Medical Center.
Cafeteria.
Cristina was animatedly recounting a wild story about a surgery-obsessed doc wearing adult diapers into the OR, and Adam couldn't help but crack a smile. But when she started speculating about who'd be more comfy in them—her or Adam—he felt a little offended.
Okay, sure, Cristina might technically have the edge as a woman. But Adam wasn't some bladder-control disaster like Sheldon, nor was he Howard, inventing a "warming gadget" for movie lines and subtly adjusting his pants with a smug grin. When Adam said he could hold it, he meant it. Just ask his "more than friends, less than lovers" buddies—same principle, right?
Ding-a-ling!
His phone rang, cutting through the moment.
"Lisa?" Adam's brow furrowed. He grabbed his tray, answered, and headed out. "What's up?"
Lisa, his assistant, was fully in charge of looking after Peggy. A call at this hour made his stomach twist. Then she dropped a bombshell that left him torn between laughing and groaning.
"What? Peggy hit someone? What happened?"
"Boss," Lisa said over the line, "today Peggy's sister showed up with her boyfriend. They were chatting, and the guy started getting flirty…"
"Hm?" Adam's tone chilled. "With Peggy?"
"Yeah," Lisa hurried to clarify, "but just flirty talk. Peggy's sister called him out right away."
"And then?" Adam pressed, voice still icy. "Peggy wouldn't deck him for no reason."
"This guy's some artsy type," Lisa explained. "Bad temper. When Peggy's sister chewed him out, he hauled off and hit her. She just took it. I called security, but before they got there, Peggy stepped in and clocked him—right in the left eye socket."
"Heh." Adam couldn't hold back a chuckle. "And then?"
"The jerk's a big guy but totally useless," Lisa said, her tone lightening as she sensed Adam's mood lift. "Peggy's punch dazed him. He started to lose it, but she landed another one square on his face. By then, security swooped in and took control."
"Is Peggy's hand okay?" Adam asked, genuinely concerned.
"Don't worry, boss, she's fine," Lisa laughed. "The guy's locked up in the security room downstairs now. Only question is, what do we do with him? Peggy's sister keeps begging us to let him go, says she needs to get him to a hospital."
"What's his attitude like now?" Adam asked.
"Scared, probably," Lisa replied. "In the U.S., you don't mess with rich folks and walk away clean."
Fair point. Down in the security room, surrounded by pro gear and trained guards, anyone with half a brain would realize they'd ticked off someone with money—or power.
"Keep him there for now," Adam mused. "I'll send someone to deal with him later."
"Deal with him?" Lisa sounded startled. "Boss, don't do anything rash—he's the one Peggy hit!"
"What, you think I'm some movie gangster?" Adam shot back, half-laughing. "I'm not gonna go full mob boss over this!"
"Right, right," Lisa exhaled. "So, what's 'deal with him' mean?"
"Let's keep Peggy out of this mess," Adam said. "I'll get a pro to teach this clown some manners so he doesn't try anything stupid. Old cop I know—hand him over, he'll handle it."
"What's the plan, boss?" Lisa asked, curiosity piqued.
"Nothing crazy," Adam sighed. "Can't go overboard. Just straighten him out, patch him up, make sure there's no evidence tying him to Peggy, and dig into his background. Artists, y'know, they've got their quirks. Plus, a guy who hits his girlfriend on a whim and flirts with her little sister in front of her? Total dirtbag. He's got a fitting destination waiting."
"…" Lisa was speechless.
Not a big deal? This was barely a step down from wiping the guy out! Her boss sure held grudges. Note to self: never cross him.
"Don't worry," Adam added. "I'll have them toss in a wrist-strapped soap pouch—keep him from dropping the bar in the shower."
Lisa had no clue what that meant, but she knew it was some twisted joke of his.
"What about Peggy's sister, though?" she asked. "She seems really into him."
"Leave that to me," Adam said with a grin. "I'll head over early tonight. Prep dinner—I'll talk to her."
He knew Peggy's sister well enough. Back in high school, when Peggy's parents were splitting up, Peggy only dabbled in rebellion. Her sister, though? Full-on trainwreck. She ran off with some punk in a beat-up van he'd turned into a "camper"—no bathroom, just a bed. People called it a "mobile bang shack."
Sheldon's brother, Little George, had snagged one too, claiming it was to "drive Sheldon around." But Big George, their dad, saw through it in a heartbeat. He'd been young once—scored his wife with a slick motorcycle back in the day. That van? His dream ride. Motorbikes were cool, but impractical for the real action.
To avoid early grandkids, Big George put his foot down: sell it or get out. Little George, all bravado, refused, decked it out with twinkle lights, and drove it to his girlfriend's place, promising her dad he'd have her home by 11.
Her dad, also a former young hotshot, wasn't fooled. One look inside that van, and it was game over. Curfews mean squat when you've got a rolling hookup pad. Little George got sent packing and learned the hard way: no parent's that dumb. A van's only handy if the girl still agrees to get in it. He cut his losses and sold it.
Little George flopped, but Peggy's sister's loser boyfriend pulled it off. With her parents distracted by the divorce—and Peggy as the spark—no one noticed the "invisible" older sister slipping away.
If that punk could sweet-talk her, Adam was damn sure he could too.