Chapter 9 — 2 Broke Sisters
Down in the lower level of a New York subway station, a tiny clinic—its walls plastered with old ads—flickered beneath cheap incandescent lighting.
Inside, there was only one doctor. A single patient sat in the corner, blowing on a wound on his arm like that would fix everything.
Caroline stepped in carefully, forcing a smile like confidence could disinfect the place.
"It's not that bad… not that bad… it's really not that bad…"
Max swept her eyes across the room like she was assessing a disaster zone.
"Yep. A clinic inside a subway station. And somehow this one counts as 'nice.'"
Max leaned closer to Caroline and whispered, "Seriously… how have you not run out screaming yet?"
"I don't have a choice." Caroline hugged her purse tight. "I have no money and no insurance. I have to adapt to Third World conditions."
Max snorted. "This isn't Third World. This is the underworld. The only good news is—there's bulletproof glass."
Caroline followed her finger. "And there's a bullet stuck in it."
Max nodded. "Well. At least that means the glass works."
Caroline glanced at the deserted front desk. "It says we're supposed to register."
On the counter lay a greasy, shiny sign-in book. The cover proudly read:
WE CARE ABOUT YOUR HEALTH
Caroline opened it.
Inside were a pizza coupon… and several strands of mystery hair.
"I think they really do care," Max said. "About pizza."
Max couldn't help asking, "Why don't you just use the cupcake business fund to go to a better clinic? You know—one that won't give you an infection just from looking at the floor."
"No." Caroline's voice was firm. "That money is our future. Once we start using it, we won't be able to stop."
Max rolled her eyes. "Future? At this rate you're about to lose your present."
Caroline signed her name. Max peeked over—
"Nicole Richie?"
"I don't want anyone to know I came here," Caroline said, holding herself with forced elegance. "I know the environment isn't ideal, but I have an emergency."
"Wrong." Max pointed at the man across the room who was slapping band-aids onto his own bloody face. "That is an emergency. You're more like… medium emergency."
Caroline inhaled deeply. "Come on. Let's ask over there."
They approached the doctor, who wore a filthy surgical mask.
"Hello," the doctor said. "Welcome to the Subway Smile Clinic."
He shuddered visibly.
"Sorry, ladies. I'm shaking right now. I was just… shot."
Caroline raised her right hand. The back of it was covered in a bright red burn—shiny, blistering at the edges.
"Uh… I burned myself. Yesterday I tried making caramel and…"
Max cut in immediately. "And she poured the hot syrup onto her own hand—then refused to come in until today because she said it was a 'badge of entrepreneurship.'"
Caroline lifted her chin. "That proves I have ambition!"
Max deadpanned. "No. It proves you have a burn."
The doctor nodded thoughtfully.
"I have hepatitis C."
That response made both women freeze.
Max patted Caroline's shoulder sympathetically. "In this life… everyone has something."
The doctor glanced at the injury. "I can do burns. I'll spray some white foam on it first. Come to the back."
Max immediately grabbed Caroline by the arm.
"You're going to the back with him? Then you won't just have a burn. You'll come out pregnant, missing a kidney, and speaking Russian."
The doctor continued, "Laughing gas has anesthetic effects. Do you want laughing gas?"
Caroline asked carefully, "Do I need it?"
The doctor stared at her with unsettling intensity.
"If you don't, you'll regret it, sweetheart!"
The two women exchanged a look.
And then—without another word—
They turned and fled like their lives depended on it.
---
Back at the Williamsburg Diner, Caroline dropped into the back kitchen like her soul had left her body.
Oleg wandered over with a dish towel in hand, wearing that familiar, greasy expression.
"I'll give you money," Oleg said, voice low. "Go see a better doctor."
Caroline froze. "Really? You would?"
"Think of it as me helping you." Oleg squinted and smiled. "And someday, when I need help… you will agree quickly. Just like I'm doing now."
"I need to know what kind of help you'll want."
"That's… not certain yet."
Caroline narrowed her eyes. "Within a week? Or within a month?"
"I also don't know."
Caroline's suspicion sharpened. "Is it sexual?"
Oleg straightened as if offended by the question.
"Yes," he said solemnly. "It is. Sexual. This I know for sure—absolutely and unquestionably."
"Thank you, Oleg." Caroline immediately stepped back. "But no. Still no."
When Caroline walked out of the kitchen, Max was on her phone, searching something.
"I remember now," Max said, looking up. "Someone mentioned a new clinic nearby. Cheap, clean-ish. The doctor's supposed to be really good."
Max smirked.
"And by 'really good,' they mean: so far… nobody's died."
---
Rayne Clinic
On the operating table lay a turkey stitched up like a patchwork quilt.
Mary wasn't here today, so the turkey was Ethan's only companion.
Ethan was in the middle of his daily practice.
At this point the bird was essentially traumatized—after being resurrected countless times, it had suffered severe physical and emotional damage.
This last time, the turkey's wing twitched once…
Then nothing.
"Holy crap!" Max's voice exploded from the doorway. "I KNEW it—New York always finds new ways to disappoint me! This doctor might actually be worse than the subway guy!"
Ethan jolted like a man hit with a taser.
He'd been too focused to notice anyone entering. He spun around fast.
Max and Caroline walked in—Caroline clutching her injured arm.
And apparently the doorbell was broken.
"Relax," Caroline said quickly. "At least this doctor is way hotter."
She stepped forward, eyeing the table.
"Were you just… praying over a turkey?"
"Uh…"
Good news: they didn't see the turkey resurrect.
Bad news: they saw him chanting.
Ethan coughed awkwardly. "I was… practicing sutures."
Caroline blinked. "On a turkey?"
"…Yes." Ethan didn't change expression at all—fully committed to the philosophy that as long as he wasn't embarrassed, the embarrassment belonged to everyone else.
Max squinted at him.
"A clearly-not-normal-but-super-sexy guy, and I'm kind of into it… is that a disease?"
Then she suddenly noticed the sign again.
"Oh my GOD…" Max's eyes widened. "Rayne Clinic—wait. You're Ethan?!"
Ethan frowned slightly. "Yes. Do you need—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
"…Max?"
The air froze for three full seconds.
Caroline glanced between them, delighted. "You two know each other? Oh my God—don't tell me you know each other in that way."
Max rolled her eyes. "We used to… go out a few times."
Ethan coughed. "A few times? Max, we were literally boyfriend and girlfriend."
Caroline gasped theatrically. "OHHH—an ex-boyfriend reunion episode! Let me go buy popcorn and watch you two emotionally destroy each other."
"Shut up, Caroline," Max snapped.
Ethan couldn't help laughing. "Max, you've changed a lot. I don't remember you having…"
Max planted her hands on her hips and smiled proudly.
"You mean these babies weren't this big back then?" she said sweetly. "Too bad for you—after we broke up, they finally started growing."
Ethan choked.
Then forced out, "…I meant your hairstyle."
Max lifted a brow. "Oh. That's a shame. It doesn't have growth potential like my chest."
Caroline politely extended her uninjured hand.
"Caroline Channing. Wharton graduate. Former owner of a trust fund, a private dentist, and dignity." She sighed. "Now I only have… a burnt right hand."
Ethan shook her hand politely. "Nice to meet you. Ethan Rayne."
Then his brain finally caught up.
Wait—
Caroline Channing?
Holy hell… is this 2 Broke Girls?!
Ethan instinctively looked at Max again.
So his ex-girlfriend was that Max?
And he hadn't noticed?!
Back then and now—she was basically a completely different person.
Max caught his stare. "What? Miss my babies now?"
Ethan shook his head hard and forced himself into Doctor Mode.
"Let's treat your burn first, Caroline."
He pulled on gloves and leaned in, studying her hand closely.
"Second-degree burn. Looks like sugar syrup—temperature too high, damaged the epidermis and superficial dermis." He nodded. "But it's not deep. That's good."
Max grinned. "Do we need to amputate? Replace it with a hook like a pirate captain?"
Caroline rolled her eyes. "Max. Please watch less TV."
Ethan laughed. "I'm going to clean the wound first. Sugar residue will slow healing."
He poured saline gently over the back of her hand.
The moment it touched the burn, Caroline sucked in a sharp breath.
Ethan used sterile gauze, carefully wiping away the sticky residue and blister fluid at the edges—gentle and precise.
Max leaned against the counter, arms crossed.
"Wow. You weren't this gentle in bed. Or are you only like this with women who aren't me?"
Ethan didn't even look up. "We're not in bed. And back then you had class during the day and work at night, and I was constantly on overnight rotations. We barely saw each other."
Caroline blinked. "So… long-distance?"
Max said flatly, "No. Same city. Just very little time together." She paused. "We mostly met in bed—"
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"—to sleep," Max finished casually.
Ethan's mouth twitched. "That phrasing has implications. We were literally sleeping."
"That's what I meant." Max shrugged.
Caroline laughed.
Ethan gave up and focused on bandaging.
"Come back in two days to change the dressing. If it hurts, have Max apply ice. And do NOT put butter on it."
Max protested instantly. "That feels personal. I like butter—for cooking and intimacy."
"This is a clinic." Ethan's tone sharpened. "Her hand is not a chicken leg. And it's not your toy."
"To me it's basically the same." Max smirked. "You know I treated my ex's burn like this once."
"I don't want to know."
"He now has two different skin tones."
---
After finishing the treatment, Ethan turned to grab ointment from the cabinet.
Max slipped her hands into her pockets, smiling lightly.
"Didn't expect you to actually open a clinic. Why not be a hot surgeon in a big hospital? Getting worshipped by students and loved by nurses. Or did they catch you doing illegal organ transplants?"
Ethan smiled. "Yeah. Running my own clinic is more freedom."
He leaned in slightly, amused.
"Now I can take all kinds of surgeries. For example…"
He glanced at Max.
"…breast augmentation."
Max nodded thoughtfully. "Ah. That explains why you looked so excited when you saw me."
Caroline had fully entered spectator mode at this point—eyes glowing.
---
After a brief silence, Ethan asked quietly, "Max… why did you disappear back then?"
Max froze.
The playful smile slowly faded from her lips.
Then she asked back, "Why did you lie to me?"
Ethan frowned. "I lied?"
Caroline gasped. "So you cheated?! Wow. That's disgusting."
"I didn't cheat," Ethan said immediately. "I barely had time to see Max. When would I even cheat?"
Max stared him down. "You said you worked two jobs—just like me."
"I didn't lie," Ethan sighed. "Being an intern is basically working a job."
Max's eyes narrowed.
"And you said you lived in a basement. But your 'basement' was the medical school dorm basement level."
She scoffed.
"You were a future doctor with a real career. I was a waitress carrying plates. We didn't even match credit scores."
Ethan: "…"
Max snorted. "And you said you were poor."
"I WAS poor," Ethan said helplessly. "Medical school loans were crushing me. I couldn't even buy coffee—you bought it half the time."
Caroline blinked. "So… that's it? Seriously?"
Max hesitated. "…I guess that's it."
Caroline's face twisted in disbelief.
"I don't understand." She turned to Max, then to Ethan. "Max's last boyfriend flirted with her roommate—which is me—then got caught cheating with another woman on Max's bed."
Caroline's eyes widened.
"And Max was still heartbroken, eating chips in bed… and even considered taking him back."
She stared at Max like she'd found a new species.
"So Max—were you having a stroke back then?"
Max snapped, "Or maybe I got beaten down by life for years until my standards were sanded into dust!"
Caroline turned to Ethan. "Ethan, I actually sympathize with you. I once cried in a thrift store, and do you know what Max did?"
Ethan answered instantly, deadpan. "Rolled her eyes and said, 'You need to learn to swallow your tears.'"
Caroline's jaw dropped.
"EXACTLY!"
Ethan continued, now genuinely invested. "And when I was upset and went to her for comfort, she said, 'Don't seek externally. Ask your own soul.'"
Caroline raised her hand like she was testifying in court.
"Yes! YES! She told me the same thing!"
Ethan leaned closer. "Did you ever try convincing her to open a cupcake shop? Like twenty-something grand, manageable—and she told you your brain got kicked by a donkey?"
Caroline howled. "YES!! Except she said my brain got kicked by Chestnut—our horse. Not a donkey!"
Ethan's eyes lit up. "So she is impossible to understand."
Caroline nodded with deep spiritual exhaustion.
Max's face tightened.
"Okay—what is happening?" she demanded. "Why are you two having fun? Why are you bonding??"
Caroline blinked innocently. "Max… are you jealous because I'm getting along with your ex?"
Max scoffed. "Jealous? Please. That guy is a man I used thoroughly and then threw away."
She smirked.
"And honestly? His bedroom skills were nothing special."
Caroline sighed dramatically. "I've heard your reviews. 'Nothing special' is basically top-tier in your ranking system."
---
Caroline leaned closer to Ethan and whispered conspiratorially.
"If I help you two get back together… will you install an air conditioner for us? Our apartment is basically a steam room."
Ethan looked at Max, suddenly serious.
"If you get us back together," he said solemnly, "I'll give you the treatment fee I received yesterday."
He pulled out the check and placed it on the table.
Caroline screamed happily. "WOOO!"
Max immediately protested. "That's not fair! I'm the one who slept with him, and YOU get paid?!"
Caroline held up the check and began counting the zeros with shining eyes.
"You got pleasure too, didn't you?"
"…Fair." Max narrowed her eyes, then looked closer—
And her voice jumped an octave.
"TEN! THOUSAND—no—ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND?!"
Her knees almost buckled.
"There are so many zeros I want to kneel down and marry this number."
Caroline stared again. "It IS a hundred thousand… I missed a zero."
She went pale.
"That's too much. That's way too much."
Then she brightened.
"Okay—new plan: charge by session. One hundred dollars a time. Max, work harder. Three times a day… and you can pay it off in a year."
Max's eyes went cold.
"Or you join too," she said sweetly. "Threesome. Higher price. Might be done in three months."
Ethan, completely serious, nodded.
"I think that's an excellent idea."
---