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I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have one lunch with my colleagues. Give them a chance to get to know me beyond the grunts of acknowledgement I used in social settings.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Chapter 4
“Okay, okay. What’s the worst vag you’ve ever seen?” Jack snuck a glance at the other male doctors around the table as if waiting for murmurs of agreement.
Instead it was silent.
Everyone just shifted uncomfortably.
Jack slapped George Ramos, the hospital’s radiologist, on the shoulder. “Look, I know you want to ask.”
“Man, we’re trying to eat.” George brushed Jack off.
“So?” Jack turned to me, dark skin glistening, eyes wild with the excited sheen that most pubescent boys adopt when talking about female bodies. “This guy gets to put his face between women’s legs all day long. He gets to stare at it. Pet it. Caress. Don’t you want to know what that’s like?”
Henry Chiwa, the resident in the orthopedic department, squirmed. “Jack, you talking about privates or a cat?”
“Same thing, huh?” Jack wiggled his eyebrows.
I tightened my hold on the fork. According to criminologists, everyone in the world had murderous tendencies, but society and morality prevented them from acting on it.
Right now, I could see myself lodging my fork deep into Jack’s neck and neither society nor morality could do much about that.
“Don’t act like a couple of punks,” Jack taunted, glancing at each of us in turn. “Who here is a virgin?” He lifted his spoon at Henry, the youngest around the table. “You?” Then to me. “You?”
I grabbed the end of his spoon and slowly lowered it. “Don’t point that in my face.”
* * *
