Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“I bet you can… that’s because nobody wants to see Dr. Stapleton.”
“Roman, that’s my boss you’re talkin’ about. That’s not a very nice thing to say.” The woman tried to sound serious, but he could tell she was holding back laughter.
“I’m not tryna be mean or nice, Dottie, just stating the facts. Last time I let him mess around in my mouth, he got handsy with the wrong tooth, and then tried to upsell me on a bunch of things that I didn’t need. I’m not no damn Post Malone. I don’t want any gold, diamonds, or four-leaf clovers on my teeth. Is my name ‘Rappin’ Roman’? The hell? I just really need to see Dr. Keith, Dottie. He knows what he’s doing. I don’t want to take any chances.”
“How long has your gum and tooth been like this, and do you notice any signs of an infection?”
“A day and a half ago. I iced my jaw and gargled with salt water, but it did no good. Naw, no infection. No pus, odor, or anything like that. I’m not in excruciating pain. It’s just a little loose and sore is all.”
“Well, I’d suggest taking some pain medication, and coming in to see Dr. Stapleton today just so he can take a look because—”
“Call Dr. Keith and tell him I’ll pay cash. Hell, I’ll pay double, too.”
“I’m so sorry, Roman, but Dr. Keith isn’t going to pack his bags early and leave Aruba all to come help you with your wiggly tooth, no matter how much money you offer.” She giggled. “You know that’s just silly. Especially when we have someone right here that can assist you.”
“I ’spose when you put it that way, it does sound like I’d be turned down, but I’m a desperate man. Can’t fault me for trying.” He sighed. “I’ll just go somewhere else then, until he gets back.”
“Roman, you’re being awfully stubborn. Just come on in here and let Dr. Stapleton have a look. Now what could that hurt?”
“I wouldn’t trust Stapleton to look both ways when crossing the street, let alone look at my teeth while I’m in this condition. He must be a member of Dr. Keith’s family. Some little brother, a friend of the family, or nephew, ’cause ain’t no way he should be in practice all willy nilly like this!”
“I’m going to hang up on you if you keep carrying on, Mr. Wilde.” She paused, then burst out laughing.
“Just tell me the truth… it’ll stay between you and me. It’ll be our little secret. He’s related to Dr. Keith somehow, ain’t he?”
There was a brief silence, a bit of chatter in the background from other people hee-hawing, and the elevator music they liked to play that grated his nerves. “…He’s his son-in-law.”
“I knew it! It’s charity work! Why would he keep that on the hush, huh? People are usually proud of family businesses. I must protect the public. I lied about keeping this quiet, Dottie. I’m going to put it on a billboard to warn the townsfolk.”
She chortled. “Now you cut it out and be nice. He didn’t say anything because Dr. Stapleton didn’t want anyone to believe his father-in-law was showing favoritism, or anything like that. A way for him to somewhat pull himself up by his own bootstraps, if you will, and not ride on Dr. Keith’s name. Anyway, you’ve made it more than clear that you don’t want to see him. If you change your mind about coming in, give us a call back, handsome.”
“That’ll never happen, but you enjoy the rest of your day.”
Roman ended the call and looked back in the mirror. He tilted his head to the far left, and rounded his lips with the tip of his finger, lifting the edge even higher to expose the full gumline. It was distended, and had a hint of purple now, too. He cursed to himself, then gently swished mouthwash around, doing what he could to keep septicity away. When he spit into the basin this time, he noticed a slight tinge of pink swirling within the blue liquid. “Fuck.”
After washing his hands, he turned off the bathroom light and made his way into his enormous, open-spaced living room in his loft in downtown Houston. The walls showcased original brickwork, and the ribbed pillars had been placed there in the 1920s from when the entire building had been converted from a clothing and footwear warehouse, then to a country music studio and bar up until the 1960s.
He slipped off his light black robe, placing it on an ottoman. Now free to move about in only his baggy gray pajama pants, he slapped his bare feet on the glossy wooden floor to reach a small white marble side table. Picking up the remote, he turned the box on mute, then turned the music down, too. The massive television went from one end of the penthouse loft to the other, featuring a show about deep sea diving. His theater sized tube was one of his favorite purchases. The picture quality was so remarkable, it looked as if one could reach out and touch it, feel the sea, wet their fingertips, and smell the salty sea air.