One Life ✓

Chapter 21: The Master Plan Shift

Grace—Dubai International Airport, Dubai, UAE

"Wake up, honey."

"What? Are we there?" I rub my eyes. "Are we in Dubai?"

"Yeah." Everyone's already getting their carry-ons. TC helps me up. "Let's go, they're about to let us off."

I grab my backpack (yes, it's my military backpack that I got after service with the American flag and my name on it) and an extra water bottle. Though I attempt to slide my little bag from the overhead compartment, TC gently shies me away and gets it for me. At last, we walk off the plane and into the airport.

"It's so cool," I whisper. On the way to baggage claim, we see a display of perfumes stacked into the Burj Khalifa, a huge waterfall over glass, and giant elevators.

Again, I'm pretty much unable to reach across the carousel, so I help Tee by pointing out our bags, so he can pull them off. I'm only able to drag one behind me, and even then, by the time we reach the doors I'm sweating. Apparently the number of babies doesn't matter: even one child just make you feel nine months along for your entire pregnancy.

We drive to the hotel in a rental van. I don't expect anything too snazzy, but my mouth soon drops open.

"Oh my God." I stare, wide eyed. "That can't be ours."

The hotel is huge, with a sign reading GRAND HYATT DUBAI. I have no idea how to describe it, but it's clearly no little hut. It looks so stunning and modern, I have to snap a photo to send to everyone I know.

"This is one of the most amazing things I have ever seen." I want to hug TC as tight as I can right now...but he's driving. Safety first, people.

It's angelified and charming and probably a bang-on modern masterpiece. But what do I know? Well, enough to realize that it's very, very expensive.

I raise an eyebrow at TC. When he parks the car and we get out, I have to ask him, "How much did this cost? Be honest."

"Oh, just around a thousand bucks," he says uber-casually. My eyes almost fall out of their sockets.

"Why?" I admire the architecture in spite of myself. "We could have stayed somewhere cheaper, you know."

He puts an arm around me. "You wouldn't be smiling like this if we did, and that's a gift to me." Then, he adds with a grin, "Anything to distract you from that damn pregnancy pillow."

"How dare you." I smile. "All right. Let's raid this friggin' place."

"Seconded," he agrees. We join hands and march into the palacelike hotel.

Bri—San Antonio Memorial Hospital, San Antonio, TX

The news people run into the hospital, clutching cameras with which they click pictures, and hold giant mics. I spot Kenny setting up his Mac. Drew approaches the media, ready to start our complex plan. Jocelyn devised a meticulous setup sure to get all of the complaints out to Texans, then to all Americans so they can have a say. Finally, the watchers will have a chance to initiate a nationwide social media protest (um, #plasticisntfantastic, anyone?) that should spur the Chicago constructors to stop the renovation. I see Drew take a deep breath and speak.

"I know we called you all here because we wanted to announce something. So, here goes: our psychology department has been state-renowned. This is because of our sister hospital in Chicago, not exactly due to us," states Drew.

The media charges him with more questions. Kenny comes forth with the Mac. Drew continues his spiel.

"We would like to inform you that our award-winning psychology services will no longer be offered here at San Antonio Memorial. Our partners at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center have been forced to sell their behavioral sciences department to create a plastic surgery center."

The reporters go berserk now. "We would also like you to meet Dr. Sarah Reese, the brains behind our psych program. She is a psychiatry resident at Chicago Med and will, upon the closing of the department, have to give up her slot. She'll likely be transferred to another hospital, where extensive residency will be required to re-earn her status," Drew forges on.

Sarah's face appears on the MacBook. Okay. My turn now.

"Hello, my name is Sarah Reese. I'm working pretty late at night, as you can see, but my SAM fam called me, and I had to be here." She smiles.

"So why are you working so late at night?" I ask in a falsely curious tone.

"Well, I'm relearning everything I need to redo my residency." Sarah holds up a huge book. "This is the material of the retest I'll take in about a month to find new slots."

"We really appreciated the help you gave us here, Doctor." I nod. "Wait—I heard that the plastic surgery company threatened to bring Chicago Med to court if they didn't comply with the handing over of your psych ward?"

"That much is true. They said they'd charge us for misconduct if we didn't sell our department." Sarah frowns gravely. She really is a treat for the media. "Thank you to everyone for listening to what we had to tell you."

"We're going to stop here, guys," Kenny announces. "Clear out or we'll have to alert the authorities."

The reporters slowly trickle away, still trying to question us as we drive them off.

TC—Grand Hyatt Dubai, Dubai, UAE

We settle into our new confines easily. Grace is taking pictures of everything, super excited. I sigh in relief. She's happy here.

For dinner, we treat ourselves to one of the fancy exclusive restaurants. Grace fawns over the food. "I've never eaten so well in my life. No offense, Mom."

It's almost nine PM here when we finish eating. We decide that the jet lag has gotten the best of us and retreat to our room.

Grace scopes out every corner. "Closet! TV mirror! Hot tub! King bed!" she proclaims like a little kid, freaking out. She pulls out her phone and posts every last picture on Facebook as fast as she can. "I have to tell everyone that my man is the BEST."

I grin as a notification pops up on my phone and I see her post...which has caught fire, by the way. That's just how great I happen to be.
"Trust me, we'll blow up all of Dubai tomorrow," I assure Grace.

"So come at it with a blowtorch?" She wrinkles her face. "Rather dangerous, no?"

I laugh.

Paul—San Antonio Memorial Hospital, San Antonio, TX

The Next Day

"That was one smart move, Jocelyn," comments Kenny at the start of the shift. "Look, we made the news."

I glance at the TV, which displays Sarah Reese's talking face with the headline TEXAS'S BEST MEDICINE THWARTED BY PLASTIC SURGERY? BIZARRE CONNECTIONS TO MAKE NATIONAL NEWS.

Shannon claps her hands. "We have a secret politician among our midst!"

I laugh along with everyone else before a pinging sound distracts me. Out of the blue, Grace texted me. She never texts me.

I read over the update, my face creasing as I run through the lines.

"What happened?" Shannon says softly, coming over to read with me. I let her. She gasps quietly when she's done. "Oh my God."