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“Okay, okay, finally time to dust off the old hoo ha?” Izzy said, as they walked into the changing area that was really an old storage closet with a few shower curtains hung up as dividers.
“Can you not be yourself so much?”
“No, then you’d get bored.”
They both burst into laughter when an older woman pulled back the shower curtain she had been changing behind and gave them a disapproving look.
“Okay, let’s start this fashion show,” Izzy said once they caught their breath.
For some reason, everything was always funnier when she experienced it with her sister. She was closer to Izzy than anyone else in her life, which admittedly was very few people. But she wasn’t ready to mention the deputy position until it was real, or the fact that Drake was back, because it didn’t mean anything for their nonexistent relationship. Losing Drake had been the hardest time of her life, and her sister would get protective.
“Wow,” Izzy said as Margo stepped out in a simple red dress that didn’t have any embellishments or sequins but seemed to hang on her curves in all the right places.
“It’s not too…”
“Sexy, glamorous? No. It’s demure and the perfect shade of red for Christmas. Your curves are just sexy,” Izzy said, and the old woman from earlier popped back into the dressing room.
“You better get that dress, young lady, or I will.”
One look at Izzy’s reflection in the fogged mirror, and they both busted out laughing again.
“I guess I better take it,” Margo said finally when she caught her breath.
“And wear it to the first event. Then, when the hospital makes tons of money, you can focus on finding a date.”
“Dating sounds terrible. Maybe I’ll just collect plants and books,” Margo said.
“What about sex? You can’t tell me you don’t want to have any of that for the next six or so decades? Just think of dating like fishing. You can throw back all the small ones,” Izzy said.
“Izzy,” Margo said between laughs.
“It’s true. Small minds, small bank accounts, small . . . cars—you need to find a real man.”
“Oh my gosh, let’s go buy all of these and then some margaritas,” Margo said.
“Now you’re talking,” Izzy agreed.
*
The next night was the first hospital donor event, and the only complication was that Margo had to change at work and walk around the ER in her gown. The donors were being given a tour of several departments at the hospital, and then everyone would head to the swanky cocktail party. She was hoping to do her short portion of the tour fast and avoid running into as many of her colleagues as possible. She stood in her crisp white doctor’s coat, with a tablet in hand by the elevator, waiting for the first tranche of donors to arrive in the hectic ER for a quick look. She didn’t plan on showing them much, since gunshot victims and drunk Santas were on trend that week.
She was ready with a big smile plastered on, but when the elevator doors opened and the group of donors wearing their finest suits and gowns, with women dripping in diamonds, all surrounded Drake, she fought the urge to scream. This man was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. A fly she couldn’t kill.
“You’re all in for a real treat now,” Drake said, ushering the donors off the elevator. “This is Dr. Margo Monroe, one of our three brilliant attending physicians. She has dedicated the last ten years of her life to this hospital and serving the community. She has saved countless lives, and on my first day, I witnessed her in action. Believe me when I tell you she is spectacular to watch,” Drake said in his deep, coaxing voice.
And when his eyes landed on hers, she could swear he was implying something other than her medical prowess.
Clearing her throat, she ushered everyone to approach a wall of windows with a view into the hub of the ER. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I understand I’m your last stop on the tour. This is the ER at Mercy, and I assure you it is always a busy place,” Margo said.
But before she could get any more of her speech out, the alarm sounded. She and every doctor, including Drake, knew what that meant: there was no time to spare. In any second, they would be inundated with multiple life-or-death cases.
“And that concludes the tour,” she said, pulling her hair back and quickly attempting to braid the long thick locks she’d curled in the doctor’s lounge between patients.
“That alarm you hear indicates we’re about to receive multiple critical cases, and unless you want to risk getting blood on your Louies, I suggest you all head back up to the donors’ suite,” Drake said, pressing the button for the elevator to come back down for them.
“Well, it might be worth waiting just a minute or two,” one of the tall men with a pompous air said standing his ground.
“Get that tour out of here,” Dalton called, running past them to meet the first gurney with one paramedic riding on top as they performed compressions on the person, and two others wheeled the gurney into the first empty bay.
