The wheels of my leather chair squealed when I pushed back away from my desk and stood up. I shook my head and stole another quick glimpse of Amber’s photo, which, in turn, reminded me of the bright multicolored ring on my right hand. I promised her I’d never take it off and ultimately, never have.
With a heavy sigh, I kissed my index finger, lowered it to the photograph, and brushed it across her lips, silently wishing I had one more day with her. A cold shiver gripped me as I proceeded out the door of my office and strolled down the hall to the main desk.
Admittedly, I’d always wanted my own practice outside the sterile, pungent odor of the hospital, but the head of human resources offered me a salary I couldn’t refuse in exchange for three years of employment. Soon, I would relocate my office elsewhere, away from this smell of death and tapioca pudding. But this wouldn’t happen for another year or so. And who knew where my life would be then. Still, I continued to look forward to fewer demands of my time.
Book Excerpts from "A Second Chance"
I sat quietly next to a guy with jet black hair, wearing a pair of black framed glasses. A backward baseball cap sat on his large head. He turned to me with a devious grin.
“Heard you were Julian’s ‘flavor of the week.’ ” His voice sounded low and gravelly.
“Huh?” Before he could respond, the waitress I met on my first date with Julian walked in, scanned the room, and immediately sat in the seat on the other side of me. What was her name?
Changing tactics, I turned my attention to her. “Mitzi, right? I’m Amber Scott. Do you remember me from The Nickel Bistro when I was with Julian Cahill?” I asked as nicely as I could muster, even though I remembered my aversion toward her.
She peeled off her jacket and draped it across her chair. Once again, my eyes focused on the gothic owl tattoo on her forearm. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the eyes were hollowed out. Very creepy.
“What are you staring at, bitch?” Her arrogant words told me she wasn’t all that thrilled to see me again, either.
“What is your problem, Mitzi? Did I do something to you?”
“None of your effing business,” she hissed at me.
“Well, it is my effing business when you give me that attitude.” I turned away from her and wondered how I was going to make it through the rest of the class.
“You think you can hold on to Cahill just because you’re playing the pretty bitch card? You’re wrong. You’ll be next.” She gave me an indignant shoulder shrug and turned her back to me. I barely knew this girl, and was already visualizing duct tape over her mouth.