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"That should be all you need for right now. Just make sure you take both prescriptions I wrote up for you, which should be ready for pick up in about two hours." I assured the old man and he nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Ali." I gave him a genuine smile. "You're welcome, Mr. Santo. Say hello to your wife for me."
"Will do."
I grabbed my clipboard and made my way out of the room. I was 16 hours into my 18 hour shift for the day. And let's just say I needed two shots of Vodka. Passing by patients and my team members, I slid my way into our break room. Sighing as I plopped down on the couch. Maria, my friend and co-worker laughed at my tired expression.
"You good Hev?" She asked, concerned. "Yeah. Just need a little break before I'm called into another room. This day is going by so slow." I complained, slipping off my white coat and hanging it up. I opened the fridge and grabbed a water bottle, taking a long sip. "You seeing your dad later on today?" I glanced over at her as she ate the remainder of her chips and started washing her hands. I nodded, "Yeah, I'm going to stop by his new club and see the progress once I'm off."
To the public eye my father was just a successful black business man who owned his own liquor and multiple night clubs. But in those clubs he had a very dirty side. He secretly moved drugs inside and out the clubs and cleaned the money with the multiple businesses he owned or partnered with. Knowing that my father was on the other side of the law often led to us getting into heated arguments. Regardless of what me and my siblings say to him, he loves what he does. Luckily he didn't necessarily get his hands dirty and in the mix, he had his team of minions for that.
"His fine ass." Maria fantasized. I scrunched up my face, "You are disgusting Maria." She laughed. "Girl, ya daddy is a DILF. The ancestors are doing him justice!"
"You're sti—" I was interrupted by my pager beeping. "Lawd, I gotta go." I sighed, slipping back on my coat and sped walked to the next room that needed my assistance.
✺
The sound of my Giuseppe Zanotti's sounded on the freshly waxed floors of my fathers new night club. I smiled at the familiar faces and passed by people walking through with folders and paperwork. After work I was lucky enough to take a nap, eat, shower and dress for the rest of my afternoon. As I walked further into the building, I immediately spotted my father talking to two other men.
