Doc Read online

  Table of Contents

  DOC

  Copyright

  Also by SM Lumetta

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  Acknowledgments

  Doc

  Copyright © 2018 S.M. Lumetta

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission of the author—except reviewers, who may quote a brief passage in a review.

  Published by S.M. Lumetta

  www.smlumetta.com

  ISBN-13: 978-1984126429

  Editorial: Jessica A. Royer Ocken

  Proofreading: Marla Esposito, Proofing Style

  Cover design: S.M. Lumetta

  Cover model: Franggy Yanez

  Interior Design CP Smith

  Also by SM Lumetta

  THE BODHI BEACH NOVELS

  Fox

  STANDALONE

  You Are Here

  And, as a co-author

  Felony Ever After

  DEDICATION

  Lisa, Starfishloveyou.

  1

  THE BACK OF THE LINE

  NORA

  “YOU’RE BROKE.”

  My father always said staring was rude, but I can’t help it. My accountant is speaking gibberish.

  “That’s not possible. I…I can’t not have money. I have a nest egg—”

  “That you used to bail your father out last year,” she finishes. “What was left we had to use on penalties and early-withdrawal taxes. I’m sorry, Nora, but there’s nothing to withdraw.”

  I want to make a joke about “pulling out” but I’m unable to muster the effort. My mouth flaps open, moving like a dying fish as I stare out the window at the north end of Bodhi Beach. Suns out, it’s a gorgeous day in Southern California, but who cares? “I have nothing?”

  She sighs.

  “April?” We’ve been working together for what feels like ages, and April has never looked so defeated.

  “You do have a small chunk in T-bills you could cash in to tide you over,” she admits. But she looks far too concerned for me to feel like this is good news. “But that will come with penalties as well. Not as bad, but if you do use those, you’ll be completely wiped out of any investments or savings.”

  The reality of my financial decisions over the last few years of settles into my shoulders and cements the muscles together with stress.

  “Fuck.” Scrubbing my face doesn’t help, and nothing immediately comes to mind. So I act on instinct. “Do it. My checking account is in the red, and bill payments are starting to bounce. I can’t fucking believe I let it get this bad. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  The accusation is unfair and misplaced. I know this is my fault. I immediately shake my head, but I see I’ve offended her anyway.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “If you check your records, Ms. Bennett, you’ll note that I have sent you several emails on the topic of replacing funds and several ideas for savings plans.” She stands and walks to a tall shelving unit atop a waist-high mahogany desk. From one of the mailbox-like slots, she retrieves a form and returns to her seat. “I’ll begin the process of liquidating your last assets and have them transferred to your checking immediately. Can you just sign here?”

  She slides the paper in front of me, and I feel the tears fall. “I’m sorry, April. I didn’t mean it. It’s my fault; I know that.”

  An audible exhale is enough for me to believe she accepts my apology. April is pretty buttoned up, generally.

  “Just sign that and I’ll get you sorted, hon.”

  I allow myself a small smile, knowing full well I’ll lose my shit once I get to my brand new BMW, which I’ll most definitely be returning before the week is out.

  ***

  “You’re what?” my best friend, Sophie, asks in the way a screech owl might.

  She’s eighteen months pregnant—at least that’s what she tells people—and overreactive to just about everything. Although, hearing that all my fucking money is gone is absolutely worth overreacting about, in my humble opinion. Even if I do feel like she popped my ear drum.

  “Broke,” I wail, gutturally. Might as well talk on her level.

  “Fucking hell, Bennett. Some of us still have ears.” Sophie’s boyfriend-slash-baby daddy, Fox, slides across the kitchen floor like he just woke up with a hangover. He’s actually coming off a night shift at the hospital, but this hot nurse still looks like a lackadaisical surfer boy.

  “I can fix that, blondie,” I say, throwing him a look.

  He ignores it, rustling in the cabinets. “So why are you broke? Too many escort services? Are you addicted to meth?” He shovels Lucky Charms into his mouth.

  “I’m offended by your cereal,” I say.

  “Omigod, I’m so hungry,” Sophie groans. She sounds almost demonic.

  Fox and I stare at her. I turn back to him. “That’s going to sound even worse when she’s in labor. You’re going to need a young priest and an old priest.”

  “Screw you guys,” she says, throwing a wadded-up napkin at Fox. “We’re talking about Nora here. But, baby, get me a bowl of cereal anyway, since I’m thinking about it.”

  I see Fox wink at her, and my stomach hollows. It’s so easy to see how much he loves her, now that I’m actually looking. I mean, I could see it before when they were just friends, but they’d been friends since they were little, so sometimes I wrote it off as affection. Then Sophie up and went into early menopause, forcing her to think about kids.

  I’d thought they were like brother and sister until she tapped him to be the daddy. It was a hell of a mess between the two of them, but in the end, I didn’t have to kill Fox. They were the perfect goddamn couple waiting to happen, and like many people said, it was about time. Sometimes the situation still makes me anxious, though.

  The dark place in my gut echoes things I don’t want to remember. So I push them down again.

  “In any case,” I say, trying to redirect. “I can’t afford my apartment much longer, and my lease is up at the end of this month, so I didn’t renew it.”

  “Jesus, Nora, this is bad,” Sophie declares through a mouthful of that blasphemous cereal.

  I hate to admit that I love the marshmallows. Being Irish, it feels traitorous.

  “I know.” My teeth grind in acknowledgement. “I just need somewhere to crash until I can sort out a new job and a plan. Something. Maybe I can use your place since your sublease is out?” I say, hopeful.

  “Um, I moved out officially last month,” she tells me, sheepish. “Gave up the lease. I didn’t want to deal with the sublease anymore.” Sophie rubs her huge belly and sighs. “God, I want a triple bacon cheeseburger with guacamole. And a strawberry malt.”

  “Focus!” I snap, immediately feeling guilty. “Sorry, I just… I’m about to be homeless.”

  “Not right away,” she reminds me. “We’ll figure something out. I’m not going to let you live in your car.”

  Fox uses the lull in conversation as an opportunity to kiss her belly. He’s been surprisingly chill about his impending daddyhood. I’ve never seen a former playboy so easily trans
ition to being committed—not to mention a daddy-to-be. I never gave him much credit for his dedication as Sophie’s friend and partner-in-crime.

  “Relax, Bennett,” he says. “We got you.”

  “You’re really fucking chipper right now,” I say, realizing how bitchy I sound. “Sorry. Just… no reason to be so upbeat.”

  “You wanna smoke?” he asks.

  “Fox!” Sophie bellows. “What the fuck?”

  I bark a laugh, shaking my head. He chuckles.

  “I’m sorry,” he snarks. “You can’t change everything about me at once, Lollipop.”

  “Please don’t be that stoner dad. At least wait until the kid’s in college to go nuts.” Sophie rubs her belly again.

  I’m still irritated that they refuse to find out the sex. I need information. I need to prepare. I need to pick the name—I mean, help to pick the name.

  Her forehead creases as she inhales deeply through her nose. Exhale.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Fine,” she says with a tired smile. “And Foxypants? I’ve never tried to change anything about you.”

  “Yes, you did,” I object. “You succeeded. He’s less of an asshole now.”

  “Thank you,” Fox says, rubbing the corner of his eye with a middle finger.

  “I think we’ve had this conversation?” I say/ask, mirroring his actions with both hands.

  “You’re both dicks,” Sophie says with a laugh. “Anyway, you know you can stay with us if you need to.”

  “Honey, you’re about to pop out a screaming bag of poop any minute,” I remind her. “No offense.”

  “No, no offense at all,” she hisses. “I’m just incubating your future godchild. No big.”

  I watch her struggle to pull herself out of the chair and waddle across to the refrigerator. She pants for a second at the effort and opens the door to snatch the orange juice carton. She starts chugging. No joke.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I know. And I’m crazy happy for you. And excited.”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers,” Fox says, now gnawing on an apple.

  “One, I’m not there yet. Two, are you always eating? Who’s the pregger here?”

  “I’m hungry!”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say Fox looks offended.

  Sophie makes a loud Ahhhh! noise and crushes the OJ carton in her hand. “That hit the spot.”

  The room is briefly silent as Fox and I stare at her.

  “You’re amazing,” I say. “Wasn’t that full?”

  “You’re so hot,” Fox says, gently cupping her face and kissing her no doubt orange-juicy lips. “Hot.”

  She giggles. I roll my eyes. Not jealous. Not at all.

  “No, it was not full,” she tells me pointedly as she shuffles back to her seat and plops down.

  Fox sits down on the other side of her and takes another bite of Granny Smith. He unsubtly bumps her elbow with his and for a minute, I watch the two eedjits trade what are obviously No, YOU tell her looks. Then I snap.

  “What?!”

  Sophie startles and makes a face like she’s going to cry. “Ohh, I think I peed myself.”

  Fox snorts, but quickly recovers. “Babe, you’re super pregnant; it’s no big deal.”

  “Oh yeah?” she snaps. “You try pissing yourself and see how it feels.”

  “I would prefer to hold off on that until the nursing home.”

  Sophie picks her spoon out of the now-empty cereal bowl and pelts him with it.

  “What are you avoiding telling me?” I shout.

  They turn toward me, shocked. I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m far too stressed if I’m jumping down my closest people’s throats. I need a massage. And a large cash infusion.

  “Sorry. I mean, please tell me?” I ask with an embarrassing whine.

  Sophie gets up and walks away. Presumably, she’s changing her shorts.

  Fox speaks up. “Doc’s house—”

  “No.” Well, there goes any composure I have left. I’m a stubborn woman, and when it comes to that man, I lack the patience.

  “He’s in Sydney for a few weeks with his mum,” Fox continues without my permission. “She’s having surgery for breast cancer.”

  My stomach drops, and my eyelids feel immediately hot. As usual, my emotions jump all over the place. Just mention his name and my mood turns mercurial.

  “He’s gotta be freaking out,” I mumble, catching the look of surprise on Fox’s face. “I may have issues when it comes to Declan Wellesley, but I can certainly sympathize—empathize even—when shit like that goes down. It’s horrible.”

  The blond bastard is fighting a smirk. He thinks he sees through me. I look away. He sees nothing. Even Sophie doesn’t know the full truth.

  “Regardless, I can’t stay there,” I tell him.

  “You’ll have at least a couple weeks to figure something else out,” Sophie says as she reenters the room in fresh trousers. “It’s not like you have to be around him—just a quiet space to get your head in gear, figure out what’s next. Besides, he’s on location so often, it’s barely like he lives there. Just avoid the bedr—”

  His bedroom is not the only place I’d have to avoid to escape memories I don’t want to face, so I interrupt with the first non-Doc-related thing that comes to mind.

  “I can’t believe I ran out of money.”

  I hear the words, and I even know they’re mine, but they don’t sound right. They sound mournful and childlike.

  The next thing I know, a crazily pregnant Sophie is in my lap, wrapping her long, lean arms around me. She keeps squeezing until I calm down. It’s pretty quick considering she’s heavier than normal and her belly is pushing into my chest, restricting my air intake. I can’t say that to her face when she’s this pregnant, though.

  “What about your mom’s?” I ask, looking up at her. “She’s got a spare room, yeah?”

  “Um…” She shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, no. Ruben’s mom is kind of living there now?”

  “How is that a question? What happened?”

  “She’s having memory issues, so Ruben flew her over from Miami to figure out what’s going on. He doesn’t trust his brother to take care of her without siphoning off her entire life force.”

  Fox grunts.

  “Fox loves her, by the way. She’s ninety and calls him a ‘jalapeño’ boy.”

  “She does it because I wink at her whenever she says jalapeño. She’s a riot.”

  Cue Sophie’s eye-roll. “That’s why she says it, dumbass.”

  “Fine. So your mom’s place is out. Shit.”

  Sophie gets up. “I know your legs are dying beneath me. You’re also wheezing.” She holds her stomach like it weighs more than all of us. “You don’t have to pretend this beach ball I swallowed is made of air. It’s worse than when Violet turned Violet, Violet.”

  Fox briefly cracks up, and Sophie sits on his lap this time.

  “I love you,” he says. “Let’s watch Willy Wonka.”

  “I bet you’re excited for your second child, Sophie,” I snark before returning to our previous conversation. “What about your dad? Does he still live somewhere in town?”

  Sophie’s eyes go wide. She and Fox share a look. “Damn, girl, you’s desperate.”

  I groan. “I just—”

  “Desperate,” she repeats.

  I hang my head, leaning my forearms on my knees before pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “So desperate. I’m… Okay. I’m just having a valley-of-death moment.”

  Just then, their friend Zeke knocks and enters at the same time. I’ve never understood that. Why knock if you’re just going to come right in? That said, I like him a lot. Great guy, and yeah, gorgeous. Ruggedly handsome, he’s going gray a bit prematurely, but the steely highlights make him even more good-looking. Plus, he’s an absolute sweetheart. Another Australian, though—Fox seems to collect them, though I’m told it was Sophie who met Zeke first. Not that I have anything against
Australians in general; I’ve just already got one under my skin. I don’t think I could handle the comparisons. Not that I’m looking to date anyone. And Zeke is not really the casual kind of guy. He’s all heart.

  “Ladies—and child,” he says in greeting, slapping Fox on the back of the head. “Sophie, you look fantastic. Are you sure you want to stick with this one?”

  Fox ignores my cackle and Sophie’s giggle to retort, “Back off my Lollipop.”

  Sophie grins, shaking her head. “Aaaand he’s seven years old again.” She stands, but bends slightly to kiss him. “I’m afraid so, my friend.” She attempts to give Zeke a hug. “Goddammit. I’ll just wave at you over the pregnant divide.”

  “No worries, love.” Zeke leans in to kiss her cheek, following with a lean down to speak to her stomach. “Hiya, scratcher! And how are you, sweetheart?” he asks, turning to me. He leans in and kisses both my cheeks.

  “Broke and freaking out.” I mean, why sugarcoat it?

  “Wicked,” he says, sarcastically. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Oh, thanks very much, but what I need to do is regroup and plan a new attack,” I tell him. “I’ve made a bit of a mess of my life.”

  Fox jumps up and grabs his phone from the breakfast bar. “Speaking of regrouping, Bennett, get your shit. I’ll call Doc and make sure it’s cool to stay at his place. I won’t even say it’s you, okay? It’ll be fine. Perfect cover.”

  My stomach twists so hard, it’s legitimately painful. I consider a possible ulcer or maybe just straight-up cancer. Or sepsis. I don’t know, but I’m probably dying.

  “I… No. Thanks. I’ll figure something out.”

  Sophie leans to the side, awkwardly, and slaps my face. Not very hard—she doesn’t have the leverage for force. “Dude. There is a place for you here. If you need it, use it. Baby might not be here for a couple weeks if I make it to term. And maybe you’ll hear from some other contacts about new jobs or…?” She stops and leans back against the counter, hand going to the side of her belly. “Oh, fuck. That one was stronger.”

  Fox is next to her in a heartbeat. “Contractions?”

  She breathes out, nodding. “Yeah, I’ve been having them on and off since last night, but this one was—Owwwwww! Fuck! This shit is serious.” She pants. “Dammit, it was like a stab through the gut and out the hoo-ha.”