Page 310 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“You too, Mr. Mayor.”

He laughed, a little haughty, but mostly warm. It was a completely odd combination. “Call me Brent.”

“Okay.”

Quickly, I turned to Pam and shook her hand. “Nice to see you, Pam.”

She smiled and blushed, and I tried not to cringe. “Scott.”

I wasn’t usually one for regrets, but man, the taste of it was bitter in my mouth when it came to Pam.

“Well, let’s sit down,” Brent instructed. “Get started.” He took his seat again.

“Pam was telling me some of the details of why you wanted this meeting, but I’d rather hear it from you. What can I do to help you, Scott?”

It was weird listening to him speak as though rehearsed. When I actually looked at him, something I’d never really done while he was on TV, I realized he had to be a couple of years younger than me, but he never looked it because of all of the authority he not only had, but wielded effortlessly.

I took my seat and dropped my napkin in my lap, trying to gather my thoughts and get started. “Well, as you probably know, I’m head of the Emergency Department at St. Luke’s Hospital.”

“I’m familiar,” he interrupted. “Dr. Erotic, right?”

His tone didn’t sound outright derogatory, but there was a hint of something there I didn’t know if I liked. Though, his face was open and friendly, so I decided not to focus on it.

“Well, I’ve got ten years in on the floor there, and I’ve seen some of the craziest stuff you can imagine. Not only everyday stuff, but I’ve actually been on shift for almost every major casualty event since I started, and one thing has always been the same. The protocol for managing the care of victims in such an event and the structure with which patients are explicitly outlined for next-of-care is horrendously impractical. I understand the urgency in triaging and treating the victims of mass casualty events, but we don’t have enough funding or enough staff to properly prioritize both patients from the event and those with outside injuries. And the current policy we’re working from makes us choose.” I tilted my head and admitted, “Actually, it chooses for us. No trauma—even a gunshot wound to the chest—according to what’s written in your current health policy, is as high priority as any and all victims of a terrorist attack. I imagine the intent is in no way malicious and strongly built to assure the citizens of the city’s commitment to public safety, but not only does it put patients at risk needlessly, it downplays any and all need for patient care that arises from a cause outside of said ‘event.’”

“Oh, is that all?” he asked jokingly. I barely even cracked a smile because, quite frankly, no, that wasn’t all.

“Not exactly. There’s also a serious lack of training—”

“I’d think that would be on you, as the head of the department, wouldn’t it?”

“Of course,” I agreed, even though I didn’t like what he was insinuating. “But it’s also on you. Without funding and detailed written changes to the actual public health policy in place, I have very little opportunity and resources to do my job efficiently.”

“Again, that sounds like something within the hospital.”

“Well, then, with all due respect, you’re not listening,” I argued, and I watched as his jaw clenched. “St. Luke’s, along with ninety percent of the other hospitals in the city, are municipally funded hospitals. I’ve spoken with the heads of department at nearly all of their emergency rooms, and they all have the same concerns I do.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“To consult with me and other highly skilled and respected local physicians to restructure the public health policy, and to put your feather in the fight to actually get it passed and in place.”

He nodded thoughtfully. I held his eyes until he looked away, wanting to have one up on him, and then glanced to Pam, who was taking furious notes at our side.

“You get all that, Pam?” he asked suddenly, and she nodded.

“Good. Then let’s eat.”

Let’s eat? That was it?

“Relax, Scott,” he appeased, apparently seeing my look of what the fuck? “I need time to digest everything you said. Plus, if you really want to be involved in building a new policy, you’re going to have to be patient. None of this stuff happens overnight.”

I nodded. I guessed that was fair enough.

Food arrived at our table, and my eyebrows shot together. I hadn’t ordered.

The mayor laughed at my expression again. “Pam here ordered for you.” He smirked. “She said you like waffles.”

My eyes jerked to Pam and back again, put off by how pleased he was to have knowledge of our intimacy. I wasn’t pleased at fucking all, and I wanted to know why he knew in the first place.