Can't Let Go. Gena ShowalterЧитать онлайн книгу.
call me.”
“Will do.” He brought her hand to his lips before dropping it. “I have one meeting this afternoon around three. Look for me out here.”
“Okay. I’ll look for you at five.” Shae leaned closer and kissed him. “Bye.”
Shae got out of the car and closed the door, moving up the sidewalk to the building. Before entering the building, she turned and waved. J.D. mimicked the gesture. She rang the doorbell and seconds later the custodian ushered her inside.
Halting in the lobby, Shae noted the changes to the room. Much had been accomplished since her last visit. The clean scent of freshly painted walls greeted her.A welcoming shade of violet covered the previous pink coating; plum carpeting hid the scarred wood floors and a brand new nursing station waited for the staff to take charge.
She strolled down the main hallway to the medical director’s office. The door stood open and her boss sat at his desk with a headset pinned to his ears. The name plate on his desk read Kenyatta L. Reid, M.D.
“Good morning,” Shae said from the entrance.
Dr. Reid glanced her way. “Good morning to you.” He rose and made a quick move around his desk with an outstretched hand. As he drew closer, she was surprised by how quickly such a large man moved. Close to 6’4” and weighing in at nearly 280 pounds, Dr. Reid looked as if he should be on the football field instead of in an examining room. That impression wasn’t far off. During their interview, Dr. Reid had revealed that he’d completed his undergraduate degree on a football scholarship.
“Want some coffee?” he offered, as he continued to hold her hand.
“Sounds good.” She gave a sharp tug on her hand and he released her.
Dressed in a crisp white lab coat with K. Reid, M.D. in bold, black letters and blue-green scrubs, the medical director led her to his desk before grabbing a mug from a makeshift coffee station near the back of his office. “Black. One sugar, no cream. Correct?”
Surprised, she turned and watched him pour the rich brew into the mug. “Wow! That’s some memory you have.”
“It’s not hard when you’re the only staff I’ve hired.”
She chuckled. “I see your point.”
Dr. Reid returned to the desk and offered Shae the mug.
“Thanks.” She placed her mug on the edge of the desk, then opened her briefcase and removed her portfolio and pen.
He rubbed his earlobe as he spoke. A diamond stud adorned his right ear. “Since I brought up the topic of staffing, I need to tell you that that is our top priority.”
“Is everything else in place? The exam rooms, offices, nursing station? Have we ordered medications?”
“Most of them. It’s time to get our staff in place. Here are some of the things you’ll need to get started. This is your annual operating budget, keys for the building and your office.” He laid each item on the desk as he identified them. “The security code to the front and back doors and your gate card for the parking lot.”
“Thanks.” She slipped the keys inside her jacket pocket and placed the code and gate card in her briefcase.
“Where did you park?” He leaned back in his chair to glance out the window. “Do you want to move your car?”
She shrugged. “No. I got a ride.”
“Taxis can get pretty expensive.” He removed a pencil from behind his left ear. “I hope you can find less expensive transportation.”
“Not a taxi. A ride,” she corrected. “And I do plan to buy a car very soon. Probably tonight or tomorrow.”
“Are you going alone?”
“No. I have a friend.”
“Friend?” His eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “I thought you didn’t know anyone here.”
“I didn’t. But I do now.”
He muttered something too low for her to hear clearly.
“What was that?” she asked.
The medical director shook his head, answering, “Nothing.”
“Dr. Reid, how much time do we have before we open?”
“Grand opening will be the first of next month.” He turned the desk calendar in her direction and pointed at the first Monday in May. “That gives you exactly three and a half weeks to hire six nurses, two LPNs, two nursing assistants and the front office people, including billers.”
Surprised, her eyes widened. “Unless you’ve already placed ads in the newspapers, that’s going to be difficult to do.”
Dr. Reid pulled a white plastic mail bin from under his desk. “Done. You’ll have to go through them, but this is a start.”
“It looks like I have work to do.” Standing, Shae placed her pad and pen in her briefcase and shut it. “It’s time for me to get started. Where’s my office?”
Grinning at her, he lifted the case in one hand, tucked it under his arm like a football and waved her towards the door with the other. “Let me show you. You’re down the hall from me. If you need anything, holler.”
“Will do,” Shae responded, following him out the office.
Chapter 6
Destiny’s Child blasted through the Bose sound system. J.D. bopped to the lyrics while he poured orange juice into his black coffee mug emblazoned with “Number One Agent” in gold. Barefooted, he made his way through his loft to the living area and sank onto the steel-gray leather sofa. Sighing heavily, J.D. propped his feet on the edge of the rosewood coffee table and sipped his o.j.
Anger rose in J.D. as he twisted the face of his wristwatch to check the time. His appointment with Amir had been scheduled for three p.m. It was half-past four, and the kid still hadn’t put in an appearance, nor had he taken the time to call. J.D. had more important things to do besides wait for Amir Jonson to show up. Man, I’m tired of this kid, J.D. thought wearily. Why did he continue to take Amir’s crap? J.D. wished fervently that Amir acted like a different kid with a better attitude.
J.D. knew the answer to his question: the plain and simple truth was Amir had talent and he had a good shot at transitioning to the NBA, if—and it was a big if—Amir got his act together and started taking his career more seriously, and if J.D. could steer the right people Amir’s way. Talent represented only a part of the package. Nowadays, recruits needed to be team players. Plus, the NBA wanted mature and responsible players that didn’t cause a lot of problems or require much maintenance.
Swallowing the last drops of liquid, the agent slowly returned to the kitchen. At the sink, J.D. rinsed the mug, placed it in the black dishwasher, and glanced out the window, watching the light downtown traffic.
While still a senior in high school, Amir Jonson had come to the sports agent’s attention. Phil, J.D’s buddy, had suggested they check out the team that his nephew played with. J.D. had agreed for two reasons: first—he never found time to hang out with his buddies the way he used to, and second—the opportunity to check out high school players intrigued him. Most of his clients were in college and transitioning to pro ball.
Loud, rowdy and fun described the game. One high school senior had dominated the court. With the skill of a seasoned pro, Amir had seemed to float across the court, scoring one basket after another. Once the game ended, J.D. had sought out the young man to talk to and to listen to his aspirations. Days later, J.D. met Amir’s mother and had pitched a plan for Amir’s future. Mother and son grinned happily, showing every tooth in their heads, pleased to receive J.D.’s support and help.
Although J.D. liked the kid, Amir was a royal pain in the ass. Before allowing him