xii

2.3K 71 9
                                    

⚕⚕⚕

S05E16

⚕⚕⚕

"Doctor Bailey!" Angelina called, clearly not in hospital attire. She ran over to Bailey, who had stopped walking down the hall, hearing her name.

Bailey looked unimpressed as Angelina scurried to her, going as fast as she could in heels, while still maintaining a gait of grace.

Angelina took a deep breath, "I know that I wasn't exactly monumental in your surgical career, but I've seen you operate in the OR and I will just say that it was an honor."

Bailey smiled at this, letting Angelina continue. "Even before I saw you operate, I've heard great things about your skills. I also heard you were applying for a peds fellowship, so," she reached into her bag, "Letter of recommendation from the best neurosurgeon in the world."

She held out the letter (which was embellished with a black wax seal), and Bailey stared at it.

"Thank you," she said, swiftly grabbing it.

Rubbing the back of her neck in an awkward fashion, she replied, "Yeah, you're welcome," and abruptly turned to leave out the hospital doors.

"Where are you going?" Bailey raised a stoic brow, confused after her prompt exit.

Angelina yelled back, already at the door, a large grin on her face. "Boston!"

It wasn't that she didn't like cabs.

Actually, yes it was. The thought of putting your life into someone else's control? Unbelievably terrifying.

But here Angelina was, sitting in a yellow cab, staring out into rainy Seattle. She was off to the airport, ready to leave for Massachusetts for the annual Harper Avery awards. This year was particularly exciting; the first of her closest friends nominated for the award she had already won. Twice.

She was listening to her music —Chopin's Nocturnes, of course— as the cab pulled into the airport, where her private jet would be waiting to pick her up.

Impatient as ever, she hurriedly threw large bills (totaling near a hundred dollars) at the cabbie —"Keep the change,"— and walked over to the trunk to collect her luggage.

Pulling her luggage as the cabbie sped off, Angelina was back, immersed in her own airport bubble. Just as she liked it.

The flight attendant that flew on private jets came around a few times, offering different things each time. Angelina's jet manager had hired her, especially because Angelina herself was to be joined by her two Hopkins companions, both of whom were also traveling to Boston.

At this point, she had consumed four glasses of champagne, three bags of peanuts, and completed a 300 page novel in two hours. Sighing, she took out the other novel she packed, ready to occupy her mind for the remaining three hours until her solitude broke. 

With her incredible focus and thousands of words read per minute, she had finished the next book before the plane landed. Her other books had been packed in her larger suitcase, and only a few medical and science journals were in her carry on bag.

She took out a recent journal on physics, published by a theoretical physicist at MIT on advancements of string theory. Rereading it twice over to finally understand it, the jet finally landed in the BWI airport, in the private terminal section.

The jet had to refuel a bit, so she got off the plane, and headed to the airport's Dunkin' to wait for her friends.

Oliver and Tom appeared within fifteen minutes, which was great timing as the plane was now refueled. Both of them wore black tailored suits, with Oliver wearing a red tie, and Tom wearing a blue one.

ace • j. averyWhere stories live. Discover now