In the aftermath of her twin sister's tragic death, Reagan Sinclair finds herself in a never-ending battle against paralyzing panic attacks and drowning in grief. Desperate to just survive each day, Reagan's world is turned upside down when Paris un...
Milan: When are you coming to visit? Gracie misses you.
Paris: Soon. I'm just catching up on some things at the Clinic. How are you and Gracie?
Milan: Oh, we're fine, besides the fact that I feel like I need to apologize for taking your place every time we talk.
Paris: Cut that shit out, Milan. I'll always be here for you and Gracie. You know that. I'm sorry her father is a piece of shit, but I'm glad you got out of there without problems. I'll come by to see you and Gracie soon.
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I'M GREETED BY MAGGIE'S flaming red hair when I walk into the clinic. A fluffy black cat ears headband decorates her head, and yellow bejeweled glasses complete the look that is uniquely Margaret Kolovich. The last time I saw her, her hair was fluorescent green. "Docky!" She yells when she sees me, getting up from the mahogany receptionist's desk that has just enough space for one person, and pulls me into a hug.
“If I knew you were back I would have at least gotten you coffee," I playfully mess up her hair when she pulls away from the hug and she attempts to smack my hand away, though her small stature at just four foot three makes it a bit of a challenge for her. She's quite shorter than Reagan who, fuck, I need to stop thinking about. I found Margaret Kolovich tucked away and sniffling in a secluded corner at Club Sanctum after an inexperienced Dom gave her a canning that left more than just superficial bruises. After taking care of the Dom and giving Maggie the proper aftercare we got to talking and just two weeks later she was the Rothschildrens receptionist. Now she likes to joke that not all employees can say that they've met their boss at a private bondage club.
“I thought you were due tomorrow?”
“Early flight. Where's everyone?”
“Phil's with a patient and Olivia has a thing,”
“A thing?”
“Yeah, a thing,” Olivia says, entering through the front door with a wide smile on her red-painted lips. She puts two brown paper bags by the door and then comes to give me a hug of her own. “Thought you were supposed to come tomorrow,”
“Early flight,” Maggie answers for me, turning her nose up into the air and sniffing like a dog. “I smell crêpes. Sweet crêpes.....and cheese curry,”
“That's weird Maggie but I'm oddly impressed by the accuracy. Anyway, I got everyone breakfast from Old Johns,”
“Livy, you freaking saint!” Maggie shouts, rushing over to the door to get the bags of food.
"Help yourself, why don't you,"
“Was that the thing?” I ask, leaning on Maggie's desk while Olivia heads to the back room to change into her white coat and scrubs.
“No. I had to do some donation drop-offs for Reverend Peter, saw his van getting toed when I was leaving Old Johns!” she shouts from the dressing room. “Maggie where's my..... never mind!”
