Rota Fortunae (16/?)
Title: Rota Fortunae (16/?)
Author: ladysalieri
Warnings: WIP
Rating: PG-13
Note: Thank you again to everyone who's reading this. Um, I have to admit that I have a new understanding for TV shows that retcon their backstory every so often. My original post had the neuro wing opening in January 2011, but I need the thing to stay closed for a while, and when I started factoring in all my "next weeks" and "four days laters" I realized I probably blew RIGHT past the date this thing was supposed to open. So I changed the date of opening to March, and let's all just pretend that's the way it ORIGINALLY read. **does Jedi mind trick hand wave on everyone**
Erm, sorry about the cliffhanger. I have to give you folks *some* reason to nag me for updates, don't I? :)
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1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18
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“I’m sorry, Dr. Oliver. The Director received your CV yesterday, but I believe he threw it away. We thought it was some kind of mistake.”
“Mistake?” Reid snarled into the telephone receiver. “Why would I send you my resume by mistake?”
The woman on the other end of the line seemed flustered. “Well… uh… to be honest, doctor, we heard you’d been killed in a car accident.”
Reid lifted his free hand to press the point on his forehead, where a slight headache was rapidly developing into a full-blown slammer. “Obviously you heard wrong,” he said tersely.
“And…” the woman added, “our records show that we’ve offered you a job at least four times in the last six years. Last year, you told us you’d found a permanent home where you were, and we should just delete your name from our files.”
Reid clenched his teeth to bite off the stream of curses that were bubbling up in his throat. “Look,” he replied, “that was last year, and I was literally a different person then, do you understand?”
“Um… no, I-“
“I’m sending you my CV again,” he interrupted, “and you make sure your Director holds onto it this time. Right now the Mayo Clinic has the number two neurology department in the country, correct? Tell your Director to call me when he’s ready to be number one.”
Reid slammed the phone down and fought the urge to beat his head against his office desk. Reid had told Oakdale’s Chief of Staff that he would stay for no more than a month, which meant that finding a new job and a new residence was a top priority-but for reasons Reid couldn’t quite explain, he’d been dragging his feet about making arrangements to move on. Now, however, he’d found renewed energy in his goal of escaping Oakdale and its ridiculously maudlin inhabitants… but his job search was proving to be more of a frustration than he’d expected. He wanted the control and autonomy of running his own department, but the open positions were generally in hospitals with facilities and locations that were even worse than Oakdale-and the best hospitals all had entrenched hierarchies that wouldn’t allow for a newcomer to come in and take charge, regardless of his abilities. He’d even briefly considered asking for his old job back in Dallas, but even if this was a different universe, there was no way he could manage to work with the staff and leadership that had so easily abandoned Reid when his life had been wrecked by one man’s campaign of revenge.
There was a timid rap on the door, and a quiet voice said, “Dr. Oliver? You’re needed in the Board meeting.”
Reid glanced at his wristwatch and cursed aloud at the time. He’d wasted half the morning on his fruitless job search, and now with this damned meeting on his schedule, who knew when he’d be able to get back to his patients? While he’d never before been personally subjected to a meeting of the Oakdale Memorial Board of Trustees, he’d seen enough of their involvement in hospital decisions to have a healthy fear of the Board’s particular brand of bumbling and inertia.
The anonymous person at the door knocked again. “Dr. Oliver?”
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” he snapped irritably. “If they can take three meetings to decide on fabric for the waiting room upholstery, they can wait a few minutes for me.”
Reid gulped down the last of his tepid coffee and tossed the cup into his trash, then rose to his feet and lifted a crisply ironed labcoat from a nearby coat rack. He supposed scrubs and a white coat weren’t standard Board meeting attire, but he hoped the physical evidence of his real work would inspire the Trustees to be brief. Finally, he threw his stethoscope around his neck and snatched up a clipboard and a thin stack of files, before taking a deep breath and stepping from the room.
The occupants of the hospital boardroom were deep in the midst of discussion as Reid’s ever-present bodyguards pushed open the doors and allowed Reid to step through, giving the doctor a moment to survey the members of the Board in action. Two of the figures seated around the large oval table at the center of the room were unfamiliar to Reid-a trim gray-haired woman in a neat suit and a rotund, red-faced gentleman with brown hair combed thinly over a vast bald head. Reid vaguely recognized three others from a prior visit to Dixon’s office, a small woman with Asian features and an unpleasant expression, an ancient old man with beady eyes and a slight hunch in his neck, and a middle-aged man with neatly styled hair and a rose-colored golf shirt tucked in around an expanding waistline. The last three, Reid observed with a mental scoff, represented the Snyder block of votes: John Dixon, dressed in one of his usual out-dated suits; Lucinda Walsh, looking every bit as fashion conscious as her boyfriend was not; and Luke Snyder, who looked like-Reid’s eyes lowered and turned away from the sight.
Reid heard the sound of a throat clearing off to his side, and he looked over to find Chris Hughes sitting in a short row of chairs along the wall. As Reid caught sight of him, Chris gave a curt nod toward the vacant chairs. Reid felt himself make a small wince of displeasure, but he silently took a seat beside the other man.
After a few long minutes of Reid tapping his foot impatiently against the carpeted floor, the discussion of the Board drew to a close and John Dixon turned in his chair to acknowledge the two doctors.
“Dr. Oliver, thank you for making time in your busy schedule to meet with us.” If there was a note of irony in John Dixon’s voice, it was a subtle one. “Dr. Hughes, welcome. If you two could join us at the table, we’ll begin.”
When they were both settled, Dixon addressed the whole group. “Moving on to our search for a candidate to run the new neurology wing, I’ve shared the files for our top candidates with Dr. Oliver, and I’ve asked him here to share his thoughts with us.”
Reid gave a snort of laughter at that. “You want my thoughts?” he said wryly. “I’d like to know what moron put this list of candidates together.”
From the corner of his eye, Reid saw Chris Hughes’ figure stiffen with indignation. “I put the list together,” the man said, through gritted teeth. “Mr. Pierce here asked me to seek recommendations from other hospitals, and I was happy to assist.”
Reid looked to the ceiling, as if praying for strength. “I figured it was someone without a first-year’s knowledge of the neurosurgical field,” he scoffed. “I’d tell you to stick with pediatrics, Heart of Mine, but I doubt you’re any more competent at that.”
“Dr. Oliver,” Dixon warned.
Reid lifted the first file from his stack and peered at the name typed on the tab. “This one’s had no less than six malpractice suits settled out-of-court. He’s a fraud and a menace, and the only qualification he has is a good set of lawyers on speed dial.” He slid the file sharply at the table at Dixon, carefully avoiding the eye of the blond man sitting next to the Chief of Staff, then picked up the second file.
“This one works eight hours a day, five days a week, and not one minute more. You won’t see her take extra shifts, emergency pages, even shorter lunch breaks. She’s the last doctor in the world you want running a 24-hr care facility.”
The second file joined the first file on the table, and a third was in Reid’s hand. “His father was a brilliant neurosurgeon in his day, advanced the practice by leaps and bounds. The son, however, is a complete waste. He’s coasted through his entire career on the strength of his last name, but he’s a liability in all but the simplest procedures.”
He pinned Dixon with a hard stare, his hand laying atop the fourth file. “Do I need to go on?” he asked. “This is a competitive field, and no one’s going to help you steal a promising doctor away from their hospital. The recommendations you received are worthless.”
Dixon scowled. “You’re telling me there’s not a single qualified doctor in that stack there?”
Chris gave an obnoxious snort. “I’m sure Dr. Oliver just wants you to make a nice fat salary offer to keep him on staff. You’re nuts if you think he’s looking out for anyone but himself.”
Reid’s lip curled in a snarl, but Lucinda Walsh’s cool voice cut off the venomous response he was formulating. “If that’s the case, darling,” she said to Reid, “there’s no need for you to be coy about it. We’re willing to accept any reasonable request to keep you in Oakdale-and possibly even a few unreasonable ones.”
For the first time since entering the boardroom, Reid allowed his gaze to stray in the direction of Luke Snyder. The younger man’s subdued hair and conservative suit made for a startling contrast to his usually casual style, and his tightly clenched hands and solemn face were a clear effort to project an air of professional detachment-but his brown eyes were roiling with emotion at the sudden turn in the discussion. Reid didn’t know what the look in Luke Snyder’s eyes meant, but it certainly wasn’t unbridled enthusiasm at the thought of his dead lover’s doppelganger taking a permanent position at Memorial.
Reid lowered his gaze to the table, feeling suddenly very weary.
“Dr. Oliver?” Dixon prompted. “Have you changed your mind about coming to work for us?”
“I told you before,” Reid said flatly. “One month-and not a day more.” He surveyed the other Trustees for a moment, then snapped his fingers at the Board member on his right. “You, there. Golf Pants! Get that pen out of your ear and start taking notes.”
“What?” the man said, looking scandalized at the impertinent order.
“Write… this… down,” Reid said slowly, as if speaking to a recalcitrant five year old. “You do know to use that thing, don’t you?”
Reid waited for the Trustee to lower his pen to the notepad in front of him, before continuing without further explanation. “Cynthia Kim, Cedars-Sinai. Her Chief of Neurosurgery’s not going anywhere, so she’ll be looking to advance at another hospital. Vic Stanton, Montefiore. Not a permanent solution, but he’s ambitious enough to put this unit on the map before moving on to his next challenge. Anik Chatterjee, UPMC. Very smart, very young. It would be a huge leap for him professionally, but he’s more than capable. Jack Sanderson, Albany. Brooke Davison, Baylor. Rashid Amir, Mass General. Any one of these could do the job; you just have to make them the right offer. And keep them away from the locals until you’ve got one of them on the hook; otherwise, you risk scaring them off.”
Reid pressed his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet. “Now, if you’re done wasting my time, I have rounds to complete. If you manage to botch things up with that group, let me know and I’ll give you another list of names.”
Dixon seemed more amused than upset at Reid’s impatient move to escape. “Thank you for your input, Dr. Oliver. In fact,” he said, eyeing the other trustees, “with no further items on the agenda, I’ll entertain a motion to adjourn this meeting.”
--~--
Reid had fled the room and was halfway down the corridor, his entourage trailing closely behind, when he heard the sound of the boardroom doors opening and closing again. “Dr. Oliver!” a voice called.
Briefly, Reid considered continuing on as if he hadn’t heard his name, but after a moment, he stopped and turned around. “Mr. Snyder,” he said flatly.
Luke closed the distance between them with a jogging step, a teasing smile brightening his face. “Dr. Oliver,” he said lightly, “I have to say I am shocked, stunned, by what just went on in that Board meeting! Are you sure you’re feeling alright? Do you need to lie down?”
Reid’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he growled.
The blond spread his arms wide, as if to say the answer were obvious. “The Board is looking for a brilliant new neurosurgeon, and you just offered them… what, five, six other names? Dr. Oliver, I didn’t think there was anyone in the field who’s as brilliant as you are.”
Reid folded his arms across his chest. “I said they were adequate,” he said grumpily. “I never said they were my equals.”
“Oh, sorry… adequate.” Luke rolled his eyes and flashed a conspiratorial grin at the stern-faced guards at Reid’s shoulder. “Still, that’s a lot, coming from the amazing Dr. Reid Oliver. Have you told these other doctors how much you think of them?”
Reid scowled at the younger man’s genial mockery. “Is there something you want from me, Mr. Snyder?” he asked, cutting right to the chase.
Luke shrugged. “I’m just surprised you think you’re so easy to replace, that’s all.”
With a huff of dismissal, Reid turned and continued down the hall, walking briskly enough to make it a scramble for Luke and the security detail to keep up. “You’ve spent millions, tens of millions of dollars building that neuro wing, Mr. Snyder," he tossed over his shoulder at the other man. “Are you saying you want to see it just sit there, with no one to run it?”
Luke’s breath was a bit huffy as he chased Reid through the stairway doors and up the wide medal stairs. “No,” he answered firmly, “that’s the last thing I want. I just want to make sure we have the right person for the job.”
Reid stopped in his tracks and leveled a nasty glare at the blond. “If you think you can put together a better list of candidates, Mr. Snyder, then by all means, go right ahead. Put your whole team of private investigators on it.”
Luke’s eyes were intense as he reached up to tighten a hand around Reid’s elbow. “I don’t need a list, Dr. Oliver. I have the very best candidate right here in front of me.”
It was an incredible about-face from his demeanor at the meeting, and Reid fought the urge to laugh with amazement. “You must be out of your goddamn mind,” he snapped instead. Tearing his arm from Luke’s grip, Reid exited the stairwell and made his way toward the doctors’ lounge.
But Luke was still on Reid’s heels. “Dr. Oliver, do you honestly expect me to believe you can just walk away and leave your very own, custom designed, state-of-the-art neuro wing in the hands of someone who’s just adequate?”
“It’s not my neuro wing, and I don’t give a damn who runs it.” He opened the door to the doctors’ lounge-and, finding it empty, turned back and barked, “Stay out!”
The order worked well enough on the guards, who took up their usual positions on either side of the nearest door, but not so well on Luke Snyder-who stormed into the lounge directly behind Reid.
“You’re a liar,” Luke hissed, pointing an accusatory finger at the doctor. “Okay, maybe you weren’t actually the one who worked with me on the plans-but it’s still your concept, your specifications, your genius. That neuro wing represents everything you’ve ever wanted in a medical facility, and you can’t tell me it doesn’t!”
“In a dump like Oakdale?” Reid laughed, pulling a TV dinner from the lounge refrigerator and extracting the meal from its cardboard container. “You are out of your mind.”
An angry scowl darkened Luke Snyder’s face. “Oh, and what about Oakdale?!” he challenged. “Okay, it’s not the big city-but how much of the big city do you really need, anyway? My Reid never went anywhere in Dallas except the hospital and a handful of takeout places. Here, at least, you have friends-people who care about you, a real chance to make a home.”
“Friends?” Reid scoffed, giving the blond man a disbelieving eye.
“Katie loves you,” Luke elaborated, “and Bob Hughes-he comes here almost every day just to chat with you. And…”
The younger man’s voice trailed off uncertainly, and he looked briefly flustered. Reid wanted desperately to know what words were trembling on the man’s lips. “And…?” Reid asked, after a breathless pause.
“And... J-John Dixon really respects you,” Luke threw in desperately. “You’re just like him, practically two of a kind.”
It was all Reid could do not to choke on his frustration and disappointment. What the hell was it about Luke Snyder that made it impossible for Reid to be rational? He had to get out of this town, or soon he’d be just as fruity as the rest of its in-bred inhabitants.
“You’re wasting your time, Mr. Snyder,” he said, adding his meal to the microwave and leaning over the counter to look on as the appliance began with a low hum. “More importantly, you’re wasting mine. There’s no way in hell I plan on staying in this town any longer than I absolutely need to.”
Luke gave a growl of frustration himself. “Why not?” he burst out passionately. “Just give me one good reason why you won’t stay here at Memorial.”
“I’ve already told you-“
“…and don’t give me that same line about Oakdale,” Luke cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand. He stepped closer to Reid, and his voice grew softer, but no less strong in conviction as he continued, “I know you don’t really care where you practice medicine, and I know you don’t hate this town half as much as you pretend. One good reason, Dr. Oliver. Just one, and I’ll leave you in peace.”
Reid laughed. He threw his head back and shoulders shook with a hearty chuckle that was half humor, half surrender. A distant corner of his mind observed that it was much too late to be worrying about losing his sanity. When his laughter died, he lowered his head again and from the corner of his eye, saw Luke Snyder staring at him in a mixture of confusion and alarm. The temptation to give Luke Snyder exactly the kind of answer he was asking for was too great for Reid to resist.
So he turned away from the counter, placed his hands flat against Luke Snyder’s cheeks, and tugged the man forward to capture his lips in a kiss.
Author: ladysalieri
Warnings: WIP
Rating: PG-13
Note: Thank you again to everyone who's reading this. Um, I have to admit that I have a new understanding for TV shows that retcon their backstory every so often. My original post had the neuro wing opening in January 2011, but I need the thing to stay closed for a while, and when I started factoring in all my "next weeks" and "four days laters" I realized I probably blew RIGHT past the date this thing was supposed to open. So I changed the date of opening to March, and let's all just pretend that's the way it ORIGINALLY read. **does Jedi mind trick hand wave on everyone**
Erm, sorry about the cliffhanger. I have to give you folks *some* reason to nag me for updates, don't I? :)
=====
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18
=====
“I’m sorry, Dr. Oliver. The Director received your CV yesterday, but I believe he threw it away. We thought it was some kind of mistake.”
“Mistake?” Reid snarled into the telephone receiver. “Why would I send you my resume by mistake?”
The woman on the other end of the line seemed flustered. “Well… uh… to be honest, doctor, we heard you’d been killed in a car accident.”
Reid lifted his free hand to press the point on his forehead, where a slight headache was rapidly developing into a full-blown slammer. “Obviously you heard wrong,” he said tersely.
“And…” the woman added, “our records show that we’ve offered you a job at least four times in the last six years. Last year, you told us you’d found a permanent home where you were, and we should just delete your name from our files.”
Reid clenched his teeth to bite off the stream of curses that were bubbling up in his throat. “Look,” he replied, “that was last year, and I was literally a different person then, do you understand?”
“Um… no, I-“
“I’m sending you my CV again,” he interrupted, “and you make sure your Director holds onto it this time. Right now the Mayo Clinic has the number two neurology department in the country, correct? Tell your Director to call me when he’s ready to be number one.”
Reid slammed the phone down and fought the urge to beat his head against his office desk. Reid had told Oakdale’s Chief of Staff that he would stay for no more than a month, which meant that finding a new job and a new residence was a top priority-but for reasons Reid couldn’t quite explain, he’d been dragging his feet about making arrangements to move on. Now, however, he’d found renewed energy in his goal of escaping Oakdale and its ridiculously maudlin inhabitants… but his job search was proving to be more of a frustration than he’d expected. He wanted the control and autonomy of running his own department, but the open positions were generally in hospitals with facilities and locations that were even worse than Oakdale-and the best hospitals all had entrenched hierarchies that wouldn’t allow for a newcomer to come in and take charge, regardless of his abilities. He’d even briefly considered asking for his old job back in Dallas, but even if this was a different universe, there was no way he could manage to work with the staff and leadership that had so easily abandoned Reid when his life had been wrecked by one man’s campaign of revenge.
There was a timid rap on the door, and a quiet voice said, “Dr. Oliver? You’re needed in the Board meeting.”
Reid glanced at his wristwatch and cursed aloud at the time. He’d wasted half the morning on his fruitless job search, and now with this damned meeting on his schedule, who knew when he’d be able to get back to his patients? While he’d never before been personally subjected to a meeting of the Oakdale Memorial Board of Trustees, he’d seen enough of their involvement in hospital decisions to have a healthy fear of the Board’s particular brand of bumbling and inertia.
The anonymous person at the door knocked again. “Dr. Oliver?”
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” he snapped irritably. “If they can take three meetings to decide on fabric for the waiting room upholstery, they can wait a few minutes for me.”
Reid gulped down the last of his tepid coffee and tossed the cup into his trash, then rose to his feet and lifted a crisply ironed labcoat from a nearby coat rack. He supposed scrubs and a white coat weren’t standard Board meeting attire, but he hoped the physical evidence of his real work would inspire the Trustees to be brief. Finally, he threw his stethoscope around his neck and snatched up a clipboard and a thin stack of files, before taking a deep breath and stepping from the room.
The occupants of the hospital boardroom were deep in the midst of discussion as Reid’s ever-present bodyguards pushed open the doors and allowed Reid to step through, giving the doctor a moment to survey the members of the Board in action. Two of the figures seated around the large oval table at the center of the room were unfamiliar to Reid-a trim gray-haired woman in a neat suit and a rotund, red-faced gentleman with brown hair combed thinly over a vast bald head. Reid vaguely recognized three others from a prior visit to Dixon’s office, a small woman with Asian features and an unpleasant expression, an ancient old man with beady eyes and a slight hunch in his neck, and a middle-aged man with neatly styled hair and a rose-colored golf shirt tucked in around an expanding waistline. The last three, Reid observed with a mental scoff, represented the Snyder block of votes: John Dixon, dressed in one of his usual out-dated suits; Lucinda Walsh, looking every bit as fashion conscious as her boyfriend was not; and Luke Snyder, who looked like-Reid’s eyes lowered and turned away from the sight.
Reid heard the sound of a throat clearing off to his side, and he looked over to find Chris Hughes sitting in a short row of chairs along the wall. As Reid caught sight of him, Chris gave a curt nod toward the vacant chairs. Reid felt himself make a small wince of displeasure, but he silently took a seat beside the other man.
After a few long minutes of Reid tapping his foot impatiently against the carpeted floor, the discussion of the Board drew to a close and John Dixon turned in his chair to acknowledge the two doctors.
“Dr. Oliver, thank you for making time in your busy schedule to meet with us.” If there was a note of irony in John Dixon’s voice, it was a subtle one. “Dr. Hughes, welcome. If you two could join us at the table, we’ll begin.”
When they were both settled, Dixon addressed the whole group. “Moving on to our search for a candidate to run the new neurology wing, I’ve shared the files for our top candidates with Dr. Oliver, and I’ve asked him here to share his thoughts with us.”
Reid gave a snort of laughter at that. “You want my thoughts?” he said wryly. “I’d like to know what moron put this list of candidates together.”
From the corner of his eye, Reid saw Chris Hughes’ figure stiffen with indignation. “I put the list together,” the man said, through gritted teeth. “Mr. Pierce here asked me to seek recommendations from other hospitals, and I was happy to assist.”
Reid looked to the ceiling, as if praying for strength. “I figured it was someone without a first-year’s knowledge of the neurosurgical field,” he scoffed. “I’d tell you to stick with pediatrics, Heart of Mine, but I doubt you’re any more competent at that.”
“Dr. Oliver,” Dixon warned.
Reid lifted the first file from his stack and peered at the name typed on the tab. “This one’s had no less than six malpractice suits settled out-of-court. He’s a fraud and a menace, and the only qualification he has is a good set of lawyers on speed dial.” He slid the file sharply at the table at Dixon, carefully avoiding the eye of the blond man sitting next to the Chief of Staff, then picked up the second file.
“This one works eight hours a day, five days a week, and not one minute more. You won’t see her take extra shifts, emergency pages, even shorter lunch breaks. She’s the last doctor in the world you want running a 24-hr care facility.”
The second file joined the first file on the table, and a third was in Reid’s hand. “His father was a brilliant neurosurgeon in his day, advanced the practice by leaps and bounds. The son, however, is a complete waste. He’s coasted through his entire career on the strength of his last name, but he’s a liability in all but the simplest procedures.”
He pinned Dixon with a hard stare, his hand laying atop the fourth file. “Do I need to go on?” he asked. “This is a competitive field, and no one’s going to help you steal a promising doctor away from their hospital. The recommendations you received are worthless.”
Dixon scowled. “You’re telling me there’s not a single qualified doctor in that stack there?”
Chris gave an obnoxious snort. “I’m sure Dr. Oliver just wants you to make a nice fat salary offer to keep him on staff. You’re nuts if you think he’s looking out for anyone but himself.”
Reid’s lip curled in a snarl, but Lucinda Walsh’s cool voice cut off the venomous response he was formulating. “If that’s the case, darling,” she said to Reid, “there’s no need for you to be coy about it. We’re willing to accept any reasonable request to keep you in Oakdale-and possibly even a few unreasonable ones.”
For the first time since entering the boardroom, Reid allowed his gaze to stray in the direction of Luke Snyder. The younger man’s subdued hair and conservative suit made for a startling contrast to his usually casual style, and his tightly clenched hands and solemn face were a clear effort to project an air of professional detachment-but his brown eyes were roiling with emotion at the sudden turn in the discussion. Reid didn’t know what the look in Luke Snyder’s eyes meant, but it certainly wasn’t unbridled enthusiasm at the thought of his dead lover’s doppelganger taking a permanent position at Memorial.
Reid lowered his gaze to the table, feeling suddenly very weary.
“Dr. Oliver?” Dixon prompted. “Have you changed your mind about coming to work for us?”
“I told you before,” Reid said flatly. “One month-and not a day more.” He surveyed the other Trustees for a moment, then snapped his fingers at the Board member on his right. “You, there. Golf Pants! Get that pen out of your ear and start taking notes.”
“What?” the man said, looking scandalized at the impertinent order.
“Write… this… down,” Reid said slowly, as if speaking to a recalcitrant five year old. “You do know to use that thing, don’t you?”
Reid waited for the Trustee to lower his pen to the notepad in front of him, before continuing without further explanation. “Cynthia Kim, Cedars-Sinai. Her Chief of Neurosurgery’s not going anywhere, so she’ll be looking to advance at another hospital. Vic Stanton, Montefiore. Not a permanent solution, but he’s ambitious enough to put this unit on the map before moving on to his next challenge. Anik Chatterjee, UPMC. Very smart, very young. It would be a huge leap for him professionally, but he’s more than capable. Jack Sanderson, Albany. Brooke Davison, Baylor. Rashid Amir, Mass General. Any one of these could do the job; you just have to make them the right offer. And keep them away from the locals until you’ve got one of them on the hook; otherwise, you risk scaring them off.”
Reid pressed his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet. “Now, if you’re done wasting my time, I have rounds to complete. If you manage to botch things up with that group, let me know and I’ll give you another list of names.”
Dixon seemed more amused than upset at Reid’s impatient move to escape. “Thank you for your input, Dr. Oliver. In fact,” he said, eyeing the other trustees, “with no further items on the agenda, I’ll entertain a motion to adjourn this meeting.”
--~--
Reid had fled the room and was halfway down the corridor, his entourage trailing closely behind, when he heard the sound of the boardroom doors opening and closing again. “Dr. Oliver!” a voice called.
Briefly, Reid considered continuing on as if he hadn’t heard his name, but after a moment, he stopped and turned around. “Mr. Snyder,” he said flatly.
Luke closed the distance between them with a jogging step, a teasing smile brightening his face. “Dr. Oliver,” he said lightly, “I have to say I am shocked, stunned, by what just went on in that Board meeting! Are you sure you’re feeling alright? Do you need to lie down?”
Reid’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he growled.
The blond spread his arms wide, as if to say the answer were obvious. “The Board is looking for a brilliant new neurosurgeon, and you just offered them… what, five, six other names? Dr. Oliver, I didn’t think there was anyone in the field who’s as brilliant as you are.”
Reid folded his arms across his chest. “I said they were adequate,” he said grumpily. “I never said they were my equals.”
“Oh, sorry… adequate.” Luke rolled his eyes and flashed a conspiratorial grin at the stern-faced guards at Reid’s shoulder. “Still, that’s a lot, coming from the amazing Dr. Reid Oliver. Have you told these other doctors how much you think of them?”
Reid scowled at the younger man’s genial mockery. “Is there something you want from me, Mr. Snyder?” he asked, cutting right to the chase.
Luke shrugged. “I’m just surprised you think you’re so easy to replace, that’s all.”
With a huff of dismissal, Reid turned and continued down the hall, walking briskly enough to make it a scramble for Luke and the security detail to keep up. “You’ve spent millions, tens of millions of dollars building that neuro wing, Mr. Snyder," he tossed over his shoulder at the other man. “Are you saying you want to see it just sit there, with no one to run it?”
Luke’s breath was a bit huffy as he chased Reid through the stairway doors and up the wide medal stairs. “No,” he answered firmly, “that’s the last thing I want. I just want to make sure we have the right person for the job.”
Reid stopped in his tracks and leveled a nasty glare at the blond. “If you think you can put together a better list of candidates, Mr. Snyder, then by all means, go right ahead. Put your whole team of private investigators on it.”
Luke’s eyes were intense as he reached up to tighten a hand around Reid’s elbow. “I don’t need a list, Dr. Oliver. I have the very best candidate right here in front of me.”
It was an incredible about-face from his demeanor at the meeting, and Reid fought the urge to laugh with amazement. “You must be out of your goddamn mind,” he snapped instead. Tearing his arm from Luke’s grip, Reid exited the stairwell and made his way toward the doctors’ lounge.
But Luke was still on Reid’s heels. “Dr. Oliver, do you honestly expect me to believe you can just walk away and leave your very own, custom designed, state-of-the-art neuro wing in the hands of someone who’s just adequate?”
“It’s not my neuro wing, and I don’t give a damn who runs it.” He opened the door to the doctors’ lounge-and, finding it empty, turned back and barked, “Stay out!”
The order worked well enough on the guards, who took up their usual positions on either side of the nearest door, but not so well on Luke Snyder-who stormed into the lounge directly behind Reid.
“You’re a liar,” Luke hissed, pointing an accusatory finger at the doctor. “Okay, maybe you weren’t actually the one who worked with me on the plans-but it’s still your concept, your specifications, your genius. That neuro wing represents everything you’ve ever wanted in a medical facility, and you can’t tell me it doesn’t!”
“In a dump like Oakdale?” Reid laughed, pulling a TV dinner from the lounge refrigerator and extracting the meal from its cardboard container. “You are out of your mind.”
An angry scowl darkened Luke Snyder’s face. “Oh, and what about Oakdale?!” he challenged. “Okay, it’s not the big city-but how much of the big city do you really need, anyway? My Reid never went anywhere in Dallas except the hospital and a handful of takeout places. Here, at least, you have friends-people who care about you, a real chance to make a home.”
“Friends?” Reid scoffed, giving the blond man a disbelieving eye.
“Katie loves you,” Luke elaborated, “and Bob Hughes-he comes here almost every day just to chat with you. And…”
The younger man’s voice trailed off uncertainly, and he looked briefly flustered. Reid wanted desperately to know what words were trembling on the man’s lips. “And…?” Reid asked, after a breathless pause.
“And... J-John Dixon really respects you,” Luke threw in desperately. “You’re just like him, practically two of a kind.”
It was all Reid could do not to choke on his frustration and disappointment. What the hell was it about Luke Snyder that made it impossible for Reid to be rational? He had to get out of this town, or soon he’d be just as fruity as the rest of its in-bred inhabitants.
“You’re wasting your time, Mr. Snyder,” he said, adding his meal to the microwave and leaning over the counter to look on as the appliance began with a low hum. “More importantly, you’re wasting mine. There’s no way in hell I plan on staying in this town any longer than I absolutely need to.”
Luke gave a growl of frustration himself. “Why not?” he burst out passionately. “Just give me one good reason why you won’t stay here at Memorial.”
“I’ve already told you-“
“…and don’t give me that same line about Oakdale,” Luke cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand. He stepped closer to Reid, and his voice grew softer, but no less strong in conviction as he continued, “I know you don’t really care where you practice medicine, and I know you don’t hate this town half as much as you pretend. One good reason, Dr. Oliver. Just one, and I’ll leave you in peace.”
Reid laughed. He threw his head back and shoulders shook with a hearty chuckle that was half humor, half surrender. A distant corner of his mind observed that it was much too late to be worrying about losing his sanity. When his laughter died, he lowered his head again and from the corner of his eye, saw Luke Snyder staring at him in a mixture of confusion and alarm. The temptation to give Luke Snyder exactly the kind of answer he was asking for was too great for Reid to resist.
So he turned away from the counter, placed his hands flat against Luke Snyder’s cheeks, and tugged the man forward to capture his lips in a kiss.