I put on my jacket and head toward the door, too curious to wait until later to call him back.
“I’m going on a walk,” I say to Lucas, who is too engrossed in a rerun of Law and Order: SVU to offer any more than the real-life equivalent of kthxbye.
As I hop down the stairs and tap his name on my phone, I remember that Damian went to work in marketing for a big urgent care conglomerate a few years ago. I wonder if he’s enjoying it.
“Damian? It’s Daisy.” I smile when the call clicks on. “Long time no talk.”
“Daisy!” he bellows. “You’re going to be happy you called back so quickly.”
“Why is that? Are you into girls again?”
“Not even, Daisy. That ship has sailed. It’s about something else.”
We go through the customary catch-ups and then he jumps right into explaining that since we last spoke, he has worked his way up at a company called MediQuik, a corporation behind some of those shiny clinics that seem to be popping up on every corner these days. Now he’s in charge of business development for the entire eastern half of Texas.
“So the point is, I’m overseeing the creation of 75 new locations, one of which will be in Hamilton, Texas. You’d mentioned going back and working there the last time we talked.”
“Oh, well I’m flattered that you thought of me,” I say politely, guessing where the conversation is headed. “But I already have a job, Damian.”
“I figured, but just hear me out. I want you in charge of the Hamilton clinic.”
He pauses for dramatic effect. I’m silent because I’m blindsided.
“It would be your practice. We handle appointments, billing, marketing, you name it, all for just a small cut. Patients love it, not to mention doctors—my phone is ringing off the hook with guys looking to get in on this.”
“I don’t know, it sounds really great, but I never really saw myself in one of those doc-in-the-box type places,” I say indifferently. “Again, I’m flattered that you thought of me.”
There’s a pregnant pause on the other end of the line.
“Well that’s the thing—I’m not just calling out of professional courtesy, nor am I trying to flatter you. I’m trying to do you a personal favor.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, I don’t want to sound insensitive, but…it’s just that mom-and-pop practices tend not to fare too well going up against MediQuiks. I can send you the market data from last year, but the gist is that local offices rarely last more than a year going up against us head to head.”
I see. This call isn’t so much a business proposition, it’s a tsunami warning. The wave is coming; grab a surfboard or be washed away.
“Right, and you’re sure my little Hamilton is being considered for this?”
“We’re breaking ground next month. Hamilton isn’t so little anymore. Our research indicates it’s projected to be one of the top prospects for the next fiscal year, and I want you at the helm.”
I take a moment to try to consider his offer objectively. On the surface, it gives me everything I originally set out to get.
My own practice.
An opportunity to live and work in Hamilton.
A chance to be rid of Lucas.
In my imagination, I entertain the scenario in which I hand Dr. McCormick my resignation and walk down the road to my new clinic. He would be hurt, but he would have to understand. Lucas would presumably take over the practice, although if what Damian says is true, it wouldn’t be for long.
“This is a lot to process. Do you mind if I give you a call back?”
“Of course, take some time. I talked you up to my boss, and he agreed to give you the right of first refusal. We always prefer to recruit bright young doctors from the area rather than moving in a transplant.”
Oh god. I realize I’m not the only one in town that fits that description. What if I turn it down and they ask Lucas instead?
“Okay, thanks again Damian.”
“No problem. I’ll email you the contract—it’s only an option, nothing binding. Call me if you have any questions.”
As I head back upstairs, my head spins. Damian’s proposal came out of left field. My own practice? My own patients? I’ve been so consumed by the idea of taking over for Dr. McCormick that I never considered the possibility of another practice moving into Hamilton.
I had phases and they were working…well, kind of. For all the nail polish and lattes I’ve been delivering, the staff doesn’t seem to love me any more than Lucas, and Dr. McCormick definitely doesn’t favor me as much as I assumed he would. And, well, Phase III: Force Lucas Out has now sort of morphed into Do Lucas in His Kitchen. Maybe Damian’s phone call came at the exact right time. Maybe it’s the push I need.