Diagnosis Wolf - Macy Blake
Chapter One
Andrew screeched in terror when his phone suddenly rang and Vincent Pryce’s laugh began to play at the highest possible volume. The ringtone was set for Shari, the manager of the medical employment service he used to find work because one, she was pretty much evil in the best possible way, and two, the sound never failed to get his attention, unlike the bloops and beeps of normal ringtones. The phone had been unusually quiet for the past few weeks, right when he needed a job most. He raced for the coffee table and snatched his cell up before the chorus ended. “Hello?”
“Andrew, hello! I hoped to catch you today. I have a position you would be a great fit for.”
Thank goodness.
Another week without a job and he wouldn’t be able to pay rent this month. Andrew let out a sigh of relief. “Wonderful. What are the details?” Not that he could afford to be picky at this point, but he wouldn’t be doing himself any favors by appearing too desperate. They didn’t call her Shari the shark for nothing.
“It’s a great opportunity. Double your usual rates.”
Andrew groaned and collapsed onto his couch, sniffing blood in the water. “What’s the catch?”
“Well,” she hedged, drawing the word out to four or five syllables, “the patient’s father is somewhat difficult.”
“Father? How old is the patient?”
“Midtwenties.”
Twenty-five and the father still handled his health care? This could be a disaster waiting to happen.
“Okay, Shari. Lay it on me. What exactly is ‘somewhat difficult’?”
Shari groaned. “That’s the thing. I don’t know. Apparently, no one has gotten past the front door yet. They asked for a female, but they turned away the last three I sent. I want to try sending you.”
It was Andrew’s turn to groan. “Shari, that’s crazy. What makes you think I’ll get through?”
“Hey, you’re my last hope, buddy. If they turn you away, I’m going to have to send them to another service.”
Andrew bit his lip and considered. It couldn’t hurt to give it a try. He’d be no worse off than he was now if they turned him down. “Okay, what’s the address?”
An hour later, Andrew stood in front of one of the largest homes he’d ever seen. The massive front windows stretched up two and a half stories. Nothing but crisp white stucco and glass surrounded the giant panes of glass. Andrew looked down at his faded blue scrubs with a grimace. Talk about sticking out like a sore thumb. He couldn’t do anything about his appearance now, but Andrew had a feeling he understood why the other nurses hadn’t gotten past the front door.
He reflected on Shari’s description. Somewhat difficult. Right. If the perfection of this home were anything to go by, Andrew wouldn’t last an hour. But at least that would be an hour at double his usual rate. It never ceased to amaze him how much his standards for acceptable behavior had been lowered since he didn’t have the money to back him up. It was easy to walk away when you weren’t desperate.
With a deep breath for courage, he straightened his spine and rang the bell. Not a sound came from inside. No way could something at this impeccable house be out of order. Even the shrubbery bowed down to the perfection of its surroundings. Not a leaf out of place—they wouldn’t dare.
No one answered after a long minute. Andrew fought the compulsion to just turn around and get back in his car. Surely another position would open up soon enough and get him out of this messy financial hole he found himself in? He hated having to take a job based on the money alone. So what if they made him drive all the way out here and didn’t answer the door? Not like he had much of a choice, despite the fact that his potential employers appeared to be rude and inconsiderate of his time. The reality of his situation forced him to keep his feet planted on the front steps.
The problem with having a brother who looked enough like you to be your twin? He sometimes wrote checks with his mouth that his ass couldn’t cash. And he did them using your ID. Which meant that Andrew’s ass couldn’t cash them either. Now he had a mountain of debts and an on-again, off-again job that paid his living expenses and not much else. Andrew couldn’t remember if gambling was one of the seven deadly sins, but if it wasn’t, the vice certainly should