Page 36 of Rake

Dr. Smith hands me my phone. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he says, the pain evident in his voice. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m going to take a quick x-ray of your ankle, and then I’m going to run an idea past you.”

After the x-ray, he has me wait in the exam room while he takes a look at the film.

“No breaks,” he says, entering the room and shutting the door behind him. “Just a sprain, but with your history your body is going to have a pretty intense inflammatory response. I’m going to fit you with an air cast, and I want you to wear it for a few days. I’ll get you some crutches too. Keep off of it if you can, but if you can’t, make sure to use the crutches for at least three more days. Ice and ibuprofen.”

He sits on the stool in front of me.

“I think you’re right about the police, but there’s more than one way to corral James Carney.” He pats my knee. “James’ wife has been in for stress. That casino cost them more than they’d like to admit, and they need everything to run as smoothly as possible. No bad press.”

Oh. I had no idea. I figured the Carneys hate unions because of a general disdain for the working class, but this is an added incentive to keep wages low and staff silent.

“You understand what I’m saying, Sasha? Tell your story to the press if you have to. Write something up and leave it with a friend. Tell him you’ll pull the trigger if anything happens to you or anyone else involved.”

“But what if no one cares? He’s got so many people in his pocket.”

“True,” the doctor says. “But people would be disgusted that his thugs nearly killed a young woman to keep his staff from making ends meet, especially since he lives so ostentatiously. Do you think the teamsters who truck in his supplies will keep doing it if this story blows up? The contractors who maintain his equipment are probably union too. Do you think people will feel comfortable spending money in his casino with the picture of your abuse plastered all over the walls?”

“No one cared before,” I say quietly. “When it first happened. It wasn’t even a blip.”

“Carney’s people suppressed the story, most likely. You need someone who isn’t on his team. Try Alannah Brecht at the Globe. She’s a friend of mine and she’s done a lot of work with the Spotlight division. The same group who did the expose on the pedophile priests. That was a powerful group too, Sasha. Carney is powerful, but he’s not bulletproof.”

He straps an air cast around my leg and hands me a pair of aluminum crutches.

“The Cadillac of crutches,” he says. “They’re lightweight and have extra padding at the top so it won’t hurt your underarm.”

“I wish I’d had these for my broken leg,” I say, smiling. “Thank you, Dr. Smith.”

He pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry—James Carney will get the bill.”

I hop up and move to the door.

“Sasha,” he says.

I turn to face him.

“This won’t be easy. Please call me if you need me.” He presses his card into my hand.

I feel a lump rise in my throat and my eyes well up again.

“I have a feeling people haven’t been very kind to you. It’s making you doubt your abilities. It’s putting you in dangerous positions. You deserve to be safe. You also deserve to be happy, and it’s not a failure if the trauma you’ve endured makes it impossible to keep doing this work. If Trinity Casino manages to unionize, it’ll be quite the accomplishment, but even if Carney crushes the election, you have a lot to be proud of. Give yourself a break.”

I wish I could afford that right now, but hopefully soon. The reporter idea is brilliant. I wish I’d thought of it, but I’m grateful to have it regardless.

“Thank you.”

He pats my shoulder again. “I’m not trying to make excuses for Finn, but he was brought up in violence too. He’s a brilliant young man and I really hoped he’d break out from his father’s shadow. It’s a shame really. Still, I’m glad he brought you here.”

I am too, though Finn will probably end up regretting it. Dr. Smith holds the door open for me as I maneuver into the waiting room. These crutches are so much better than the ones I’d used before. It’s incredible. Everyone should be able to have nice crutches when they need them.

“Remember what I said. Keep off of it when you can. Ice and ibuprofen.”

I thank him again, as does Finn.

“Thanks for seeing her on a Sunday,” he says. “I appreciate it.”

“She’s a special young lady. I hope you can make sure nothing else happens to her.” There’s a parental edge to his voice that makes Finn shrink in a way I’ve never seen before. He shakes it off in seconds, smiling graciously at the doctor as he walks me out.

“I need to make a quick stop before I drop you off.”

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