Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Ooh, I like that.”
“And you aren’t a nerd either.”
“I’m a hot bitch with an ass that don’t quit.”
I gave a nod. “I like that.”
“So, what are you doing here?”
“Needed to spend some more time on my patient.”
“Can I help?”
“Sure.”
She took a seat, crossing her legs, her open jacket showing her collarbones as they popped under her skin, the top of her cleavage as her small breasts were squeezed together. Her thick hair fell over one shoulder, and she didn’t have makeup on like she usually did—but she looked pretty much the same.
I forced my stare away from her and broke down my patient’s symptoms and medical history.
When she focused, she was a different person. She turned still and contemplative, behaving a lot like her father during our meetings. Her eyes changed, becoming rigid and focused, and her fingers dragged down her neck slightly as she absorbed the information. “Lyme disease?”
“Negative.”
“Did you reach out to the Network?”
“Yes. No response.”
“Hmm…” She dropped her gaze, still thinking.
“A couple things came to mind—”
“Shh, give me a second.” She leaned back in the chair, her elbow propping on the armrest. She turned her head to look at my wall, as if she could project a bulletin board with all the information I’d just given her.
I waited, staring at her because it was fascinating to watch her think.
Really fascinating.
Her fingers started to rub her earlobe, spinning the earring in the hole, and her eyes were motionless, as if she were looking at the screen at the movie theater. She barely fidgeted, but it was obvious she was thinking rather than daydreaming.
I continued to wait.
She turned back to me and dropped her arm at the same time. “Did he serve in the military?”
“Um…I’m not sure. Why?”
“He would be old enough to have served in Vietnam, right?”
“Yes. But I’m not following.”
“I went to this conference last year where this physician talked about the inexplicable health conditions of some of her patients. She started to realize that every patient she had who had served in Vietnam shared the same perplexing symptoms. They’re a byproduct of all the bombs they dropped near the trenches, full of hazardous gases and poisons. At the time, the military was unaware of the damaging effects of those chemicals. His symptoms remind me of one in particular—soft tissue sarcoma.”
I grabbed my laptop and typed it in, pulling up the symptoms.
She looked away, like she was still thinking.
“Fuck…it fits.”
“Find out if he served in Vietnam, and we’ll order the tests.”
I turned back to her, looking at her with a new set of eyes. I’d witnessed her brilliance a couple times, but this was on a whole new level. Without a single piece of paperwork in front of her, she was able to sort through it all in her head. “Do you have an eidetic memory?”
“A form of it, yes. I can produce images of information in my head then retain it indefinitely.”
“Wow.”
“My brother has a photographic memory.”
“I’ll call the patient in the morning and get this started.”
“Great.” Like nothing had happened, she changed the subject. “So, are you going to tell me or what?”
I gave her a blank stare. “Tell you what?”
“Did you nail Lydia?”
She’d asked me this question all week, and I’d never given her an answer. “I’m not that kind of guy.”
“Oh, come on. I totally set you up to get laid. Want to see if I succeeded.”
“I would have succeeded even if you hadn’t.”
“Ha!” She pointed at me. “You’re welcome.”
I closed the laptop as I rolled my eyes.
“You going to see her again?”
“No.”
“What was wrong with her? She was sexy.”
“And dull.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not. Just being honest.”
“Then what do you look for in a woman?” she asked. “Like in that relationship you had?”
I shrugged. “I like smart women.”
“Like, above average?”
“Like, brilliant. I like successful, hardworking women who can carry on a conversation with me.”
“Well, it’s rare to find someone that smart. It happens in five percent of the population.”
“Now you understand why I’m single.”
“Yeah, you’re a bit picky.”
“You don’t like smart men?” I asked in surprise. “What about the poker player?”
She shook her head. “Probably above average, but that’s it.”
“That’s surprising. All the men in your family are brilliant. Figured you’d want someone like that.”
“The opposite, actually.”
“How so?”
“Well, there’re a lot of reasons, okay?” She started to count them off on her fingers. “One, people at this level are usually socially handicapped. Mom used to tell me that Dad wouldn’t say a single word most days because he literally didn’t know how. They’re just awkward and unrelatable. He’s gotten better—because of her. Two.” She held up another finger. “They’re almost always arrogant. They’ve got to bring up their accomplishments every five seconds, and the more successful they are, the more insecure they are. They constantly have to keep the status quo. They’ll go for runs in their stupid Yale and Berkeley t-shirts. Like, bitch, no one cares that you went there. Get over yourself.”