Chapter 6

Newt

It was supposedto be my day off. At that moment, I should have been playing video games or sleeping, but the Firehouse where I worked the ambulance had been short staffed and called me in to cover an extra shift.

So, there I was, helping a man who had been stabbed in the leg. The man was an amateur metalworker and set up a workshop in his garage as a hobby. One of his machines had broken, sending an iron rod piercing through his thigh. The fire department had been called to literally cut the man off his machine, and then I was left to patch him up and transport him to the hospital.

At least, that's how it should have happened. When I'd arrived, the man and his wife had been arguing with the firefighters about whether to pull the metal rod out or leave it in. Luckily, they hadn't tried anything yet, but when I stepped in to take over medical care, they started arguing with me. It took me ten minutes to convince them that, yes, I was in fact a paramedic. My short stature and young face didn't inspire confidence in patients. It was an argument I had suffered through many times before, and could practically repeat in my sleep.

Once I'd convinced them that I was actually a paramedic, my next task was to explain why I wasn't going to pull the metal rod out. The object had pierced all the way down to the bone. Pulling it out would only do more damage, and likely cause more bleeding.

Eventually, I was able to secure the rod with tape and bandages and load the injured man into the ambulance to take him to the hospital. It was a job that should have taken five minutes but ended up taking half an hour due to the delays. When the ambulance finally started moving, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Sitting in the back of the vehicle, surrounded by medical supplies, I reminded myself that it wasn't the man's fault. He didn't know any better, and he wasn't delaying me on purpose. He was just in pain and worried, as anyone would be with a six inch piece of metal stuck in their leg.

At least one good thing came out of the delay. The man and his wife had spent so much time arguing with me, that by the time I handed the man off to the nurses at the hospital, my paramedic shift at the Firehouse was over. I could finally go home and restart my day off, only twelve hours later than it should have been.

At least the Firehouse had offered to change my schedule, so I still got a full day off. As much as I loved helping people, video games were waiting for me. I had several new titles I wanted to play and finally a few free hours to play them.

Before leaving the hospital, however, I first decided to check up on the John Doe patient.

I noticed something had changed even before I reached the private room. There were more nurses bustling around the area, and as I approached the open door, I even saw a doctor examining the John Doe. The last shift I'd worked at the hospital, the John Doe's room had practically been a ghost town. No one went in there unless they absolutely had to. After all, there was no reason to devote extra time to a patient that never changed, never moved, and probably wouldn't even wake up.

As another nurse rushed by, I grabbed her arm to catch her attention.

"What's going on? Did something happen with the patient?"

She barely paid me any attention, looking up just long enough to recognize me as a fellow staff member before mumbling a quick explanation.

"The patient has finally showed some reaction. He's not awake yet, but he has spoken. There might be a chance for him to recover."

She was gone before I could ask any further questions.

Standing awkwardly in the doorway, I watched the doctor examining the John Doe. Right before my eyes, just as the doctor touched the John Doe's face, the burned man opened his mouth and let out a yell.

"Meehaw!"

The sound was raspy, and not actually that loud despite all the effort that had been put into it. Just as quickly as the John Doe responded, he fell still once again. Neither the doctor nor any of the other nurses looked surprised, so I assumed this reaction had happened before.

Meehaw?

What did it mean?

It didn't sound like anything in English.

Spanish, maybe?

The word almost sounded like Mija, a Spanish endearment for girl or daughter.

Could the John Doe have a daughter?

If that was true, then we definitely needed to figure out his identity.

My spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of my name being called out by someone behind me.

"Nurse Clary, you're not on duty today."

I spun around to see Administrator Constella standing just behind me with her typical stern expression etched on her face.

"No, I'm not on duty today, but I was here for something else, and I just wanted to see how the patient was doing. Sorry. I'll get out of the way."

Something that could almost have been called a smile twitched the corners of her lips. "Actually, this is convenient. The DNA test for our John Doe came in. I need you to call Mr. Roth and give him the information."

She handed me a file, which I automatically accepted before I'd fully processed her words. "Of course, I… wait, what? You mean Bastian Roth, the guy who was in here a few days ago? You want me to call him?"

Her heels clicked on the linoleum floor as she walked away. "Everyone's very busy dealing with this new development, as you can see. It'll only take you a few minutes, so handle it on your own. All the information should be in there, including the phone number."

Then she was gone, and I was left standing alone in the hallway. My mouth gapped like a dying fish, trying to form words that never came.

Eventually, I managed to pull myself together enough to stumble out of the hospital. I rode the bus all the way back to my apartment, clutching the file with one hand while pouring MM's into my mouth with the other. Luckily, I always had a bag or two on me. No day was complete without chocolate, and in that moment, it was the only thing keeping me sane.

When I opened the door to my apartment, I was desperately glad to find my roommate, Frankie, already home. I stood in the doorway, still dressed in my scrubs with the file held out on front of me like a bomb about to blow up.

Frankie looked up from where he was cooking in the kitchen.

"Hey, Newt. How was..." As soon as his gaze landed on me, his smile fell. "Oh, no. What happened?"

"Mayday." I held the file up a little higher. "Frankie. It's a disaster. I'm going to die."

With all the patience of a god, Frankie took a seat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. "You're not going to die. Tell me what happened."

I tripped twice as I kicked off my shoes, let my jacket fall to the floor, then collapsed on the couch. Frankie's lap became my pillow as I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling with the file clutched to my chest.

I first met Frankie in college, where we'd shared a dorm room, and we'd been friends ever since. We even pursued similar careers, though he focused on physical therapy. It was a running joke between us that we were medical bookends. When someone got hurt, I was the first person they saw, and he was the last.

After years of friendship, Frankie knew exactly how to handle me when I was in panic mode. One of his hands ran through my hair, taking out the hair tie and the barrettes that kept everything in place.

I kept meaning to get a haircut, but I could never find the time.

"Okay, what's the problem?" Frankie asked when he'd dropped the last barrette on the side table. "The world isn't ending, so it can't be that bad."

I groaned and slapped the file against my face. "It may as well be ending. You remember that guy I told you about the other day?"

Frankie tipped his head to the side, dark eyes looking down at me with curiosity. "We each see a lot of patients every day. You'll have to be more specific."

With my face still pressed against the paper surface of the file, I mumbled as quietly as I could. "The PI who came in for the John Doe."

"Oh." Frankie's eyes lit up. "You mean the hot guy you accidentally gave a lap dance to."

The screech that came out of me could have rivaled a howler monkey as I slapped Frankie with the file. Then, when that wasn't enough, I started hitting him with every pillow I could find.

"That's. Not. What. Happened. I. Just. Fell."

His laughter could be heard even through the barrage of pillows. "Yeah, right onto his lap. Ride ‘em, cowboy."

By then, I'd run out of pillows and had no choice but to try and bury myself under the couch cushions so I could die of shame. "You're impossible. Why do I tell you anything?"

"Because my advice always works. Now, sit up and tell me. Did something else happen with Mister Not-So-Private Dick?"

Giving Frankie one more withering glare, which had no effect, I took a deep breath and rescued the file from where it had fallen to the floor. "The DNA test for the John Doe came in. Miss Constella says she's too busy to call him, which, I guess is true. But now I've been asked to contact Bastian... I mean, Mr. Roth, and tell him the results."

As he listened to my problems, Frankie twirled a piece of his hair around his finger. Unlike me, he'd grown his hair out intentionally. Dozens of shoulder length braids hung from his head. When he was working, he tied the braids back in a loose ponytail, but at home he preferred to keep them unbound. He also usually dressed in lighter colors since they contrasted with his dark skin. Altogether, it gave him a relaxed, bohemian vibe that I usually found comforting.

His patients liked him as well. They all sang his praises, and no one ever questioned Frankie about whether he was actually a physical therapist. He looked like he belonged at his job.

"Okay," Frankie said when I'd finished unleashing my woes. "Not seeing a problem here. If anything, it sounds great. You've got the perfect excuse to call the guy and ask him out to dinner."

I smacked Frankie again, with much less force this time. "I can't do that."

"No, you're right. Probably better to start with coffee. Work your way up to dinner."

"Would you be serious for a moment?" I was half tempted to throw the file across the room but stopped myself. That wouldn't be very professional.

Not that anything I'd done since getting the file could be called professional, but I had to draw the line somewhere.

"Forget speaking face to face. How can I even call the guy after doing something so embarrassing? I'll probably explode the moment I hear his voice."

I regretted my choice of words the moment I noticed a spark in Frankie's eye. The man was gearing up for another innuendo, and I quickly cut him off.

"Don't. I can see your thoughts. Get your mind out of the gutter and help me."

Frankie frowned for a moment, but relented, and the teasing glint in his eyes turned serious. "I don't think it's as bad as you're making it out to be. You had a klutzy moment. Some guys like klutzy. They think it's charming. I've even pretended to trip a few times to get a guy's attention."

That was a lie. Frankie never needed to try so hard to get someone's attention. With his flawless complexion and charming personality, people easily flocked to him. However, there was no way to say such a thing without sounding bitter, so I kept the thought to myself. Usually, it didn't bother me how much easier Frankie found the whole dating process. In the end, he'd had just as many boyfriends as I had, which was exactly none. We were both too busy with our hectic jobs to focus on much else.

The difference between us just chaffed a little after I'd made such a fool of myself in front of someone so attractive. I wished I could laugh it off as easily as Frankie did.

"No way." I shook my head. "Some people might think klutzy is cute, but not this guy. He's far too..."

I vaguely waved my hands in front of me, trying to capture the shape of everything that was Bastian Roth. The man had a constant air of intensity about him, even when he wasn't doing anything, and when he looked me in the eye, I thought my organs had melted.

He was tall too, and obviously strong. I'd gotten a good feel of the muscle under his clothes when I'd fallen on him. The man could easily pick me up, hold me against the wall and...

Nope. I stopped that train of thought before it even started. Now was not the time to get distracted by hormones.

"There's just no way. I'll call him, tell him what he needs to know, then hang up. Two minutes. Maybe less. Then it's done."

I expected Frankie to argue more, but instead he sighed and stood from the couch. Confused, I watched him leave in silence, only for him to return a moment later and hand me a small piece of paper.

"All right. I didn't want to have to do this, but I'm turning in one of my coupons."

"What? No, you can't do that."

I snatched the paper from him. Handwritten on it were the words ‘Anything Coupon'. We first started exchanging these coupons back during our college days, when we were too broke to afford proper birthday or Christmas presents. We didn't need them anymore, and mostly kept them around for the sake of nostalgia, but we still honored the promise behind them.

"We're supposed to use these for selfish things, like making the other person do the dishes, or choosing what takeout to get for dinner."

I tried to give the coupon back, but Frankie shoved it into my hands.

"This is selfish. If you get laid, maybe you'll stop whining so much. I'm saving my eardrums."

He stuck his tongue out at me to show he was joking, not that I needed any reassurance. Frankie could be just as annoying as me when he wanted to be. It's why we got along so well.

"Fine." I ripped the coupon in half. "I'll do it. But when he turns me down, I'm eating all the ice cream and there's nothing you can do about it."

Frankie snorted. "You do that anyway."

Then, he handed me my phone.

I stared at the screen, hoping it would suddenly burst into flames.

Why couldn't it have broken when I dropped it the other day?

Then I'd have an excuse not to call.

My fingers were numb as I punched in the numbers. The phone rang, and I held it up to my ear as delicately as I could.

"Hello? Who's this?"

I recognized the voice as soon as I heard it. That was definitely him. A shiver ran down my spine with a mixture of pleasure and shame that sat heavy in my belly.

"Hi. Um, this is Newton Clary. From the hospital."

"Newton?"

I held the phone away from my ear and mimed hitting my head against something.

Why had I introduced myself with my full name?

I never used my full name. It sounded so pretentious.

"Newt," I corrected myself. "We met when you came in to see the John Doe from the warehouse fire."

"I remember."

His words were sparse, with little inflection.

He remembered me, but did he remember me in a good way or a bad one?

I couldn't tell, and it made me even more nervous.

"Right, so, the DNA test came in."

A moment of silence passed. This was it. I needed to ask him out. My mouth moved, but no sound came out.

Beside me, Frankie waved me on, urging me to say something.

I could practically feel the confusion emanating from the other side of the phone.

"So, can you tell me the results?"

The way he phrased the question "can you" instead of "will you" sparked an idea in my brain. It was probably a stupid idea, but I had nothing else, so I ran with it.

"Well, unfortunately I can't divulge information like this over an open line. Medical privacy, you know. So, I need to tell you face to face. There's a coffee shop near the hospital where we could meet up. Or somewhere else, if that's not convenient for you. It doesn't even have to be a coffee shop. We can go anywhere you like."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Frankie gesturing across his own throat in a clear gesture to stop. I bit my tongue against the torrent of words that wanted to spill out of me. The more nervous I was, the faster I talked. It was a bad habit I'd had since childhood and had gotten me into trouble plenty of times.

I held my breath, waiting for an answer. The silence persisted so long that for a moment I thought the line had disconnected.

Nope. Still connected. There was just no noise coming from the other side of the line. Not even the sound of breathing.

Finally, after several agonizing moments, Bastian responded. "All right. I can meet you. Name a place and I'll be there."

The moment I heard those words, part of my brain drifted off into the clouds. I gave him the address of the first coffee shop I thought of close to the hospital, and we agreed on a time and place to meet. When it was done and I hung up, I stared at Frankie in shock.

"He said yes."

Frankie hummed and rolled his head back and forth on his shoulders. "Well, technically you didn't actually ask him out. You asked him to meet you. There's a difference."

"I don't care." At this point, I was practically shouting. "He said yes. After everything I did, he still said yes. Oh my god, that means I'm going to have to talk to him. I... I... I can't think about this right now."

There was only so much emotional whiplash my mind could take in one day, and I had reached my limit. I needed to not think for a while.

Turning on the game console attached to the television, I picked up one of the controllers and tossed the other to Frankie. "Here. I need a second player for this new game I just got."

Frankie looked at the controller, then looked at me, then back at the controller. I could see the wheels turning in his head.

"Fine." He relented and reclined back against the couch to face the screen. "But we're not done talking about this. We need to make a plan. Date outfit. Conversation starts. Things like that."

"Plan later. Games now."

In the end, I got a few hours of reprieve to let myself recover from the excitement of the day. By the time we got back around to discussing my upcoming sort-of date with Bastian Roth, I was actually feeling more excited than nervous.

Well, no, that was a lie. I was still mostly nervous, but there was excitement as well. The good kind that made my stomach feel fluttery.

When the next day rolled around, and I opened the door to the coffee shop, my fingers couldn't stop twitching. There wasn't even any caffeine in my system yet, and I already felt over-energized. Especially, when I looked across the coffee shop and saw Bastian's familiar figure sitting in a chair on the far side of the room.

Seeing him there, I realized I'd made a mistake in my choice of coffee shop. I hadn't been thinking clearly and just picked my favorite place. Cool Beans had once been a comic book shop. The place almost went out of business until the owner got the idea to turn it into a coffee shop decorated with nerdy memorabilia. It even still sold comics along with coffee and pastries, and a line of vintage arcade machines stood along the back wall waiting to eat people's quarters.

It was a place where I felt comfortable, and a place where someone like Bastian Roth absolutely did not belong. Dressed in a long black coat, flatteringly tight black t-shirt, black jeans, and fancy leather boots, he looked like the hero of a spy movie who had accidentally wandered into a kid's cartoon.

I was also really regretting my choice of outfit. Frankie had insisted that I wear the clothes I liked best. It would make me more comfortable, and there was no point in presenting a false persona. I'm a weird little nerd, and Bastian needed to be aware of that from the start.

It had sounded so logical when Frankie was explaining it, but now, looking down at myself, I felt a bit ridiculous. The orange rain jacket was already loud enough, but then I'd paired it with a lilac shirt that didn't match at all.

The worst offender, however, was my hat. It had been a gift from my grandmother for my sixth birthday. The crochet creation had been made to look like a chipmunk, with big cartoon eyes and furry little ears. It was my favorite for rainy days because the two paw-shaped flaps on the side kept my ears warm.

I'd felt comfortable when I left my apartment, but seeing Bastian sitting there waiting for me, a new wave of embarrassment left me feeling hot and cold at the same time.

Well, too late to turn back now. All I could do was charge forward.

First, however, I made a quick stop at the counter to pick up a drink and several pastries. When all else failed, I could always rely on stress eating to cheer me up.

"Hey," I greeted as I sat down in the seat across from Bastian. "Thanks, um... thanks for meeting me."

He nodded, tipping his half-finished drink at me. "I should be thanking you. You're the one bringing me the info I need."

Right. The reason we were here. This wasn't really a date. Just an exchange of information.

Caught up in the excitement of meeting with Bastian again, I hadn't actually looked at the DNA results. I pulled the file out of my bag and flipped it open on the table so we could both see the contents.

There, written right at the very top of the first page, was the answer Bastian had been waiting for.

0% match.

The John Doe lying in my hospital was not the brother of Bastian's client.

Bastian stared at the words for a moment, then took the time to leaf through the other pages before snapping the file closed.

"Well, I'm not surprised. It would have been too easy if the man we're looking for just showed up like that. Thanks again for bringing this. Now I can start looking elsewhere."

I nodded, while trying not to let my disappointment show. His words sounded like a dismissal. Now that he had what he wanted, he had no reason to stick around, and I certainly wasn't enough to keep his interest on my own.

Before he could say anything else, or I could do something shameful like begging him to stay and talk to me, an alert rang on Bastian's phone. It was a cheery little tune.

A tune I recognized.

My hand acted before my brain could speak up, and I snatched his phone off the table. There it was, right on the screen. An alert notification from one of my favorite Obscure games.

All thoughts of DNA tests and missing brothers were forgotten as I looked up at Bastian with wide eyes.

"You play Lemur Conspiracy?"