I’d had three late nights this week with work, and two more provided by the aforementioned naked-time with Melody, and as a result, I was fucking exhausted.
I could barely keep myself awake as the lull of the train rocked back and forth while it screamed through the darkened tunnels of the New York City tracks. Light flashing like a kaleidoscope made me open my eyes just as we pulled into my station.
Up and off, I moved with the crowd, weaving my way up the steps and down the quiet block to my apartment.
It felt different as I climbed the steps and walked into the noticeably empty space. So different that I paused and looked around for a moment, spinning in a circle. Nothing seemed out of place, but something still felt off.
She isn’t here, my mind whispered.
I chuckled softly to myself and shook my head over the fact that Melody Marco had burrowed herself under my skin and into my heart so deep that coming home to a Melody-less apartment didn’t feel right.
With the motivation of making the Melody-less night go faster and catch some much-needed sleep, I moved toward my bedroom, shucking out of my clothes as I walked, and eventually, fatigue took its toll and I fell face first into my bed, passing out straightaway.
“Good morning, my poppet,” Thatch greeted as I strode through the door to his office and took a seat next to Wes and Kline in the chairs of the little mini conference table he had set up in one corner. I’d managed a shower, clean clothes, and one hopeful tongue depressor in my pocket before stepping out the door.
Your tonsils are almost as big as your heart.
I was hoping it conveyed what I wanted it to. But I had to get what I wanted out of this meeting first.
I gestured halfheartedly and sank into the leather like I was melting.
“You look tired,” Kline remarked.
I waved him off, but I was. I was fucking exhausted and pissed that apparently my body wasn’t built for sleeping on its own anymore. My brain was still having a hard time comprehending why I felt like my world had been turned upside down. “It was a weird night.”
Kline nodded, considering me carefully in a way that only he could. He was the master of reading people, but if he could figure out what was going on with me—when I couldn’t even really figure it out myself—he could have at it.
“So why did you want to meet with us?” Wes asked, getting down to business. I was grateful.
Straightening in my chair, I did my best to perk up and make my pitch sound at least slightly marketable.
“I want to talk to the three of you about an investment opportunity.”
“Ooh,” Thatch said. “Money. I like money. Especially since my wife just spent two hundred and fifty fucking grand at an auction buying titty pictures.” He rolled his eyes. “I have the best set of live art titties in creation. Why the fuck she thought I’d need pictures of other ones boggles me.”
Kline shook his head and smirked. “The two of you really are perfect for one another.”
Thatch smiled, leaning forward to buzz the intercom out to his assistant. “Mad, can you bring in some coffee?”
“Sure thing,” she answered immediately.
Yes. Coffee sounded good.
“So what are you wanting us to invest in?” Wes asked, the only one with any fucking focus these days. I figured it had more to do with his stepdaughter Lexi than anything. She was an on-task kind of kid. And I wasn’t kidding. Lexi hadn’t even reached adolescence, and she could solve advanced calculus problems. Her brilliant little brain never stopped.
“Property?” Thatch offered.
“A start-up business?” Kline chimed in.
“What is this, twenty fucking questions?” Wes griped. “Let the man tell us himself.”
I winced, knowing my prospect wasn’t nearly as financially rewarding as those things…at all. But at the thought of Melody with these patients, women who needed her, I pushed on anyway.
“Actually, it’s a clinic.”
They stared.
“A free clinic. With about zero chance of any financial gain.” I shrugged and went for it. “Probably a financial loss, to be honest.”
Thatch laughed outright. “Well, you’ve got balls.”
Kline smirked and leaned his elbows on the table. “And what’s the purpose of this free clinic? If we’re guaranteed to lose money, what’s the draw here?”
“You’d be helping women, especially pregnant women, who can’t afford medical care, get it.”
“Does this have anything to do with your girlfriend?” Thatch asked.
I tried to look innocent, but with the way he hooted into laughter, I knew I’d failed.
“I was wrong. She’s got you by the balls.”
Kline smacked him, but he didn’t look like he disagreed. I jumped to explain.
“Yes, this kind of patient outreach is Melody’s passion. You should fucking see her with these women. But regardless of that, the city could really use one. There’s a whole population of women out there who are underserved. I approached the hospital board, but they shot it down pretty quickly.”
“Of course they did,” Wes said with a chuckle. “It’s a money pit.”
Kline nodded. “Yep. All they saw was a love-sick idiot.”
“They don’t know about my relationship with Melody,” I corrected.
“Sorry, dude,” Wes apologized. “It’s written all over you.”
Disheartened, I stood up from the table and reached out to shake all of their hands. I couldn’t say I blamed them. They hadn’t gotten the kind of money they had by going around blowing it on dead-end investments.
They smiled and said their goodbyes, but none of them jumped up and shouted they’d be happy to give me their money.
I’d have to figure out another way.
Spending the night in a hotel was fun and even a nice little reprieve from the real world when you were on vacation. But enduring a night in a hotel room after you’d watched—well, mostly heard—your boyfriend bang a coworker on his television, inside his apartment, with God knows how many other viewers? Yeah, that experience was fucking awful.
I’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, and when I’d finally managed to fall asleep, my dreams consisted of weird mashups of what I’d witnessed on The Doctor Is In.
My mind had played some seriously evil tricks on me, and I’d found myself wide awake and ready to escape the nightmares that hotel bed had brought before my alarm went off.
Which explained why, for once in my always tardy life, I was on time to work.
Groggy-eyed and numb from experiencing too many emotions in a twelve-hour period, I shuffled into the office after I’d made a quick stop at my parents’ apartment for fresh scrubs and a trip to Starbucks for a coffee with three shots of espresso.