The interview was going really well, anyway, and we were just about to wrap up. I liked Thea -- she liked me. I had a tattoo -- so did she. She had taste, so did I.
"Do you mind if I make a quick phone call before I leave?"
"No, not at all," she said and gestured to her phone.
I dialed the number.
"Fran?"
"Mike??"
His breathing was labored and his voice was strange.
"Can you take me to the doctor's office? I think I fucked up my knee."
Now, I really felt like a heel. I hadn't even wished him good luck before he left for his audition!!!!!
"What happened? Are you okay? Where are you?" The questions spewed out of me.
"I'm okay, I just need to get to the doc's office."
I flagged a pen and wrote down his info. "Okay, I'll be right there -- yeah, like 15-20 minutes.....okay. Just don't do anything stupid before I get there."
"That was really stupid, Mike," commented Eric as he took a quick first look at Mike's knee, which was at this point, wrapped in ice.
"I danced great. They were gonna hire me, man."
"You couldn't wait another week?
"It wasn't the same knee!" I found myself arguing for Mike.
"My point exactly. When you went on the floor today, you compensated for one injury by favoring the other leg. You landed everything on the left leg, didn't you?"
"Well, yeah." Mike didn't argue.
"We need to take a look at what's happening inside this mess." said Eric officiously. Are you gonna wait?"
I looked at Mike, in pain. "Yeah. I'll be here. Don't worry, Mike. I've got time."
He looked really grateful; and then he said, "How'd your interview go? With the design place?"
It took me by surprise. "Uhmmm, it was fine. Go!" I said, avoiding anymore conversation, and waved them off. 
