Easy had been in surgery for two hours, and he more than likely had at least two more hours before he would be post-op.
“Broken arm in three is resting, and the guy in ten who was asking for more pain meds is sleeping.” Layla flopped into the chair next to me and sighed. “You guys in the ER are constantly going. I like life up on the med/surg much better. By the time they get to us up there, they already know what is wrong with them, and it’s just a matter of treating them.”
“Then why did you pick up hours down here?” I laughed.
Layla shrugged. “Life. You never have enough money when you need it. Figure I might as well just bank the money for when I need it.”
I quirked my lips and nodded. “I can’t argue with that.”
“You wanna head to the cafeteria? We can see what the mystery meat is.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Um, I think I’ll pass.”
“What?” Layla laughed. “Did you remember to pack a lunch today?”
I shrugged and logged out of the computer. “Kind of.”
Layla quirked her eyebrow. “How do you kind of pack a lunch?”
“Greta invited me up to the neurology waiting room.”
“You weren’t kidding when you said you knew the MC. How can I get an invite to lunch?” Layla wondered.
“Well,” I drawled. “Greta said they had a ton of food, and you did help take care of Easy. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you coming with me.” I would feel a little better about it, too. I knew Luna and Greta pretty well, but the rest of the club and girls I didn’t. And maybe Layla could help me explain to everyone that just because we worked at the hospital didn’t mean that we knew everything that was going on.
“Are you serious?” she whispered.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed her hand. “Yes. You’re coming with me. If it’s awkward or weird, we can pretend we got a call and leave.”
Layla smiled wide. “I like a good escape plan.”
We took the elevator up three floors and got off in the midst of a feast in the neurology waiting room.
“Jesus,” Layla whispered. “I don’t feel so special being here.”
Club members were scattered about, but there were also a few doctors and almost a dozen nurses waiting in line to get food.
“You came!” Greta called. She rushed over to us and wrapped me in a hug.
“Are you sure you guys have enough food?” I asked. Not only were doctors and nurses eating, but so were other patients’ family members.
“More than enough. Meg and Bristol cook and bake for an army. Well, Bristol cooks for the mafia, and Meg the MC, but you get my point,” Greta laughed.
“Mafia?” Layla whispered. Her eyes were bugged out, and she scanned the waiting room.
Greta scoffed and grabbed her hand. “Don’t look scared. I’ve hung out with these guys since I was born. Leo and Marco are pussy cats when you get to know them.” She tugged her to her side and got in line for food.
“Leo Banachi?” Layla asked.
Greta nodded. “The one and only. Marco is Leo’s nephew. Marco’s mom is Fayth, who is married to Slider.”
I had no idea who Leo Banachi was. “Um, who?” I laughed.
Greta tsked and waved her hand at me. “You’ll meet them all eventually.”
I would?
They had set up a long table along one wall, and it was filled with various dishes. Greta thrust a plate into my hand, and I grabbed a fork and knife.
