Dr. Feelgood (7 page)

While he was with me, he seemed to be someone I could communicate with and someone I had a few things in common with. Like we both love to write. He was a sportswriter for a local news program in Los Angeles. Now he’s an assistant producer for this well-known, forever bachelor sportscaster at NBC.

They hang out after work all the time and that’s what takes him to the strip clubs and nightclubs six nights a week. And so, Stardust came into the picture.

See, I met her first. I was sitting at this bar waiting for my girl to meet me for a drink after work, and this tall woman came over and sat down right next to me. Her generous backside devoured the bar seat while she crossed her long legs. She smiled, flashing picture perfect white teeth against her full, shimmery, ebony lips.

She spoke to the bartender. “The usual.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A smile spread across her toffee-colored face.

She searched her Gucci bag and glanced over at me.

I gave a nod and looked over toward the front door. And then I looked back at her.

On the bar in front of her, the bartender placed a frosty drink topped with whipped cream. It was a combination of swirled green, with red and brown. She immediately took a huge sip through a wide, black straw, and laid a twenty on the bar. She gave an approving nod.

She took me into her sights again. She was already in mine. “Are you thirsty? You look like you could drink this with your eyes. It’s called a Knockout.”

I giggled. “Looks like it can. Knock someone out I mean. Sorry to be staring.”

She spoke while stirring her drink counterclockwise. “No problem. I just noticed you noticing me, that’s all. I’m just here to enjoy a little relaxation juice.”

“Relaxation juice?”

“You’d better know it. For real.” She stretched out her words.

“Okay?”

She giggled. Her pretty breasts giggled too. Her hard nipples were pointing at me from under her low-cut tee. “And what are you drinking?” Her baby brown eyes were glued to my mouth.

I looked around the room again. “Oh, nothing. I’m waiting for a friend. I’ll order when she gets here.” I scratched the back of my neck.

“My, aren’t you polite?” Her long, thick eyelashes curled up to her eyebrows.

“No, I just don’t drink alone.”

“You’re not alone now.” She flashed her smile.

“I guess I’m not.”

“Your lips are beautiful. I love the way your tongue moistens them after a sentence.”

Oh shit. “Oh really?”

“Really.”

My eyes focused on the front door again. I tossed my bangs to the side, noticing a few beads of sweat along my forehead.

She spoke to the approaching bartender, shoving her money closer to him. “She’ll have what I’m having.”

I shook my head to both of them. “I don’t know. I’m driving and that looks pretty strong. I was just gonna have one glass of white wine and get back home.”

“Oh, lighten up. Just try one. Plus, you’ve got a friend coming who can be the designated if need be.”

I nodded as I spoke. “Oh she’s definitely not the
designated type. But, I guess there’s no harm in having just one.”

She cracked a grin.

“But, what about you?” I asked her. “Aren’t you driving?”

She looked at an area near my waist as she spoke. “I live right next door. My name is Stardust. Push comes to shove, you can crash at my place if you’d like. If you’ve had too much to drink, that is.”

“Like I said, I’m just having one. But, my name is Georgia.”

“Nice to meet you, Georgia.”

My friend stood me up and never called. I ended up having about four Knockouts and eventually, before it was all said and done, four clit-busting orgasms courtesy of Stardust. Needless to say, the down low did come out that night.

But, from what Stardust tells me now, weeks later Rydell came in all by his lonesome and met her while sitting at the same bar. He mentioned me by name and cried on her shoulder about his daughters. Small world. Seems she was a regular. Next thing, he was at her place, too. Turns out she only gives head to the dudes. She only had dick up inside of her once before and that was a guy she tried out in high school on a prom date her parents set up. She did it just to see if the feelings she was catching for the girls were bogus or not. Turns out they weren’t.

After that, she had a woman for a few years who broke her heart by going back to dick-land on her. I can’t say that I blame her. Now, I guess she just assumes that once a bisexual woman she’s interested
in has bonded to a penis, they’ll eventually go back to men anyway, so she doesn’t even trip. She knows me. I already told her.

Yes, Stardust was good, even without letting the guys inside. Shit, head-wise she was maybe even better than me. No wonder Rydell never tried to come back to me. There’s so much damn temptation for the men in this world. Hell, there’s a whole lot of women out there willing to give it up after just one drink. I guess I should know.

I work as a freelance writer. Sometimes stations call me in and sometimes they don’t, but to fill in money-wise, I had to get creative. So I came up with a name on the Internet called Cook4U, which gets ‘em every time. Folks love to eat. Only I log into the ladies-looking-for-ladies chat rooms. I’d never let my nosey baby’s daddy know, even though he was on to me, or even let my best friend know, or my mother, or Makkai for that matter. He’s discussed how he hates women who act straight and then sneak to be with other women. He’d rather they come on out of the closet and be one hundred percent gay. Well, call me on the down low if you want, but no matter how much I try to fight it, I need the touch of a woman every now and then. It’s simply recreational, no big deal. However, I definitely don’t want a relationship with one.

But, right now, being with women is a way to pay my bills. That’s because my old boss, Tucker Hill, who was my news director when I worked in Orange County, pays me to hook him up. And it’s easy, because these girls think they’re getting me, when they’re really getting him, too. But, by then
they’re stripped down and raring to get their freak on with me. And even if they don’t let Tucker “in,” it’s fine with me. I still get paid.

But, of course, like I said, Makkai doesn’t know a thing about it. And if I have my way, he never will.

E
very now and then I get a chance to get out and get all dressed up to attend an award ceremony. As it turns out, I have a formal event coming up soon. It’s a ceremony sponsored by the NAACP that honors accomplished professionals in our community. One category is contributions in the field of medicine, and I have been selected as this year’s recipient. I really don’t want to go alone, though. Most of my peers are married or have had longtime mates. When it’s a company function I usually take my mother, and she gets a kick out of it.

This time it would be great to have a nice-looking lady on my arm. Don’t want to bring anyone I work with. That’d be too close for comfort. The decision lies in which one will not see it as a marriage proposal, and which one will be classy enough to be seen on my arm. In spite of what we do behind closed doors, can they be class in the streets?

“Don’t you have a birthday coming up soon,
too? Who are you spending that with?” my mom asked me as I bounced my dilemma off of her, sitting at my desk at work.

“First things first, Mom.” I could hear Pastor Paula White’s ministry in the background. Mom didn’t go to church in California like she did when she was in Florida, but she did know the Bible, and she did love her spiritual shows on Trinity Broadcasting.

“Baby, bring the girls on by here. I’ll pick one out for you.”

“Mom, it’s not worth going through all that trouble.”

“Actually I was just kidding, son. But, heck, it would be nice to just meet someone who’s in your life, just on general purpose. I can’t remember the last time that happened.”

“I brought Patricia, that fifty-year-old, by a few years ago for Thanksgiving dinner. You don’t remember her?”

“You didn’t bring her by. You invited her and she drove herself over here and ate, and then you announced that you had to leave, so she left first.”

“Well, still, she’s someone I was dating. And I remember implicitly, I had to leave because I got an emergency call at the hospital.”

“Okay, if you say so. Whatever happened to her anyway? Was it that she was almost old enough to be your mom?” Mom joked. I could hear her smile.

“Mom.” I sat up and began scrolling through some appointments in my phone book.

“Son, I know you have nothing against older women, but she looked older than me.”

I cleared my throat. “Anyway, Mom, she caught a case of the wife-wannabes. She kept suggesting we buy rings and then kept leaving things over my house to make excuses to come back.”

“Oh, you actually brought her to your house? That was serious then.”

“Contrary to what you think, that’s not unusual. But, she just wanted to move too fast, and when I told her my feeling about wanting to slow things down, she cursed me out, called me a commitment-phobic jerk and slammed down the phone. And then she called to say she was sorry. I don’t go backwards. Not often, anyway. You know that, Mom.”

“Yes, I do. But, have you ever thought about her question?”

“Mom.”

“Really, Makkai. I’ve asked myself that question, too. Don’t you think I want grandbabies one day, boy?”

“You’ll have grandkids, Mom. I’m only thirty-seven. I’ve got time.” I leaned back again, rocking in my high-back desk chair.

“Yes, but you’ll be forty before you know it.”

“Excuse me but I’ve been a little busy in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I see what’s going to happen. You’ll end up with some sweet young thang half your age, I just know it.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I don’t know too many forty-year-old women who want to push a baby out of their wombs that late in life. That is, if their eggs have any juice left anyway.”

“Mom, stop. Besides, I might marry someone who already has kids.”

“True. But, you’ve got to have a son of your own. I picture you being a father to a cute little boy you can play baseball with and do guy things with. And as brilliant as you are, those genes just can’t go to waste. Surely you got your brain from my side of the family.” She laughed out loud for a few seconds. “Anyway, you’d make a great dad.”

I followed her laugh with a chuckle. “Yes, I got my smarts from you. But, you know it’s not like I need to carry on the Worthy name. Lord knows there are enough Worthy males on this planet.”

“I won’t argue with you on that one. All I’m saying is, you’ve got that big old house in Hollywood Hills, you make all that money, you have two fancy cars, you’ve achieved all that success, and there’s no one to share it with. Don’t end up finding out that it’s a lonely way to live. You need love in your heart too. That’s what you need, Makkai.”

I stood up and took off my suit jacket. “I’ve got enough love for you to last my entire lifetime and yours, Mom.”

“Well, that’s sweet. I’m talking about a woman of your own.”

“Anyway, I’ll pick you up this weekend so you can get a dress to wear. Is Mr. Cotton going?”

She snapped her tongue like she was from the hood. “Why do you call him Mr. Cotton? His name is Al.”

“Is he coming?”

“He’ll be in Charlotte that weekend, seeing about a car he wants to buy.”

“Good.”

“Makkai, stop. I’d say ‘Mr. Cotton’ has been in your life long enough for you two to bond, even a little.”

“Mom, don’t get me started. That man is living in that house I bought you without even showing enough motivation to repair a leaky faucet. And the next time he doesn’t go with you to get the results of a biopsy, I’m going to corner him and give him a piece of my mind. He’s hardly a father figure to me.”

“I’m not with him so he can be a father for you. I’m with him for me, to be my mate and my companion. And besides, I told him he didn’t have to go with me to that appointment. I wanted to be alone”

“That’s not something a wife should be able to keep you from going to, whether she wants to be alone or not.”

“What would you know about what a wife needs?”

“Oh, low blow, Mom. But, I’m just saying.”

“I hear you, Makkai. I was just kidding. But, you know that the one thing that comforts me is just knowing you’re there for me.”

“Always, Mom.” I turned off the light to my office.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom. I’ll check on you later.”

“And I’ll be glad to meet whoever you end up choosing. I’ll see you this weekend. I should be back from church at around eleven.”

My girl.

E
arly in the morning, I headed down the hall to scrub for an eight-o’clock open-heart surgery on a middle-aged female with a ruptured aorta.

I walked into the overly bright operating room once I got all gloved and masked for surgery. The patient’s body was cooled, and the perfusion technologist placed her on a cardiopulmonary bypass machine, which does the same job the heart would do, but allows us to operate on a heart that is still, as opposed to one that is beating and moving. Modern technology gives us more time to do what we need to do. But, the hours do fly by.

As I made the lengthy and deep incision, I was suddenly amazed at how routine surgery had become. As much as I remained focused and deliberate, I was still able to perform yet think. Think about my life, and my family, and my future. Here I was, using my talent and education to repair damage to an organ. A vital, major organ that served as the most important, central focal point in the body, aside from the brain, yet and still,
each needed the other in life-sustaining ways in order to function. Kind of like a man and a woman, I suppose. This patient had high blood pressure, and the years of strain on the heart muscle had enlarged her heart to double the size with so much pressure that the aorta had swollen, and the damage needed to be manually repaired. Stress in life can do that to anyone. Life is challenging and beautiful all at the same time.

Before I knew it, I was suturing her up, and again sustaining her system by allowing her heart to take it from there. And it did. The technician gave me the thumbs-up look. It was an awesome responsibility, yet from where I sat in my life, it was a once-fulfilling job that just wasn’t quite enough anymore. I loved it. But, more and more lately, I was feeling as though I was the one who really needed heart surgery, perhaps to open up my heart.