Page 21 of The Night Shift
I wipe my face with a dry paper towel and pull out my phone to look at the messages again.
UNKNOWN: Roses are red, violets are blue, aren’t you glad I found you…
UNKNOWN: How DOES it feel? Killing someone?
UNKNOWN: Want me to show you?
My stomach tenses. Wait. Isn’t that what I said to Theo at the hospital?
How does it feel killing someone, Dr. Moore?
Devastating. Want me to show you?
Did…didhe? No. No, why the hell wouldhesend me this? What would it even mean and how would he have gotten the picture of Cami bartending? He doesn’t know her. Doesn’t even know we’re friends. I step inside one of the empty stalls and rest my head against the cool surface of the door. I close my eyes and count to ten.It’s okay. It’s nothing.You’re probably just tired, that’s all. Someone at the hospital must’ve overheard your conversation with Theo and decided to fuck with you. It doesn'tmeananything.
I hear a faint buzzing sound. It’s so faint that it feels like it’s coming from deep within the walls of my own mind. Like some sort of high-frequency humming. Taking a deep breath, I step out to splash some more water on my face, when I spot a girl leaning against the sink. Weird. I didn’t hear anyone come in.
She’s wearing an oversized shiny wool overcoat and carrying a glittery blue purse. Her messy brown hair is pushed to one side, and she has an unlit cigarette lodged between her red, glossed-up lips, along with a lighter in her hand.
“You’re not allowed to smoke in here,” I tell her.
She glances at me and a prickling sensation dances across my skin. It’s the same woman from the hospital. The one I ran into. The one with the glittery clothes and pretty eyes. Brown with specks of gold in them. Though they don’t seem as frightened anymore.
Without taking her eyes off me, the strange girl lights the cigarette, breathes out a puff of smoke and waves it away withher hand. “Is there a Halloween party tonight I didn’t get the memo for?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your outfit.” She moves to give me access to the sink. “A little unconventional for a Saturday night out, don’t you think?” Despite her condescending question, her mellow tone sails through the air and has an immediate calming effect on my nerves. I’m not sure why.
“I’m a surgeon.”
“Ah.” The woman tilts her head, a flicker of something unsettling in her eyes. “Rough day at work?”
“No.”Yes.
“So, just desperate for a drink then?”
“Something like that.”
“Hmm. I’ve had a pretty shit day myself.” She takes another puff of her cigarette. The smoke swirls around her head before fading into nothingness. She reaches for a strand of her hair in the mirror and her eyes meet mine in the reflection. A brief flicker of emotion passes between us. Then, with a deliberate exhale, she extinguishes the cigarette inside the sink, the awkward tension returning as she turns back to face me. “I have some spare clothes in my bag, if you’d like.”
I frown. Silence stretches between us. What the fuck is going on right now?
Mystery Girl takes a step forward. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to weird you out, but if you had a rough day at work, then the last thing you want is to be reminded of…” her voice trails off as she gives my scrubs a once-over, “…well, work.”
“Do you always carry spare clothes to bars and offer them to strangers?”
“You’re not a stranger. Plus, being resourceful is part of my charm. Well, that and I’m traveling. Just got to New York. Came here straight from the train station.”
My eyes narrow. She’s obviously lying. The question is why.
“So? A change of clothes?” she asks again.
“Uh, sure.” I ruffle through her bag, my fingers brushing against the soft cotton of her clothes and the coarse hair-like strands. I pull out a pair of denim jeans and a white cropped tee emblazoned with the words, STOP BEING POOR, sprawled across the front. “Thanks.”
Smiling, the girl zips up the bag, grabs her lighter and pack of cigarettes and side-steps around me towards the door. I push it open for her.
“Well, I hope you have a nice rest of the night,” she says, tipping her head in a small farewell.
