Nurse Karen DeSalis dropped a chart in front of Raymond. “Mrs. Wentworth, I’ve been telling him that for years, but he doesn’t listen.”
Raymond rolled his eyes. Who had time for love or romance? He and his fraternity brother, Keith Jacobs, had opened the Marion Palmer Free Clinic, named for their favorite first-grade teacher, three years ago in Harlem. They’d gone to Morehouse School of Medicine in Atlanta, Georgia, together and did their residency at Grady Memorial Hospital. When their residency was over, the native New Yorkers returned to Harlem ready to make a difference. Luckily for them, they had help. Keith and Raymond received a three-million-dollar grant from the Harlem Revitalization Group to buy equipment. The city donated the building and donations from businesses helped the men with the first year’s operating costs. Then September 11 happened and everything changed. As donations began to dry up, Keith and Raymond poured their savings into the clinic. They could barely pay the staff, which was why they were on their fourth receptionist in a month.
“Karen, have you seen Keith?” Raymond asked as Mrs. Wentworth walked out the door.
“He’s eating lunch in the doctor’s lounge,” she replied. “But what about these orders?” She placed her hand on his sculpted arm, preventing him from leaving the front desk.
Raymond picked up the chart. “Discharge Loretta, give her meds for the pain, and have her come back in a month. What’s the question?”
“Sorry, doc, I’m not fluent in chicken scratch.”
Raymond playfully sneered at her and then broke out laughing. “Watch the door and phones for me. Five minutes, okay?” She nodded, and then Raymond took off for the doctor’s lounge, which was more like a storage closet with a dingy window.
Keith was sitting at the small table, more akin to a TV tray, eating a salad and a roast chicken sandwich. “What’s up, Ray?” Keith asked, catching his partner’s stare.
“You tell me, brother.”
Keith stood up, stuffing the last of his sandwich in his mouth. “The only time you call me ‘brother’ is when you’re pissed off. What did I do now?”
Raymond raised his eyebrow. “You’re going to stand here and pretend that you don’t know what you did? I got a call that I’m sure you know all about. Some TV producer called me about the show
Let’s Get Married.”
“Finally! I’m glad they got to my letter,” Keith said excitedly. “I thought all of my writing had been in vain.”
Raymond was tempted to grab his best friend by the throat and choke him like a chicken ready to be plucked and fried.
“Keith, have you lost your mind? First of all, I don’t want to get married, and second of all, I’m not reality TV material.”
“Think about it Ray. This show guarantees people will hear of the Marion G. Palmer Free Clinic over and over again. And I’m sure the ladies will swoon over tall, muscular Dr. Ray-Ray, just like they did in college. We can’t pay for this kind of publicity. It’s not as if we can afford it anyway. Bro, we’re in trouble. At this point, we need to do anything to keep these doors open.”
Raymond shook his head. “Why don’t you go on the show?” he snapped.
“Number one, Celeste would kill me; she’s been trying to get me to marry her for three years. Number two, I know the limitations of my charm. I’d be voted off the first show. And number three, I don’t want my momma to see me on TV like that.”
“I don’t want to do it,” Raymond said, “and I’m not going to do it. Besides, do you actually think you can run this place without me? Do you know how busy we’ve been today? There’s no way we can afford to have either one of us out of pocket for any amount of time.”
“It’s fifteen thousand just to do it. That doesn’t even include the prize money, should you win,” Keith said. “This is a great way for us to get some free publicity. I know one thing for sure. If we don’t start getting some income coming in, the doors aren’t going to be open much longer.”
Raymond rubbed his chin, thinking about the clinic’s finances. The books were in the red. Medicare was slow to pay for the services the clinic provided, but that didn’t stop Keith and Raymond from providing quality health care to the people in the community who wouldn’t otherwise be able to get the help that they needed. The clinic had never been about the two of them getting rich. They wanted to help the people who reminded them of the women who’d helped raise them. Keith’s grandmother could’ve been Mrs. Wentworth, a hardworking woman who, as she aged, needed help managing her health but couldn’t afford health insurance.
“That’s a lot of money for a one-time gig. Maybe I can make myself get voted off after two episodes,” Raymond said as he fingered his goatee.
Keith nodded. “See, that’s the spirit. But don’t be evil or anything like that. Just make yourself seem pitiful. You have to win them over if we plan to milk donations from people who watch the show.”
Raymond looked at himself in the reflective material on the side of the file cabinet. He was hardly a vain man, but he knew there was no way he could make himself seem as if he were some pitiful soul who couldn’t find a date. Raymond was the kind of man who made a woman’s breath catch in her chest after she got a look at his creamy caramel skin, dark wavy hair, and shimmering green eyes—which had been known to put a woman in a trance if he looked at her just the right way. People often snagged him for charity fashion shows and bachelor auctions, and asked him to pose for bachelor calendars. Raymond always brought in top dollar when he was auctioned off.
“I’m going to do it, but I tell you what—you’re going to pay for this,” Raymond said, pointing his index finger at his friend.
Keith patted his partner on the shoulder. “All right. I knew you would see it my way. Now stop yakking and let’s get to work.”
Raymond took off his white lab coat. “You work, I’m going to lunch. First thing you need to do is relieve Karen at the front desk.” Then he dashed out the back door.
Many people who saw Raymond walking down the street would peg him as another New York pretty boy player. Though he enjoyed having fun with the ladies, he was also hoping to experience the love that his parents had shared during their fifty-year marriage. Lorne and Helen Thomas never had much; however, what they lacked in material possessions, they made up for in the love they’d shared. He had memories of seeing his parents hugging and kissing every time either of them entered the room. Lorne had always showed his wife the utmost respect and affection, and if they’d ever argued, Raymond wasn’t around. Until the end, they worked as a team, and that was the kind of life he wanted with the right woman.
Raymond was beginning to believe his woman wasn’t in New York. He didn’t think he was going to find her on a TV show, either. Marriage wasn’t something to be entered into for the hope of a big payoff. Doing this show was not a good idea, because it made a mockery of marriage—in his opinion. If his parents were alive they wouldn’t approve of him making a joke of marriage on national TV.
What am I getting myself into?
he asked himself.