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“No, it seems he was hired expressly for this task force. He has the qualifications to back it up, at least from what I found online.”
Trust Dr. Donaldson to do the research before he brought anything to me. “So you’re saying I’m stuck.”
“I would never force you to do something you didn’t want to do.” Dr. Donaldson held my gaze a fraction of a second too long. That meant nothing. His people skills weren’t the best. “Mr. Hardcastle offered a solution, though.”
“Did he?” I wanted to say,Let me guess, he’ll buy his way out of this, but I managed to wait for Dr. Donaldson to finish chewing. I took the time to scoop out the last bite of my poke bowl as well.
“He actually asked if I would be on the task force.”
“Oh.” It was a simple and straightforward solution. Almost elegant, really. Dr. Donaldson was way more of an expert than I was and would definitely bring prestige I lacked.
I didn’t want to be on the task force, I reminded myself. I didn’t want to work with Davis Freaking Hardcastle.
So why did I feel like I was losing out on something?
“He doesn’t want to work with me either, I take it,” I said at last.
Dr. Donaldson’s eyes grew wide, like he realized he was inadvertently insulting me. “Oh, he just—um—he had some concerns.”
“Concerns.” Like if we had another argument we might end up killing one another. Or the exact opposite.
“Yes, well... I think it had more to do with... working with a woman.”
“A woman,” I repeated, growing more incredulous by the syllable. As if those Health Department dudes hadn’t been bad enough.
“Yes, and he pointed out that any protocol changes would have more authority coming from me.”
More authority... coming from Dr. Donaldson... than from a woman.
Davis. Freaking. Hardcastle. Could bite me.
I would show him what a woman in medicine could do.
“Um.” Dr. Donaldson studied my face like it was a previously undiscovered strain of MRSA. “So... it’s still up to you. If you want this opportunity. But no pressure if you don’t.”
Oh, it wasn’t Dr. Donaldson putting pressure on me. “Thank you—let me know how much I owe you for lunch and I’ll send you a Monee.” I strode from the room, tossing my plastic in the recycling with more force than necessary. (Being empty plastic, it made absolutely no noise at all; very unsatisfying.)
Some people might have filed a complaint. Some people might have confronted him.
I wasn’t some people. I was going to force Davis Freaking Hardcastle to eat perfectly prepared crow when I showed him just how competent a “female doctor” could be.
I strode directly over to Urban Health and found Davis in a discussion with two residents. “Can I talk to you?” My tone made the query a straight-up demand.
“Always.” Davis nodded to the residents and directed me to an office. His office.
He got an office. I tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy; of course a lowly fellow like me didn’t get an office. Davis took a seat behind his desk, but I kept my feet. “I understand you talked to Dr. Donaldson about him being on the task force.”
Davis blew out a breath like he’d been caught stealing cookies from the jar—no, stealing that $250 Neiman Marcus recipe. “Um, yes.”
“Instead of me.”
Davis nodded. “I... thought I was doing us both a favor?”
A favor. Blatant sexism was “a favor.” Sure. I opened my mouth to make the accusation—but you couldn’t throw around words like “sexism” in the workplace.
I’d have to gather evidence. “Dr. Donaldson thinks I’m more than qualified for the position,” I informed Davis instead.
“Okay.”
