Arrhythmia Read online

  “Incredibly full of yourself!” I snorted the rest of my sentence.

  Judging by his expression, he was taking this as yet another compliment.

  “Oh my God!” I threw up my arms in dramatic resignation, again losing my balance. However, this time I was able to catch myself, and I used the momentum to barrel past the ticket thief and back into Go’s main room.

  Grumbling under my breath in disbelief, I wobbled over to the Jukebox. There, I started by ripping the shot glass out of a very confused Frank’s hand and emptying its contents down my throat. Jägermeister, yuck! Next, I rapped Vera rather rudely on the head and gave her a lecture on friendship and mutual trust.

  For the time being, I kept my deeply confusing second encounter with the ticket thief to myself.

  Chapter 4

  I awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and an awful taste in my mouth.

  Ugh! I really had overdone it.

  I recalled with horror how Vera and Frank had struggled to take me to my apartment. Once there, I had dragged myself to the bathroom and prayed to the porcelain god with great devotion. Afterward, I had somehow been successful in tearing off my clothes and crawling, naked and on all fours, into my bed, where I had fallen into some sort of coma.

  My clock radio proudly announced that it was 1:42 p.m. This did not particularly concern me except that I urgently had to pee, so I groaned, rolled onto my side, and climbed out of bed, wincing with pain.

  As I padded out of my darkened bedroom into my well-lit apartment, I decided this must be how vampires felt. Blinded, weak, and irritated, I shuffled into the bathroom and plopped down on the toilet seat.

  Damn alcohol!

  Just like everyone who has ever had a really bad hangover, I promised myself faithfully never to have another drink in my life. I wondered how long it would take to break that promise.

  Once I’d managed a more or less upright position, I dragged myself into the shower and tried to scrub off the boozy night.

  I was only partially successful, but the hot water made me feel almost human again. I tottered into the kitchen with wet hair and a giant towel and began to hunt for the headache medicine necessary for survival.

  A little while later, I was sitting on my balcony with my lifesaving medication and a freshly brewed cup of coffee, waiting for my vital spirits to return.

  I loved my balcony.

  While my apartment was a little on the small side, the balcony was relatively spacious. It had a cozy corner sitting area for four and a rustic rocking chair in which I had spent many an hour curled up with a suspense novel. In addition, it offered an awesome view of the entire neighborhood, and I had witnessed lots of interesting squabbles from there. Which is not to say, of course, that I’m nosy . . .

  Mr. Kaltenberger from the second floor of the opposite building, on the other hand, was extremely nosy and never failed to appear on his balcony when I was on mine. He could definitely be considered a Peeping Tom, but since he must have been around seventy, I granted him his fun. My towel outfit seemed to particularly appeal to him, as he couldn’t take his creeper eyes off me.

  I waved with exaggerated cheer and toasted him with my coffee cup. Caught in the act, he turned and fled into his apartment, only to reappear a little while later to water his plants.

  Relaxed, I gently rocked back and forth on my rocking chair and recalled the events of the previous evening. Since I never experienced the blackout phenomenon, I wasn’t spared any details. Drinking to the point of collapse and remembering all the particulars the following day was both a blessing and a curse: a blessing in that I was able to remind my friends of all their embarrassments and a curse because I was forced to remember my own.

  I grimaced when I thought of the ticket thief.

  Had I really accused him of having stolen from me? God, I’d said so many stupid things . . . And then his come-ons! Holy shit, this womanizer was in a class all his own.

  But the worst of it by far was my swooning reaction. What was that thing with the shaky knees? Had I really been so attracted to him, or could I blame the alcohol?

  Truth be told, I knew my tipsiness was only part of the cause. His incredible eyes were far more responsible.

  He was an insanely attractive man; that much was clear.

  Unfortunately, the problem with most beautiful men was that they were well aware of their effect on women and used it shamefully to their advantage.

  The ticket thief had clearly demonstrated his awareness of his smoking looks and knew precisely how to turn some unsuspecting girl’s head. I wondered just how many women he’d maneuvered into bed. The list must have been extensive.

  I hadn’t been lying when I’d informed him that I knew all about machos like him.

  Oh indeed, I knew his type quite well; personal experience had taught me never to trust a pretty boy again.

  I sighed and reflected as I mentally sent my condolences to each of his victims.

  I managed to stay holed up in my apartment for what remained of my Saturday, but Vera succeeded in dragging me out to brunch with her on Sunday.

  OK, fine, I went along willingly, my mouth watering at the prospect of a long buffet full of delicious brunch food. My tormented stomach hadn’t allowed me too great an intake of sustenance the preceding day, so I was pretty starving when I arrived at our favorite restaurant, Café Scarlett. Sebastian’s bright blond hair helped me spot my friends easily in the crowded restaurant. I had to force myself to sit politely at their table and not dive face-first into the buffet full of nicely displayed delicacies.

  I greeted Vera, Sebastian, and Frank with a melancholy look.

  “So, how’s the boozehound? Everything OK?” Vera asked.

  “Today, pretty much, yeah,” I replied honestly. “Yesterday was not so great.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Frank. “I haven’t seen you that drunk in a very long time.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “Lena got wasted?” Sebastian inquired, amused.

  I waved my hands. “Oh come on. It wasn’t that bad.

  “Excuse me!” shouted Vera. “We had to carry you up the stairs!”

  “Bullshit!” I countered with righteous indignation. “I walked up the stairs on my own two feet! Don’t lie!”

  “Well, yes, you did walk on your own,” Frank teased gently. “Just not in the direction you wanted to.”

  Sebastian sniggered.

  And these were supposed to be my best friends?

  “Go ahead and make fun of me. You’ll get yours soon enough,” I threatened, gesturing for a waiter to bring me a drink.

  “Oh come on, don’t be such a poor sport,” Vera said. “You’re always the one who makes us relive our drunken foolishness the day after. Let us have our fun.

  I muttered something to myself and eyed the buffet.

  “Were you guys celebrating or did you have some reason to get shitfaced?” asked Sebastian.

  “As if,” was all I could say as I took my drink from the server.

  Old motormouth Vera could not resist telling the story of the concert tickets. Both men grinned as they listened to her tale. Afterward, Frank patted my arm and said in a consoling tone, “Now I understand why you had to drown such heartrending sorrow in alcohol.”

  “Idiot,” I grumbled.

  “Oh yeah, especially since the thief was at Go on Friday,” Vera trumpeted.

  “You should have confronted him and demanded the stolen goods!” Sebastian joked.

  “No worries. I did,” I said, because his dumb laughter was beginning to grate on my nerves. And, surprise, he actually did stop laughing.

  “Wait. You did?”

  “Oh yeah, I gave him a piece of my mind,” I declared stiffly. I omitted mentioning his come-ons and my resulting insecurity.

  “And when wa
s that, if you don’t mind telling me?” Vera asked incredulously.

  I gave her a look full of reproach. “When you abandoned me on the patio with no idea where I was.”

  “Well, it sounds like I really missed out.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “Huh?”

  “What was his response to your speech?”

  I shrugged dismissively. “Oh, I dunno. He wouldn’t hand over the tickets.”

  “That’s understandable,” chortled Sebastian. “I can just imagine a strange woman coming up to me and—”

  “Can we please get something to eat already?” I interrupted him. “I’m starving.”

  Frank threw up his hands dramatically. “Feed the beast at once, before she smites us with her wrath!”

  “Very funny.”

  I didn’t hold it against him, though. I knew as well as he that I could be insufferable when I was hungry. Like any normal person.

  To put a stop to this embarrassing conversation, I rushed over to the long table piled high with food.

  At last!

  Chapter 5

  Since I am an unrepentant late sleeper, leaving the coziness of my bed whenever I had an early shift always required a serious struggle. Usually, I dragged myself into the outpatient clinic with no time to spare, bleary eyed and with discernable sleep wrinkles on my face. I was way too lazy for any early-morning beauty routines.

  So I looked appropriately charming that Tuesday morning when I slunk into the locker room and slipped on my shapeless hospital scrubs.

  For the millionth time, I wondered what idiot had created the popular image of a sexy nurse in a miniskirt and high heels. A real nurse’s uniform had to be practical. That meant pockets with maximum storage space, a comfortable waistband, and material that could withstand constant scalding trips to the laundry. There was nothing sexy about this look.

  I yawned, shuffled into the kitchen, and halfheartedly wished everyone a good morning. My coworkers had known me long enough not to take my grumpy tone personally.

  The male nurse who’d been on night duty quickly said good-bye and headed off to get some well-deserved shut-eye in his bed. I sighed with envy because I would have loved to trade places with him. Of course, he had just put in ten hours and deserved to go home. But that didn’t matter to me. The new shift always looked at the old shift with a certain wistfulness and dreamed of trading places. It was a sort of natural reflex.

  I resigned myself to my fate and rummaged in the kitchen cabinet in search of my mug. It was an acid-yellow color and bore the name Dieter in red letters. How this hideous mug had found its way into our kitchen remained a mystery, since no one named Dieter worked at the hospital. I had taken pity and adopted the mug, and by now I had grown so fond of it that none of my coworkers dared to touch it. I defended what was mine vehemently, even if it did have “Dieter” written on it.

  I turned on the coffeemaker, which we affectionately referred to as Hans, and silently watched as the steaming liquid emerged.

  Could there be a more amazing invention than the automatic coffeemaker? Hardly. Just the aroma wafting from my Dieter mug was enough to revive my spirits. I sipped my coffee contentedly and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Mmm . . .”

  “You and your coffee,” chuckled Sandra. “You do have a rather intimate relationship.” She was sitting at the table with our current student nurse, whose name escaped me.

  “The only true relationship,” I declared, winking at her.

  “Well then . . . Take a look. I’ve got a gift for you and your boyfriend.” She conjured up a paper sack and rustled it enticingly.

  Curious, I drew closer. “For me?”

  “For you.”

  Delighted, I took the sack and peered inside. “Ooh! Chocolate croissants! You’re the best!”

  She really was. Definitely my favorite coworker.

  I dispensed with the formality of a plate and bit into the fragrant piece of pastry while still standing.

  “Mmm, delicious,” I raved with my mouth full. “I adore chocolate croissants!”

  Still chewing, I heard footsteps approach in the hall.

  “And this is the kitchen, one of the most important rooms in the emergency department.” Chief Physician Baumer’s voice resounded shortly before he appeared in the doorframe. “Ah, and here we have our best nurses congregated.”

  He entered the room with a broad grin, followed closely by a tall, tan young man in white whose ocean-blue eyes nearly made me drop my mug.

  Fuck! Please, no! No, no, no! Please don’t let this be true!

  The ticket thief regarded me with surprise as well. But for his part, he looked more amused than horrified. In fact, he seemed genuinely pleased.

  “This is our new colleague, Dr. DiCastello,” the chief physician piped up, confirming my worst suspicions.

  The ticket thief was our new resident!

  Completely flummoxed, I watched as he turned away from me and extended his hand to Sandra. She jumped to her feet, took hold of his slender fingers, and shook them with an ecstatic expression.

  “Hi, I’m Sandra. Welcome!”

  “Hi, Sandra. My name is Desiderio.”

  Desi . . . what? What kind of name is that?

  He withdrew his hand from Sandra’s and gave it to the student nurse, who instantly turned bright red.

  “Maria,” she breathed and fluttered her lashes.

  It was only when he turned to me that I realized I’d been standing there staring like an idiot the entire time, holding the sack of croissants, my mouth still full. I swallowed, sure that there was chocolate on my face. Still, I resisted the urge to lick my lips. Like a true lady, I wiped my crumb-covered hand on my thigh and awkwardly took his hand.

  “Lena,” I said.

  “I’m very happy to meet you, Lena,” he said and proceeded to shake my hand quite a bit longer than he had those of the other two.

  What’s with the asinine grin?

  “Uh, what was your name again?” I asked innocently. “Desi . . . ree?”

  “Desi-derio.”

  “Ah, Desiderio. OK, I can remember that.”

  “I’m sure of it,” he said mysteriously and finally released my hand.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I showed my lack of interest by turning away from him and taking a huge bite of my croissant so no one could expect me to talk.

  Dr. Baumer reminded us of his presence by clearing his throat loudly and inviting his new colleague to an X-ray consultation.

  As soon as Desiderio was out of earshot, Sandra and the student nurse—Maria, right?—completely lost it.

  “God!”

  “What a man!”

  “And so nice!”

  “That smile!”

  “Those eyes!”

  “Reinmann was right for once!”

  Annoyed by their gushing, I tried to focus on my breakfast. You would have thought Justin Bieber had personally been in our kitchen, and Sandra was really too old to act like a screaming teenybopper.

  He was attractive. Yes, fine, I had to admit that he was very attractive, but was that really an excuse for going berserk? How horrible!

  “Jeez, Lena! You’re not saying anything.” Sandra had suddenly noticed. “Don’t you think he’s cute?”

  “Nah.” I waved. Maria looked at me as though I had taken leave of my senses. “The guy is sort of cute, but what’s more important is how well he knows his stuff. Besides, that name? Dr. Desiderio DiCastello? There are way too many Ds in it for anyone to take the man seriously. This is not some kind of hospital soap opera.”

  “I think it sounds really nice.” Maria sighed dreamily.

  I looked at her with pity. Poor girl, someday you’ll learn . . .

  The ticket thief, aka Desiderio, wa
sn’t sighted again in the ER that morning. Reinmann had briefly mentioned that the new resident would have to undergo an intense briefing with the chief physician to assess his factual knowledge. “Grilling” is actually the word the attending physician used, and it made me gloat, even though I had no idea what that grilling entailed.

  Toward noon, as I was preparing an infusion in a treatment room, I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched from an open door. A curious tingling in my neck whispered to me who this secret observer must be.

  Desiderio.

  I pretended I didn’t know he was there and focused all my attention on drawing the medication out of a vial into a syringe. When he suddenly broke the silence, I was so startled that I nearly jabbed the needle into my index finger.

  “Hi there,” he said airily as I heard him approaching from behind. “How are you?”

  “Great,” I answered curtly without looking up from my work.

  What the hell does he want?

  “Did you stay much longer at Go on Friday?” he asked casually.

  Shit . . . I was biting my lower lip.

  “Don’t know, exactly. Must have been pretty late.”

  Desiderio wasn’t about to let my standoffishness deter him. He came up next to me and watched my attempts at readying the infusion.

  Unfortunately, his intrusive observation made me nervous, and I was sure he noticed my clumsy fingers. I was close to screaming at him to get lost.

  “Are you still angry with me?” he suddenly wanted to know, at which point I dropped the closed glass vial.

  Quietly clinking, it rolled over the work surface in Desiderio’s direction. He deftly caught it and offered it to me. For one moment, I stared at it before finally daring to look him in the face. He was gazing at me expectantly.

  I gathered all my poise and took the vial with the tips of my fingers, careful not to touch his.

  “Um, what do you mean by ‘angry’? Uh . . . I . . .” I struggled.

  “So yes, you’re still angry with me,” Desiderio concluded calmly. “Well, my peace offering still stands. May I buy you a coffee?”