisfied, the nurse set the chart down on the counter and left with a smile, while Marti followed her exit, smiling.
“It wasn’t your week?” Marti chuckled. “A bi-monthly shave, huh? I admire your dedication.” She took a sip of coffee. This little trip was turning out to be more entertaining than she had expected. At least she wasn’t the only one who had to put up with the rigors of this job.
“Hey, I’m lucky I can even have a razor anywhere in the vicinity of my apartment with the triplets around. And thanks for your help by the way,” she said, motioning where the nurse disappeared.
“Hey, you were doing a good enough job on your own.” She snorted. “Speaking of, I can’t believe you said your doctor was hot. I mean, he’s a Gynie,” Marti said like the idea of a hot OBGYN was insane.
Mel scowled and swirled a finger in the air. “Turn around.”
“What for? It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”
Mel narrowed her eyes, her mouth pinching into a tight line.
If looks could kill . . . Marti grinned and turned her back to her friend while she donned the disposable gown. Paper crinkled and Mel grunted before she gave Marti the go-ahead to turn back around.
“And the doctor is hot, by the way. Maybe you could’ve worn something more attractive, you know, considering you’re on the prowl for a man now.”
“Funny.” Marti shot her a dirty look, which only made her snicker. “Besides, what’s wrong with my outfit?” This No Doubt t-shirt is my favorite.
“Isn’t that the shirt you got at that thrift shop in SoHo a couple years ago?”
“And your point?” Marti asked, pointing at her with a paper cup. “It’s vintage.”
“It looks like something I would wear and that’s saying something. Since motherhood, everything in my wardrobe is vintage.”
Marti flicked the blood pressure cuff hanging on the wall. “So, is your doctor really that hot? Is that why the nurse was being all weird.”
Mel shrugged, adjusting her boobs in the paper gown. “Yeah. I’m guessing he gets hit on a lot.”
“Weird.”
“Not really. Think about it. If you wound up with a gynecologist, you’d get free yearly exams for life. No more awkward appointments.”
Marti snickered. “You’re deranged. “Then again, you’re having a second yearly exam, and I have to find a boyfriend, even though I’d rather hitchhike a ride with Freddy Kruger, all for the sake of journalism. Maybe there’s something wrong with both of us.”
“We need new jobs.”
“Agreed.”
“And just for the record, I only put this gown on so Nurse Ratchet would leave me be. I am not enduring an exam today, job or not.”
“Why would you go to a cute doctor, anyway?” Marti shuddered at the thought as she took a sip of her coffee. “I go to old Dr. Graystone. He’s like a hundred. His balls are probably so old, they’re all shriveled up like raisins by now. Or prunes. No one wants a total hottie lookin’ at your nether regions like that. It’s so ...” Marti searched for the right word. “... degrading or something. I don’t know. It shouldn’t be, but it is and—”
