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9
Lila
WhydidIhaveso much crap in this purse? I could never find anything.
Aha.
With a shaky hand, I seized my cosmetics bag and dropped it on my desk. Then I glanced up at the clock in my office for the hundred and third time this afternoon.
4:41 p.m.
My last session of the day had just finished, and in less than an hour, I’d be sitting face to face with my date.
What was I getting myself into? Was this even worth it? Forget the cute little butterflies in my tummy feeling, a herd of raging rhinos stampeded through my gut.
Pre-date jitters, they called it.
Pfft. More like pre-tryst terror.
I fished out my ruby-red lipstick and applied it while I tried to imagine what tonight would bring. Why was I so nervous? It wasn’t like I was meeting my Prince Charming. A man sweeping me off my feet was the last thing I wanted.
I was already struggling to stop obsessing over Hawk. And this date with a stranger was supposed to be that cure. I had big career plans, and I needed to stay grounded. My life was on the right track to perfection, and no man would get in the way.
All I needed was a distraction…from a certain someone. And if that led to sex in some rando’s bed or on the counter, in the shower, in my car. Hell, I wasn’t picky right now, I’d do it anywhere. I was so overdue.
The shrill ring of my office line nearly had me fall off my chair. “Addiction Psychiatry Department. Dr. Lila Wilders speaking.”
“Hi, Sugarplum,” my grandmother’s sweet tone chimed from the other side of the line. “How’s my Pumpkin?”
I smiled. “Hi, Nana. You know you can call me on my cell.”
“That stupid thing won’t work again. Instead of calling you, I ended up on a video call with Harold from my shuffleboard team and well, the bastard took the call even though he didn’t have his teeth in. I tell ya, I won’t be able to wash that image out of my eyes.”
I suppressed a laugh. Nana always had trouble keeping up with technology. I didn’t bother telling her that she could have used her home line to call my cell. “What’s up, Nana? I’m just getting ready to leave.”
“I just watched another show on the TV screen about a young woman who went on one of those internet things like you did, and she met this man. But he was actually a serial killer, and it took the police three years to find the poor dear’s body. And well, Sweetie Pie, I just want to make sure you’re being safe.”
Oh boy. Not again.
“Nana, I’ve told you to stop watchingCold Case Files. I’ll be fine, I promi—”
“Dumpling, listen. There are dangerous men out there, believe me, I know…”
I knew Nana had a bit of a badass past. She had hinted at it so many times during my childhood when she had taught me how to defend myself. Those lessons had come in handy during my residency.
“… and you need to be able to protect yourself. Now take your pepper spray and that taser gun I gave you…”
But I didn’t need to hear this again. I didn’t have time. I grabbed my cell phone and texted my dad.
Me: Code Spiral. Call Nana xo.
“… keep it stashed in your purse. Or better yet, in your bra. You tase that sucker in the balls if he tries anything. And don’t go alone. Make sure to take a friend. If I lived in New York, I’d go with you along with my bat… What’s that? Do you hear that beeping?”
“No, Nana, must be your other line. Probably important, you better get it. I’ll talk-to-you-tomorrow-love-you-bye.”
That was pretty mild compared to the last ninety-six cautionary tales she inflicted on me. The trouble was they were starting to get to me.
But why was I so scared? This wasn’t like me. I always faced my fears head-on. I even did my residency at an addiction clinic in one of the most dangerous cities in the country. The staff was so shocked I had shown up because most of the other psychiatrists were too chickenshit to step foot in there. Every day had been filled with real threats over there. Facing a man coming down from a major meth high, going through serious withdrawal symptoms, exhibiting severe anger issues…and hiding a knife in his boots. Now, that was scary.
