The Nurse's Not-So-Secret Scandal

When Victoria and Ali—her other best friend and the nurse working in the district next to hers—arrived to help, Roxie directed, “One on the stretcher side, one over here by me.” She stood on the side of the bed, at the patient’s upper body, so she’d be responsible for pulling the heaviest part of her. As her colleagues got into position Roxie spoke to her patient. “We’re going to slide you onto the bed, Mrs. Flynn.”

The groggy woman nodded in understanding.

“Keep your hands at your sides and let us do all the work,” Roxie instructed.

Each staff member grabbed a hunk of the bottom sheet.

“Everyone ready?” Roxie locked eyes with each woman. Just last week a patient on 4B fell between the stretcher and the bed during a transfer, suffering a severe hip fracture as a result. Not on Roxie’s watch. “On my count of three. One. Two. Three.”

Using every bit of strength she possessed, Roxie pulled. If the grunts around her meant anything, her coworkers were giving it all they had, too. Yet the patient barely budged.

Fig entered the room.

Victoria told him to leave.

“What kind of man would I be if I let four lovely ladies struggle when I could help?”

“Are you sure?” Victoria asked, handing him a pair of latex gloves from the box on the wall.

“Scoot over.” He squeezed between Roxie and Ali, bumping Roxie’s hip with his as he did. “Now tell me what to do,” he said as he put on the gloves.

“Ball the sheet like this.” Roxie showed him her hands. “Tight.”

He took the sheet in his large hands. She remembered how they’d felt on her body, holding her just a few hours earlier, and realized how much she’d like to feel them again—and in more places. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

“And on the count of three,” she continued, “we pull and they—” she motioned to the women on the other side of the stretcher with her chin “—push.”

“Got it,” Fig said, testing his grip on the sheet, looking so cute in his concentration.

“Everyone ready?” Roxie asked again and waited for each woman and Fig to respond in the affirmative. “On my count of three. One. Two. Three.”

Again Roxie pulled as hard as she could, and this time the patient slid toward her like she was on plastic liner slick with baby oil.

“Wow. You are a strong one,” Roxie said to Fig.

He smiled, a genuinely pleased smile, and winked. “Remember that.” He moved closer on his way to discard his gloves in the trash can and whispered, “Dream about it.”

“As if any part of you registers with my subconscious.” Especially not his head—in the dream where she was a cat sleeping curled around it. Or his fair skin—in the dream where they’d lounged by a pool and she’d rubbed him with suntan lotion—repeatedly—to protect him from the harsh rays of the sun. Or his laugh, or the teasing twinkle in his green eyes, or the contagious smile that brightened his handsome face.

Something about him had made her feel safe, like she could let her guard down. Thank goodness she hadn’t. He also made her want…things she didn’t usually crave without a couple of beers on board. Was it his slow, laid-back demeanor and quiet confidence? His quick, dry sense of humor? His build—a perfect complement to her large frame? His distinctive look or his air of reserved power?

Whatever it was, it gave her an unsettling schoolgirl crush sort of feeling. And Roxie didn’t like it. In her experience men were unreliable, opportunistic and good for one thing only—sex. Add in emotion and the fun factor took a nosedive.

“Thank you, everyone,” she said.

Fig didn’t move.

“Back to work, you,” she said, using her hands to shoo him along. “I hear a phone ringing.”

He turned his back to the patient and leaned toward her. “Your mom called,” he said quietly. “She sounded upset.”

Last night had been particularly difficult. Roxie hated to leave for work this morning but what else could she do? They both depended on her income.

“She said she couldn’t find the knobs for the stove,” he added.

Duh. Because last week she hadn’t turned off a burner, which caused the macaroni and cheese she’d made to burn and spew the smoke that prompted their obnoxious, constantly complaining neighbor to call the fire department. Which was the reason every damn thing in her not-so-terrific life had gone from “barely tolerable but afloat” to “she’s taking on water!” fast approaching “she’s going down. Abandon ship.”

“There’s a perfectly logical explanation for that,” Roxie said. “Which is none of your business. Next time tell her to call my cell.” She turned to her patient.

Fig reached for her arm to stop her. “She told me she’d tried but you didn’t answer,” he whispered.

What? Roxie always answered Mami’s calls. She patted her breast pocket. Empty. Jammed her hands into both scrub coat pockets, rummaged through their contents. Bandage scissors. Alcohol prep pads. Tape. Three injectable Demerol cartridges. Damn it, she needed to get in to talk to Victoria. Two paperclips. Three pens. A box of thermometer probes. A roll of candies. And a breakfast bar she hadn’t had time to eat.

No phone.

She yanked her hands out so fast something went flying. A pen? It rolled under the bedside stand. She’d get it later. “Shoot. Where the heck did I leave my phone?” Mami panicked if she couldn’t reach her. How long had it been since she’d called?

Roxie bent to look under the bed.

“Hot-pink with crystals, right?” Fig asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

“Thanks.”

“And you got these.” He handed her some slips of pink paper from his pocket.

She looked at the male names on each of six message slips. So they’d seen the video. Perverts. She ripped the papers in half and tossed them in the trash. “Anything else?” she asked, losing patience, wanting to get finished admitting her patient so she could call home then find her phone. Which contained that link she should have deleted upon receipt.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Always fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.

After getting her new patient settled Roxie took a minute to use a phone at the nurses’ station. “Hola, Mami.”

She started to cry.

“No. Please don’t cry. You don’t need the stove. I left you a sandwich in the refrigerator.”

“I want to make hard-boiled eggs,” her mother said.

“It’s egg salad. Your favorite.”

“Que buena hija. You’re a good daughter.”

“Gracias. Look, I have to get back to work. I misplaced my phone. If you need me call the floor and Fig will get me.”

Nothing.

“Okay, Mami?”

“Okay,” she said, her mouth full. “It’s good. I was hungry.”

Roxie smiled. “Be careful getting back to bed. I’ll come straight home after work.” She hung up the phone, dropped her head and let out a sigh of relief.

When she looked up her eyes met Fig’s. “If my mom calls back …”

“I’ll come find you,” he finished.

“Thanks.” Her stomach growled.

“Go eat. If any of your patients buzz I’ll have Ali or Victoria check on them.”

“I think I will.” She stood. Swayed. Grabbed on to the counter to steady herself at the same time Fig reached for her. “Wow. Looks like the tank is empty. Time to refuel.”

“Is that all it is?” Fig asked, looking concerned. And … suspect?

“Do you have any idea how many calories it takes to run this body?” she asked. “I skipped breakfast this morning. And, thanks to you, worked through my break.” She lifted a shaky hand to flatten her hair. “I’m fine.” Always fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.

“I’ll walk you to the lounge,” Fig offered.

She pulled her elbow out of his loose hold. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She exited the nurses’ station, her head feeling disconcertingly foggy. Maintaining focus on the lounge door, she took deep breaths, concentrated on each step and willed her body to continue moving forward. Passing out at work would not be a good thing.

Two bottles of chocolate milk and two bologna-and-cheese sandwiches on rye later, Roxie felt back to her usual self. And ready to tackle Victoria before returning to her patients.

Just outside the open door to Victoria’s office, Roxie heard Fig talking. “You have your proof right there,” he said. “You asked me to watch her and I did. She showed up to work with bloodshot eyes, forgot her stethoscope in the nurses’ lounge and misplaced her phone—which the pharmacy tech found in the med cart.”

A flush of anger heated Roxie’s skin. Fig was reporting her activities to Victoria, who had asked him to watch her? Why?

“And she almost passed out at the nurses’ station not fifteen minutes ago,” he went on. “I think it’s time to switch your focus from trying to find Roxie innocent to figuring out a way to help her out of this mess.”

Find Roxie innocent of what? Help her out of what mess? Exactly how much did they know about what was going on in her life? She walked into the office and with narrowed eyes looked from Victoria—sitting behind her desk, prim and professional—to Fig, looking all relaxed in the one chair across from Victoria. “What mess might that be?” she asked Fig. “And you hired him to watch me?” she asked Victoria. “Why?”

Victoria looked down at her desk at a lone cartridge of injectable Demerol.

Roxie slid her hand into her pocket and found only two of the three that had been there earlier.

Not good.

CHAPTER TWO

ROXIE withdrew her hand from her pocket and held out what Fig assumed were the other two missing doses of Demerol in her palm. He admired her calm.

“I was planning to tell you today. I asked Fig to relay the message I needed to talk to you.” She looked over at him.

He nodded.

Apparently Victoria didn’t care. She looked up at Roxie. “You altered the narcotic count,” she accused.

“Yes.” Roxie hung her head. “But I can explain.”

“You altered the narcotic count,” Victoria said again. A bit louder this time. “There is no explanation to justify what you did. This is grounds for termination, you know. And there’s not a thing I can do to help you. This will follow you around, Roxie. You could lose your nursing license. What were you thinking?”

“Whoa.” Panic flashed in Roxie’s eyes. “Can’t we keep this between us?”

“No, we can’t keep this between us,” Victoria snapped. “Because someone or a group of someones have been tampering with the narcotic-distribution system in the hospital. A pharmacist identified the inaccurate count as part of a hospital-wide investigation.”

That was a pretty important chunk of information she’d neglected to share.

Roxie looked ready to collapse.

Fig stood. “Here.” He motioned to his chair. “Sit.”

“Why, thank you,” she said sarcastically, looking ready to show her appreciation by slamming him into the wall and jamming her knee into his groin. “If you’d have come to me,” she hissed under her breath as she moved past him, “instead of tattling to the boss I could have fixed this.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” Victoria said. “And don’t be mad at Fig. He only did what I asked him to do.”

“A rare thing, a man who does what you ask him to,” Roxie said to Victoria. “Lucky me you found one.”

Fig felt like the low-life informant who’d deceived a friend. Because, in essence, he had.

“Tell me what happened,” Victoria said.

“Does he need to be here?” Roxie asked.

No he didn’t. Fig stepped toward the door, welcoming the chance to escape.

“Yes,” Victoria said. He stopped. “As an impartial witness to our conversation.”

Great. There was that word impartial again. The more he heard it, the more he realized he wasn’t impartial at all. He wanted to help Roxie, wanted to erase the anger, frustration and sadness he’d noticed in her expression since early that morning, and bring back the fun-loving woman with the beautiful smile and infectious laugh from the night they’d first met.

“Fine,” Roxie said, not looking at him. “The attending suspects my patient in 508B is a malingerer probably addicted to his pain meds. He reports intractable back pain yet all his diagnostic testing since admission has been negative or within normal limits. Every time the doctor tries to change over from IM Demerol to oral pain meds, the patient balks and is on the call bell every five minutes. Mention detox and he turns irate and verbally abusive.”

“I’m aware of the situation,” Victoria said.

“Late Friday night the doctor ordered the patient’s doses of IM Demerol to be alternated with a placebo of IM sterile normal saline. The next morning—when I came on duty—it didn’t take the patient long to figure it out and demand to see the syringe before I injected him. So I kept a Demerol cartridge in my pocket to show him. Then, each time he was scheduled to receive the placebo, I switched it out at the last second. It was not easy to do, I tell you.”

“And you forgot to put the Demerol back,” Victoria said.

Roxie nodded. “Luckily—” she looked between him and Victoria with sad eyes “—or unluckily, as it turns out, I was assigned to narcotic count Saturday night.”

“But incoming shift is supposed to count and outgoing shift records.”

“I can be very persuasive when I want to be.” Her lips twitched into a tiny hint of a smile. “Anyway, I knew the Demerol was in my scrub jacket, which was out at the desk at the time. I increased the number in the box of Demerol by one, planning to return it before I left. Then my mother called.” Roxie let out a breath. “And I had to rush home. Sunday morning I was running late, and I bolted out of the house, leaving it safely tucked away in my dresser.”

“So you altered the count again.”

“What else could I do?”

“How about talk to me?” Victoria asked, her anger evident. “Warn me the count was off so I wasn’t completely blindsided.”

“I’m sorry. I screwed up.”

“How did you wind up with the other two?” Victoria asked without acknowledging Roxie’s apology.

“More of the same. I was rushing. Then they got misplaced.”

“You misplaced three doses of Demerol?”

“No.” Roxie shook her head. “Only two.” Like that made it okay. “The third,” she went on, “was my mistake. I’d thought it was a normal saline in my pocket, but it turned out to be a Demerol.”

“What is going on with you?” Victoria yelled.

Roxie shrugged and looked down at her lap.

Both women sat in silence until Roxie asked, “What happens now? Should I finish my shift or clean out my locker and head home?”

“Let me talk to the director and explain what happened. You returned the missing meds. Maybe …”

Fig interrupted. “Just to play devil’s advocate for a second.” He moved out of Roxie’s reach, which was no small feat in the tiny office. “How do we know there’s actual Demerol in those things and she didn’t refill them with water?”

Rage flared in Roxie’s eyes. She jumped up from her chair, whipped a plastic contraption from her pocket and grabbed the fluid-filled cartridges from Victoria’s desk. “How about I inject all three of them into your lily-white gluteus maximus and you can vouch for their potency right before you lapse into a coma?” She inserted one of the cylinders into the injection device and took a step toward him.

“Stop it, Roxie.” Tiny Victoria launched herself between them. “This isn’t helping.”

“But maybe it will make me feel better,” she said. Then she looked at Fig. Challenging him. “You want to know for sure what’s in this syringe?” She held it up, speaking slow and calm. “Drop your pants.”

“The hospital is investigating medication tampering.” Fig held Roxie’s arms to keep her away from him. “Those cartridges left the hospital. I’m just posing the potential for substitution that any good investigator would acknowledge,” he defended his question.

“He’s right,” Victoria agreed.

Roxie backed down and surprised him by starting to laugh. Not a happy laugh. Rather the kind of laugh that happens when things are so bad if you don’t laugh you’ll cry. He knew it well.

Roxie collapsed into the chair, tears streaming down her cheeks. “The irony is too much.” She could barely get the words out. “I tell that idiot no.” She took a deep breath, blotted her eyes with a tissue Victoria handed her and started to laugh some more. “I get blackmailed. I still say no, so he posts the video on some porn site.” She laughed even harder. “And I’m accused of tampering with narcotics, and I’m getting fired, anyway.” The laughing was so loud people up and down the hallway outside had to be wondering what was going on.

“Wait a minute,” Fig said, remembering Roxie’s phone conversation from earlier that morning. I told you no. My answer won’t change. Fine. Do what you have to do. “Someone’s blackmailing you?”

“Not anymore.” The thought seemed to sober her. She inhaled deeply then exhaled as if trying to blow out any lingering giggles. “And it’s all your fault.” She gave him the stink eye.

What? “My fault?”

“If you’d have taken me out on Friday night like you were supposed to, I wouldn’t have gone home with Johnny-the-jerk, who, come to find out, had his bedroom outfitted with cameras so he could videotape our little interlude.”

“Who is Johnny-the-jerk?” Victoria asked.

“I’m guessing he’s somehow involved with the hospital’s drug tampering problem because after the deed was done—” she looked at Fig and emphasized “—twice, he used his tape to try to coerce me into substituting his bootlegged pills for real narcotics. He said the packaging was almost identical and no one would know. I told him I would know and I wouldn’t do it.”

“You mean you can identify him?” Victoria asked.

“I’m guessing you can, too, if you check out our video.”

Victoria recoiled.

At least Fig could help with that. Computers were his thing. Audio. Video. Programing. Networking. Hacking. You name it. If there’s a way to track this guy, to catch him and make him pay, Fig could do it. “Do you have the link?” he asked Roxie.

“On my cell phone, wherever that is.”

Fig reached into his pocket and handed it to her. She pressed a few buttons and held up the screen to him. “May I use your computer?” he asked Victoria.

“To go to a pornography website?” She paled. “Use my laptop.” She took it out of her briefcase, placed it on her desk and booted it up. Then she stood so Fig could take her chair.

He typed in the link. A few seconds later Roxie’s voice called out through the speakers. “Harder,” she demanded. Fig fumbled to find the volume. “Yeah, baby. That’s how I like it.”

Just as he’d thought, Roxie was as take-charge in the bedroom as she appeared to be in every other aspect of her life. It’d take a strong man to stay in control. Anticipation of the challenge excited him.

Until the slam of Victoria’s office door reminded him where he was.

“Do you have to be so loud?” Victoria chastised Roxie.

Fig didn’t mind loud as long as the volume was attached to moans and screams of delight.

“Did you honestly think I’d be quiet in the bedroom?” she asked with a hint of a playful smile.

Fig muted the computer. “Twenty-seven minutes,” he commented about the length of the video, giving a nod of approval.

“Not my best night,” Roxie joked.

Fig relaxed a bit.

“Almost eighty thousand views in the six hours your video’s been up on this site.”

“Delinquents, all of them,” Roxie said, standing up and walking over to stand beside him. “What are all those people doing home during the day? Shouldn’t they be working?”

“Degenerates is more like it,” Victoria said, looking uncomfortable. “Can you make out the man’s face?” she asked Fig.

“Five stars,” he noted instead, impressed.

“I bet you’re regretting standing me up on Friday night.” Roxie nudged his shoulder with her hip.

More than he regretted just about anything else.

“Standing her up? You didn’t tell her what happened?” Victoria asked.

“No.” And Victoria had better not say anything, either.

“Tell me what?” Roxie asked.

The last thing he wanted her thinking was he was some sort of pansy mama’s boy, running home every time she called. “Nothing,” Fig said and flashed Victoria a “keep quiet” look.

“But …”

“Woo wee,” Roxie cut Victoria off. She leaned in close to the laptop. “I look good on screen.”

Yes, she did. And since she didn’t seem at all upset about the video, Fig commented, too. “You have an amazing ass.”

Victoria sucked in an affronted breath.

“It’s one of my best features,” Roxie replied proudly. She had quite a few other mighty-fine features. Fig tilted his head to get a better look at one, watched her lift her long, smooth leg. No way. She couldn’t possibly … She did.

“You liking what you see?” Roxie’s voice turned sexy. Alluring.

Heck yeah! But Fig thought it best not to mention how much.

As if Roxie knew, she bent close to his ear and whispered, “Then I suggest you download my video so you can watch it over and over. Because that’s as close as you’ll ever get to sampling my goodies, you creep.”

Shut. Down.

“For heaven’s sake, Roxie,” Victoria said. “A man taped you having sex and loaded it onto the internet. Without your consent. And you’re standing there, watching yourself as if you’re okay with it. You should be outraged. Shut it off, Fig.”

“And what good would my outrage do?” Roxie asked. “The video is out there. And from the number of messages I’ve received today, people around town have seen it. There’s nothing I can do. Heck, if I can’t get another nursing job, maybe I’ll use it as an audition tape.” She turned to Fig. “Can you make me a copy?”

“You can’t be serious,” Victoria said.

“I’m totally serious,” Roxie said, turning somber. “You may think you know me but all you know is the part of me I allow you to see. So let me share this. At the age of fourteen I gave my virginity to the owner of the superette down the street from our home to pay off our account when my mother had no money. That may have been the first time I used my body to barter, but it certainly wasn’t the last. I’m a survivor. I do what I have to do.”

Based on Victoria’s look of complete and utter shock, she’d had no idea. Just how close were they? Roxie’s defiant stance made Fig wonder if she shared her deepest, darkest secrets with anyone.

He couldn’t stand the thought of lecherous men using a young Roxie who was desperate for food. He felt sick. Yet despite her experiences she still managed to enjoy life, with a wonderful sense of humor and a vivacious spirit he envied. “The man’s face is blurred out,” Fig said, to change the subject.

“Trust me,” Roxie said. “I know who he is. And as soon as I find him you’ll know who he is, too. Tell the E.R. to be on the lookout for a white male, around five feet ten inches tall, two hundred and twenty pounds, who will be arriving most likely after midnight, sometime in the next week. If things go as planned he’ll be unconscious with severe facial trauma and both testicles rammed so far up into his pelvic cavity he’ll require the skilled hands of surgeon to set him back to rights.”

“You need to stay away from him,” Victoria urged. “He’s probably dangerous.”

“No more dangerous than a pissed-off Puerto Rican with a grudge. So what’s your call, Vic?” Roxie stood tall. Proud. “If you’re going to fire me, do it now. Otherwise I need to get back to my patients.”

“Let me talk to the director,” Victoria replied. “Finish out your shift. You’re out on vacation for the next week due to return on Wednesday. Hopefully I’ll have everything worked out by then.”

“Thanks,” Roxie said to Victoria. “I really am sorry about all this.”

“Me, too.”

After Roxie left, Victoria asked Fig, “Can you take down the video?”

“I’ll need to use my own computer, but yeah. I’m sure I can.”