Unforgettable: Book Three (A Hollywood Love Story #3)(73)

Poor me settled into an armchair while she darted off. Before I could study her house, she was back with a couple of those red pain pills and a tall glass of water.

“Thanks,” I said, taking them from her. I downed the Advil with a couple sips of the water.

“You should see your dentist right away.”

“I can’t. He doesn’t work on Saturdays.”

“Then you should see my fiancé. He’s a great dentist.”

Bingo.

I moaned again. “Do you think he could squeeze me in?”

“I’ll call him right now and make sure he does.”

Reaching for her cell phone on the coffee table, she speed-dialed a number.

I continued to feign pain while I listened to her conversation. She was obviously talking to the receptionist. She told whoever it was that a friend of hers from work had an emergency. Her brows furrowed while she waited for a response and then she broke into a smile.

“Great. He’ll be there soon. Can I say hi to Bradley?”

Pause.

“Oh, all right. Just give him my love and tell him I’ll see him tonight.”

I inwardly cringed as I watched her end the call. Placing the phone back on the coffee table, she found a pen and a cocktail napkin. She jotted something down on the paper napkin.

Smiling, she handed it to me. “My fiancé can squeeze you in. His name is Dr. Bradley Wick and this is where his office is.”

I eyed the address. Fuck. I had to go all the way to The Valley.

“Thanks.”

“Good luck. You’re going to love Bradley.”

There was only one thing I was going to love about Bradley Wick, DDS. And that was making him disappear.

My bud Jaime was right. Eliminate the competition.

I mentally gave myself a high five. Operation Dickwick was about to begin.





Chapter 13

Blake


It would figure that Bradley’s office was in the f*cking Valley. Burbank, no less. With the traffic and construction on Laurel Canyon, it took me almost an hour to get over the hill and then across the 101 to the Barham exit. It was hotter than balls outside so I had to drive with the air conditioning on and the top up; my Satellite radio didn’t make the journey any better. I f*cking hated going to The Valley. But I was going to make this trip worth it.

Seething, I pulled into the driveway of a white colonial-like building complete with Tara-like columns located off Pass Avenue. While located close to the media district, there was nothing chic about the building or the address. I whipped my Porsche into the first available spot in the small parking lot—right next to the spot reserved for Dr. Bradley Wick, DDS. Wouldn’t you know it—he drove a Prius. A white as bleached teeth 2012 model. I hated guys who drove Priuses. Have you ever noticed they’re a breed? All self-righteous, environmentally conscious, and f*cking anal. Do-gooders who never broke a rule. The type who was always the teacher’s pet or the perfect Boy Scout. I already had a handle on Dickwick.

The waiting area of his office was for sure a reflection of his penis—I mean, Prius. Small, compact, and energy efficient since it seemed to have the barest amount of air conditioning allowed by human labor laws. An oppressive cheapskate. Except for an unattractive matronly woman on her way out, I was the only patient. No wonder he could fit me in so easily. Business was not as good as Jen made it out to be. I signed in with the buxom redheaded receptionist, who made goo-goo eyes at me, and then took a seat in one of the burnt-orange tweed armchairs that looked straight out of an Office Depot fire sale. Cupping one hand on my stubbled jaw to feign pain, I randomly picked up one of the anally arranged magazines on the coffee table. Dental Life Today. Man, he was a dweeb.


I tossed the magazine back onto the table (deliberately making a small mess) and pulled out my iPhone from my shorts pocket to check my messages and texts. Only one warranted my attention. The one from Jennifer.

Blake~I hope your toothache feels better. Bradley is an amazing dentist.~Jen

I shot her back a smiley face emoticon. Dr. Wick was about to find out that I was an amazing patient. When the receptionist called out my name, my secret evil plan sprung into action. Phase One of Operation Dickwick was about to begin.

“Mr. Burns, Dr. Wick can see you now. Just go through the door and head down the hallway to Room 3.”

“Thank you,” I moaned with faux-pain. I felt her lustful eyes on me as I headed through the door. Don’t hate me. I couldn’t help that I had that effect on every woman.

The examination room was nothing to write home about. I anchored my body into the leatherette examination chair, stretching my longs legs out in front of me. I had to admit it was quite comfy, and took in my surroundings. A sink, x-ray machine, and the usual array of scary looking dental instruments on a cart next to me. Littering—I mean lining—the walls were numerous awards and diplomas he’d earned throughout his wretched life—from being named “Little Mr. Good Behavior” at nursery school to his honorary degree from USC’s prestigious dental school. Holy Christ. There was an even a Boy Scout award along with a photo of him wearing all his badges.

Another photo grabbed my attention. It was a recent one of him at some dental convention, posing with an ugly plaque. Los Angeles’s Most Promising Young Dentist 2013. He looked even dweebier than I’d imagined. And what was with that f*cking smile? Was Dickwick some kind of walking advertisement for his practice? I’d never seen such monstrous teeth on a human being. Well, maybe on a horse.