Stripped - By Brenda Rothert Page 0,5
so familiar to me,” he said, studying her. Abby’s heart raced. She didn’t want to admit she was the stripper he had refused a lap dance from. In fact, she didn’t want him to know she was a stripper at all. He would look at her differently then, as everyone who knew did.
“I don’t think so. We just moved here recently,” she said.
“Hmm.” He glanced down at his pager, which was lit with a message. “Well, your Mom will be ready to go soon. I’m giving you the number here and I want you to call if you have any questions or problems, okay? If you reconsider the assistance with care, I can put you in touch with someone.”
He handed her a scrap of paper and Abby stuffed it in her pocket as he stood and extended his hand.
“It was very nice to meet you…?” he said, trailing off and looking at her.
“Abby,” she said. “Thanks for taking care of my Mom. I was really scared this time.”
She scurried through the door he held open, anxious to get away before he remembered why she was familiar.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said, heading away from him. He waved and moved down the hallway. Abby followed him with her eyes, admiring the way his white coat stretched across his broad back and shoulders. She sighed as she turned toward the bathroom.
It was after 3 a.m. by the time Abby got Kathy home and settled into bed again. Justin woke up from his spot on the couch to help her, and Abby sent him to bed then, lying down next to her Mom. She kicked her shoes off, deciding that undressing would take too much energy.
“Abby. Abby, wake up.”
Abby opened her heavy eyelids and sprang up at the sound of her mother’s voice.
“Huh? What? Are you okay?” she asked, still groggy.
“I need another sleeping pill,” Kathy said. “And some water.”
“Mom, you can’t have more yet. They said every six hours as needed.”
“Well, I need it,” Kathy said, agitated. “Don’t start your shit with me!”
“It’s not time. Not until eight,” Abby said, her clarity making a slow comeback.
“The doctor said I can have it when I need it,” Kathy snapped, trying to roll herself to the side of the bed. “Just get my goddamn medicine, Abby. You’re worthless if you won’t even help me when I need it.”
“Mom, no. You have to stay in bed. I’ll go read the instructions again, okay? I’ll bring it if you can have it.”
Abby glanced at a digital clock on her way out of bed. 5:30 a.m. She was still so tired, but she knew she’d be feeling functional soon.
She padded into the kitchen and scanned the doctor’s instructions, ignoring her mother’s muffled complaints from the bedroom. It confirmed what Abby already knew.
“Here’s your water,” she said, handing it over. “You can have more medicine at eight. I’ll bring it to you before I leave for work.”
“I need it now, Abby!” Kathy snapped. “You don’t know what this feels like. Bring me a pill, I’ll be fine.”
“We need to listen to the doctor, Mom,” Abby said gently.
“He said I can have it! You must not have heard him. You just like to make me suffer, you little bitch. Always have to be in control of everything, don’t you?”
“Okay, well, I’ll call the hospital, then.”
Abby saw the outline of a glare on her mother’s face as she left the room, finding her phone in the kitchen. She pulled the scrap of paper from her pocket and dialed the numbers.
“Benedict ER,” a voice clipped in greeting.
“Hi…I’m calling for Dr. Reneau,” Abby said, suddenly feeling silly for calling. The line went quiet as she was put on hold, and she paced the kitchen nervously.
“Chris Reneau.”
“Oh, hi. Dr. Reneau, it’s Abby Gillis, from earlier.”
“Hi, Abby. Is everything okay?”
He had a sexy phone voice, Abby thought. She rolled her eyes at herself. How desperate, to be thinking that about the doctor who had treated her mother at the hospital.
“My Mom wants more sleeping medication. She said you told her she could have some before eight.”
“No, I didn’t say that. Tell her to sit tight until it’s time.”
“Okay.”
“Those are my labs, Karen,” he said to someone else. “They’re for my patient in seven.”
“Okay, thanks. I’m sorry to bother you,” Abby said.
“No, it’s no bother. I told you to call. Everything else okay? You must be tired -- I hope you don’t have to go to work this morning.”
“Everything else is good.