"A vixen?" I question.

"A female fox," Bubbles clarifies. "The surgeon-fox has a female fox at home."

"So the respiratory-hen is just a side of McNuggets?"

Ms. Bubbles returns my comment with a blank stare. "Sorry," she eventually utters. "I got confused by our secret gossip code and started thinking about Happy Meals. Yes! The silver fox isn't giving up venison for McNuggets."

This time I'm the one who looks like a deer in headlights. "Wait. There's a deer, too?"

"What, dear?"

"The venison," I clarify.

"You mean the vixen?" Bubbles asks.

"No. The venison McNuggets."

"There's venison McNuggets?"

"I'm not sure anymore," I confess. "This is why I could never be a spy. Spy talk confuses me."

A quiet moment occurs before suppressed giggles disrupt the silence. Then with uninhibited directness and clarity, Bubbles reveals, "My favorite nurse ended it with his lady because she was in a supply closet screwing the married surgeon."

"Oh snap!" I reply.

"Mmm, hmm." Bubbles arches her brow and looks at me with a one-sided face squint. "Our young assistant walked in on them one day. Poor kid. The nurses' station knew something was up when he approached the counter red-faced--doing a weird--man giggling thing."

"I think I met him! He walked me from the waiting room to here."

"That's the one," Bubbles confirms.

I smile as I recall the young assistant's blushing. "He's a McCutie. I was almost able to talk him into bringing me some chocolate."

"Speaking of which," Bubble replies. "Can I get you anything? You must be starving. Do you want a sandwich? We've got a bunch of sandwiches in our break room. I'll steal one for you. Do you like egg salad?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine. But thanks for offering."

"You're here for another hour," she reminds me.

I sigh. "How am I supposed to entertain myself in here for an hour?"

Bubbles taps my thigh with her palm. "Don't worry, hon. I'll come check on you once I've made my rounds."

"You're the best drug dealer ever." With a chuckle, Bubbles moves as though she's about to get up to leave. In an attempt to hold her captive for a few moments longer, I quickly redirect the conversation back to health care gossip. "A supply closet? How cliché."

"Right? Surgeon's wifey is a brilliant romance novelist," Bubbles discloses, settling back into a comfortable seated position. "You'd think the jerk would at least read his wife's work for original cheating material."

"Does the respiratory-hen know he's married?" I ask.

"Mmm, hmm."

"So why--?" My words trail off. I just--can't.

"Some women have read one too many billionaire bad boy books," Bubbles replies. "World is chasing illusions instead of realities nowadays."

An image flashes in my mind--

--but I don't know why.

"The respiratory-hen looks sad," I mention, playing devil's advocate. "Maybe she wants the nurse-rooster back."

"Or maybe she wants the surgeon-fox to choose her. To love her," Bubbles suggests.

"It worked out for Meredith on Grey's Anatomy."

Bubbles shakes her head. "But on Grey's Anatomy, the surgeon's mother-in-law wasn't the Chief of Surgery. And the father-in-law wasn't woven throughout the most powerful circles in Seattle."

"Ouch."

"Mmm, hmm." Bubbles stands up and straightens her scrubs. "If you ask me, surgeon-fox married power, not a woman."

An image flashes in my mind--

--and I understand why. SilverFox is an arrogant narcissist--exactly what my intuitive first impression speculated. This conversation with Bubbles only confirms my original correctness.

"His wife must be needy."

"Nope," Bubbles counters. "Exact opposite. Woman is as intelligent and independent as they come. She's even been a guest on Oprah."

"Really?"

"Mmm, hmm. World lost its mind over her latest romance series."

"Which one?"

"The Home Series. Leaving Home. Without a Home."

"And Returning Home," I inject. "Those books are everywhere!" I pause for a moment trying to recall the author's name, but I'm too overwhelmed by the fact she's married to the man who had his finger in my underwear moments ago. "I can't believe they're married."

"Ironic--isn't it? She writes stories about passionate true love, yet comes home to a cheating spouse."

"Do you think she knows he's cheating on her?"

"I don't know," Bubbles responds, giving her scalp a scratch.

"You'd think she'd know," I hypothesize. "The subtle details of deceptiveness. She must write about it all the time to make her bad boy characters believable. Wouldn't she see those--details--in her husband?"

"You'd think." Bubbles shrugs her shoulders, placing her hands on her hips. "Maybe he's a fantastic liar?"

"Or the perfect muse for fox-author's bad boys."

"I never thought about that." Bubbles rubs her chin while staring upward in what appears to be thought. "Maybe fox-author isn't as clueless as we think."

"But the respiratory-hen?" I question. "She seems smart enough to--."

"I know," Bubbles interrupts. "Not happy with the respiratory-hen at the moment. She broke my favorite nurse's heart. But if truth be told, she's a sweetie. It doesn't make sense." Collecting the empty paper cups to discard them in the trash, she adds, "It's why respiratory cases have become the new soap opera in our Urgent Care."

An image flashes in my mind--

--but I don't understand why.

"I take it your favorite nurse isn't handling it well."

"Nope. He thought for sure he found his soul mate, only to have her rip out his heart instead."

"Poor guy," I say with sympathy. "I could definitely feel sadness when they were both in here." Giving my hived skin a gentle scratch, I continue, "The surgeon on the other hand! He treats the rooster like an inferior."

"Don't even get me started." Bubbles holds up two hands halting any further words on the subject. "'Cause I'll just get angry." Her jaw tightens. "Using fear tactics to discredit my favorite nurse, preventing him from having an opinion. Makes me so angry."

"Trust me," I assure her. "My maternal instincts kicked into high gear when the fox attacked the rooster in here."

"Makes me so angry," she utters again under her breath.

Bubbles glances up at the clock reading a quarter past seven. "I need to check on a few patients. Are you sure you don't want that sandwich?"

"You know what?" I reply. "I change my mind. I'll take a sandwich. Stress makes me hungry."

Bubbles makes a rough outline of her body with her hands. "If you want a knockout figure like this, you must surrender to stress hunger, baby."

"Oh!" I exclaim. "Clearly, I know how to surrender to the hunger."

"Mmm, hmm. Your sandwich dealer will give you a fix. Egg salad?"

"Do you have venison?"

A smile washes away the anger pulling at Bubbles' face. "No, dear. Not this evening."

"Then make it egg salad. Steal me an egg salad sandwich."

Bubbles chuckles as she reaches for the door handle. "Remember. I'll only admit to talking about romance novels in here."

"Got it. Returning Home."

As she walks through the open doorway, Bubbles calls out, "Returning with egg salad." Smiling, I watch the door slowly close until it shuts with a click.

Mmmm, egg salad, I think to myself in a Homer Simpson voice. Returning with egg salad.

The thought immediately detours my attention to SilverFox's wife's novel, Returning Home, and the disastrous Urgent Care drama of secrets, cheating and broken hearts. Why would PomPoms choose SilverFox over McSexy, I ponder. Clearly McSexy is true love and SilverFox is just--egotistical yuck! Is she wearing stupid goggles or something? 'Cause those stupid goggles are getting her lost as hell.

An image flashes in my mind--

--and I immediately recall something I said to myself in the earliest hours of this current day. "I just don't get it, Fiddy Cent. I don't get why life constantly feels so damn empty and cruel. It's like my soul is lost and I can't find my way home."

The memory unlocks something from within. I feel both anxious and threatened--like my silent judgement of PomPoms was actually an attack on myself. "Is my life being mirrored back at me?" I whisper.

*****McSEXY BREAK*****

Bubbles stole an egg salad sandwich out of the staff room for me. True story.

MUSIC: Hailee Steinfeld. Starving. Something inside me has changed, and I'm very hungry. However, unlike Hailee--my hunger is more about realizations and egg salad, not men.

Your vote is truly McAppreciated. Muah!

MarilynHepburn.com

(This is a second edit chapter)