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“You’re in early. Anything good?”
Becker leafed through the paper. Accidents, stabbings, lawsuits… same old, same old. A flyer fell out as he flipped to the sports section.
“Hey, Jake, listen to this, wouldja. Is this a slow news day, or what? ‘Today, on Random Acts of Kindness Day, being kind costs nothing. For every twenty boxes you buy, ten cents goes to charity.’ I mean, people just like to feel better about themselves. What the hell is the point of giving some bum a box of Chips Ahoy so it takes him a day longer to starve to death?”
If he had one carton of milk to his name, like the guy in the picture, he sure wouldn’t be grinning so much. “Just give him some cigarettes and a six-pack. Or even better, inject him with some heroin and put him out of his misery. Hey, Reg, one coffee.”
The usual deadpan look. “Coming up, Pollyanna. Would you like a teaspoon of cocaine with that? Maybe it’ll put the rest of us out of your misery.”
“Your coffee tastes like crap anyway. Anything you lace it with is bound to improve it.” Becker reached behind the counter for his stash of cigarettes and lit one. Aaahhh, that was better.
“Random acts of kindness, huh? Where do I sign up?”
Becker clapped his friend on the shoulder. “You don’t need to lift a finger. Just leave your stand unattended for twenty minutes. All your customers will steal everything that isn’t nailed down. Not that there’s anything worth stealing in this dump,” he added. “Tabloids and candy. What a life.”
Jake chortled. “Joke’s on you, man. All I had to do was look pitiful, and I scored two free donuts from Wendy’s, and a coupon for half-price char siu next week. Oh, and a free massage for two. Women are really taking this thing seriously.”
Damn Jake and his stupid freebies and his self-satisfied grin. How the hell did a guy running a newsstand get laid every weekend?
“What, are you planning on becoming a cop?” Becker snarled. “Yeah, that’ll make the papers all right. ‘Blind cop stops traffic with cane’.
“Becker, shut up. Twenty bucks says you won’t do anything.”
“Thirty,” drawled Jake. He slapped a ten-dollar note next to Reg’s twenty.
“Oh, come on. This is ridiculous. I’m a doctor. I save people from their own stupidity on a daily basis.”
“Patients don’t count,” sang Reggie. Becker scowled at her and sipped at his lukewarm coffee. He paid his bills, not that it helped the service around here. He wasn’t obligated to do a damn thing to make anyone else’s life better outside of his practice.
******
“Dr Becker! You’re early.”
Great, Margaret wasn’t in. Three guesses who’d have to deal with Chatty Cathy.
“Yeah, well, people keep telling me that. No one died on the intersection today, that’s all.”
“Here’s your patients for today. Mr Kalinski’s boil opened up again. Can I ask you something?”
“No. Go away.”
He glanced through the patient files before dumping them on his desk. It was the regulars today. He’d use the extra thirty minutes to catch up on research. Or sleep.
She followed him into his office anyway. “I bought Gil a new dog tag. Well, technically it’s not really a random act of kindness because I wanted to buy it anyway, since it’s his birthday tomorrow and he’s due in court. So maybe it doesn’t count. Do you think it counts? I thought it would help his confidence if I engraved ‘Break a leg’ on it, but then Margaret told me that was for actors. But then I said that if he’s up on the court thingy, it kinda looks like a stage.”
“Linda, it’s not random if you - oh, look, I don’t have time for this. Did you finish organising the new patient files?”
“Here’s the thing. I was trying to order handcuffs for… um, well, anyway, I was ordering some stuff and I forgot. Sorry, Dr Becker.”
“What the hell w- you know what, I don’t want to know. Just… get it done, I don’t care how.”