Code Blues (20 page)

Tori added, "Who are you with, Alex?"

Alex spread his arms out, embracing the
night, nearly hitting a bald man. "Uh, sorry, man." To us: "The
night is my companion!"

A breeze made me shiver. I said, "Good. Then
you won't miss us. Let's go, Tori."

Now that I was playing hardball, Tori cocked
her head to one side and gave him a look. "You can come, Alex. But
we'll pay for our own drinks."

And so we did. As a feminist, I approved. As
a poor student, I wished he'd paid for Tori's beer and my bottled
water as well as his own Blue. I pointed to Alex's plastic tumbler
as we backed away from the tent. "If you want more, you can inhale
the fumes off my hair. Some guy dripped it on me." I touched the
top of my head, fingering the sticky mess there and the tangled
ropes of hair running down the back of my head. Yuck.

Alex surveyed my hair. Then he turned back
to the beer tent. "I'll be back in a minute. Hold my beer?"

Tori took it. We exchanged puzzled glances.
Alex definitely had a mercurial temperament. Maybe I'd triggered
his need for seconds, because he was leaning over the plywood
counter of the makeshift bar, holding out some coins and talking to
the server.

I said, "I guess he really wanted to pay. Or
do some two-fisted drinking."

Tori shook her head. "You can never tell,
with him." She raised her glass and sipped her beer, while
balancing Alex's in the other hand. Even doing that, she looked
like a lady.

Alex returned with a second bottle of water.
"Come here."

I gave him a weird look. "Thanks, but I
haven't finished the first one."

"Come on." He beckoned me toward a garbage
can.

I'd had my fill of close encounters with
hornets. "No, thanks."

Tori held out his beer. "Do you want this,
Alex?"

"In a minute." He turned back to me. "Come
on, Hope. I'm not going to hurt you."

Tori said nothing. Her eyes moved between
us.

He broke the cap off the water bottle and
tossed it in the garbage. "Please?" He lost his smile, and his eyes
gave a quick flash of vulnerability.

He wasn't about to harm me in front of Tori
and a few hundred other witnesses. Avoiding Tori's eyes, I made my
way over the garbage can. Alex sniffed the mouth of the water
bottle. "A fine vintage."

I started to back away. He grasped my wrist
and tugged me to his side. "It's okay. Lean over the can. I'm going
to wash your hair."

Since I reached adulthood, no one has ever
offered to wash my hair except a hairdresser. It would never have
occurred to Ryan. To be fair, I'd never thought of it either. But
it was, abruptly, the most romantic gesture I'd ever conceived.
Except for the garbage can.

I bent over, holding my breath at first. But
it actually didn't smell too bad, mostly fermenting beer, the
mustard from half-finished hot dogs, and the occasional buzz to
remind me this wasn't the smartest idea in my life. But Alex's
hands were gentle on my hair, lifting the stickiest locks away from
the rest. He poured water, splashing down my neck and cheek. I bit
back a cry. The water felt icy.

"Sorry," Alex whispered, his lips close to
my ear. He tipped the bottle so it spouted into his cupped palm,
then dribbled the warmed water over my head.

I laughed shakily. "That won't work."

"It will, but we'd be here all night. Are
you ready for the second course?"

"Yes." The trash can caught my whisper and
magnified it.

Alex pressed the bottle opening against my
head and tipped a few more spoonfuls as he finger-combed the water
through my hair, diluting the beer and smoothing out tangles. On
stage, two men sang in harmony together. The throng howled
encouragement. It felt like it was for us. My heart drummed. I
could hear Alex's breath in my ear. This was as intimate as
anything Ryan and I had done.

A few people strolled by and laughed. One
guy yelled, "All right!"

Alex didn't pause in his work. I could feel
the force of his concentration, like washing my hair was his most
important task on earth.

His fingers slowed and stopped. He tipped
the bottle and gave me a careful rinse. "It's a good thing you have
short hair."

"Yeah," I lied. I could have stayed here
with him all night. His touch was an apology and a benediction and
a seduction rolled into one. I wanted to lean into his hand like a
cat. I wanted to lick his cheek. I wanted to bury my face in the
crook of his shoulder and grind my pelvis over his. I could feel my
nails digging into my left palm and the ridges of my water bottle
cap imprinting on my right. Alex's breathing had slowed down and
his touch pressed deeper, more surely.

His fingers ran along the back of my neck. I
had to close my eyes. I wanted to arch into his hand. I wanted to
climb into his bed.

He backed away. I heard water sloshing in
the bottle as he righted it. "Uh, I guess I'm done now."

"I guess." I straightened.

His eyes were narrowed, his lips pressed
together. I could smell his sweat, see desire in the way he held
his rigid posture. And I was glad. More than glad. I wanted him to
shred his control and—

Tori cleared her throat. "You didn't even
use the whole water bottle."

We both started, and looked at the bottle in
his hand. It was still about a quarter-full. He held it out to me.
"You can have the rest."

Yeah. Give me the rest. I ran my fingers
along his knuckles.

He gripped the bottle hard enough to dent
the plastic. I chuckled and drew the bottle from his hand.
"Thanks."

I waited for him to say I was welcome.
Instead, he took a breath and surveyed my hair. "It's better. But
it's all wet now."

Well, duh. He'd just poured two cups of
water over my hair. I smoothed my bangs back from my face. "It'll
dry."

He whipped off his T-shirt. I got a glimpse
of his bare chest and abs before he threw the shirt over my head
and started scrubbing my hair dry.

"Alex!" I yelled, muffled under the
cloth.

"I don't want you to catch pneumonia," he
said cheerfully, rubbing my head with extra vigor as I tried to
push him away.

"I won't catch pneumonia, you kook! That's
an old wives' tale, and anyway, it's July!"

"Atypical pneumonia," he said, a medical
joke that made both me and Tori laugh, even as I ripped the T-shirt
out of his hand and tossed it back to him, looking his lean shape
up and down as I did so. He had a little chest hair, including a
line running down to his belly button and below. "That's enough," I
said.

He caught the shirt in one hand and let me
look for another long beat. "If you say so." Then he slipped the
shirt back on and grinned at me as his head popped through the
collar.

A guy wolf-whistled, and a girl yelled,
"Take it off!"

Alex watched me with a half-smile.

"Show-off," I said.

His smile widened. "So are you."

I guessed he meant the dancing earlier. I
laughed. "A little. But you take the cake."

His eyes gleamed. "Tastes better that
way."

It sounded like a come-on. I found myself
blushing again. I wished Tori would say something. She just threw
her empty cup in the trash can, making us back away from it.

It was a lot easier to be mad at Alex in the
abstract than in the flesh. I'd been pissed because he lied to me,
but I'd also been jealous Mireille had had him first. Not to
mention gun shy after Ryan. Ryan and I had never had any
significant ties before each other, but now that I was in my
mid-20's, a virgin with a clean record was going to be pretty hard
to come by, unless I started cruising the high schools. Maybe even
middle schools.

As long as Alex didn't lie to me any more, I
could handle his history. I smiled at him as I finger-combed my
hair into place.

"You look beautiful," Alex said softly.

Tori walked up to him and held out his
Labatt's. "Here's your beer."

I eyed her carefully, but she was more
focused on me than him. In the depths of her gaze, I saw concern.
She shook the beer cup at Alex.

"Thanks," he said, his eyes still on me.

If it had been just Alex and me on
Ste-Catherine Street, I might have followed him home and taken off
his T-shirt again.

He watched me over the rim of his cup, his
eyes flicking up and down. He was thinking the same thing.

But we hadn't talked about Mireille yet.
More importantly, Tori was here, and I wouldn't abandon her or slag
her off. She deserved better. So I tried to break the mood with a
joke. "Free hair washing. Almost worth getting beer in my
hair."

"Maybe it was good for your hair," said
Tori. "Some women use beer like shampoo."

"Oh, yeah, I heard that," I said, finally
taking my eyes off Alex. But when I glanced back at him, his eyes
were still fastened on me. I gulped water, finishing the bottle
Alex had used on my hair.

Tori said, "We just ran into Vicki. Kurt's
fiancée."

Alex's eyes flickered.

"Yeah." I roused myself. "That was weird. I
got a call this afternoon from a woman who said she was Vicki. She
wanted me to leave her alone. But we just ran into the real Vicki,
and she didn't know what I was talking about."

Alex said, "Huh. That's weird. You think
someone was impersonating Vicki?"

"Either that, or she's got multiple
personality disorder," I said.

Alex and Tori exchanged a glance.

"I'm joking," I said. Then I looked at them.
"You think that's possible?"

Tori laughed. "I don't think so. I did
obstetrics at St. Joseph's as a med student, and she was pretty
reasonable. But you do hear stories."

"What stories?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Gossip."

Man. She was tight-lipped. Alex stepped in.
"You get some weird personalities on OB. When we started, the
residents told us to avoid certain people." He lowered his voice.
"One of them was Vicki. She came off as sweetness and light ninety
percent of the time, but the other ten percent, watch out. She'd
tear your arm off if she thought you weren't delivering the baby
right."

I frowned. "But you guys were always
supervised during deliveries, right?"

Alex quaffed some more beer. "Pretty much.
Either a resident or staff would be there. But once in a while, in
the middle of the night, the student would be the first one on the
scene. If it was Vicki's patient, watch out. She didn't trust
us."

Tori made a face. "That's normal on OB."

I nodded. "And peds." Those are two the
specialties where the nurses are notoriously protective of their
patients and think that med students are rabid creatures to be kept
at bay. It's understandable. You don't want some dopehead med
student bludgeoning a sick kid or difficult delivery. Some of the
nurses there have been working longer than we've been alive. On the
other hand, these are teaching hospitals, and if the nurses won't
let us learn, future doctors won't be properly trained. Since I'd
just started here, I had no evidence if Vicki was really off-kilter
or if the residents didn't like her because she was overprotective.
"I wonder how she hooked up with Kurt. He seemed like the original
champion of medical education. I don't know why he'd pick a
girlfriend who dismembered med students." I smiled. They didn't
smile back. I decided to put the screws to Alex, at least lightly.
"Plus the whole Mireille thing."

Alex exhaled and studied the pavement. Tori
glanced at him, waiting for him to answer, but when he remained
silent, she finally stepped in. "Kurt was—" She stopped, choosing
her words carefully. "—very popular. Easy to like."

"He, ah, dated around?" I would have said
screwed around, but Tori was a lady.

She eyed Alex again. "Well. Mireille was the
only student he was ever involved with, as far as I know."

He lifted his head and swigged the last of
the beer before he said, "She broke up with me and hooked up with
Kurt." He threw his empty cup in the garbage.

I raised my eyebrows. It was one thing for
Alex and Mireille to go mini-golfing together a few times in first
year. It was quite another for her to dump him right before taking
up with a teacher. Could Alex have been upset enough to kill
Kurt?

But then why would he ask me to investigate?
This was so screwed up.

Alex's mouth twisted wryly. "I didn't kill
him, if that's what you're thinking."

I shrugged. "Well, you're the one who'd
know." I left a questioning note on the last word.

He snorted. "Great. Now I'm a killer. No,
seriously. No one likes to be dumped, right?" He pulled at the
collar of his T-shirt. "But that's, like, WTLY." He pronounced it
like "wit-ley," saw my confused face and explained, "Welcome To
Last Year. I'm over it. Mireille was the one who botched it; Kurt
didn't even know we were still going out. He called me at home,
asked me if I was okay with it, offered to break it off with M."
Alex's voice softened. "He was really a decent guy."

I checked Tori's face, but she was doing the
poker face again.

The crowd cheered the end
of the song, with one guy yelling,
"Ay
caramba!"
I laughed a little, and Alex
shifted his weight, more relaxed now.

I said, "First of all, you should have told
me you and Mireille were going out instead of this junk about a
'friend.'"

"I didn't want you to get—"

I held my palm to his face. "Hand." Since it
was his turn to look confused, I added, "Talk to it." He wasn't the
only one who knew slang, even if mine was a little out-of-date.

He stopped. "Okay. I guess I deserve
that."

"You deserve more than that. Don't lie to
me." He started toward me, but I backed away. "Don't lie to me,
don't ditch me, don't do anything you wouldn't want me to do to
you."