“Like when you bent down to get all the things out of the filing cabinet, he was checking out your behind.”
I screw up my face. “Oh, please, he so wasn’t.”
“You should ask him out.”
“What?” I shriek. “Ask him out? Have you been sniffing the gas in theatre?”
“If he was checking me out, I would ask him out.” She widens her eyes to accentuate her point.
I smile wide. “Amber, you’re crazy. Do you know that?”
“Well, he couldn’t ask me out, so I would have to ask him.”
I frown. “Why couldn’t he ask you out?”
“Hospital policy. The doctors are not allowed to have...” She puts her fingers up to air quote. “Liaisons with interns.”
“Why? Last time I looked we were all adults.”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m seriously breaking that rule if I get the chance.”
I smile as we keep walking.
“Tell me if you see him checking me out so I can pull the trigger,” she continues.
I burst out laughing. “Pull the trigger?” I repeat.
“Yes, you know. Seize the day. Mow that fucker down.”
I laugh as we walk. “Mow that fucker down.” I snicker. I glance around the parking lot. “What car is it again?”
She frowns. “I don’t know. He said it was in the farthest B block in the secured parking and the number plates were 777.” She changes direction and I follow her across the parking bay.
I frown. “What kind of wanky plates are 777 anyway?” Ugh, this guy is an idiot.
She stops still and I nearly run into the back of her. “Oh… my… fuck,” she stammers.
“What?”
“Look at his fucking car.”
I glance around. “Huh, where?”
“I swear I need to marry this guy,” Amber whispers.
“What?” I snap. “What are we looking at here?”
She points to a black, super shiny, flashy car and I frown. It’s so fancy, I don’t think I have ever seen one like it before. “What kind of car is that?”
“An Aston Martin.”
My face falls. “How… much do they cost?” I stammer.
“Like, two-hundred thousand dollars.”
I stand still on the spot. “Oh,” I whisper. My mind goes back to Vegas and the guards he had. Who is this guy? Not many doctors are at this level of wealth at his age. She clicks the button and the lights go on as it unlocks. She climbs into the driver’s seat.
“What are you doing?” I frown.
“Let’s go for a spin.” She smiles mischievously as she turns the engine on. It purrs like a kitten.
“Are you fucking crazy?” I whisper as I glance around guiltily. “Get out! I have already been in trouble once today.”
She grabs his black playboy sunglasses from the console and puts them on as she pretends to drive and turn the wheel. “Oh, Amber, I want to fuck you so hard,” she mimics in a fake Australian accent.
“Oh, Amber, I want to section you in a mental institution,” I hit back in a better Australian accent than hers.
She smiles up at me. “Get in.”
“Are you crazy? No.”
“Nobody is here. Just get in and sit in it for a minute.”
I glance around. The parking lot is empty, I suppose. I walk around to the passenger side, get in, and close the door.
Amber’s loud laugh is contagious and I find myself giggling like a schoolgirl as she pretends to drive fast and turn the wheel back and forth. “Oh, Amber, suck my dick while I drive you to my castle,” she mimics again in her bad Aussie accent.
I burst out laughing. She is the most refreshing fool I have met in a long time. Med school people are usually so boring.
She turns to me, all serious. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“No. What does this mean?”
“It means I need to bag myself Dr. Stanton.”
I smirk.
“And if he doesn’t want me… then you have to bag him.”
“He doesn’t want me,” I reply.
“He might.”
“He might want Henry.” I smirk. “He could bat for the other side.”
“Fuck.” She thinks for a moment as she falls serious. “Then there is only one solution to that problem.”
“What is it?” I smirk.
“You will have to give me a gender realignment.”
My eyes widen. “And where am I getting your new penis from?”
She twitches her lips as she thinks for a moment. “Got any old boyfriends we can cut up?”
We struggle up the corridor with a box of files each to find Dr. Stanton standing in the door of his office. “Where do you want these?” Amber asks him.
His eyes fall to the boxes in our hands. “Amber, your