Infamy (RiffRaff Records Book 3) Page 5

  I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. But I muttered “Whatever” under my breath instead.

  Travis knocked lightly on the door to the rich man’s private triage room. “Mr. Weston, this is Dr. Cole. Dr. Cole, Mr. Weston.”

  I held my hand out. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Weston.” He looked to be about our age, his dark brown hair cut close to his head, his skin pale. “Why don’t you catch me up on why you’re here today?” I glanced at Travis, then the patient, smiling kindly even though I was feeling less than kind toward my cheating ex.

  “My wife worries too much, that’s why I’m here.”

  “Did I hear my name?” The door opened and a small petite woman with a midsection the size of a basketball came waddling next to the bed. “Are you talking badly about your pregnant wife?” She wore a smile and took her husband’s hand in hers.

  “Never.”

  She rolled her eyes and then held out her free hand. “I’m Minka. The worrying wife.”

  I shook her hand, laughing. “I’m Dr. Cole, the general surgeon.”

  “Mr. Weston came in with stomach pain and some pretty severe nausea. Mrs. Weston said it’s been going on for about a week.” Travis sent the patient a stern look, like he was upset it’d taken that long for him to come in. I assumed he was going for playful, maybe trying to make buddies with the rich trustee. What a dick. The expression on the patient’s face showed he agreed with my assessment. “I ordered an abdominal CT.” This patient must be really special for our head of cardio to do this low-level labor. Travis handed me the tablet, showing me what he saw on the 3-D image. An inflamed gallbladder.

  I nodded. “Well, Mr. Weston.”

  “Wes, please.”

  I smiled, mentally flipping Travis the bird. “Wes, it looks like you’ll be having your gallbladder removed today.” I turned to the nurse who had entered the room moments before. “Book OR three please—lap chole.” She nodded and started typing away on her tablet, getting everything set up. “I will go over consents and answer any questions you might have.”

  “I can do that with them. My next surgery isn’t for another hour or so.” Travis smiled at the Westons before turning to me. A brown-noser dick. Blech.

  Wes shook his head. “If you don’t mind, Dr. French, I’d really like the surgeon responsible for the actual surgery to go over things with us.”

  “Oh, yes, well certainly.” Travis sent me a thin smile and then left the room with his tail between his lying legs.

  “Sorry if I put you in an awkward position with an attending, but that guy has been trying way too hard to kiss my ass since I walked into this hospital.” Wes leaned back in his bed, wincing at the pain the movement caused.

  “Dr. French is a great doctor.” I glanced at the door and then lowered my voice to a whisper. “But a tad on the pretentious side.”

  The patient’s beautifully pregnant wife laughed. “Well you are a breath of fresh air around this place, that’s for sure.”

  “And you two are my new favorite people.” I spent the next fifteen minutes going over the procedure, explaining about pre- and post-op, expectations and risks. “Everything should go smoothly.” I was looking over his chart one last time.

  “I’m glad this happened now.” Mr. Weston smiled at his wife. “I’ll be good as new by the time the baby is born.”

  “How far along are you?”

  I glanced up, confused as to why Mrs. Weston would be asking herself that question. “What? Me? How did you know?”

  She smiled, pointing down to my stomach. “Anytime someone talked about pregnancy or babies around me when I first found out, I’d put my hand on my stomach. Just like you did.”

  I quickly moved my hand, placing it safely behind my back, checking over my shoulder to make sure no one had walked in while I was reading through the patient’s chart. “I haven’t even seen my OB yet, and no one here knows.”

  She nodded. “Your secret is safe with us. Promise.”

  “Thank you.” I made it out of their room, my nausea returning again. Did the kid know when it was being talked about? Geez, I was tired of all this puking.

  “Did they say anything about me? They seemed irritated.”

  I clutched my tablet to my chest, gasping in surprise. “Shit, Travis, you scared the crap out of me.” I took a deep breath, pushing down the urge to puke on his stupid clean trainers. “Were you out here the whole time? Eavesdropping? What’s the matter with you? You’re a grown man.”

  “I wasn’t waiting out here, calm down.” He rolled his eyes like I was the ridiculous one. “I was over at the nurses station updating some charts and I saw you come out.”

  “They didn’t say anything about you.” Anything good anyway. “Now leave me alone. I have to prepare for my new best friend’s surgery.” I made a face and went to step around him.

  “I think the wife liked me at least.” He wasn’t even talking to me; he was talking to himself.

  But I lost my cool all the same. “She’s his pregnant wife, you asshole. What does it matter if she liked you? You going to try to sleep with her too? Ugh, you make me sick.” Like for real sick. I was getting the throw-up mouth waters. I couldn’t for the life of me think of the medical term for those.

  “Stop being a child. It’s important for trustees to like attendings. It’s business, Landry.”

  I hated the way he said my name. It was like he was talking down to me, like I was a joke. Why the hell had I dated Travis French in the first place? Hotshot surgeon or not, he was a world class prick.

  And I could possibly be having his baby. Oh wow, I really was going to throw up on him.

  I spun on my heel, power walking away. I pulled my cell out and put it to my ear, hoping he’d think I was being called in on an emergency. I rounded the corner and almost cried in relief when I ducked into the bathroom. I made it. I slammed open the stall door, and bent over the toilet just in time.

  And puked my guts up.

  Again.

  Chapter Eight

  Brody

  I leaned back on the black leather couch, crossing my arms over my chest. I was feeling impatient as fuck. We’d been practicing in this studio for the last week, every night like clockwork. But tonight, Luke Matthews had sat in, watching us through the wonders of modern technology. We were holo-imaged in the air via his computer.

  Luke was our main contact at RiffRaff Records, and one of Landry’s favorite people on this planet. Most of her earliest Devil’s Share memories had to do with her Uncle Luke teaching her to play the drums. I cared what he thought, I really did. But at that moment, I cared about when I was going to see Landry again even more.

  Practice ended five minutes ago, but we were being lectured by Luke Matthews’s holo-image, not ten feet in front of me. And it didn’t look like he was anywhere near winding up.

  Landry had told me that under no circumstances was her family to know about us dating. I swore the guys to secrecy too. Telling Luke I had to jet so I could go chill with his niece was a non-option.

  Brody: Baby cakes, your long-winded uncle is making this meeting last for-ducking-ever.

  Brody: Fucking*

  Brody: Stupid auto correct.

  Landry: He’s not long-winded, you’re just super horny all the time. Stop thinking with your dick and pay attention.

  Brody: I can’t. My dick is in control now, and he wants you. Bad. Like real real bad. Call your uncle, he’ll sign off with us to talk to you.

  Landry: That would be weird. I’m taking a bath.

  Brody: You’re naked, in a bathtub, covered in bubbles and touching yourself inappropriately? And I’m missing it? Call him NOW.

  Landry: There are bubbles, but I’m not touching myself. Yet.

  Brody: BABY CAKES.

  Landry: Fine, stop screaming at me. I’ll call him in a second, caveman.

  I slipped my cell back in my pocket, sighing in frustration. Sexual frustration. It’d almost been twelve hours since the last time I’d b
een inside Landry.

  Talon elbowed me in the side. “Dude. I can hear you huffing and puffing. Chill the fuck out.”

  “The countdown is on, gentlemen,” Luke continued. “You leave in exactly seven weeks. We’ve finalized the tour itinerary and emailed it to each of you. You will, of course, have a road manager, as well as a tour manager, to guarantee you make every stop.” Luke clasped his hands behind his head, chuckling. “Believe me, at RiffRaff Records we know better than anyone the trials and tribulations of life on the road.”

  True that. From the stories I’d heard, tour life with the Devil’s Share had been nothing but nonstop pussy and parties. At least until they all started settling down and popping out more kids than imaginable.

  “You guys sounded great tonight, but I want you to continue practicing. The best thing you can do for yourselves is put in the time while you can.” He leaned forward. “Eat healthy, exercise, and get plenty of rest. Once you head out on tour, it becomes a lot harder to take care of yourself. Understood?”

  We all nodded like the good little rock protégés we were.

  “Oh, and uh, pack plenty of condoms, yeah? It’s all fun and games until you start making babies in the back of a tour bus.” He winked.

  “Are you giving us the safe-sex talk, old man?” Brax chuckled, shaking his head.

  “Our kids are the best thing that ever happened to any of us, but some of them were less than planned.” He threw his hands up. “And I’m not even going to give you shit for the old man comment. I am old. Fuck. I’m going to be a great uncle.”

  Brax cocked his head. “Wait. Aren’t you already a pretty good uncle? Like twenty times over?”

  Luke snorted. “I’m going to be a great uncle. One of my nieces is pregnant.”

  “Holy fuck,” T whispered beside me.

  “Shut up. He has like six nieces,” I whispered back, tweaking my best friend’s nipple for good measure.

  From what Landry had told me when she was home last week, it was probably Evie who had gotten knocked up.

  “Oh, wow man, congrats.” Dane glanced at me, his brows near his hairline, and then looked back to the holo-image. “Which one. Which niece?” I stifled an eye roll. Of course they all thought it was Landry. So stupid. I was pretty sure the surgeon knew how to take her birth control correctly.

  Luke pursed his lips. “Sorry, guys. I don’t think I’m allowed to let the cat out of the bag yet. She just found…” Luke grabbed his phone from his pocket, his smile growing. “Oh, that’s funny, she’s actually calling me now. Let me let y’all go, we’ll talk soon.”

  No. Nope. No way. Couldn’t be. Just the world’s biggest coincidence. Right? Please, universe. Say “Right.”

  “Hey, Buttercup, I was just talking about you.”

  The holo-image blipped out, and so did my brain. Apparently that’s what happens when you pass out.

  ***

  “Brody? Holy shit. Should we call an ambulance?”

  “No, he’ll come around.”

  “It’s Landry, right? She’s Buttercup, and that’s why Brody hit the floor like a chick in a corset.”

  “A corset? What the fuck does that even mean?”

  “Do you think Luke saw him go down?”

  “No, I noticed him start to crumble so I stepped in front of him.”

  “Why didn’t you catch him? I think he hit his head. Are you sure we shouldn’t call an ambulance?”

  “Shut up. Everyone.” I winced. “I did hit my head. Thanks for nothing, Brax.” I took a deep breath, my eyes still closed, and slowly sat up.

  Landry was pregnant. Landry, the girl I’d been banging nonstop for over a month, was pregnant. And she knew it, and she hadn’t told me. Fuck, tonight had just taken a terrible turn. I got to my feet. “I’ve gotta go. I need to talk to Landry.” I pulled my cell out of my pocket.

  “I’m your best friend, so I’m not going to say I told you so.”

  I glared at T. “Prick.”

  “You knew?” Dane was looking between Talon and me. “How did you know before Brody?”

  Talon snorted. “Because Brody lives in a land called denial. It’s full of smoke and good pussy.”

  I punched Talon in the arm and headed toward the door, my thumbs flying.

  Brody: Good job ending the meeting with Luke, I’m headed your way.

  Landry: Hurry. He’s telling me everything that’s happened in the three days since I left the compound.

  I shoved my cell in the back pocket of my jeans and brushed past Talon, who was still rooted in place and staring at me. I held my hand up. “I don’t want to hear it, man.”

  “But, dude.”

  “This is between me and Landry. No one else.” I kept walking. Out of the building, through the parking lot, and to my car. I climbed inside and took off immediately. I didn’t need to hear anymore from any of them.

  Why had she lied to me? Why didn’t she want me to know? Did she think I wasn’t good enough? Was she scared of my reaction? Fuck. What was my reaction?

  I turned up the old-school radio and heard nothing. My mind was going a mile a minute while conflicting thoughts bounced around my brain. I cared about Landry, no doubt. We were friends. Hell, she’d become one of my best friends. And, I’d always pictured myself with kids down the road. But waaaaay down the road, like over a decade from now. But so what? I was making good money. I could support a child. Easy. Well…maybe not easy. I knew life on the road wasn’t ideal for maintaining relationships. And I’d miss milestone events. But there were more than enough ways to communicate while I was on the road. And I’d see them when I got home, when I had days off. This wasn’t 1955. We didn’t need a shotgun wedding and a white picket fence. We could co-parent. We’d rock co-parenting.

  Fuck.

  I needed to talk to Landry.

  Chapter Nine

  Landry

  I was biting my nails. I never bit my nails. It was a disgusting habit, made even more disgusting by the fact that I worked at a hospital. It didn’t matter how many times a day I washed my hands, they still felt germ ridden. But contrary to my normal predisposition, I was chewing my nails to shreds while talking to my Uncle Luke. I glanced at the clock every twenty seconds as I paced, waiting for Brody to get to my house. “Yeah I’m feeling pretty good. Morning sickness lasts all day, but other than that kicking my ass, I’m good.”

  I hated lying to Brody. I hated it. And talking so openly about the pregnancy with my uncle while one of the possible fathers was on their way over was making it all that much worse.

  “You need anything? I know there isn’t much we can do about your crazy work schedule, but would a maid help? A chef? A trainer? Are you taking care of yourself?”

  I snorted into the phone. “A maid? My apartment is like a thousand square feet, I think I can manage.” Growing up we’d had a housekeeper who came twice a week. But other than that, my brother and I had chores. Our parents never let the fact that we had money stop them from making us work hard and take responsibility for being part of the household.

  “Just don’t push yourself too far. And ask for help when you need it.” He sighed. “I won’t ask about the father. But do you have friends nearby? People you can call if you’re in a bind?”

  “Uh, sure.” Other than Brody, I didn’t have anyone that I hung out with.

  “Clashing Swell lives so close to you right now. Let me send you Talon’s contact info. He’s a great guy—he’d help you in a second.”

  Uncle Luke was right. Talon was great. And he’d help me if I asked, no hesitation. But he wasn’t the Clashing Swell member I needed. “You know what, I think I still have their info somewhere around here. From when we met at that concert.” From when their drummer might have knocked me up in a supply closet.

  “Oh, okay, good.”

  Brody was an amazing man. He was sweet and wild, which was the perfect combination. He was everything I wanted to be. But no twenty-three-year-old guy would take surprise pregnancy
news well. Let alone, oh and it might not be yours. Which was why I wasn’t going to tell him. It wasn’t even fair to tell him yet. I’d be selfish to say anything before I had answers. Really, I was doing him a favor.

  “Stop worrying, Uncle Luke, I’m doing great. I have my first appointment with my obstetrician this week. I’ll let everyone know how it goes.”

  I rested my head against the back of my couch and put one hand on my lower stomach. I’d thrown up a lot in the last forty-eight hours, but I didn’t feel like I had a virus on top of being pregnant. I’d get nauseous, I’d puke my guts up, and then I’d be fine for a few hours. Rinse. Repeat.

  “I love you, kiddo.”

  “Love you too.”

  I took a deep breath when the call disconnected and then a sip of the ice-cold water I’d been nursing. I should have told Brody not to come over. Usually the pukey feeling went away in the evenings, but tonight I felt queasier than usual.

  When I heard him come bounding up the stairs, I sat up straight. Two at a time. That’s how he climbed the stairs to my apartment. Like he couldn’t wait to get inside. I took another small sip of water and silently prayed that I didn’t throw up in front of him. Again.

  “Hey, baby cakes.” He dropped his bag on the floor while locking the door behind him.

  “Hey you, I just got off the phone with my uncle—you’re welcome, by the way.” I giggled as he tackled me on the couch, rolling our bodies so I was straddling him. “I was in the OR most of the day, and I’m exhausted.” I’d had to leave and re-scrub in during one of my surgeries, you know, to puke. “Want to put me to sleep by giving me multiple orgasms?”

  His usual smirk was absent. “You know it.” His tone was almost cold. Maybe practice had made him tired too. He slipped his hands under my long nightshirt and played with the thin straps of my thong. Instantly, I wanted him. Even though I was tired and I felt like shit, I still wanted Brody. I loved the way he touched me, the way he made me feel.