Emergency Room
Part Seven
By Gary Schneeberger
TheSchnays@cs.com

"So, what's going on around there?"

The familiar voice on the other end of the line soothed Kerry's anger like a blanketful of balm, saving Randi, at least momentarily, from yet another chewing-out for letting the phone ring and ring and ring without even looking up from her computer screen.

"Carter, how are you?"

"Fine, just fine," Carter said, sounding as chipper as the chipper Carter of old, the pre-Valentine's Day Carter, the pre-six-inch butcher knife plunged into his back like he was a capon and Sobricki was Emeril Lagasse Carter. "Feeling better every day."

"That is so good to hear. We've been worried about you."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry about that. Sorry about causing such a scene. About being so mad at everybody. Sorry about ..."

He didn't know quite how to say it.

"We know, John. As long as you're getting better."

"Oh, I am. Much better. Been going to NA meetings and getting a lot of things straight with the counselors."

The spreading span of Kerry's smile made her face feel fat.

"That is so good to hear," she repeated.

"Enough about me, though. How are things around there?" he repeated.

The contracting span of Kerry's smile made her face feel like Calista Flockhart.

"Well, today hasn't been the best of days."

"What's going on?"

"Well, the board cut a deal with NBC for them to make a movie about the E.R., our E.R. The cast and some of the crew have been here all day doing research."

"It's about us? They don't know about ..."

Again, he didn't know quite how to say it.

"No, not at all. Romano tried to make it sound like they wrote your character out because of ..."

She didn't now quite how to say it, either.

" ... but the producer told me it was because the actor is on an extended honeymoon."

"Really? Who was supposed to play me?"

"Someone named Noah something."

"Wyle," Randi offered, eavesdropping as usual. "He's hot."

"Noah Wyle," Kerry said into the phone. "Randi said he's-"

"I heard," Carter said with a chuckle. "So, how's everybody taking it?"

"Well, Peter almost got in a fight with the guy who's playing him, I guess ..."

Wonder if he had any better luck knocking Benton off his feet than I did? Carter thought.

" ... Elizabeth thinks the woman who's playing her is a bitch...
"

Her mother got the part?

" ... I'm not sure how it went with Luka, but something must have happened because he's walking around with a new hairdo... "

You mean he finally washed it?

" ... Malucci's being Malucci because his actor didn't make the trip and he's trying to offer some advice on how to play him, anyway... "

Well, every good TV movie does need an oops-I-just-drank-breast-milk scene.

" ... And Mark -- well, he's been doing his best to avoid the guy playing him."

"Who is it?"

"Anthony Edwards."

Oh, God. The guy from "Revenge of the Nerds?" I hope I left enough Fentanyl behind for him.

"How about you? Who's playing you?"

"Someone I'd never heard of. Laura ... Inn-is? Malucci tells me she used to play the wife of that stupid mechanic on 'Wings.' "

Man, I hope somebody takes pictures of the limping lessons.

"I'm supposed to talk to her in a few minutes."

"Well, I won't keep you any longer, then. Good luck, Dr. Weaver, and thanks."

"Don't thank me until after I talk to Romano a few more times, John. You know how he can be."



Romano ignored the knock on the door, as was his custom, so that whoever's knuckles were doing the rapping would have to knock again. How else would anyone around here understand what a busy, important man he was, after all?

He centered himself in the chair behind his desk, testing to see if the two extra inches he'd raised it that morning had provided
sufficient elevation for someone in his exalted position. They hadn't, he decided, so he leaned down to adjust himself another inch off the floor when the follow-up knock came.

Ah. Perfection.

"Come in."

"Hi, Dr. Romano. Is this a good time?"

"Sure, Paul. Come on in and have a seat."

McCrane struggled to close the door behind him, trying not to spill the four-inch-thick sheaf of papers under his arm, and settled in the right-most chair of the two in front of the desk. Romano felt a bit like one of those TV news helicopters that track freeway chases, what with the sprawling vantage point his perch provided.

"So, how have we been treating you?"

"It's been really fascinating. Just watching what those doctors do down there -- it's amazing."

"Yes, we do have quite the talented team here at County. Not that I want to take credit for any of that, mind you, but you can
judge the quality of an organization's leadership from observing the quality of the organization's little people."

"Yes, I'm sure you can."

"So, tell me what you need. My life's an open book."

"And a big one, too," McCrane responded, unable to completely sheathe his smirk as he tapped the four-inch-thick sheaf of
papers in his lap. "Thanks for all the background material. Exhaustive stuff, really. I mean, kindergarten report cards ..."

"Just wanted to help out," Romano said.

Smart ass, Romano thought.

"One thing I read in here kind of piqued my interest. Somebody quoted in one of the profiles refers to you as The Rocket, but I
couldn't find anything that explained why they call you that."

Romano felt his face flush.

"Oh, that's not a very interesting story."

"I'm sure it is. I've found you can really tell a lot about people from what their nicknames mean."

Good thing he can't see how red the top of my head is getting from down there, Romano thought.

"Well, it's not really a nickname, per se. Hardly anybody really calls me that anymore."

Romano thought his tone was sufficiently modest, but he wasn't sure. What exactly did modesty sound like coming out of his
mouth, anyway?

"C'mon. I'm sure it's fascinating."

Fascinating, huh? Funny, he'd never considered it fascinating that an old girlfriend christened him The Rocket because "He would blast off after 10 seconds" and "His thrusters always failed on re-entry." And he'd never thought it fascinating that she told all her friends, who told some of his friends, and that there were still some pains in the ass from his residency days who thought it was side-splitting sport to taunt him with it.

" 'Dances With Wolves,' right?"

When all else fails, change the subject.

"Or one of the 'Godfather' movies?"

And mix in a little flattery for good measure.

"I'm sorry?"

"Movies you've been in. It's been gnawing at me all day. I know I've seen you in something that was just top of the line."

"Well, I was in 'RoboCop.'"

"That's right. You were a bad guy. Everett or Emmett or something. You kicked ass in that movie."

"Emil. Thank you."

"Yes, RoboCop. But there's something else, too. Something that...won an Oscar?"

Always room for an extra helping of flattery.

"Uh, well ... no. Unless you're thinking about Fame. That won a Best Song award."

"Right. Fame. You were ... uh ... the kid who played the piano, right? The cool kid whose dad drove a cab?"

He rubbed his hand over his head and smiled.

"Of course, you looked a little different then. Mother Nature does have a way of catching up with us, doesn't she?"

"Well, no, I wasn't Bruno. I was-"

And then it hit him. Slapped him hard across the face, like all those coeds did when he "accidentally" rubbed up against them
back in med school, back when he first saw the movie about those kids who were "gonna live forever."

"The fag?"

"Well, yes, Montgomery was-"

"The crying fag?"

"It .. uh ... was an emotional-"

"The crying fag who sang that stupid song?"

"Actually ... um ... I wrote that song myself."

"Well, it's a good thing you stuck with the acting gig, then, isn't it?"

Romano tried to stop the words from cueing up in his head, raced to clamp his mind closed like he'd clamped all those aortas
through the years, but he was a half-second too slow to stop this bleeding.

Make that bleating.

Is it okay if I call you mine?
Just for a time...
And I will be just fine
If I know that you know that I'm wanting
Needing your love....

"Dr. Romano?"

If I ask of you is it all right
If I ask you to hold me tight
Through a cold dark night
Cause there may be a cloudy day in sight
And I need to let you know that I might
Be needing your love...

"Are you OK?"

And what I'm trying to say isn't really new...
It's just the things that happen to me
When I'm reminded of you...

"Should I call someone from downstairs?"

Like when I hear your name,
Or see a place that you've been -
Or see a picture of your grin,
Or pass a house that you've been in,
One time or another.
It sets off something in me I can't explain.
And I can't wait to see you again.
Oh, babe, I love your love...

He applied the clamp forcefully this time, before his thoughts could push the "replay" button. What the hell was the board thinking when they agreed to this asinine project?

"OK, so you want to know how to play me, huh? Simple. I'm like a father to these people. Loving. Nurturing. Understanding.
Forgiving. Like all fathers, all I want is the best for my children."

He paused when he realized what he was saying, and who he was saying it to.

"Not that someone with your resume would understand how that feels."

Knock-knock.

Romano couldn't invite the interruption into his office fast enough.

"Come in."

"Robert, I was wondering if I could talk to you after you've finished up here."

"Mark, come on in."

Mark looked apologetically at McCrane.

"No, really, Robert. It can wait until you've finished."

"Nonsense, my boy," Romano responded, faking a paternal tone as badly as he had feigned a modest one and rising from his chair as gracefully as he could given the fact that his feet didn't quite touch the floor. "What could be more important than meeting the needs of one of my children?"

Am I in the wrong office? Mark wondered.

"Really, sometime today is fine."

"You're still upset about this movie, aren't you?" he soothed, sliding his arm around Mark's shoulder.

Am I in the wrong hospital? Mark wondered.

"I'm sure Paul will understand that we need to take care of this right away. Can't have one of my kids wandering around here in
turmoil, can I?"

McCrane nodded confused assent and stood to leave, pinning the four-inch-thick sheaf of papers back under his arm. He and Mark exchanged puzzled looks, both oblivious to the gaping grin pasted on Romano's face, as he made his way through the door.

"Get out of my office, Dr. Greene," Romano seethed, snatching his arm back as if Mark's shoulders were a hot stove as soon as the door swung shut.

Whew, I am in the right hospital and the right office, Mark thought.

"Look, Robert, I just want you to know I'm not-"

"Oh, get off it, Mark. You're whimpering around here like you got dealt the worst hand in this poker game because the guy from 'Revenge of the Nerds' is playing you? Trust me, you aren't that bad off."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say you should be happy you aren't holding any queens, OK?"

NEXT TIME ON "EMERGENCY ROOM": Laura Innes seeks a little advice on the finer points of "crutching."