Zenith Rising (3 page)

Erica looked away. Why was he flustering her
so? She was thirty-two years old, way too old for
Spike-turned-Spencer, so why would this man’s errant compliment
affect her so much? Luckily, Jenna arrived with her grilled cheese
right then.

She licked her lips, trying to think of
something to say that had nothing to do with his melting chocolate
eyes, or how he could make her turn red simply by looking across
the Formica table at her. “How long did it take you to learn to
play music as well as you do?”

Spencer shrugged and leaned his long torso
forward. “That wasn’t learned. It just was.”

“What do you mean ‘just was’?”

“I started playing one day.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean you
just started playing one day?”

He shrugged and glanced away. He had no
interest in talking about himself to her. “Yeah. I started playing.
Later, Rob taught me more stuff, about reading and writing music.
But I could listen and play without being taught.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Yeah, real impressive, now I’m an out of
work piano player.”

Ouch
. Okay. Subject closed. “What
about
Zenith
? Won’t you start your band again now that Rob’s
sober?”

“Don’t know. Rob’s not ready.”

“So are you sober then too? Like Rob?”

“No. I was never an alcoholic like Rob. Don’t
know why he got hooked and couldn’t stop. I could. I drank, but
managed to control it, never craving it. I was having fun. Rob was
losing his soul.”

“And Spike?”

“Why did I look like a freak, you mean?”
Spencer looked up just then as he said it, pinning her with his
gaze, the intense, unsmiling look on his face. “I was
experimenting. I’ve been on my own most of my life. Rob was my only
real guardian. There was no one else to look out for me, guide me,
or stop me. So why not? I was young in this crazy scene of music
and parties. It was all crazy and I became part of it. I became
it.”

“Rob was your guardian? I thought you two
were the same age? Joelle said you ran away together at
seventeen.”

“No. We lied all those years so everyone
would leave me alone. I ran away with Rob, but I was only thirteen.
Since I was so tall for my age, no one ever really questioned it. I
guess most people probably think I’m Rob’s age.”

“So you’re…?”

“Twenty-six. Same as Joelle.”

“I don’t think even Joelle knows that. Why
did you run away?”

“Not interesting enough to discuss.” His
entire body tensed, proving he cared about that subject. As
apathetic as he sounded to her, exchanging small talk, he was most
definitely physically affected by the mention of why he ran away
from home.

“You never went back home? You’ve been on
your own since you were only thirteen?”

“Yeah. Except for Rob.”

“That was way too young for you to be on your
own.”

Spencer shrugged. He looked away, out the
window, indicating the end to that line of questioning. There was
more. So much more here, she was sure. So much he wasn’t saying.
Why did he run away as a kid? Why did Rob, at only age seventeen,
feel so compelled to help him?

Rob must’ve taken Spencer away from
something
. Erica knew that much, but nothing more. The why.
The what. The where. Joelle always believed that the why of
whatever happened to teenage Spencer, was why Spencer became
Spike.

“What are you? About Nick’s age?”

“Not quite. I’m thirty-two.”

“You’ve done a lot for yourself.”

She shrugged, hearing the unspoken comment
that he hadn’t done anything with his life.

He was younger than she first thought. Way
younger. A full six years younger than she. Her entire middle
warmed. Embarrassment flushed her skin. For a few seconds there,
she might’ve been attracted to him. But now she realized why Spike
existed. Spencer, as Spike, was literally very young and
experimental. He still seemed young. He was just emerging from a
few years of wild, wasted youth, spent experimenting, partying,
drinking, living it up, but all the while, looking for his way in
life. He was just beginning to grow up, get a career, and create a
life for himself. They each occupied two completely different
stages of life. Erica had long been practicing medicine, paying off
a mortgage, monthly expenses, security, and resided in an entirely
grown-up world. She hadn’t partied in at least a decade, and hadn’t
been around anyone who did in as long. Joelle was about her only
link to that realm. At least, Spencer would never realize her
strange, unexpected attraction to him.

“You still play music, don’t you? Even if the
band is done for now?”

“No. We’ve got all that’s left of
Zenith
upstairs in the spare room.”

“Why don’t you? You could do a hundred
different jobs. You could go out on your own. I’ve heard you play;
why would you give that up?”

“What? Are you suggesting that I like give
little kids piano lessons?”

“Well, you’d be playing, at least.”

“Yeah, well, right now, I need to make money.
I spent years just playing. I can’t keep doing that. I lost a lot
of time and money with Rob’s troubles. I gave him almost everything
I ever had. It makes it kind of hard to sit around, trying to do
whatever I want. It doesn’t matter. It was time for me to grow up.
Anyway, I don’t play for real without Rob.”

“Really? Why? You don’t need him to play the
piano.”

“Because I’m not going anywhere without
him.”

“But that’s just it; you could.”

“No. I couldn’t. How many piano players do
you know? It’s the singers who make it big, and their bands by
default. So if I ever had a chance, it’s invariably tied to Rob.
And Rob’s not ready yet. To do anything, or go anywhere
musically.”

“So you’re waiting him out?”

“Something like that.”

“You have an admirable amount of loyalty for
your friend.”

“He’s all I got. So I can wait as long as it
takes, provided he continues trying so hard to clean up. Besides, I
had some considerable cleaning up to do myself.”

Erica looked down to realize she’d eaten her
entire dinner. Every last bite, in front of Spencer, no less.
Great.
Just what she needed at twelve-thirty at night.

Jenna came over, took Erica’s plate and set
the check down while she refilled their coffee.

“Where do you work then? If you’re not
playing piano anywhere?”

“Delivery man. Waiter. Whatever I can get.
Right now though? Nothing. Times suck, even shitty jobs are hard to
find.”

She picked up the check, then set it back
down after realizing she left her purse in the on-call room. How
fitting! He just got through telling her he was unemployed, and she
had no means to buy her own dinner. “I didn’t bring my purse.”

“I know, Doc,” he said simply before picking
up the check and walking to the cash register.

She waited for him at the entry. When he
turned and walked towards her, she said, “I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I just…” She almost pointed out that he just
said he didn’t have a job; but she bit her tongue after seeing the
mean look he shot her.

“You owe me a coffee sometime.”

****

Erica followed Spencer back to the hospital.
Why did he keep calling her “Doc” in that nearly insolent, lazy
tone. The way he drew it out was almost disrespectful. Why wouldn’t
he just call her Erica? She had no clue about how to interact with
this Spike-now-Spencer man, much less what to say to his careless,
offhand questions, his long, loose-limbed gait, or his intense
looks that were nearly expressionless. Yet, he seemed so much more
than that. Deeper. Darker. Hotter.

Then they were back to easy familiarity. The
hospital. Her bailiwick, where she brought new life into the world,
sometimes death, and provided comfort for those in pain. At least,
over that realm she had some semblance of control.

Joelle’s room was empty. The Lassiter women
seemed to have scattered for the night. Erica knocked lightly and
entered when Joelle told her to come in. Joelle looked pale and
tired. She lifted her head, and smiled with pleasure at seeing
Erica. Then she grinned as she noticed Spencer behind her.

“Never thought I’d see you two walking in
here together.”

“We had to take cover from Nick’s estrogen
entourage,” Spencer said, crossing the room to Joelle’s side, and
kissing her cheek. They still puzzled Erica, especially when
Spencer was Spike. There was a brotherly sense of caring, and
gentle, protectiveness Spencer showed with Joelle and she with him,
despite Joelle’s ex being Spencer’s best friend.

She glanced at Joelle’s chart and did a quick
check.

“Erica, quit being a doctor. Hold my
daughter.”

Erica looked up, startled, as Nick’s voice
came up behind her. She turned and grinned. “Okay. I can quit being
a doctor for a few minutes.”

Erica took the now quiet infant from Nick.
She sniffed the little head and had to refrain from shutting her
eyes in ecstasy. She could almost feel her womb contract with
longing. God, she wanted a baby. Her own baby. Not babies she had
to give back to their mothers. She wanted to not only be the baby
doctor; she wanted to be the new mother. She wanted to be tired,
worn out, and hormonal. She wanted a baby so much, she couldn’t
breathe sometimes when she held her newest delivery.

It was probably why she continued to date
Nick long after she realized they weren’t really in love. She just
wanted to find a man to marry. She wanted to have what Joelle and
Nick had: the marriage, the family, and the baby.

Fearing it might not happen, she was getting
exhausted from dating guys whom she couldn’t quite imagine spending
all her time with, let alone, sharing the rest of her life. She was
tired of something always missing, yet she could never define quite
what that thing was. Even Roy Bennett, a successful, handsome,
well-off, interesting, well traveled associate, even in him she
found fault. He was a little too egotistical, and a little too
demanding of her time and attention. There was always something,
some reason she found not to like any male prospect quite
enough.

She poured her heart and soul into becoming a
doctor, and building up her practice and reputation. She was
dedicated to her patients and loved her career. With a passion that
prevented her from finding it anywhere else in her life, she
accepted her career as the embodiment of her life. All of her
ambition, her energy, and her motivation went into being a great
doctor. What more could she have left over for a husband and kids?
She was so busy. So in demand. What man could ever understand that?
Unless maybe, it was another doctor like Roy.

Erica raised her lips off the infant’s bald
head and found Spencer looking right at her. He was watching her
with the baby. He must have seen her shut her eyes with longing,
and bittersweet pain. Embarrassed, Erica turned and lay the baby
back in the bassinet. She finished updating Joelle’s chart as she
listened with half an ear to Joelle talking about Trina, Nick’s
youngest sister. Trina previously hated Joelle, but seemed to have
warmed up a little today. Like she might have been getting
convinced that Joelle was now a permanent part of Nick’s life.

Just then, the lactation consultant came in,
asking to meet with Nick and Joelle. Erica finished up, and turned
to exit. Spencer was leaving too.

“Please don’t leave yet,” Joelle said, her
fear of the coming night, and the next eighteen years, showing in
her eyes.

Erica and Spencer waited outside in the
corridor together. After a few moments, he glanced at her. “So,
what is a lactation consultant?”

Erica was startled out of her reverie by
Spencer’s voice, but his question made her smile. “Someone to help
with breast feeding. There’re numerous factors that can impede its
success.”

“Oh.” He was sorry now that he asked.

Finally, Nick stepped out of the room. He
glanced around, found Erica and came towards her, his face
scrunched in worry.

“What’s wrong?” Erica asked, immediately
pushing away from the wall.

“She’s upset. I don’t know what to do.”

“Who’s upset? Joelle?” Erica didn’t wait for
an answer. She pushed past Nick, and found Dorothy Zimmer standing
near Joelle, the baby on Joelle’s bare breast.

“What’s going on?” Erica asked in a clipped
tone.

“She almost has this. The baby’s being a
little difficult. We just need her to get latched on and I’m sure
Joelle will see this is the best way to feed her baby.”

Erica sighed. Once in awhile, she ran across
this. Women who couldn’t or wouldn’t nurse, while other people did
not respect the mother’s decision. It rarely involved the lactation
consultants. They were usually respectful and a wonderful
resource.

“Dorothy, I believe Joelle already indicated
she intends to bottle feed.”

“What I just realized, however, is that she
didn’t have all the right facts to make the correct decision for
her baby.”

“Then realize this: I’m her doctor and I have
given her all the right facts. She feels she can’t handle breast
feeding. I appreciate your concern for Joelle, but I’ll handle it
from here.”

“But she…”

“Get out of here, Dorothy.”

“You can’t do this, Dr. Heathersby.”

“The hell I can’t. She’s my patient. Get
out.”

Dorothy sniffed and turned, her long braid
bouncing indignantly behind her.

Nick looked on, stunned. Joelle quit crying
and pulled her shirt down, before cuddling her baby.

“Thank you, Erica. I should have done that,”
said Nick. “I mean, I run a company and yet, I couldn’t seem to get
that woman to listen to me, or leave Joelle alone.”

“It’s been a long night and the last thing
you two need is getting harassed.”