Not Quite Enough(73)

Hearing his parents’ names made him cringe. He swallowed half his beer in one drink.
After a few minutes of reflective silence, Trent said, “Your family must blow every surprise you ever try and pass by them.”
Jack laughed at that. “Katie’s the worst. Hires a stealth PI when she needs information.”
Trent flipped his gaze to Jack.
“Though she hasn’t gotten that far… yet,” Jack said.
Trent finished his beer. If the women in Monica’s life had somehow figured out his past, it was only a matter of time before they told Monica.
“Monica’s dad left when she was a kid,” Jack told him.
“She told me that.”
“It impacted both Jessie and Monica. It’s hard for them to trust and depend on anyone. Especially men. After Jamaica, I’m not sure Monica will trust anyone again.”
Trent wasn’t sure what to say to that. He hadn’t meant to blow Monica’s trust. They were barely getting to know each other and everything went to a dark, hungry hell.
“I like you, Trent. You seem like a good guy. But Monica… hell, she’s family. I love that girl and she needs someone who isn’t going to run off without an explanation. If you get my meaning.”
Loud and clear, cowboy.
“So, are you going to give me an address?”
Jack shook his head.
“No. That would be too easy.” This little “get to know the real you” session only went so far.
“Remember our earlier conversation?” Jack indicated his balls. “I’ve grown used to them. No. You can’t get Monica’s address from me.”
Dammit.
Jack readjusted his hat and said absentmindedly, “She did work at Pomona General. Hung out at Joe’s Bar around the corner after her shift once in a while. Had to work those nasty twelve-hour shifts. Hard to find a night without someone on staff hanging out after say… seven thirty at night. I’m sure nurses were real good about designating a driver.”
A half smile met Trent’s lips as he stood. He had hours to kill before seven thirty. “Have you had lunch?”
“I could eat.” Jack stood, tucked his hat farther on his head, and walked beside Trent as they left the suite.


Joe’s was one loose brick short of a dive. Yet, as Trent glanced around the room, the dive portion was restricted to the outdated décor, wood paneling, and crappy lighting. To be a true dive, Joe’s needed the scent of stale beer and a resident drunk hanging off the bar. On second look, it just needed the stale beer. The guy at the bar looked as if he’d been there since noon.
Finding the ER staff wasn’t difficult. Something about the uniform gave away hospital employees like nothing else. Instead of waltzing over to the table of scrubs and stethoscopes, Trent found a stool at the bar, flagged the bartender for a beer, and watched.
He twisted around to thank the bartender and found a hand on his shoulder.
“Trent?” Walt stood beside him, holding out his hand. “I thought that was you walking in.”
Standing, Trent shook Walt’s hand complete with a hearty pat on the back. “Monica said you guys hung out here once in a while.” Little white lie number one. Wasn’t it Monica who tutored him on telling white lies?
“Is she here?” Walt looked around the room.
“No, her sister is here from out of town. Thought I’d give them some alone time.”
“You’re staying with her?”
“Yeah.” That lie bordered on gray. Walt bought it.
“I thought you two might hook up.” He looked like he wanted to say more. “And I owe you a drink.”
“I’m not one to pass up free beer.” Trent pulled his beer to his lips and downed it.
Walt waved the bartender over. “Hey Roy, can you hit him again… on me? I’ll have my usual.”
Roy nodded.
“Let me introduce you to some of the staff, then let’s find a quiet table. I’d like to know your take on what the hell is happening with Monica.”
There were six ER employees at their table.
“Hey guys. This is Trent. He flew the helicopter in Jamaica.”
Walt started naming names, all of which Trent quickly forgot. A pretty brunette smiled. “You’re the guy that was in the cave with Monica.”
“Yeah,” he confirmed.
“We have some catching up to do,” Walt told his friends.
The staff murmured and watched him as he and Walt ducked to a quiet corner of the bar.
“Seem like a good group of people,” Trent said as they took their seats.
“They are.”
The bartender brought their drinks and disappeared.
Trent took a drink and then stared into the glass. “Damn, maybe I shouldn’t drink this.”
“Why?” Walt tested his cocktail.
“I’ve already had a couple and I’m driving.”
Walt waved him off. “I’m not far from Monica’s. I’ll give you a ride.”
Trent smiled, sucked the foam off his beer, and looked around for the large red button… the one that said that was easy when you pressed it.
“Half the staff is ready to quit,” Walt told him. “The union is awaiting the depositions to complete and if they like what they see, they’re going to rally a protest.”
“A strike?”
“No. But signs, banners… bad PR for the hospital.” Walt nibbled on the peanuts as he talked.
The thought of that kind of support put a smile on Trent’s face. “How many people do you think will participate?”