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June: M. Duschene called and wants to reschedule for 7.13. So I did that.
June: Bathroom break again lol.
June: Going to lunch. Maxie has my calls.
I’m going to strangle her, I thought darkly as I sat in my office, clicking through emails and trying to ignore my phone. June had been texting me nonstop for over an hour, and I thought I might hear that text tone in my dreams.
Reluctantly, I stood from my desk to go retrieve my salad from the staff lounge. June might be there, and she might end up with a grape tomato shoved up her nose if I got too close, but risks had to be taken. I’d done an extra thirty minutes of leg day that morning, and not only did I fully regret it, but I was also ravenous.
As I passed the nurses’ station, I caught a wisp of conversation that almost caused me to pause and eavesdrop.
“… always redoes it! Like I can’t manage!”
“I know, oh my God,” the little blond nurse whispered to her black-haired coworker. “It’s like they think we’re all morons.”
I frowned, continuing past them to the lounge. June and I hadn’t been the only employees in the surgical center with disagreements—a general air of discord hung heavy in the clinic, and I noticed the constant frown between Carla’s eyebrows as she looked from employee to employee, consulting her new book on leadership for solutions. It had been a long winter—lots of snow and wind, and it had only let up recently. Maybe the sunshine would put everyone in a better mood.
I turned the corner into the staff lounge and then immediately froze.
June had her cardigan off, and I realized why she had been wearing it. Her white, lace blouse clung tightly to her generous curves, and the back had a giant keyhole exposing the milky skin of her back and the garish, twinkling rhinestones on her hot pink bra. Even through the sides of the lace top, I could see the hearts and bling through the material. She looked like Office Stripper Barbie. And could her pants get any tighter? Were those even work appropriate?
She was bent over one of the tables in front of a cupcake. There was a single candle in the middle of the frosting, and she had an old box of matches that failed to light with every strike. I had entered somewhat behind her, and she looked up just as my eyes had finished raking over her figure.
Her gaze squinted distrustfully. I scowled. “What, Matthews?”
“Stop staring at me.”
“I’m not staring,” I said in monotone, and walked past her.
“Yes, you are,” she replied with an accusatory point. “I’m hot. Leave it alone.”
“You’re the one drawing more attention to your stripper bra,” I pointed out.
June’s face went strawberry red. “Are you for real?”
I held up a placating hand and went to the fridge. “Forget I said anything.”
June bent back to her task after one last, dubious glance over her shoulder at me. “Stupid, ancient matches,” she muttered, striking another one that flared briefly before dying.
I reached for the fridge handle, watching her with a mix of curiosity and wariness.
“Light,” she growled.Strike. Hiss. Fizzle.“Goddammit!” she shouted.
“June,” I snapped. Cursing was my least favorite form of communication in any setting, but I absolutely would not tolerate it frommyemployee during work hours.
She rounded on me. “What,Brady?” As she spun, the unlit match flew out of her hand. In the middle of the table, a stack of napkins had been placed in a metal container. Somehow, the smoking, unlit match managed to find just the right waft of oxygen as it flew through the air, and as June faced me, eyes wide with consternation, the napkins erupted into flames behind her.
She inhaled sharply, whirling around to face the table. “Oh myGod.”
I surged for the counter and grabbed a water bottle someone had left sitting there. But June had an even worse idea and lunged across the table to grab the napkins and… what? Throw them in the air like a bomb in an action movie? I didn’t get the chance to find out what shehadplanned to do because she grabbed the napkins, swung toward the sink, and immediately realized that fireburns, and she let go with a shriek.
The flaming box of napkins flew right for me, landing hard on my shoe. The hem of my pants lit on fire.
June screamed.
I screamed.
The nurses ran in like a flock of dazed geese. I uncapped the water and doused my foot and the napkin holder. Smoke sizzled around us, filling the air with acrid, black smog.
