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Harry beamed and I blushed a little under his gaze.
“So, repeat those drinks for me,” Harry said. “Sangio-what?”
“San-gee-oh-vay-see,” I drawled. “Pretty sure I heard Rosie say she delivered that vintage during the week.”
Mel slapped her hand down on the table. “You know vineyard owners. You know things.”
“I know some things,” I said carefully.
“Dr Tradie here,” she said, pointing at Harry, “is pretty useless when it comes to wine. Life is too short for bad wine. We want to hear all of your recommendations. And Harry.” Mel pushed her glass away. “A Sangiovese for me, too.”
Harry shook his head and leaned down, speaking into my ear. “You okay if I leave you with these vultures for a bit? There will be an inquisition.”
“I’m good. They’re nice.”
Harry glared at his friends before heading to the bar. Before they could ask me anything, I asked them how they’d all met.
“Med school. First day,” Andy proudly declared.
Shit, doctors.I didn’t realise they’d all be doctors. Harry didn’t talk about his friends as doctors, just friends. Normal people.
“Steve and I are GPs,” Mel said. “We bought our own clinic two years ago, and still haven’t divorced.”
Steve chuckled, covering her hand with his. “I’m studying to specialise in dermatology.”
Skin.I sharply inhaled.
“With Australia’s skin cancer rates being one of the highest in the world,” he continued, “being able to detect cancer cells early with our patients will be great for our clinic. My exams are in four months.”
I focussed on inhaling a steady, deep breath before turning to Andy. “What do you do?”
Andy drained his beer and clasped his hands together, as if he was about to make an announcement. Harry appeared back at our table.
“It’s the one you wanted,” he said in low voice, handing me a glass of red. “Everything okay?”
“No awkward questions yet.”
Harry grimaced and then slid a wine glass to Mel who quickly took a sip.
“Oh my god, this Sangiovese is amazing,” Mel exclaimed. “So much better than the house red.”
“Glad you like it, and thank you,” I raised my glass to Mel and Harry and we clinked.
“So, everyone, now that you have your wine,” Andy beamed. “I’ve decided to specialise in cosmetic medicine.”
I froze.
Harry snorted. “What? Are you saying you want to do nips and tucks now?”
“Yep, liposuction, Botox. Lips, tits and butts, that's where the money is.”
Everyone groaned. I relaxed somewhat. Andy wasn’t doing reconstructive surgery.
“What?” Andy asked. “Am I not allowed to want to make money?”
Harry snorted again.
“I believe you like cosmetic surgery because you can’t stand bodily fluids,” Steve said, then faced me. “Andy fainted in second year when someone vomited on him during our hospital prac. He in turn did a sympathy chuck and admitted later he couldn’t stand the idea of piss, poo or vomit. Blood he can handle, apparently.”
