course he did.”
Because that’s what men like Bart Thomas did when faced with a younger, smarter and more innovative candidate. He selected the guy he knew best, the one he could control under the guise of training, no doubt. Gage was livid.
“I guess that makes sense,” he continued because he had no intention of showing Mortimer how truly upset he was about this development.
Mortimer nodded and cleared his throat. “It makes perfect sense. The board agreed. The transition will begin immediately. We’ll need you to be on hand in case further press conferences or other media appearances are required.”
“I’m not sure that will be possible, Mortimer,” he said before he could completely work through his thoughts. “These past few months have been a little hectic with my research and patient list, combined with the work on the television show. I was actually considering taking some time off.”
Mortimer sat back in his burgundy leather chair, setting his elbows on the arms and clasping his hands. “Really?” he asked and arched a bushy gray-haired brow.
“Yes,” Gage replied, his tone smooth and even, as if this was what he’d planned to say from the moment he walked into the office. “My brother and his wife have just welcomed twins, and I’ve been meaning to get down to Virginia to see them.”
“Well, the arrival of babies is always a festive occasion,” Mortimer said. “Especially in our business.”
Gage chuckled along with him. “Definitely. So I’ll be completing the proper paperwork this morning and briefing the other doctors in my department on my patient statuses.”
“How long do you plan to be away?” Mortimer asked. “The department agreed to work around the shooting schedule for that show because it was good exposure for us to have your name and the hospital’s name running in the credits of a nationally viewed program every week. New-patient visits at the clinic have grown by thirty percent in that time.”
Gage nodded. He didn’t need Mortimer to tell him that he’d been an asset to the medical center. He already knew that. Which was why being passed over for this promotion was a bunch of good-ole-boy crap that Gage did not appreciate.
“I’m aware,” he replied. “Which is why I believe that a three-week vacation is not only warranted, but justified.”
While Gage had adjusted his hours at the medical center during the shooting of Doctor’s Orders, he hadn’t missed a beat with his own patients and had even been on call most of the time while on set, rushing to the medical center to deliver three babies for other doctors who were on vacation. He would wait to see if Mortimer pressed this issue to play that card.
Instead Mortimer nodded, his cool gaze resting on Gage. “You’re right,” he said. “I’d hoped, however, that you would be available to represent the hospital to the media.”
“I’d rather stay out of the media, if at all possible, Mortimer. I’m sure you understand my reasons,” Gage told him.
While he’d been more than excited to have his research paper published and enjoyed the accolades that came his way in the medical industry, Gage did not do media. He never granted interviews and did not appear for photo opportunities or press conferences. Up until this point, Mortimer had been happy to stand with his chest poked out, speaking on behalf of their department.
This was why Gage had been more than surprised when a production assistant from the television network had contacted him with regard to working on a show they were developing. He’d immediately turned them down, thinking they were asking him to star in the show. Gage never wanted to be in front of a camera again. But when he found out the position was simply as a consultant where he could lend his expertise and still stay in the background, he’d agreed.
“Yes,” Mortimer replied. “I do understand.”
“Well, then,” Gage said as he stood. “I’ll head down to congratulate Ed and then take care of the arrangements for my vacation.”
Mortimer stood. “How are you going to adjust for three weeks without being at the hospital?” he asked. “You are your career, Gage.”
Gage nodded because just fifteen minutes ago he’d been telling himself that, as well.
“I’m going to be with my family, Mortimer,” was all he said before walking out of the office.
Gage squared his shoulders and walked as proudly as if he’d just received the best news of his life, down the hall and back to the elevator. As far as his career went, he wasn’t sure what his next step was going to be, but didn’t doubt that he would figure it out. He always did. For now, Gage was going to see Gray and his new nieces and nephews. He was going back to family, the only people he could ever trust and depend on.
Los Angeles
Ava wanted to scream at her mother.
It wasn’t the first time, and she was fairly certain it wouldn’t be the last. But instead of screaming, she used the fact that she was running late for a meeting to get off the phone with Eleanor Cannon. That was only a temporary reprieve, but Ava would take what she could get.
Coffee spilled onto the marble floor as she stepped into the hallway of the Yearling Broadcast Network. Two years ago, when Ava was just twenty-five years old, she’d walked down this same hallway with her heart pounding wildly, her entire life bound in sixty-three typed pages. The TV script for Doctor’s Orders was the result of a year and a half’s work, researching and developing her idea for the new medical drama. She was young and unknown at that time, but had landed the face-to-face meeting with Carroll Fleming through the showrunner for another show where she’d worked as a staff writer. Now Carroll was her current executive at the network after helping her to develop and launch Doctor’s Orders.
Today’s meeting was with Carroll and Jenner Reisling, a development executive at the same network. Ava was going to pitch her new series idea to them and prayed that the success of Doctor’s Orders, currently the network’s number one show on Thursday nights, would add weight to the new pilot following the lives of African American law students navigating their way through school, the professional world and, of course, love.
She was only a few minutes late but hated that just the same. Ava prided herself on being professional at all times. She’d always had to be. As a woman in the television industry, she knew she had to be on her game, no matter what her credentials were.
“I apologize for being late,” she said immediately upon entering the conference room. “I know your time is valuable, so I’m ready to get started.”
Carroll, with his shiny bald head and long, bushy red beard, sat forward in the chair he’d been lounging in.
“Don’t speak of it,” he said, pulling some papers that had been spread across the conference room table into a neat pile. “We were just talking about the ratings for the season finale of Doctor’s Orders.”
“Phenomenal,” Jenner, a slim man with dirty-blond hair and dark brown-framed glasses, said. “As a first year procedural in a really competitive time slot, you knocked it out of the box with this one.”
Ava beamed. That was the praise she’d wanted to hear for the last year. Actually, the last five years, since she’d decided that writing was her niche. She didn’t believe it was conceited at all to like hearing that she’d done a good—no, a great—job with her first network show. Especially after all the critical words she received from her mother in her lifetime. If she’d listened to anything Eleanor Cannon said, Ava doubted she’d be where she was today.
“I’m elated at the show’s success,” she said and pulled three copies of her newest screenplay out of her bag.
The bag was huge and just a little worn around the straps. It was her favorite because it easily accommodated all the necessities she carried with her daily. Today, in addition to the script, she’d added her handheld recorder so she