For Throwback Thursday, I thought I'd share an excerpt from what has been, and still is, my top selling book--
Been So Long. Enjoy and feel free to grab a copy!
In Little Rock, I slowed as I
passed the office of Cardiothoracic Associates of Central Arkansas. It was the
office that Dr. Wasif Masood shared with Dr. Fahad Masood, his father. Both were
successful cardiothoracic surgeons, well respected in Arkansas. I slowed even
more when I saw Wasif’s shiny, midnight blue Range Rover. I ached a little. I
wished I could walk in there and surprise him. I wished I was his wife. But I
wasn’t his wife and wishing was a waste of time.
The blaring of car horns behind me
snapped me out of my thoughts and made me realize that I’d come to a complete
stop and was blocking traffic. I don’t know why, but I hit my turn signal and
pulled into the parking lot at Wasif’s office. Maybe I just felt bold or maybe
I’d lost my mind, but for whatever reason, I found myself parking in front of
the office. I pulled on a pair of Fendi sunglasses, grabbed my Gucci purse, and
headed into the office.
I smiled as I walked through the
nearly packed waiting area and approached the receptionist’s window. A
blond-headed young lady returned my smile and said, “Can I help you?” Her
southern accent was thick, almost comical.
I nodded. “Yes, I don’t have an
appointment or anything, but I was wondering if I could see Dr. Wasif Masood.
He was my mother’s surgeon, and I need to ask him some questions.” It was a
believable lie.
“Oh, well, what’s your mother’s
name?”
“Just tell him that Mo Dandridge
needs to speak with him. He’ll remember me.”
She shrugged and gave me a
skeptical look. “Ok, but even if he agrees to see you, it may take awhile. He
has a lot of appointments this morning.” Wanna
bet?
I nodded. “I understand.”
I took the only vacant seat, which
was right underneath the flat-screen TV that hung on the wall, and smiled at
the rainbow of patients in the waiting area. I’d only been sitting and waiting
for two minutes when she told me that he was ready to see me. I hadn’t even had
time to flip through the magazine I’d picked up. I thanked her as she led me to
his office.
“Thanks, Paula,” Wasif said to the
receptionist. “Ms. Dandridge, how can I help you?”
The room smelled of the familiar
scent of his cologne. I waited for him to close and lock the door, and then I
smiled and whispered, “I really need your help, doctor. I missed you.”
With wide eyes, he said, “Mo, what
in the world are you doing here? What if my father sees you here? I’ll never
hear the end of it.”
I pointed to the huge window behind
his cluttered desk. “Then you’d better close the blinds.”
He nodded. “You’re right.” As he
turned and walked to the window, he said, “Mo, you’ve got to go. I’ll call you
later.”
I looked around the office as I
stepped out of my heels. Behind his huge mahogany desk sat an empty executive
chair. There
were framed diplomas on the ecru wall from The University of Arkansas and the
University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences. I could
see a picture frame lying flat on the bookcase beside me. Probably a picture of his wife and daughters. I laid my purse in
the burgundy leather chair in front of his desk, and when he turned back
around, I’d stripped out of my skinny jeans and blouse and was wearing nothing
but my matching pink underwear. I tilted my head to the side and gave him an
innocent look. “I should go?”
He bucked his eyes as I slowly
walked towards him. “Um…Mo…”
I sat on top of the desk without
bothering to move any of the papers. I grabbed his hand and pulled him closer
to me. He smiled. “W…what are you doing, babe?”
I kissed him softly. “I told you. I
missed you, doctor,” I whined.
He nodded as I loosened his tie,
unbuttoned his collar, and kissed his neck. “Uh…I missed you, too, but y…you
can’t just show up like this, babe.”
I shrugged. “Ok, doctor. I’ll go
then.” I tried to slide off of his desk, but he blocked me.
He leaned over and kissed me as he
pulled his dress shirt out of his pants. “No, Ms. Dandridge. First, you’ve got
to finish what you’ve started.”
“What about your patients, Dr.
Masood?”
He smiled as he laid me back on his
desk. “They can wait. This is an emergency.”
The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah
