BROOKE’S WISH
The Satin Rose Experience, 2
Sandra Bunino
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Brooke Allaire sipped her vodka and tonic as the city shrunk from her view through the airplane window. She had had her fill of twinkling lights and nonsensical holiday tunes and wished she were headed to a remote tropical island instead of The Big Apple. Holiday hoopla wasn’t on the menu this year. Brooke tipped her drink to the St. Louis Gateway Arch and settled into her roomy First Class seat.
The glossy Rosebud Resorts brochure peeking out of her leather laptop case pocket caught her eye. Next to it was a sleek card with the initials ‘SRE’ embossed in red. Brooke bit her lower lip and wondered if she’d made the right choice accepting such a lavish gift from her new surgical practice partner and medical school classmate, Pamela Gartner. As if she had a choice. Pam’s obstinacy was legendary within the St. Louis medical community.
“Brooke, sweetie, trust me. This is exactly what you need. When the pressure gets to me I head straight to SRE. It’s the only thing that’s kept me sane for the past year,” her friend explained over lunch the week before. She pushed the brochures across the table and announced she’d already booked her a flight. Brooke warmed up to the idea after her second glass of wine.
“Come with me to New York. We can have a girls’ weekend,” Brooke pleaded.
“SRE is something you need to experience on your own. Trust me, it’s a life altering experience,” Pam explained.
Life alterin g . What a strange description to use for a spa weekend, especially coming from a doctor who dealt with life or death situations on a daily basis. Brooke shrugged her shoulders, swallowed the last sip of her drink and pulled the SRE card from her bag. Maybe they offered yoga or some new fad in self-help with their massages and facials. The Satin Rose Experience certainly put her through an extensive medical review, including a stress test and a battery of blood work. Brooke just wanted to kick back and be pampered for a change. Her surgical residency and ongoing problems with Drake had chipped away at her psyche. She was on autopilot. Only a shell of the happy woman she used to be. Her life had just turned around and she was feeling the pain of the necessary changes. Brooke borrowed money from her parents for her half of the thriving surgical practice she and Pam bought from a retired doctor. She also made the hardest decision of her life and kicked Drake to the curb. Tired of his freeloading ways, the last straw came when she announced the practice takeover. The first thing out of Drake’s mouth wasn’t “Congratulations,” or “I’m proud of you, babe,” or even a “Way to go”. No, it was, “Great. Now I can stop pretending to look for a job.” She threw him out that same night. Brooke was numb and didn’t need any fuck-with-your-head mumbo-jumbo SRE may dole out. She wanted to be left in peace to heal her body and mind.
Chapter Two
Brooke flipped through a New England Journal of Medicin e article on her iPad during the long cab ride into the city from JFK when an instant message popped on her screen.
Pam : Get off your iPad and enjoy the city, girlfrien d .
Chuckling, Brooke pushed the off switch, slid the device into her bag and glanced out the gritty window. The city looked just as she feared. Lights twinkled on every corner and the bustling streets filled with busy shoppers and tourists . If Rosebud Resorts resembles the inside of Santa’s Workshop, I’m out of there . The silent deal was the only thing stopping her from going back to the airport and boarding the next flight to St. Louis.
The cab came to a sudden halt and a whoosh of damp city air hit her face as the door swung open.
“Welcome to Rosebud, Miss.” A deep voice with a slight southern drawl boomed from outside, and a hand reached into the cab.
All Brooke could see of
The Satin Rose Experience, 2
Sandra Bunino
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Brooke Allaire sipped her vodka and tonic as the city shrunk from her view through the airplane window. She had had her fill of twinkling lights and nonsensical holiday tunes and wished she were headed to a remote tropical island instead of The Big Apple. Holiday hoopla wasn’t on the menu this year. Brooke tipped her drink to the St. Louis Gateway Arch and settled into her roomy First Class seat.
The glossy Rosebud Resorts brochure peeking out of her leather laptop case pocket caught her eye. Next to it was a sleek card with the initials ‘SRE’ embossed in red. Brooke bit her lower lip and wondered if she’d made the right choice accepting such a lavish gift from her new surgical practice partner and medical school classmate, Pamela Gartner. As if she had a choice. Pam’s obstinacy was legendary within the St. Louis medical community.
“Brooke, sweetie, trust me. This is exactly what you need. When the pressure gets to me I head straight to SRE. It’s the only thing that’s kept me sane for the past year,” her friend explained over lunch the week before. She pushed the brochures across the table and announced she’d already booked her a flight. Brooke warmed up to the idea after her second glass of wine.
“Come with me to New York. We can have a girls’ weekend,” Brooke pleaded.
“SRE is something you need to experience on your own. Trust me, it’s a life altering experience,” Pam explained.
Life alterin g . What a strange description to use for a spa weekend, especially coming from a doctor who dealt with life or death situations on a daily basis. Brooke shrugged her shoulders, swallowed the last sip of her drink and pulled the SRE card from her bag. Maybe they offered yoga or some new fad in self-help with their massages and facials. The Satin Rose Experience certainly put her through an extensive medical review, including a stress test and a battery of blood work. Brooke just wanted to kick back and be pampered for a change. Her surgical residency and ongoing problems with Drake had chipped away at her psyche. She was on autopilot. Only a shell of the happy woman she used to be. Her life had just turned around and she was feeling the pain of the necessary changes. Brooke borrowed money from her parents for her half of the thriving surgical practice she and Pam bought from a retired doctor. She also made the hardest decision of her life and kicked Drake to the curb. Tired of his freeloading ways, the last straw came when she announced the practice takeover. The first thing out of Drake’s mouth wasn’t “Congratulations,” or “I’m proud of you, babe,” or even a “Way to go”. No, it was, “Great. Now I can stop pretending to look for a job.” She threw him out that same night. Brooke was numb and didn’t need any fuck-with-your-head mumbo-jumbo SRE may dole out. She wanted to be left in peace to heal her body and mind.
Chapter Two
Brooke flipped through a New England Journal of Medicin e article on her iPad during the long cab ride into the city from JFK when an instant message popped on her screen.
Pam : Get off your iPad and enjoy the city, girlfrien d .
Chuckling, Brooke pushed the off switch, slid the device into her bag and glanced out the gritty window. The city looked just as she feared. Lights twinkled on every corner and the bustling streets filled with busy shoppers and tourists . If Rosebud Resorts resembles the inside of Santa’s Workshop, I’m out of there . The silent deal was the only thing stopping her from going back to the airport and boarding the next flight to St. Louis.
The cab came to a sudden halt and a whoosh of damp city air hit her face as the door swung open.
“Welcome to Rosebud, Miss.” A deep voice with a slight southern drawl boomed from outside, and a hand reached into the cab.
All Brooke could see of
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