Nate (The Princesses of Silicon Valley - Book 4) Page 4

  “Facebook. I saw she changed her city and relationship status. How are you doing?”

  “Yeah, me, I’m fine.”

  “You’re such a liar.”

  Chuckling for the first time in weeks, I respond, “Yeah, but it’s how I get through the day.”

  Finally, I ask the question I really want to know. “Melissa, why’d she leave? She never said anything. I just came home one night and she’d move out.”

  “I have no idea. What do her friends say?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to call up her friends. We’ll all sit around paint our nails and talk about our feelings.”

  Melissa laughs, and then after a brief spell of quiet she says, “Maybe she thought marrying you would make her happy. When she still wasn’t happy after you guys got engaged, she had to leave.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That means she had this bright personality, but the women underneath wasn’t happy. She was looking for someone else to make her happy. When that didn’t work, she had to move on.”

  “I would have been there for her.”

  “Yeah, but that might not have been what she wanted. Anyway, I barely knew the women. It’s you I care about.”

  “I’m going to be fine.”

  “Yeah, I know you are. I just called to tell you that your friends care.”

  My sister finally gets a hold of me. “You sure dodged a bullet on that one.”

  Almost hanging up the phone on her, I say, “Fuck you.”

  “Come on, Nate, that chick was just a crazy control freak. You spent almost three years catering to her every crazy ass whim. When messing with you no longer made her happy she moved on. “

  “But, why did she sneak out? Why didn’t she at least tell me?”

  “And what would you have done if she told you?”

  “Convince her to stay.”

  “You now have your answer.”

  Changing the conversation, I say, “How’s California?”

  “I’m happy. I’m playing soccer, I like my job, and the weather’s great. No little white line on my shoes from the snow and salt.”

  We don’t say anything. Finally, Jamie says, “Nate, come out here. You’re almost done with your residency. When you’re done, come to California. It would be great to have you nearby.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Don’t, ‘yeah whatever’ me. There’s nothing for you in Minnesota. Come to California. Hey, promise me this, at least you’ll check it out.”

  Throwing my energy into work helps my career. For my last nine months, I’ve been the chief resident. With gallows humor I think this is good since Mariana would have hated the extra time chief resident requires. I’m also in great shape since I don’t have much of life other than working and working out. On my days off I head north to snow shoe and cross country ski.

  ***

  A few months after Mariana left I head to one of the bars I went to when I was single. Sitting in my car, I just can’t get the motivation up to go inside. A few weeks later, I join a couple of the guys from my hockey team who are heading over to a sports bar. Watching the women at the bar, I know exactly who I’d hit on if I wanted a hookup. The thought of a hookup is just depressing; I have no interest in sleeping with random women. I’m finally at a point where I can say I want another girlfriend. I’m just not ready to find one.

  On my winter vacation, I go scuba diving in the Andaman Sea, staying in Coh Pee Pee, Thailand. It takes forever to get there, but I’m not ready to go back to the Caribbean since it has too many memories. On the first day of scuba diving, I meet a reserved, tall, thin, blond, German woman—the polar opposite of Mariana. After scuba diving for the day, we go out for dinner, and then spend the next ten days in each other’s arms. It’s the first time I’ve been with a woman since Mariana left. Lying in bed with her, I know she’s not my future, but I realize that I’m moving on, which is good. Back in Rochester friends try fixing me up. The women are nice, but none touch my heart. Maybe it’s still too broken.

  California - 2015

  Chapter 13 – Soccer Game

  At the end of my residency, after passing my boards, I get offered an attending position at the Mayo Clinic. I also get an offer for a fellowship to the Jacksonville facility. With my sister’s haranguing, I apply to a couple of sports clinics in Northern California. I decide to spend a long weekend with her, heading out in October for interviews.

  On Sunday morning Jamie has a soccer game. Having not seen her play since college, I go to watch. It’s a good game; the teams are evenly matched. By the end of the first quarter, the other team has two hot women in defense; they’re tiny, but fast as hell. I figure Jamie’s going to destroy them. I’m totally blown away. The women on defense remind me of Jack Russell Terriers; they’re fast, fierce, and relentless. These women are amazing at blocking the much bigger women on Jamie’s team.

  Near the end of the game, I can see Jamie getting frustrated. Again, one of the little terrors gets the ball away from Jamie’s teammate, bringing it up the side. Jamie goes in to stop her ascend and bam, she runs smack into Jamie, as if Jamie was a wall. The little one’s out. Watching her lay on the field, I wonder if my sister might have killed her. I’m experienced with field injuries having had a few rotations in sports trauma and the last five years I’ve been the team physician for the local high school’s football and basketball teams. The little terror is not unconscious, just stunned.

  No one else seems to have a medical background so I monitor her movements, casually jumping in when she says, “Can someone give me a hand up?”

  Grabbing her under the armpits as she starts to stand, in my nice easy doctor voice I tell her, “Slow it down. Are you sure you’re ready to get up?”

  She seems to be having some problems getting her legs under her. Now I’m watching to make sure she’s not injured, I also want to get her off the field so they can finish the game. Not surprisingly, this one’s scrappy. As she tries to stand, again, I tell her, “Easy now, not so fast, give yourself some time.”

  Players either need to walk off the field on their own accord, or we need to call an ambulance. As she attempts to stand again; I feel her start to go down. Getting a good grip on her, I make sure she doesn’t fall and hurt herself. I’m relieved that she can walk off with just a bit of support from me. She’s favoring her right ankle. Spotting a blanket by the other spectators, I head that way. Settling her down, I quickly unlace her shoe, pull off her shin guard and sock. Then I check out her ankle to make sure she didn’t injure it. As I work my hands up to her knee, she surprises me by speaking.

  “Wow, wait a second, buddy, just because I might be injured doesn’t mean you can feel me up.”

  Looking up, it hits me how pretty she is. With my calm doctor voice, I tell her, “I’m a doctor, orthopedics. I am just making sure you haven’t injured anything.”

  Knitting her brow, she asks in a dubious tone, “Seriously, you’re a real doctor?”

  Something about this woman makes me chuckle; she sure is feisty. She definitely isn’t flirty. But what knocks me out is her beautiful porcelain skin flushed with exercise and these huge dark eyes. Her features are soft, feminine, and petite, while her personality is fierce. It’s a compelling juxtaposition.

  “Seriously, I’m a medical doctor,” I tell her.

  “What, business is slow at the hospital so you show up to women’s soccer games hoping to get some action?”

  Yes, this women is spunky, I like that. “Only soccer games my kid sister’s in.”

  “Who’s your sister?

  I can’t help but chuckle when I say, “The player who took you out.”

  Her eyes narrow, “What! Does she bring you for back up when she attempts to kill opposing players?”

  “You’re as pugnacious off the field as you are on the field.”

  Her eyes get big and round and her head tilts back as she says, “I don’t know if I should be flattered or repulsed by that co
mment?”

  As I finish with the physical exam, I note that there isn’t anything wrong with this women’s leg. No guy has shown up to claim her. If she was my girlfriend, I sure would be right there if someone took her out. Maybe she’s single; she sure is pretty. Man, this is the first women I have felt any real interest in since Mariana left me a year ago.

  Pulling a penlight out of my back pocket, I check to make sure she doesn’t have a concussion. Her dark eyes are really dark green. My mind spins. How do I ask her out without coming off smarmy? Instead, I stay cool and professional, “Yeah, it doesn’t look like you have a concussion and the ankle looks like it will be Ok.”

  “Don’t you need X-rays or an MRI to know if there’s a problem?”

  “If I thought there was a problem you might need an X-ray or an MRI.” She’s not really a patient, so maybe a little flirting would be Ok. “But, I’m looking at a perfectly fine pair of legs.” I say giving her eye contact and a small smile. “It just looks like you may have tweaked your ankle a little.”

  “How do you know that I don’t have any damage to my spine?”

  “How does your body feel?”

  “I haven’t tried to stand, but sitting here now I feel normal.”

  “Why don’t you try to stand?” I say as I grab her arm in case she falls over. Damn, my whole arm tingles from that contact. Watching her wiggle around, I notice that the rest of her body is as nicely proportioned as her legs. It’s hard to tell with the baggy soccer cloths but she looks slim and curvy.

  “I don’t even know your name—to say thank you.”

  With my best flirty smile, I say, “Nate, Doctor Nate Lombard.”

  “Doctor Nate Lombard, thanks for helping me.” She says with a genuine smile. “I’m Juliette.”

  She has a pretty smile that matches her pretty face. California is looking up; maybe I should seriously consider moving here. “Juliette, whose last name I don’t know, I’m glad my little sister didn’t hurt you. “

  “Cole, my last name’s Cole.”

  “Juliette Cole, I’m glad my little sister didn’t hurt you.”

  “I’m free to go home?”

  Back to doctor serious, I tell her, “I would take it easy for the rest of the day. Ice the ankle. It probably would be a good idea if you take an Aleve.”

  We both stand there looking at each other. Juliette Cole—damn this women is nice looking and something more. There’s this spark. I didn’t think I would ever feel that spark again. As I contemplate my next step, Jamie comes up, placing her hand on my arm. She looks at me, and then looks at Juliette.

  In her good-natured way she says, “Sorry, you’re a good player. I was just trying to get the ball away from you. I hope my brother wasn’t a jerk.”

  In a friendly tone Juliette replies, “No problem. That was a fun game.” Turning back to me, she gives me eye contact and a warm smile that just about wipes me out, “Your brother was kind.”

  I’m about to ask for her number when the other little defending terror comes up and interrupts. Watching Juliette for another minute, Jamie starts getting annoyed and pulls me away. Anyway, I have her name. How hard can it be to find someone in today’s connected world?

  As we walk to the car, Jamie says, “I was worried about you for nothing. Looks like you’re back to hitting on women.”

  Chuckling, I think it’s the first day since forever I feel like my old self.

  Chapter 14 – Revising My Morning Ritual

  While Jamie showers and changes, I type “Juliette Cole” into Google. A link to her Facebook page and her Leland alumni information comes up. She’s pretty and smart. It looks like she graduated this past spring with a Masters in Engineering and Computer Science. This must make her around twenty-four or twenty-five. There are also links to some papers she’s written on k-means algorithms, and The Apriori algorithm. Pulling up the papers, not surprisingly, it’s all algorithms and charts with very few understandable words.

  I bring up a presentation she gave at a conference; it’s definitely her. She’s articulate, all dressed up, her eyes flash dark, and her face looks pale since the camera doesn’t catch how luminescent her skin is. At the soccer game her hair was held back in a braid, on the video it’s down. Jamie interrupts my search as we head out to meet up with some of her friends.

  The next morning I’m still thinking about Juliette Cole. During my first rotation in Jacksonville, I got into the habit of texting Mariana every morning. It became part of my routine, like brushing my teeth. After she left it was a painful habit to stop, I’d always feel like I forgot to do something as I headed to work. Performing a search on Facebook, Juliette’s name comes up. I send her a professional text hoping that I can use it as a good opening:

  Nate: I hope no unpleasant side effects, are you feeling well today?

  Heading out to my meetings at the local sports medicine clinic, I see that she’s responded.

  Juliette: Feeling fine, I guess it was the fast medical attention. Did your sister have a problem with you saving the opposition?

  Well, it’s not flirty, but then again she was friendly, not flirty. I wait until the next morning; I wouldn’t want to come across as desperate. This time I add a little flirt to my text.

  Me: I’m not that fast but I am thorough.

  Juliette: Are you a thorough doctor or do you just have an ankle fetish?

  OK, that was a flirt, let’s see what kind of offer I get from this practice, I just might be seeing more of Juliette Cole. After two days of meeting the different docs and getting some hands on how they run their practice, I’m starting to think that this might be my next job. Juliette Cole is not the reason I’d move, but I take meeting her as sign that Northern California should be my next destination.

  The next morning I flirt back with: I have a lot of interests and my fetishes aren’t limited to ankles.

  Juliette: Name one of your interests?

  As I drive to the medical offices with a smile on my face, I wonder if it’s flirting, or just having a woman that I want to flirt with that’s making me happy? Too bad she didn’t go with fetishes, now that could have been fun. She seems like a sweet, good girl. I think I might be ready for one like that.

  Me: I like playing hockey

  Juliette: Is your sister as big a fan of your hockey games as you are of her soccer games?

  Clever girl. I bet she figured out I’m in Minnesota and is trying to find out more about me. I should give her a bit of help.

  Me: Hopefully she will be soon, I’m currently interviewing for a position in Palo Alto

  About a week in, I get a departure from her G-rated flirty texts.

  Juliette: My roommate’s dating Luke Tomlin. She scored us tickets to today’s football game.

  WOW, now that’s unexpected. Who’d think a conservative girl like Juliette would be hanging out with pro-athletes. Did I read her wrong?

  I’m off on Sunday, after a double workout, the MMA studio in the morning then a hockey game in the early afternoon. I join my buddies at the local sports bar. The San Francisco team is in the game of the week. The weather in Santa Clara looks beautiful; Juliette is in for a good game. As they deliver my burger, I almost fall out of my seat. On TV, they flash to a gorgeous blond throwing kisses to Tomlin…and next to the hot blond is a women that looks just like Juliette. Picking up my phone I scroll to our conversation thread, she said her roommate’s dating Tomlin. That was not a figment of my imagination, that has to be Juliette on TV.

  As the game proceeds, I’m transfixed. Will they flash on that blond again, is it really Juliette she’s with? With that quick flash on the screen, Juliette looks hot, but in the couple of seconds it took me to register the face I’m not sure if it’s really her. After they win back the ball, they flash on Tomlin’s girlfriend again, Juliette is clearly in the frame, leaning with her elbows on her knees. She has a demure, sweet smile on her face. Although, I’m sure no one is looking at her face but me, since her tight low cut sh
irt provides a perfect cleavage shot, and she has an amazing rack. Is this the same women I met last week and have been texting? The women on TV looks like sex on a stick. One of my buddies, hits my arm, “Lombard, wipe the drool off your chin.”

  Shaking my head I point to the screen, “Last Sunday I met that women when I was visiting my sister. I’ve been texting her all week.”

  “The blond?” he asks with a face filled with shock and awe.

  “No, Juliette, the brunette,” I tell him with a smile. Damn, those soccer clothes definitely hid a hot little body.

  “Man, I’ve heard stories about you, but I thought it was all bull,” one of the other guys says.

  I’m now even more transfixed on the game, while I ponder, who is Juliette?

  Before halftime they flash on the blond and Juliette again. All the guys at my table start cheering. Juliette’s standing with her hands over her head and her hot, curvy body in full display in that tight top. Now I’m even more determined to have a date with her when I go back for the partner interview.

  In the second half. they flash on Juliette and her roommate three more times. They’re joking in the booth about how hot Tomlin’s girlfriend is. One of the broadcasters is totally smitten. Someone figures out she was in a beer commercial a few years ago. When I first got to Rochester the poster of the hot blond in a bikini was at the bar I frequented.

  In the morning, after spending a night fantasizing about Juliette in that top, I debate about what to text her, finally deciding on: Great football game, did you have fun?

  My phone beeps on my way to the ER.

  Juliette: It’s always fun when they win. Are you a fan?

  Usually I wait until the next day to respond, but her hot body in that red T-shirt plagued my dreams.

  Me: Buffalo’s my team—they’re not doing as well as your guys.

  Juliette: Buffalo?

  Me: That’s where I grew up.

  Juliette: There’s always next year…or you could cheer for a better team.