Chapter Three
His phone rang almost as soon as he sat down at his desk.
“Hello?”
“Is this ANC?”
“Yes, you’re speaking to Fox Campbell. How can I help you?” He drummed his fingers on his desk impatiently. It was a woman on the other line. Probably another one with some complaint about some story that offended her in some way. Always so obnoxious.
“Oh. Well. Do you think I could speak to the CEO? Malone, I think his name is?”
“I field all calls for Malone. Care to discuss your business with me?”
“I need to speak with him directly.”
Fox rolled his eyes. Jeremy probably got her pregnant during some party. It seemed as though more cover-ups would be in order. “He’s not in. Can I take a message?”
“…no, I’d really rather speak with him personally. Can I have his cell number?”
Fox smirked cynically. “I’d have no objections giving it to you, but it’s broken and he’s still in the process of replacing it.”
“Well, then. Office number?”
“That I can give to you, but he’s only in his office for about a half hour a day on average, and at entirely random times. Very busy, you see. Your chances of reaching him directly are extremely low.”
“I’ll just leave a message on the machine. Just give me the number.” A pause. “Please.”
Fox spouted off the number from memory before promptly saying his goodbyes and getting the nuisance off the phone. “Jeremy, if you got her pregnant, I’m going to call him off and kill you myself.”
--
That night was sleepless. Jeremy had no firearms, but he did have an assortment of expensive kitchen knives which were a Christmas gift from…some coworker, he couldn’t remember. He camped out in his entry hallway, a few open cans of soup and bottles of water scattered about. No one attempted an entry into his home that night, but he had the creeping suspicion that he wasn’t out of the woods in terms of a home invasion yet. Time would tell, but hopefully he’d be able to sleep at least a little bit in the meantime.
When he next came to, the light was shining through the cracks of the closed blinds, and he found that he’d passed out for about two and a half hours, and decided to venture to the safety of his office to recoup the remainder of that night’s rest. There was a comfy couch for visitors; it would have to do. Once he arrived, he fell backwards onto it, using his jacket as a blanket and his arms as a pillow. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, the phone rang, and the sound was grating to his ears. He let it ring for what seemed like an eternity before it skipped to the machine, which played aloud, much to his dismay. “I hate you, Fox. I hate you so much.”
It wasn’t Fox. “Hello. I hope I have the right number. Is this the office of Jeremy Malone? If it is, I have a proposition for you. Oh! Forgive me. My name is Vera Evans. I run the Mercy Clinic in downtown LA. I was hoping that you could come by for a tour, and maybe make a special report on the place. It’s losing favor of the local government, and we’ll be in big trouble if we don’t get some positive publicity fast. I know this is a lot to ask, but there are a lot of people depending on this service and we really need to keep it afloat. If you could just come by, and maybe do a quick segment on TV—you can bring cameras to the clinic! It would…it would just help so much. Please. Call me back. Thank you. Goodbye.”
Jeremy moaned. “I don’t wanna.” He allowed the drowsiness to take hold of him once more, but just before sleep finally claimed him, it occurred to him that nothing would piss Fox off more than him going out of the blue to this clinic and pretending that he’d taken on a new cause. Fox couldn’t stand places like these—ones that gave extra help to poor people. Just him going would be enough—hopefully—to make the old man keel over and get the hitman off his back by default. Flawless. Before finally going to sleep for that day, he gave Vera a quick call back and told her that he was coming that very next day, with a camera crew and everything. She was overjoyed, but Jeremy could really care less. As long as this visit held its desired effect, he didn’t care what it entailed.
--
The assembled camera crew was less than willing to accompany Jeremy at such short notice, but he had at least some sway as their boss. Nobody seemed to think that the effort was worth it. Jeremy had no real interest in the actual cause either, but he didn’t play it off that way. If anyone knew that it was just some stunt to piss off Fox, they wouldn’t be so compliant. Operations like Dr. Evans’ were questionable in this day and age. There had to be people who relied upon them, but if they did, they didn’t admit it. Jeremy was frankly surprised that the place even existed.
The plan was for Jeremy to show up ahead of time to make sure the clinic was ready for the cameras while the rest of the crew got ready for the segment. In previous years, Jeremy dabbled in reporting himself, and found that he liked being on the scene and delivering the news. It beat office work by a long shot. As soon as he’d discovered it as his niche, however, his father yanked him out of it in order to redirect his focus to management. Why Rodney decided to keep Jeremy in his will was beyond him—he didn’t even want the position—but he suspected some underlying animosity with Fox. They always seemed like good friends, even behind the scenes, but Jeremy couldn’t shake the feeling that the news anchor’s hatred of him had sources over which he had no control.
Today, he would go back to being a reporter, and would hopefully be able to use the controversial nature of the subject to his advantage. This was Jeremy’s corporation, not Fox’s. Here he’d be making a statement, even if he had no particular interest in the cause.
Jeremy passed the elementary school on his way to the clinic, but Shiloh wasn’t around to surprise him like he had twice yesterday. He paused before the building, gazing at its doors before continuing on his way.
A tall man in scrubs greeted him outside of the clinic. He shook Jeremy’s hand eagerly, introducing himself as Eugene but insisting that he called him “Gene.” Jeremy put on his best fake smile, moving through the formalities with ease just as he’d done ever since he was old enough to speak proper English.
“It means a whole lot that you came. I’m a volunteer here. It’s such a good cause. We help all kinds of people. They’re really good people.”
“I’m sure they are. The camera crew is on their way, they should be here within the hour.”
“Want a tour, in the meantime?”
Jeremy nodded, and he was led in. As soon as he emerged through the entrance, a young woman came running at him, grabbing his hand in both of hers. “Jeremy Malone? Thank you so much for coming! It really does mean so much.” She turned to the scattered group in the waiting room, smiling widely. “This is him, guys. This man is going to save the clinic.”
Most of the people she’d addressed waved at Jeremy, while others remained oblivious. But Jeremy didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at the woman who was still holding his hand in one of hers. She was a brunette; he liked those. She was wearing scrub pants with a dress shirt on top. She had a very down-to-earth feel about her, and although she looked like she was a lot older than Jeremy, she was pretty easy on the eyes. So he stood there, smiling stupidly. When she turned back to him, she pulled her hand away (much to his dismay) and ran it through her hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even say—I’m Vera, the one you talked to on the phone. I run this clinic, but I definitely don’t do it by myself. I only have a few volunteers these days, but they’re very dedicated and hard-working.”
Jeremy nodded in a half-interested manner, the stupid smile still on his face. If his mouth betrayed even one of the thoughts which were swarming through his head at the moment, he’d be kicked out in a heartbeat. Probably with a restraining order.
“Well, want me to show you the place while we wait for your crew?”
“Sure.” Jeremy looked around for the first time as Vera led him down a narrow hallway, and for a brief moment he was able to observe the patients in the waiting room. They were…diverse, to say the least. A young mother was trying to keep her three small children in line. A young man a few seats down was rocking back and forth in his seat, eyes wide looking slightly upset. The guy closest to him reeked of something he couldn’t even describe. The unsavory crowd was beginning to make Jeremy uncomfortable. He made sure to follow close behind Vera.
“This is one of the two examination rooms. I know it’s cramped, but we didn’t have a lot of starting capital. Had to get a small building.” Jeremy poked into the room at which Vera was gesturing, and gave a sour expression. It wasn’t just cramped; it looked like a bathroom. He was surprised that two people could even conduct business in such a place. His claustrophobia was beginning to kick in, so he stepped out quickly and gave a sharp nod of approval. “Seems like you’re making due, though.”
“Oh, we are. The wait is a little long, but we’re doing the best we can to serve everyone. In any case, the patients are grateful.”
“It’s not like they can complain, though, huh?” Jeremy snorted.
“Excuse me?”
“Well, they’re getting all of this for free, practically, aren’t they? You can’t complain about a free service.”
“I never said anything about the patients complaining. I just said that they’re very grateful.”
“Well, yeah. It was just a…” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably under Vera’s critical gaze. “Oh, what’s that?” He quickly pointed across the hall to the next room.
“That’s the other examination room. We can’t go inside; one of the volunteers is seeing a patient.”
“So it’s all volunteers who work here? They’ve been through school and everything?”
“Oh, of course. We wouldn’t take anyone not medically trained. Most of them work part time here and full time at their real jobs in hospitals and other specialty clinics. They’re all very busy, so I can’t ask more of them than I already am… And not many people are willing to take this on, so as you can imagine we’re very short-staffed.”
“We’ll be sure to get them some attention,” Jeremy said. He nodded firmly for emphasis. “Let the public know how hard they work.”
Vera’s face split into another wide smile. “Gene was right about you. You’re different—you’re a part of this generation. You really do think differently than the others.”
“The others?”
“Oh, you know. Like the Fox Campbell types.”
“Oh, I’m no Fox Campbell. I hate that guy.”
Vera’s eyes widened. “You do? You’re allowed to?”
Jeremy snorted. “Pfft, I’m his boss. The only thing saving his sorry behind from the chopping block is his seniority.”
“Maybe ANC will turn itself around… I didn’t think it was possible, but I guess I was wrong.” Vera certainly was passionate about her work. Why she didn’t decide to go to a real, paying hospital was beyond him. People of her level of intelligence and compassion were in high demand these days, with malpractice in the hospitals running high. He could only see her efforts here as wasted talent, but he curbed his tongue about that, knowing that it would be a distasteful thing to say. This common sense, however, was not applied to the next topic of conversation.
“So,” Jeremy began, feeling himself settling back into the position of a reporter. He wasn’t on camera, but the interview questions were already stirring in his head. It was like riding a bike. “How long do these people typically stay in your care, until they get back onto their feet?” Vera sort of made a face at the term ‘these people,’ but Jeremy didn’t think much of it. “I’m sure everyone is different, but what’s the typical time span?”
“Well, we opened just five years ago, so I can’t be a good judge of how long people usually need the service. Most of my patients that showed up then are still coming in to this day. It’s a long-term thing.”
“But don’t you…you know, encourage them to get out there and search for more opportunities? Rehabilitate them?”
Vera placed a hand on her hip. “That’s not my job. My job is to treat them while they need it.”
“But if you don’t rehabilitate them, they’re just going to keep depending on you forever. That’s how their minds work. If you baby them, they’re just going to mooch off this service forever.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, don’t you at least encourage them to get jobs?”
“Most of my patients already have jobs. Just because you have a job doesn’t mean you’re making ends meet.”
“Well, if you’re not making ends meet you’re obviously not working hard enough.”
Vera just stood there, her mouth agape. Jeremy simply shrugged. “What?” Without warning, she stormed back down the hallway, and Jeremy followed behind cautiously. “What, Vera? What’d I say?”
By the time they made it into the main lobby and waiting room, the camera crew was waiting for them. When Jeremy emerged, they began recording, one of the operators stepping in as the reporter to introduce the scene. “We’re here live at the Mercy Clinic, where Mr. Jeremy Malone himself is going to give a report on this charitable institution.” The reporter looked anxiously over at Jeremy, who was presently bickering with Vera. He made a motion for them to cut the cameras, but apparently the message was never received, because they kept on rolling. They were quickly disregarded by Vera.
“All right, Malone. I’d like you to meet Ms. Ortega. These are her three little ones. After her boyfriend fathered these three, he up and disappeared without a trace. Since then, she’s been holding down a full time, minimum wage job, and only makes enough to keep these guys fed. There’s no money left afterwards. If any of these children gets sick, she has nowhere to go but here. Now, you tell me, is her situation due to any want of hard work?” The young mother merely leered up at Jeremy, upset that her situation had come into question. Jeremy deftly avoided eye contact with her, and instead focused on the argument at hand. “Okay, okay. Enough of this. Guys, cut the cameras.”
“No, Jeremy, I’m curious.” Vera’s eyes were now fixed on the camera crew rather than Jeremy. What a bout for attention this turned out to be. “Tell the nice people how accessible PhysicAID is. Tell them about how easy it is to get on PhysicAID’s insurance program with a preexisting condition. Tell them about how many other options are available.” The way she was scolding him—and the audience watching the broadcast—she sounded exactly like a mother keeping her child in line. The humiliation made Jeremy’s face burn.
“Cut the cameras,” Jeremy said. His voice was lowering into a bit of a growl at this point.
“Why don’t you talk to Mr. Clark over here?”
Vera was gesturing to a guy who looked only slightly older than Jeremy. He was the one who’d been rocking back and forth, whose eyes gave him the chills. Jeremy’s very being resisted the act of getting near him. “Okay! I get it. You’ve made your point. Not all of them are lazy. Some are crazy.”
The doctor’s expression once more became stern—more so than Jeremy had ever seen. Now he knew he’d crossed a line. “If I hear one more derogatory word about my patients come out of that filthy mouth of yours so help me God I’ll—“
“Vera,” Gene warned, grabbing her shoulders and trying to calm her down. “It’s okay, he’s not worth it.”
“No, it’s not okay.” She turned to Jeremy, her face just now red as his. “It’s because of people like you that my patients need this kind of help in the first place! You’re—you’re everything that’s wrong with this stupid country.” Tears were brimming in her eyes as she struggled out of Gene’s grasp.
Jeremy clenched his teeth. “If you feel that way then why do you even live here? If you hate America so much, why don’t you just leave?”
A deafening slap resounded in the lobby. All eyes were on the two contenders. Jeremy raised a hand to touch his bright red cheek. He had nothing to say. All the while, the cameras were rolling.
“I don’t leave,” Vera began calmly, her hand still poised. “…because I care enough to fix it.”
