Chapter Two

"Lisa."

The nurse looked up from the final notes she was making on a chart, tossing a glance at the distinguished looking middle-aged man who was standing in the door of her cubical. Christ, just ONCE I wish he'd use my title and last name sometime other than when there are patients present," Lisa Wotan thought sourly. Especially when he insists on his title no matter WHAT. "Yes, Dr. Clement?"

"That's all the patients, isn't it?" His tone said it had BETTER be.

"That was the last one. In fact, Rosa has already entered their payment, and she's gone. One of her kids is having a birthday party tonight, and..."

"Did either of you lock the door yet?"

"I was just going to do it on my way out. My ride should be here any minute now."

"I need you to stay over long enough to let one more patient in. They should be here momentarily."

Clement is always so anxious to get out of here. I've worked for him three years, and he never once stayed two minutes past his designated closing time, or on his lunch break. She heard the quiet buzzer on the office's entrance. "That must be them. Is this going to take long? I don't want to make my ride wait..."

"Just let them in, then lock up after yourself. No need for you to stay."

He's also totally paranoid about being sued for malpractice, or improper behavior. "Doctor, is it wise to do an examination without a chaperone nurse present in case..."

"I'll have a chaperone. She's bringing her husband with her. Send them back to exam room number one." He turned and left without bothering to say good-bye.

Lisa went out to the waiting room. There was a young Hispanic couple standing there, looking around. Their expressions said that they probably thought that they were in the wrong place. The man said, "This is the office of Dr. Clement?"

"Yes, it is. You are?"

The couple exchanged looks, and the man said apologetically. "We were told that names were not to be used."

Lisa blinked. "Oh. Well... Just go through that door. He'll be waiting for you in the first room on the right."

"Thank you." They headed back into the hall.

As they did, the phone rang, and she answered it. It was her boyfriend. "Lise? Look, something got balled up at work, and I'm going to be a little late picking you up. No more than a half-hour. Sorry, babe."

"Okay. Look, I'm going to wait for you inside. There have been a few muggings in the area lately, and I'm not risking it."

"Good girl. Just watch out for me."

"Will do." When she hung up, she went and locked the front door, then sat in the chair nearest the door, picked up one of the freshest magazines (it was only four months old), and waited. She really couldn't get interested in 12 Sinful but Skinny Desserts, so she found herself thinking. Clement is totally paranoid about being sued for malpractice or improper behavior. He usually won't even enter an exam room with a woman unless I'm there, too. So here it is, she checked her watch, almost an hour after his usual closing time, and he's back there without a witness to swear for him in case they take offense at something. What's wrong with this picture?

Dr. Clement couldn't remember the last time he'd taken the preliminary information for a patient himself. A nurse or physician's assistant usually got the blood pressure, weight, and temp before he even saw the patient. He still remembered how to do it, he just felt it was beneath him. But considering what Verkeerd was paying him for this little project, he figured he could lower himself for that kind of cash.

Mrs. Gutierez seemed like a remarkably healthy woman, considering the fact that she could do with losing about twenty pounds to conform to the medical charts (thirty to make her acceptable as his idea of an attractive woman). The hard-eyed gaze of the woman's husband convinced him that he didn't even need to be considering this. He made sure that the breast exam was quick, and as impersonal and professional as he could make it.

He wrote down all the information in a file labeled Patient X while she got dressed again. "All right, Mrs. Gutierez, we just have one little injection, and then I have some medication that you'll need to take on a regular basis–a VERY regular basis."

He unlocked a drawer in the exam room's cabinet and removed one of a number of small, unlabeled vials, then got a disposable syringe. As he loaded the syringe, he said, "I believe this may sting just a little, but just think of the good that you'll do."

He tied a piece of rubber tubing around her upper arm, and said, "Open and close your fist for me while I get this ready." He carefully loaded the syringe (a stray air bubble could mean a BIG lawsuit), then went back to her. "Oh, this is going to be easy." He prodded the inside of her elbow. "You have lovely, big veins. Nature was good to you–lots of room for the blood to flow, and there's less chance of clots or obstructions." He swabbed the skin with alcohol, and said, "A little bite, now." He slipped the needle in.

Fidel saw his wife's expression pinch. She drew in a sharp breath and bit her lip, but her arm stayed rock steady. Fidel knew that Clement had been making an understatement when he said it might sting a little. Arcadia wasn't one to make a fuss over small hurts.

Clement withdrew the needle, pressing a cotton ball against the puncture. "Hold that there. I'll get you a band aid." He took one from an open box sitting on the counter, and taped down the cotton, then patted her on the shoulder. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Fidel gritted his teeth. Next he'll offer her a lollipop for being a good girl. This is one of the most condescending bastards I've ever run into. If he keeps this up, I may have to punch him when this experiment is over.

Clement had gone back to the drawer that had held the vial of medicine, and he removed an plastic amber pill bottle. He carefully re-locked the drawer, then handed the bottle to Arcadia. "Three times a day–breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If for any reason you're busy and skip a meal, take the medicine anyway, but put SOMETHING solid in your stomach with it. Even if it's just a tortilla..." Fidel gritted his teeth again. Yes, he was DEFINITELY going to have to hit this man sometime in the future. "Or crackers. And if you can't have even that, at least take a few swallows of milk. Believe me–if you don't, you'll regret it. The nausea will be horrendous. Remember, it's very important that you keep to this schedule for the test to be effective." He gave her a stern look. "You're on the honor system, here."

Fidel stood up abruptly. "Is that all?"

Clement gave him a curious look. He'd apparently almost forgotten that Fidel was there. It was proof of his self involvement that he didn't realize that such an oversight could be dangerous. "For now. You'll need to come in every week at the same time for as long as the trial lasts. You mustn't skip. I don't care if every relative you have perishes in a plane crash--you show up here for the treatment. Comprenda?"

Fidel took a step toward Clement and said softly, "Doctor, my wife and myself are not children, neither are we irresponsible..." he paused, and the next few words were almost gentle, "or stupid. Do YOU comprenda?" Clement chose to be wise, rather than just smart, and only nodded. Fidel helped Arcadia down off the examining table, saying, "And a better word would be entienda--understand. I'm pretty sure you had to take a foreign language to get that fancy degree, so I suppose you must've studied French." He cocked an eyebrow at the doctor. "Thought it would be more useful when you went on vacation in the Riviera?"

Clement was flushing, but all he said was, "I have to take just as many precautions as you do. More. All you're doing is accepting this stuff--I'm giving it to you. Let's remember who's taking the biggest risk."

Fidel stroked Arcadia's arm, giving the doctor a hard look. "Yes, let's remember that."

Clement got his coat and took out his keys as he led them out into the waiting room. He stopped abruptly at the sight of Lisa Woton sitting near the door, casually leafing through a magazine. "You should have been gone more than a half-hour ago," he said angrily.

"Not all of us own Mercedes'," she said dryly. "Some of us have to rely on others for rides. Speaking of which..." A pair of headlights illuminated the parking lot as a car turned in. "Mine has just arrived." She unlocked the door, giving the Hispanic couple a curious glance. These weren't the type of patients who frequented Clement's office. No, his patients were almost always the fair of skin--and if they weren't, they were damn well off. Clement only saw patients like these on the two days a month he volunteered at a public health clinic. She'd heard him talking about it before. He hated having to deal with such a lower class of sick people, but it looked good to do charity work, and his accountant had assured him that it came in VERY useful at tax time. "Come on, and I'll lock up."

"You go ahead. I have a few more instructions to give," said Clement tightly.

Lisa shrugged and went out. In the car, her boyfriend said, "Did I see your asshole boss in there? I thought he turned into a pumpkin if he stayed one minute past his set closing time."

"I thought so, too," said Lisa, as they pulled out. "And that last set of patients that he stayed over to see... He's out of character today--WAY out of character."

"How much?"

"Ever see that movie--Invasion of the Body Snatchers? You know, where pods take over people, turning them into emotionless zombies? Well, it's sort of the reverse of that. He's actually showed some human emotion." She shrugged. "Oh, he's still an asshole--but he actually acted like he had feelings, other than a general annoyance with the rest of the world." She glanced in the side mirror, watching the building receding into the dark. She could just make out Clement locking the door, as the young couple made their way to a battered, older model car. "And ya know--I think that scares me a little."