Ava stared quizzically at the rich black outlines that snaked around the man's arm. Silhouettes of serpentine creatures littered every inch of his forearm, the designs tapering as they climbed up his biceps. The rest of the tattoo was hidden under the maroon graphic tee he wore, the fabric of which was pulled taut over his muscles.
Tapping her foot on the floor, the 26-year-old plunged her hands into the deep pockets of her white lab coat, finding nothing but crumbs. She glanced impatiently between the man and the clock, counting the passing seconds.
Finally, to her relief, the man standing in front of the row of shelves took a step back, crossing his inked arms over his chest. For the past two hours, he'd been eyeing each pill bottle with extreme scrutiny. He would pick up a bottle, read the label, then set it back on the shelf, seemingly unsatisfied.
And Ava was on the verge of kicking him out. This wasn't some showcasing for medications. It was a pharmacy for crying out loud, and she had a long list of patients booked for the coming hour. There were preparations that needed to be made for the appointments yet she'd been stuck babysitting this intruder.
He turned to her, breaking her chain of thoughts.
Reese, he'd introduced himself as, had been thrilled to find that Ava dealt with this stuff herself. No middle man stood in the way between him and some quality goods.
Ava on the other hand felt anything but. If not for her late father's debts, she'd probably be somewhere in Europe completing her residency under world-renowned physicians. But no, her father just had to leave her in a pile of debt, not to mention the pharmacy she'd have to maintain and the long line of patients that came with it. She hadn't specialized in pharmacology, but Ava had an adequate understanding of the field. Well, enough to look at prescriptions and hand patients the correct pills. What really mattered was that she had a medical license; that alone granted her enough credibility.
So in a way, she was a pharmacist, too.
A glorified drug dealer, Reese had called her.
The discrediting tone of his words replayed through her head. If only he knew how much healthcare professionals worked their asses day and night to deliver the utmost of patient care.
Ava's fists balled at her sides, her eyes burning holes into the man's head. Why was he inspecting each and every pill bottle? He really didn't have the right to be picky.
Not to mention, this was the third time he'd come in here that month, interrupting her write-ups, and asking to look through the shelves once more. She had clearly informed him that the shelves hadn't been restocked since his last visit. Yet here he was. He just didn't seem to get the hint.
She was even starting to think he did so just to irritate her.
Ava exhaled. Everything he did was so infuriating.
"This one," he spoke, unexpectedly tossing a glass bottle her way. Ava caught it just in time, cradling it to her chest before shooting him a glare.
The fact that he didn't notice only added to her growing frustration. She forced herself to swallow back the seething rage and turned the bottle in her hands.
The label read Oxycodone Hydrochloride. Of course, he'd want this.
"Make it a three-month supply listed out to four patients. And do you have more of this?"
"Nope," Ava replied, popping the P as she glanced down at the large canister. She smiled to herself. It wasn't a complete lie. They'd been low on those specific opioids for a while now. But he didn't need to know there was an extra stash of a slightly higher strength in the back. She'd never let him get his hands on those.
