This Seat Taken?
by MSC
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Janet (of Johnny’s Green Pen) issued a challenge last year for miniE! stories. One of the suggested topics was “Dixie ponders Johnny's backside”. At the time, I asked myself why Dixie would do anything so foolish and decided that it must have been accidental, as I’ve explained below.
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She was biding her time, nursing her drink while waiting for him to arrive. Tucked away in a corner booth on the upper level of the bar, she was nearly hidden from most of Marlowe’s patrons. Why in heaven’s name he had picked Marlowe’s – a favorite with Rampart’s house staff – she’d never know. She’d hung her coat on the wall separating the booths, just to indicate that her booth was occupied and so that he could find her easily. Nonetheless, she’d spread just enough paperwork in front of her to deflect the attention of anyone who happened to wander into her darkened corner in search of a seat.
A chorus of giggles drew her attention.
“He’s here. Robin, he’s here.”
“Where?”
“By the bar…no…don’t turn around…”
“I knew if we waited long enough, he’d show up. I heard they were coming here after the meeting was over.”
Intrigued by just who ‘he’ might be, she slid over to the edge of her seat for a look. A group of five or six student nurses had appropriated a large circular table in the center of the bar’s dining area. From their vantage point, they had an unrestricted view of not only the entrance but the length of the bar as well. Splendid. He’ll have to walk right past them to get to the table. The little gaggle appeared to be celebrating surviving their first week in the ER. At least two of them had serious cause and should enjoy the celebration while it lasted. Monday morning would not be so kind.
Their topic of conversation wasn’t immediately apparent. The bar was now choked with nearly a dozen paramedics…the advisory board meeting must be over….and she could see Craig Brice standing stiffly at the corner of the bar, next to his partner Bellingham, who was draped halfway across the counter in an attempt to snag a beer. The paramedics from 45’s and 110’s were there, Roy and Johnny, no one that she was interested in. Disappointed, she turned her attention back to the schedule in front of her.
She wasn’t really trying to eavesdrop, but the continued ohhing and ahhing floating up from the table was irresistible.
“Robin…now. Look now. He’s bending over the bar.”
A series of appreciative sounds, which must have been issued by Robin (arguably the dimmest and flightiest of the lot), followed in response. That did it. She leaned a little to left, peering around the divider, to find several student nurses gazing in adoration – at Johnny Gage’s derriere.
Johnny? He was cute, in a wayward little-brother way. Beautiful brown eyes, wonderful smile, but based on the evidence being presented for public view, nothing spectacular enough to justify the torrent of praise she overheard. Hell, Morton’s got a better ass than that, not to mention…
“Look who just came in.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Gorgeous.”
“What’s he doing here? I thought he never left the hospital.”
“Haven’t you heard the rumors about him and Dixie?”
If they only knew. She tuned the rest out, preferring to study the canvas at hand. After scanning the room and signaling the bartender, he’d stopped to talk with Johnny and Roy while waiting for his drink. Since he’d had the day off, his customary suit was replaced by jeans and a denim shirt. Tight jeans and a denim shirt.
“Sharon says to just try and think about him as if he were your older brother.”
“Honey, my brother don’t look like that.”
“Or sound like that. He asked me for sutures yesterday, and I nearly lost it.”
“Have you looked at his eyelashes, they must be a foot long.”
“Hmmm…I’m not looking at his eyes. K-B…. stands for ‘Killer Buns’* if you ask me.”
She nearly choked on her wine with that remark. ‘Killer Buns’? I’ll have to share that with him later.
“He’s coming this way…he’s coming this way.”
She watched him navigate the floor, heading towards her, then slid back into the sanctity of her booth. As he passed their table, she heard him acknowledge the student nurses in ‘that’ voice, the one guaranteed to jump start the pulse of any female between eight and eighty. “Ladies,” it came out half way between a drawl and a growl. She’d have given anything to have seen their faces. Moments later he appeared at her side.
“This seat taken, Dix?” he asked.
“It is now.”
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* I stole this blindly from AJM. It’s simply too perfectly appropriate not to use.
