Chapter 1
Ivory
I had chills, body aches, nausea, headaches, and was sick to my damn stomach. I looked at the attendant as if she lost her damn mind.
“Here is my insurance card.” I tried to give it to her for the third time.
“Ma’am, please use the kiosk, as it’s set up to take your information,” she said with that fake ass smile.
Rolling my eyes at her with the faint notion that they may roll out of my head with the way it was banging against my skull, I lumbered over to the kiosk for the third time and tried again. It kept asking for a picture with my identification card, then my insurance. I put in all the required information, but then something popped on the screen that read “System Error.”
What in the fuck?
“Lady!” I yelled back without looking at her. “This is not working.”
My fucks were going out of the window, along with my patience and my eyeballs. Everything in my face felt like it was about to just blow up as my body began to heat up like a bonfire that was just doused with kerosene. In a moment, it would be chills, like the faint Philly weather that was doomed as soon as I walked through the glass doors.
“You had to put in your identification,” she called from her chair, and that was when I had had enough.
“I did!” I yelled and jerked my head around so I could glare at her.
One of her colleagues must have seen that I was on ten—I mean a literal ten—because she got up and said, “Ma’am, I’ll help you.” I did not feel well, and I swear on everything that would not be good for this urgent care facility. I was a calm and cool woman, but when I was hungry or sick, another side would come out.
The woman took my papers and cards and tried the same thing I did. When she received the same error message, she called back, “Yeah, this machine is acting funny again.”
If I had the energy, I would have screamed. The fact that she said “again” meant that the machine had been down before. Meaning, the other chick knew that. Meaning, I just needed to see the damn doctor before I pulled one of those broads over the counter and they would need to see a doctor.
“Look, I think I have the flu. I need to see a doctor now,” I demanded.
I was done with formalities, niceties, and filling out stupid paperwork or the dumb ass kiosk that didn’t work. It was unsanitary anyway because you had sick people tapping on these screens after one another, and if they had Ebola, then I have it too.
This urgent care facility is not to be admired, and truth be told, the place was lacking. I didn’t have many options at eleven at night, but what was a woman to do in the City of Brotherly Love? This was such a lie, let me tell you. I don’t think I’ve met a friendly person in the last three years of me being here. It was a culture shock.
I’m from Maryland, and we spoke to each other. In Philly, ha, they won’t even look at you. It’s like New York. Hear no evil; see no evil. Just be evil.
“I’ll get you signed in.” The lady took my stuff as I went to go sit down.
I was done.
A few minutes later, she returned my stuff, and a woman with a white coat on with white sneakers that looked like she wrote on the sides called my name.
“Ivory Nash,” she called again because I was slow to get up.
Once I slowly moved towards her, she gestured for me to follow her, so I did.
Once I explained why I was there, she took my vitals, and then she stepped out as she shared that the doctor would be with me soon.
The next person opened the door, and before me stood a tall, dark-headed man with a chiseled jaw, black-rimmed glasses, and spiky hair. Well, he was cute, but the surly look on his face did not match.
“What brings you in here today?” he said without looking at me and going straight to the computer.
“I think I have the flu,” I murmured.
“That so?” he asked. “You take the flu shot.”
I shook my head and didn’t answer.
This caused him to turn to me. Then it was his turn to shake his head like he couldn’t believe it.
I scoffed at his outrage, and this had him standing up and finally facing me.
“Something funny?” he asked with his arms crossed over his expansive chest.
He had on a blue button-up shirt, a white doctor’s jacket over it, with dark slacks and nice shoes. There was no ring on his finger, and he could pass for my age or probably older. There was some gray at the top of his head.
“Yeah, the nasty and rude ways of this urgent care facility,” I answered as I stared him down. “This place is, by far, bar zero.”
My words must have cut him because he looked at me, then took one step. If I weren’t from the streets of Prince George’s County, I might have taken that as a threat, but if I had to, I would use my “knuck if you buck” on his ass.
“You come in here, the urgent care facility, because you didn’t want to go to the hospital to see if you have a contagious virus wreaking havoc in your body. Yet you didn’t get your vaccine. You might be spreading it as we speak, but you want a top-notch facility to cater to your lack of planning and preparation. You are welcome to go elsewhere and get treatment if we are not meeting your expectations, my queen,” he snapped back, and I think my head actually exploded.
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” I snapped and jumped in his face.
“Knuck if you buck” mode.
“Nobody talks to me that way.” I was seeing red and in this man’s face.
Sick and all. I’m sure spittle was present, and I cared not one bit.
“We’re the only two in here, Your Highness,” he taunted. “I must be talking to you.”
“Fuck you,” I seethed as our noses grazed each other, but I had to get on my toes. “Fuck you, Dr. Asshole.”
“I’m a doctor with an asshole, and you’re . . .” He started to say something, but I must have expended all of my energy because suddenly the heat was too much and I went crashing.
My head finally exploded.
Chapter 2
Ian
Every damn year, during flu season, people walk through my clinic and want us to work miracles. Sorry, ma’am, if the flu has your ass, you might as well take your ass home and let it do what it’s going to do. That thing can be vicious, but the people who get on my nerves the most are those that put the rest of us in danger by not getting the flu shot. They are incubators, and they don’t give a fuck about anyone else. It’s quite selfish, actually. My people know I don’t have a lot of sympathy for those who don’t get the flu shot but want to get the Tamiflu.
It was no different when Ivory Nash came in looking like a sick little puppy. She was kind of cute in a weird way that made the man in me want to protect. The doctor in me wanted to find out what was wrong and fix it. I should have known. A cute thing like that would just think the universe would spare her the flu because she was probably a Philly diva or socialite.
Therefore, when she stated that she did not get the flu shot, my entire demeanor changed to challenging. My team knew me. They knew, but I guess it was ten o’clock at night and we all got off in an hour, so it was every man for themselves. She just drew the unlucky straw.