Perfect Flaw, page 5
Cal threw back the sheets, exposing his sinewy body covered in a perfectly symmetrical distribution of hair the same color of a red fox’s pelt. He was wearing red silk boxer briefs and nothing else.
“Ready when you are Dr. Dreamboat,” Cal said, clasping his hands behind his neck. “I even wore clean underwear. Just like my mamma told me to.”
After a brisk but thorough exam, Angelo hung his stethoscope around his neck. “That’s all for now. Do you need anything?”
Cal aimed his head at the door where a muscular policeman was stationed outside the next room. “How about him?”
“I meant a pillow or extra blanket.”
Cal pouted with disappointment. His eyes scanned the room briefly. There was an empty paper cup on his tray. Cal snatched it up and crumbled it into a ball. Just as Cal was about to hurl it at the policeman, Angelo intercepted it.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m trying to get his attention,” Cal said in frustration.
“You can’t just throw objects at strangers, let alone a policeman,” Angelo argued. He took the crumpled paper cup and threw it in the trash.
“You’re nothing like Tony,” Cal said petulantly. “He would have been circling around that number like a vulture.”
“I doubt that. Dr. Stanzione is happily married.”
“So am I, sugar.”
“Why don’t you rest,” Angelo suggested.
“They’ll be plenty of time to rest when I’m dead,” Cal said flatly.
It was then Angelo caught a glimpse of fear in Cal’s eyes. It got him wondering if Cal’s playful attempt to engage the policeman was his way of distracting himself from his upcoming procedure.
“Listen, if you want to talk . . . .”
“Come by later and meet my better half,” cut in Cal. “Carlo is going to love you. He has a thing for scars.” Instinctively, Angelo reached up and touched his cheek. Cal read his reaction. “Damn me and my big mouth,” he said, sitting upright. “I have no filter, and sometimes I say things without thinking first.”
“It’s okay.”
“What a horse’s ass I am,” Cal cried, pounding his fist against the mattress. “Listen, if it’s any consolation that scar is pretty darn hot.”
“Well, I need to call Dr. Stanzione. If you or your partner need to speak with me later, just have the nurse call me.”
Cal’s eyes narrowed. “I’m gonna get that policeman’s name. Just you wait. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you arrived.”
Glancing over his shoulder, Angelo took in the policeman’s appearance: average height, muscular body, and a face as cheerful and rugged as a Norman Rockwell painting. Part of him was astonished he hadn’t noticed how handsome he was before.
Later that night, Angelo returned home and tried studying. His internal medicine boards were less than two weeks away, and the burdensome yolk he carried was wearing him down. There was so much riding on this one exam.
He tried to focus, but he couldn’t.
For so long, he’d been manically dedicated to work and avoiding any social circumstance that would have allowed him to reclaim a life for himself. Cal’s words, still fresh in his mind, razed through the truth he had always known. That after his relationship with Miles Scribner, Angelo had avoided any opportunity for intimacy. Speaking with Demetre and today with Cal, he was surprised how easily they saw through him—like he was made of glass even though he had worked so hard to shed his pathetic past. After he ended his relationship with Miles, Angelo had made a conscious choice to pursue the only thing that mattered—his career. And now that he had the job he always dreamed of, he refused to risk losing it over another failed relationship. Whatever Cal or Demetre thought, it didn’t matter, because his priorities remained the same.
Dr. Stanzione had returned from vacation a day early. Angelo met him at the hospital the next day. By now, Cal’s room was cluttered with get-well cards, flower arrangements, and a silver Mylar balloon bouncing gingerly against the ceiling. Cal’s partner, Carlo, was sitting on the bed when they arrived. Carlo was a slender man with a dark complexion that matched his curly hair and downturned eyes. He held Cal’s hand while Dr. Stanzione explained the high-risk procedure.
Once Cal signed the consent, Stanzione excused himself, but not before he leaned forward and muttered, “What does a guy have to do to get arrested around here?”
Stanzione’s head comically twitched toward the door. Standing there was the same policeman guarding the room next door.
Cal dropped Angelo a wink. “Told you. Tony don’t miss nothing.”
Once Stanzione exited the room, Carlo draped himself across Cal’s body and kissed him. They were quiet for a while. Angelo was about to excuse himself, but Carlo stopped him. “Cal tells me you don’t have a boyfriend.”
Angelo shook his head, exasperated. “It’s completely by choice.”
“Get over yourself, honey,” Carlo said. “Once Cal is discharged, we’d like to invite you to our apartment. We know many eligible men, like yourself.”
Once again, Angelo felt the heat rolling up his back. How could he have been dragged into a conversation about his private life when it should be the last thing on their minds?
“Or . . . I can ask that handsome policeman if he’s single?” Carlo said.
“No,” Angelo said emphatically. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Told you he was a toughie,” Cal said to Carlo.
The realization Angelo had no social life outside of his friendship with Tammy was never more apparent. He subsisted in a funnel of focus with only one purpose: passing the internal boards. But deep down, he craved the embrace of a man’s body against his.
He thought about it more later that night. Excitement crackled inside him like a campfire, thinking he might have met a pair of new gay friends in Cal and Carlo. For the past four years, Angelo’s social life was limited to the small circle of medical residents that worked alongside him. Long hours with only one full weekend off a month hampered any chance of making friends outside the hospital. Miles had introduced him to his friends, but he lost contact with them after the breakup. Maybe Cal and Carlo heralded a change? At the very least they had been an influence for him to try.
Angelo arrived at the hospital bright and early the next morning only to find Carlo in the lobby arguing wildly with a security guard, hands flailing, shouting in a hybrid of English and Spanish. Once their eyes met, Carlo bounded toward him.
“Dr. Perrotta, they’re not letting me up to see Cal because I’m not family.”
Angelo pulled in an impatient breath, annoyance that Carlo had been denied access because he was the gay lover and not a “real” relative triggered a swell of anger that was atypical of his personality.
“Too many people in the ICU at the moment,” explained the security guard. “There were several traumas brought in overnight.”
“My name is Dr. Perrotta . . . .”
“Doctor,” said the security guard in a tone that reeked of end-of-shift weariness, “I don’t care who you are. I have my orders, and right now I’m not letting anyone up unless they’re family.”
“But he is family!” Angelo insisted.
“Not according to this hospital.”
Then Carlo interrupted, shouting in Spanish. The security guard clenched his teeth. Sensing the tempest forming around him, Angelo grabbed ahold of Carlo’s arm and pulled him away. “What time is Cal’s procedure?”
“Now!” Tears streamed down Carlo’s cheeks. “He’s up there all alone. Why are they doing this?”
The tension in Angelo’s gut stretched like saltwater taffy. He had to do something, but what? Then a solution occurred to him. “Wait here. I have an idea.” Angelo rode the elevator up to the ICU.
Once the doors opened, he walked into the din of chaos: policemen congregating in the waiting area, doctors encircling two ICU beds, a swarm of nurses working in tandem to adjust intravenous lines and attach electrocardiogram leads. Only the handsome policeman seemed unfazed, standing in the same position where he had been all week.
“What’s going on?” Angelo asked him.
The policeman looked over his shoulder to see if there was anyone standing next to him. “You talking to me?”
“Who else would I be talking to?”
The policeman laughed at Angelo’s directness, but quickly sensed his urgency. “A couple of cops got shot last night.”
“Are you busy?”
“Not right now,” he replied. “The perp . . . I mean, the patient I’m guarding is in surgery.”
“You’re guarding a criminal?” Angelo asked.
“Drunk driver,” the policeman whispered.
Angelo was keenly studying the policeman’s blue eyes, when he spotted a transporter—a spry, serious-looking man with gray hair—helping Cal into a wheelchair. “I need you to do me a favor?”
“Favor?” The policeman laughed mockingly. “I don’t even know you.”
“Name’s Angelo,” he said holding out an unsteady hand.
The policeman looked at it, noted the tremulousness, and said, “I’m . . . .”
Cal cut in. “They won’t let Carlo up to see me,” he sobbed, grabbing ahold of Angelo’s pant leg. “Why are they doing this?”
Angelo leaned forward. “I’m working on it.”
The transporter went to push the wheelchair, but Cal locked the brakes. “Excuse me, but I’m talking to my doctor.”
“Please, just give us a minute?” Angelo pleaded with the transporter.
“You got ten seconds,” replied the transporter with his hands on his hips. “I’m due for a break.”
Angelo stood up and looked squarely into the policeman’s chiseled face. For a moment, he forgot what he was about to say. “You’ve been here all week,” Angelo began. “Do you remember what this man’s partner looks like?”
“Latino? Slim? Five foot nine or ten?”
“Good memory,” Angelo said impressed. “I really need your help.”
One side of the policeman’s mouth slid into a grin. “Are you always this forward?”
“Why?” Angelo asked. “Do you like forward guys?’
“Excuse me,” interjected the irate transporter, “but I got more important things to do then to watch you two speed date.”
Angelo squeezed his eyes, embarrassed. “Sorry,” and then with pleading eyes said to the policeman, “I can explain everything but not right now. Won’t you please just do me one favor?”
“Only if you promise to buy me a cup of coffee.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” the transporter cried.
“Hush up,” Cal hissed to the transporter. “Angelo, if you don’t promise this officer a cup of coffee, I swear I’m going to explode.”
Angelo smiled. Turning back, he held out his hand again. “You have my word.”
The policeman shook Angelo’s hand, holding it long enough so that Angelo felt a trill of excitement shoot up his arm. “What do you want me to do?”
“Find this gentleman’s partner. His name is Carlo. They won’t allow him up so you have to escort him to the service elevators. They’re on the other side of the main elevators. We’ll meet you there in two minutes.”
The policeman looked over at Cal who bulged out his lower lip. “Okay,” the policeman said. “See you in two minutes.”
Angelo followed behind the transporter as he wheeled Cal into the service elevator. Just after the transporter entered his key, Angelo pressed the first-floor button. Then he leaned against the wall and offered Cal a reassuring wink.
“Wonderful,” the transporter said, reeking with sarcasm. “If I get fired for this, I’ll want more than a cup of coffee.”
Before the elevator doors closed, the very security guard who wouldn’t let Carlo up to see Cal, stuck his foot in between the doors. “Going down?” Angelo was stunned into silence as the security guard entered. Over the next several seconds, as the elevator motor hummed, Angelo closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. When the elevator doors opened on the first floor, Carlo was standing there, waiting. The policeman had escorted him around back to the service elevator without anyone questioning him.
Carlo and the security guard were now face to face. “Hey, weren’t you the one . . . .” and then looking at Angelo added, “I thought I told you . . . .”
Sensing the conflict brewing, the policeman intervened. “Are you getting out?”
“What’s going on?” he replied suspiciously.
The policeman held out his arm to prevent the doors from closing.
“Important police business,” and then he gestured to the open doors like a maître d’ at a fine restaurant. “After you.”
The security guard harrumphed, staring Angelo down as he exited.
Once the doors closed, Angelo breathed a sigh of relief. “You two only have a few seconds.”
Carlo squeezed in between the scuffed metal wall and Cal’s wheelchair. In the time it took for the elevator to reach the fifth floor, he watched those two men share a proper good-bye. Carlo kissed Cal on the sides of his face, on his eyelids and on his mouth while Cal stroked Carlo’s cheek with the back of his hand. The doors opened. Carlo and Cal shared one last kiss.
“Jeez Louise,” the transporter said, wiping his eyes. “Leave it to gays to make a five second elevator trip into an abridged version of Romeo and Juliet.”
Every teary eye in the elevator locked onto Cal’s wheelchair as the transporter wheeled him away. “He’s going to be all right,” Angelo reassured Carlo.
Carlo hugged him. Angelo glanced over at the policeman. “Thank you,” he mouthed. Just then, Angelo’s cell phone rang. When the elevator doors opened again, he excused himself. “I have to answer this.”
“I take my coffee with cream and no sugar,” the policeman shouted as Angelo hurried off.
Stanzione remained at the hospital for the rest of the day while Angelo saw patients at the office. Steven helped, but Angelo felt overwhelmed not only by the number of people in the waiting room, but by the way the events of the morning had played out. Not only had he successfully united Carlo and Cal before his procedure but he was also finally introduced to the policeman, though he didn’t know the policeman’s name or how to get in touch with him.
And his internal medicine boards were in less than two weeks. Stanzione had promised Angelo he could take this week off to prepare, but clearly he hadn’t factored in the chance of an emergency that would pull him away from the practice.
He hoped this wasn’t indicative of all Stanzione’s planning skills.
Once the last patient was gone and Angelo had completed all his notes, he threw on his backpack and walked up front to say good night.
Steven still toiled away at the billing and limply waved without looking up. “See you tomorrow.”
Angelo stepped out into the chilly night. A dark car was double-parked in front of the office. “Dr. Perrotta?”
Angelo squinted to see who was calling him. “Do I know you?”
The man seated behind the wheel smiled brilliantly. “You owe me a cup of coffee.”
Angelo regarded him carefully. It was New York after all. A memory clicked. “I didn’t recognize you without your uniform.”
“I try not to wear it when I’m off duty.” They stared at each other for another second. “Do you not recognize me now? I can show you my badge if you want.”
“What’s your name?” Angelo found himself fighting not to blush.
“Jason Murphy.
The policeman had thrown him, he could hardly deny. Even in the dim light of evening he was ridiculously handsome. “How did you find me?”
“Um, I am a policeman.”
Angelo shook his head, embarrassed. “Of course.”
“Listen, do you need a ride home? I’m more than happy to drive you.”
Angelo stood under the streetlight contemplating the long walk ahead, but also considering this is how most victims get murdered. Despite the nag of suspicion, Angelo couldn’t resist this genial, attractive, and interesting man. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
Jason smiled. “Get in.”
Angelo stepped inside the black SUV and sank back against the leather interior. For a second, he closed his eyes as exhaustion washed over him. Jason pulled away. At the stoplight, Angelo glanced over and found Jason staring back at him. “Tired?”
“Beyond tired. Too tired to study, but I have to.”
“Doctors take exams?”
“Not just any exam. The exam of all exams. My internal medicine boards,” Angelo said, pulling down the visor to assess himself in the mirror. “Whoa, how did you recognize me when I look like this?”
“Why don’t we grab a cup of coffee?” Jason asked. “It’ll wake you up.”
Though coffee was exactly what he needed, Angelo was too preoccupied with his upcoming exam. “I’d love to, but there’s too much riding on this exam. I really need to study.” Jason didn’t push. He asked Angelo for the address. Minutes later, the SUV pulled up to Angelo’s apartment building.
Jason grabbed ahold of Angelo’s arm before he had a chance to open the door. “What you did today—for those two men—that made my heart explode inside.”
Angelo grinned suddenly, wide, and gleeful. “I couldn’t have pulled it off without your help.”
“Is there any possibility you might be free . . . after your exam?”
Angelo opened his mouth to speak, but his cell phone rang, giving both of them a jolt. “I’m sorry. It’s my boss.”
“I understand.”
“Yes, Dr. Stanzione. Is everything all right?” Without thinking, Angelo got out of the SUV still listening to his boss prattle on about Cal. Inserting the key into his building’s front door lock, it occurred to Angelo he hadn’t thanked Jason or acknowledged his invitation to go on a date. Angelo let go of the door and turned around to catch him, but he was already gone. Fate had stepped in and made the decision perfectly clear.
