Dr Feelgood Read online

  Before I can finish the thought, my phone beeps. Jonah disconnected the call. What a jerk! He wouldn’t even let me get a word in edgewise. Honestly, dating him is absolutely exhausting. He throws tantrums and frankly, behaves like a spoiled little girl sometimes.

  I pick up my curling iron and get to work on finishing my hair. It’s a mindless task, so my thoughts wander. Should I really be dating this guy? Why do I keep on dreaming of a Prince Charming if I’m already sort-of dating Jonah?

  I sigh again while pulling my hair taut. Jonah and I met six months ago at a bar near Lalique. It had been a crappy day, with a bunch of appointments that just weren’t going right. It was the opposite of what happened with Susan. None of my clients went home feeling happy or confident, and I was questioning whether I deserved to be a stylist.

  I was wallowing at a table by myself when a floppy-haired young man sat down across from me.

  “You can tell me to leave,” he said. “But you look like you could use a friend.”

  I stared at him like an angel from heaven. Dee, Liz, and Annabel were busy that day, and my parents had already made it clear that they thought my job in retail was just a stop-gap until I got a real career. Telling them about my bad day would have opened up a can of worms I didn’t want to deal with.

  So I talked to Jonah that night. I told him about my clients, and about how crappy the appointments had been. And he just listened. I must have ranted for a full forty-five minutes, but he never took his eyes off of me.

  When I was done, he said, “That sucks.” And that was exactly what I needed to hear. I burst out laughing.

  “It does suck,” I said. “It sucks so bad, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  Jonah covered my hand with his. “Sure you can. You can make tomorrow better.”

  God, I thought he was so cute then, and I still think he’s cute, if you like the puppy-dog look. His hair is just a little too long, falling to the tips of his ears. He’s got big brown eyes that he can open really wide, and sometimes, he even seems to have an invisible wagging tail. That is, when he isn’t throwing a shit fit.

  After all, things were really good between Jonah and me for the first few months of our relationship. After that first night, we started hanging out more and getting to know each other. He never made me feel bad about my love of fashion, and he told me about his dream of owning his own restaurant someday.

  These last few weeks though, the luster has worn off. When we’re good, we’re good, but when we’re bad, we’re really bad. The phone conversation today was mild compared to some of Jonah’s tantrums. I don’t even know what sets him off, to be honest. Sometimes it’s something as simple as disagreeing on where we should go for dinner, or how to pronounce the word “tomato” versus “tomah-to.” I have no way of knowing when he might turn into a three-year-old and stomp his feet before exploding with rage. It’s exhausting but tonight, he’s going to have to wait.

  I finish up the last two layers of my hair and wait for the curls to cool. Once they’re ready, I douse my head in hairspray and shake out my hair. The curls are soft and perfect, bouncy and sexy at once. Good. Eff you, Jonah.

  My closet is filled with a million outfits from Lalique and other stores, but I already have an idea of what I want to wear. The girls and I are only going out to a bar, so I pick out a pair of jeans, one of the brands I sent Clara home with earlier, and pair it with a long, flowy blouse. The silky fabric flatters my body and I throw my hair back over one shoulder. Nice.

  After a quick look in the mirror, I’m ready to go. Jonah is almost completely out of my mind, leaving me a heady combination of excited and anticipatory. It’ll be fun to hang out with my friends. I grab my keys and lipstick and head to my car. Girls’ night is coming, and I’m not going to let anyone bring me down.

  To add fuel to my excitement, as soon as I turn the key in the ignition, my favorite song comes on, which just proves tonight is going to be great. I pull out of my driveway and head towards the bar, singing along to the radio at the top of my lungs.

  I reach a red light and come to a stop, bopping a bit in my seat. The other direction gets a green arrow, and at least three cars go even after my light turns green. I grumble under my breath. I don’t have road rage as bad as my mom, but I definitely get annoyed by terrible drivers.

  Oh well. Another good song comes on, distracting me from the slight onset of traffic. I take a left, singing at the top of my lungs, and then come to a stop sign.

  My lipstick is starting to fade, so I flip down the driver’s side visor and take a momentary pause to reapply. A sound comes from my left, and then there’s a high-pitched beeping. But before I have the chance to figure out what it is there’s a horrific squeal of tires and then CRUNCH.

  What happened? Why am I upside down? My head reels and my vision fades as I struggle to make sense of my circumstances. But it’s useless and suddenly, everything fades to black.

  5

  Ridge

  Leo lines up his shot on the pool table with great aplomb, acting like he’s a professional billiards player. It’s ridiculous because I know for a fact that he sucks. Sure enough, he pulls back the cue and hits the white ball, sending it sailing into a striped ball, before both plop into a corner pocket. The scratch is bad enough on its own, but Leo is solids. At least he got a ball in for me.

  Unfazed, he smears chalk on his stick like that might be the problem. I silently take the cue and line up my shot. I only have one more to get in before I can go for the eight ball, and of course, the solid green ball goes right where I want, slamming into the pocket.

  “Corner,” I say, pointing to my last shot. As if by magic, the eight ball sails into the called pocket, and the cue ball stays on the green felt. Game over, I win.

  “Asshole,” Leo mumbles. He takes a long chug of his Coke, probably wishing it was a beer like mine. Leo is on call, so he’s got to abstain just in case an emergency surgery comes in and he needs to rush to the hospital. By contrast, one of the best parts of being a physical therapist is that I’m never on call. I work by appointment only, so I’m free to imbibe on my free time.

  “Why do we play pool when you’re shit at it?” I ask rhetorically.

  “What else is there to do in a joint like this?”

  My buddy has a point. The new billiards bar is exactly what it sounds like. There’s a dimly-lit section to the right of the bar with wood paneled walls matching the floor. Six pool tables are crowded into the area, just far enough apart that they can all be used at once, but close enough so that players can interact if they want. There are a few tables scattered around in the bar area, but only about ten people mill about. If this is what it looks like on a Friday night, I don’t think this place will be open for long. Then again, it’s only seven. They’ll probably get busier later. Hopefully, for their sake.

  A loud, raucous “hey” sounds out from the front door, and I already know who it is. Evan, Dax, and Tommy are lawyers, even if at the moment, they look more like lumberjacks with their plaid shirts and jeans.

  We shake hands and find a table. I’m starting to get hungry despite my late lunch, so I order a couple plates of nachos for the group.

  “Where’s Seth?” Dax asks, taking a long chug of his lager. “I thought he was coming out tonight.”

  Leo rolls his eyes. “Seth never hangs out anymore.”

  I shrug. “He’s busy.”

  “Busy being a plastic surgeon and raking in the cash,” Leo snorts.

  “You’re in ortho, don’t act like you’re hurting for money.”

  My friend tips his Coke in my direction. “True, but at least I get to fix bones, and not break them.”

  I don’t bother pointing out that plastic surgeons do more than nose jobs. They actually help people like burn victims and survivors of abuse. But Leo won’t listen. He’ll just go off about how much better real surgeons are. We’ve had the argument before, and it’s not worth rehashing.

  “Well, Seth be
tter show his ass next time. He owes me a rematch from the last time we played pool,” Dax grumbles.

  I snort.

  “He beat you, so why do you need a rematch?”

  Dax sips his beer. “I was sick that day.”

  Tommy slaps his shoulder. “Liar, you’re just a sore loser.”

  “I should have won. He cheated.”

  “He didn’t cheat,” the rest of us chorus at the same time. We were all there for the epic Dax/Seth showdown, and Seth definitely won. Dax is probably the only person in our crew who is worse than Leo at pool.

  “Whatever, screw Seth,” Leo says. “Let me tell you about this surgery today.”

  Dax recoils. “No way, man.”

  “Sixteen-year-old kid was screwing around on his skateboard and got hit by a van. His leg was shattered. I’m serious, I’ve never seen a bone in that many pieces.”

  Tommy and Evan are intrigued, but Dax is getting a little green. The five of us, plus Seth, went to school together and Dax was originally pre-med like Leo, Seth, and me. But after seeing a cadaver for the first time, he transferred to pre-law. I don’t know why the guy thought he could be a doctor when talking about blood makes him queasy, but at least he got out before he spent ten years in school and thousands of dollars on tuition.

  “I fixed him up good,” Leo brags. “Total reconstruction. He’ll regain at least ninety percent mobility.”

  I polish off my second beer as the waitress drops the nachos in front of us. Leo keeps talking about his epic surgery, but I ignore him. I heard the story once today, and that was plenty. It’s awesome that he fixed the kid’s leg because a lesser surgeon might have done worse, and that would have really sucked for a sixteen-year-old athlete. With Leo’s surgery skills and my PT, the kid should be back for football season his senior year although in my opinion, if he cares that much about his athletic career he probably shouldn’t have been skateboarding with cars mere feet away.

  Between the five of us, the nachos last about two minutes. It’s fine. I’ll probably get a burger or something later to fill me up, since the nachos definitely didn’t work.

  “How about a couple rounds?” Evan says, wiping his face. He nods towards the three empty pool tables on the other side of the room. He also sucks, but he’s always down for a match.

  We all nod and make our way over. We decide to pair up, Evan and me against Leo and Dax.

  “Hey,” Tommy says to a couple guys nearby. “Anyone want to join to play winner?”

  One guy nods, so he and Tommy start a one on one game to practice while we play our first round. We go with the nine ball and make our way through the entire series one at a time. It’s a close match the entire time but Evan and I win, as expected.

  I’m just about to re-rack the balls when I notice Leo staring distractedly at something. Ah, I see. A pack of young women stand by the bar, staring over in our direction and giggling into their glasses. Over the last hour, the place has started to fill up a little more, though it’s still dead compared to other places I’ve been.

  Leo nods in their direction and the giggles get louder, as if on cue.

  “Dude, don’t mess with them,” I say, taking an easy shot. “We’re busy.”

  I sink the three ball and line up for the four. It’s impossible to get, so I just make sure not to scratch.

  Leo’s eyes never leave the group of women. “I’m not busy and I’m not messing with them. I’m going to invite them over.”

  I roll my eyes. “Why? It’s pointless.”

  “Come on, look at them. They’re hot.”

  Reluctantly, I give the women a once over. They’re okay. They’re probably in their early thirties, maybe out for one of their birthdays or celebrating a promotion or something. It’s too far away to spot wedding rings, but there’s probably at least one finger weighted down with a rock. Call it a vibe that I get. Plus, that’s the type of girl Leo loves to chase.

  “Leave it, Leo.”

  “Come on, live a little. What’s the harm in just hanging out?”

  I take another shot, missing the five ball. Unfortunately, I set it up perfectly for Tommy, and he makes it and the six ball effortlessly. At least he misses on the seven. Plus, it’s a scratch, so Evan gets to move the ball to where he can easily get the seven in. Bingo. Unfortunately, he misses on the eight, but I’m not too worried about our chances.

  “I have Candy, remember?” I say.

  Leo scoffs. “Who cares?”

  I glare at him. “We’re dating, whether you like it or not.”

  “She won’t know.”

  “You’re a pig.”

  He shrugs. “I’m going to go talk to them.”

  Before he has the chance, his phone rings.

  “Dammit,” Leo mutters. “Guys, I have to bail. Emergency surgery.”

  Well, that’s the end of that. We say our goodbyes and Leo leaves without a second look at the women. They try to get our attention, but we ignore them.

  Bored with hitting balls with sticks, Evan, Dax, Tommy and I return to our table. I look over the menu, but I’m not feeling any of the food here. In fact, I’m not feeling much of anything at this point. I’ve been up since five, and shit, but exhaustion’s settling on my shoulders and making me blink. Am I getting old? Damnit.

  “I started listening to this podcast at work,” Tommy says conversationally, momentarily distracting me. “Every week, they explore an unsolved murder. It’s really interesting.”

  Tommy rattles on about the latest episode, something about the crew investigating a missing teenager from twenty years ago.

  “She’s still missing, but they found new evidence while making the episode and it might help lead the police in the right direction. Pretty out there, right?”

  We all agree it sounds cool, and Tommy sends a group text with the name of the podcast. I have to admit, I’ll probably listen to it at the gym, but I’m having trouble showing my enthusiasm right now. That’s how I know it’s time for me to leave.

  “I think I’m gonna head home,” I say.

  Evan claps my back. “You sure? The night is young.”

  “Yeah, but I’m getting old,” I say. We all laugh. “I’ll see you guys next weekend, yeah?”

  They give noncommittal answers. As lawyers, they could always have a case turn up that whisks them away and Leo could be on call again. We never know for sure when we’re getting together anymore, and it usually ends up being a last minute thing. Such is life.

  I say my goodbyes and head for my car. I only had two beers, so it’s okay to drive. The rest of the guys took Ubers, so I’m not worried about them getting home, either. I’ve seen the aftermath of drunk driving accidents, and it is not pretty, unfortunately. I don’t recommend it.

  My drive home is fine until I’m about halfway there. The road I normally take is closed off by a firetruck, with detour signs leading me around the area. Just beyond the firetruck, I can barely make out a huge truck and a tiny car. The streetlights glint off broken glass on the asphalt and I wince, looking over at the scene. It looks like the huge vehicle slammed into a tiny little roadster, and I can see someone being loaded into an ambulance as lights flash.

  Momentarily blinded, I turn away. I hope they’re okay, but honestly, they’re probably not. That was a pretty gruesome scene, and my hands gripping the wheel, I look straight ahead while swallowing hard. It’s good to be alive, and giving thanks to my Maker, I pull forward as the light turns green once more.

  6

  Summer

  What happened? A dull beeping sound lures me from the gray, drifting fog. I manage to crack my eyes open, but shut them again immediately. Since when does my room get so bright?

  My head is pounding. It’s not the dull throb of a usual headache, but a full, pulsating pain that echoes through my brain. I try to groan, but my throat feels like sandpaper.

  Everything hurts, not just my head. How much did I drink last night? I try to draw up the memories, but it’s completely
blank. The last thing I remember is being in my car, and then there was a stop sign, and then I touched up my lipstick. What happened after that?

  After a few minutes, I slowly open my eyes again. The florescent lights are harsh and the throbbing in my head gets worse. I didn’t think that was possible.

  Blinking hard, my vision is blurry at first. When it clears, I make out a few lights on the ceiling. Wait a minute, this is not my room. Where am I? I try to look around, but my neck aches and I can’t seem to move much. Come to think of it, nothing is working right.

  The beeping beside me gets faster. Where is that coming from? What is going on?

  Panic seeps into my entire body. My hands are shaking, my forehead sweating. I can’t look around because it hurts too damn much and I just want to know what’s going on but I can’t even tell if there are people around. Did I go home with a stranger last night who turned into a monster? My friends wouldn’t let that happen to me, would they? I remember having an argument with Jonah, but we fight all the time. I wouldn’t get drunk and put myself in this kind of position over that.

  I try to turn my head again but the pain in my neck is unbearable. I swallow, my throat still raw, and attempt to speak, but all that comes out is a hoarse cough.

  The sound is raspy and loud and within seconds, three women surround me at my bed.

  “Oh, God, Summer. You’re awake.” My friend Liz has tears in her eyes.

  I want to ask what’s going on, but the words won’t come out. Instead, I manage to croak out, “Water?”

  Annabel jumps into action. “I’ll get you some! Hang in there. I’ll be right back.”

  I nod. It hurts, but not as badly as turning my head did. Staring blankly ahead, I manage to croak out “Where am I?” one painful word at a time.

  Liz and Dee share a look over me. “How much do you remember?” Dee asks.