Not Quite Enough(61)

Monica blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I have a meeting with human resources tomorrow to find out what exactly is happening.”
“Well, we have your back if you need anything from us.”
The guys nodded right as the blaring alarm forced them from their hot dinner and had them running for the door. She knew the drill, wasn’t offended in the least.
“Would have been too much to ask for ten more minutes,” Stan said. He patted Monica on the shoulder as he made it out the door.
“Thanks, Queenie.”
“Thanks, Monica.”
“Come by again soon.”
One by one they left her alone in the station with boxes of barbecue and a crazy lump in her throat.
They were a damn good group of guys.



Chapter Twenty-Two



Monica walked… well limped, out of the human resources building with a pink slip and an attitude. She was half tempted to walk into the ER and ask Pat what the hell her problem was. Now that Monica was back in the States, a formal investigation would take place. Of course that took time to happen and it wouldn’t transpire until all parties involved could be reached.
All parties involved. Who the hell could they be talking about? On the surface the case had very little ground. Monica had covered her shifts. Except one of her colleagues had gotten sick and the shifts then defaulted back to Monica. It became her responsibility to have them covered. She wasn’t exactly around to fix the schedule, being knee-deep in shit on the island. The scheduling problem had taken place the first hours on Jamaica and there wasn’t a damn thing Monica could do to fix it.
It wasn’t proven yet, but it appeared that Pat had kept at least one nurse from coming in to help solidify the case against Monica. The whole thing was stupid.
Monica sat in with Mrs. Levine, the HR representative, who began with the facts, and then started to embellish them.
“It doesn’t help your case that you were on the island enjoying the sights.”
“Enjoying the sights,” Monica practically yelled. “What are you talking about? I worked my ass off the whole time I was there.”
Mrs. Levine, with a polished expression of disbelief, peered at Monica over her cheaters. “According to one nurse at the clinic, you left on more than one occasion with a local for a… an affair.”
Monica felt steam come out her ears. “An affair? What the hell?”
“We still need to obtain her statement, but she said it was well known that you slept in this man’s home instead of the accommodations provided by Borderless Nurses.”
“There weren’t any damn accommodations. I was transferred to a clinic far away from anything. Dr. Eddy and Dr. Klein were both there. They’ll vouch for me.”
Mrs. Levine removed her dime-store glasses from her nose and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you saying you didn’t spend time with a man on the island? A man who wasn’t a colleague or a patient?”
Monica stood at that point and crumbled her pink slip in her grasp. “I feel like I need a f*cking lawyer.”
“Cussing at me will not change the facts. And that wasn’t an answer, Miss Mann. It’s one thing to leave your post with the intentions of helping others abroad. But to do so and use the good of our system for a free vacation with a lover…”
Monica wasn’t prone to violence, but she’d never wanted to punch someone so bad in her entire life.
She hobbled out of the building and practically ran into a familiar and unwelcome guest. “Dammit. What are you doing here?”
John tucked his hands in his pockets and peered behind her. “That bad?”
“They’re stupid. Have no idea what I’ve had to go through.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
Yes, but she didn’t think that someone to talk to about it was him. Her conversation with him held a whole different set of words.
In her haste to get out of the building she stepped down the stairs with the wrong foot and damn near ended up on her butt. John managed to keep her upright, his hand lingered on her arm longer than she wanted.
“Thanks,” she said as she stepped away.
“C’mon. I’ll buy you a drink.”
She rubbed a hand over her face. “John…”
“Just a drink. I know we have a lot to talk about. That can wait. Let’s just pretend we’ve only worked together and we’re shooting the crap after a bad shift. OK?” Some of the charm he’d held that encouraged her to go out with him the first time presented itself with his smile. She didn’t want to be his enemy, or the bitch in his life that he would judge all others against.
“Just a drink?”
His smile started to crack. “One cocktail. Or soda… your choice.”
Soda wouldn’t do for this day. “One drink.”
He smiled. “Want me to drive?”
Yeah, but she didn’t want to be without a car, or have an excuse to have more than one drink. “I’ll meet you at Joe’s.”
Joe’s was around the block from the hospital. The jukebox held some of the latest pop favorites and several from the eighties and beyond. The music wasn’t rap and filled with hate, which made it a decent spot for the staff to meet up after work. The last thing they needed after twelve hours was headache-inducing bass.
The cocktail waitress took their order and disappeared after leaving a bowl of salty pretzels on the table. Smart move. Monica started nibbling on them the minute she walked away.
“Pat’s been bad-mouthing you ever since you left,” John told her once their drinks arrived. Monica opted for a beer. It would take a while to get through and wouldn’t leave her hungry when she was done.