“Kris, that’s gross.” I turn the burner off and scoop eggs into two bowls, handing her one.
My younger sister laughs, her dark hair spilling from her short ponytail. She takes her bowl to the small table.
“Did you hear anything about the day shift?” I reach into the fridge for the hot sauce and slide it to her.
Krissy works the night shift in the ER. With the stories she’s told me about gunshot wounds, gang fights, and prisoners, I’m ready for her to help people during daylight hours, but also in a different unit of the hospital.
She shoves a forkful of eggs in her mouth. “Not yet, but a lot of other nurses applied for it,” she says while chewing. “Somebody said a shift opened in Labor and Delivery. I’m going to talk to the manager. My experience at the clinic might help.”
Krissy has volunteered at the women’s clinic since she started the nursing program. It’s important to her, and she’s helping women who often wouldn’t have access to care otherwise, but I worry about her safety.
I shovel the last bits from my bowl into my mouth and place it in the dishwasher. “I’ve gotta get to the shop. A tow truck has a drop-off. I’m going to the gym with Carson when I get off, so I’ll be late.”
She nods, holding her bowl under her chin. “I have a date tonight, so you two will have to fend for yourselves for dinner.”
We take turns cooking, and it’s her night.
I rest against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. “With whom?”
She takes another bite. “One of the docs. He’s asked me out a couple of times. I thought I’d give him a shot.”
I groan. My sister may be twenty-four, but her taste in men sucks. I haven’t liked a single one. They’re either doctors or finance managers and look like complete douchebags.
“How old is he?”
Her head falls to the side, looking at me from under her long, dark lashes. “Calm down, Stone Cold. It’s a date. If he asks me to marry him, I’ll get you a copy of his birth certificate.”
“Does he have kids?”
“Oh, for real.” She stands, moving to the sink to rinse her bowl.
It’s a legitimate question. Turns out the last one was married. “Do you know anything about this guy?”
She matches my stance. “No. That’s why it’s a date. I guess I’ll find out tonight.” She smiles and spins, heading out of the kitchen and up the stairs. “And don’t wait up,” she hollers as I hear her bedroom door close.
I run a hand over my face. “Don’t wait up, my ass.” I’ve been waiting up every night of my life with her boy troubles and girly drama. That shit was endless through high school.
I hear her door open. “Oh, and ask Trig if the apartment in his building is still open. I want to go look at it.” The door closes again.
I grab my keys, knowing it’ll be another sleepless night.
______
The car exits, and I push the button to lower the door as the impact wrench grinds.
“Shit!” Trig hollers.
“If you stripped another nut, it’s coming out of your paycheck.”
He flips me off over his shoulder and tightens the remaining bolts before rolling the next tire over.
Wind returns from the break room, toting his lunch box, and stops beside me. The man got the nickname from his uncontrollable flatulence and ability to drop bombs that would clear out an entire stadium.
His weight shifts from one foot to the other. “What crawled up your ass today? If this place is going under or something, you should just tell us.”
I look at him. “Going under? Are you blind? The lot is full, and so is the calendar.” Every appointment slot is filled and then some.
He shrugs, unmoving as if I have more to say.
