Page 96 of The Muse
“Hello?” I call. There’s no one at the desk.
We sit in the two chairs by the fish tank. June grins. It’s a tight, goofy grin, like we’re not allowed to talk. Just us and the bubbling of the fish tank.
“You’re here,” a man says.
We turn toward him as he steps into the waiting room. He looks to be in his early thirties with brown hair in a preppy (floppy) style. Boring khaki pants, and a red and white plaid shirt.
“Yeah,” I say, standing.
“Well, you should have said something. I came in just for you.”
Yep, he’s an asshole.
“I did say something.” We step toward him.
“Well, you must not have said it very loudly.”
“Probably the white noise from the fish tank,” June says with a hint of sarcasm.
God, I love her.
“How do you know the Rawlings? Mrs. Rawlings called youa friend. You seem a little young to be her friends.”
We follow Mr. Personality to the exam room. Seems a little ageist of him to suggest she can’t have young friends.
“I’m her muse,” I say.
He holds open the door as we step past him. “What does that entail?”
I set the crate on the exam table while June sits in the chair beside it. “I have an inspirational gift. It’s hard for average people to understand.”
“His giftedness is rare and highly sought after,” June adds with a sharp nod.
I stare at her for a second, fighting my smirk.
“His great uncle is a shaman,” she continues. “A muse is a spiritual healer who deals solely with spiritual connections of the living.”
Dr. Schreiber eyes us for a few seconds before opening the crate. “Hello, little kitty. What’s your name?”
“Loki,” I say. “And I’m Flynn. This is June.”
Thanks for asking, Mr. Personality.
He frowns at me before smiling at the cat. Oh, was he actually asking Loki to speak? Or are our names irrelevant?
“What’s been going on?” he asks.
June and I look at each other.
Dr. Schreiber eyes us. “Well?”
I guess Loki can’t tell him that. Just his name.
“He vomited five or six times, and it looked like it had some blood in it. And his breathing seemed a little labored. Not as much now,” I say.
“It looked like it had blood? Or itdidhave blood in it?”
This is Rupert and Callie’s neighbor, so I bite my tongue and the painful urge to be a dick to this asshole. After all, people who don’t know cars might assume all dark colored leaks are oil, but it could be transmission fluid, power steering fluid …
