“Thanks for the reminder.”
Cass poured a cup of coffee and took the seat next to Julia. “What’s the problem?”
“I’m thinking about last night. Shouldn’t I know by now if I’m head over heels for Nicki?”
“You’ve only been dating for a few months. People don’t just fall in love at first sight.”
“Sure they do.”
Cass smirked. “You’ve seen too many Katarina Verralta movies.”
“You can never see too many Katarina Verralta movies. Isn’t the beginning of a relationship usually when your excitement about it is off the charts?”
“I guess,” said Cass.
“You don’t think Nicki’s a little stuck on herself?”
Cass nodded. “A bit overconfident, I’d say. But it’s not like she doesn’t have reason to be. She’s good lookin’, is a lot of fun, makes a great living…” She paused.
“But there’s something missing,” Julia interrupted.
“Like what?”
“If this is love, it doesn’t feel the way I thought it would. I thought I’d feel more…I don’t know—special.”
“You’re pretty special to me, girl,” Cass offered.
“Obviously. We’ve been best friends since eighth grade!”
“What do you mean you don’t feel special?”
“I don’t know. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s me, not her. She was so sweet last night, she even offered me a new car.”
“The woman offered you a car and you don’t feel special?” Cass raised her eyebrows and stared at her. “Do you think maybe your standards are a tad high?”
Julia rolled her eyes. “She seemed most concerned about what her friends would think of me driving a forty-year-old car. When you put it that way, though, I sound like a bitch.”
“Never. No one could ever call you that—not even you. Maybe you’re overthinking this and need some time. She’s pretty crazy about you.”
“You’re right. I’m reading too much into the little things. Like at the movies and at other times, when she asks what I want and then does whatever she wants to anyway.”
“Not everyone’s as sensitive to the needs of others as you are, Julia.”
“Not everyone’s been where I’ve been.”
Cass gave her a light pat on the back. “You’re always waiting for that other shoe to drop—not that you don’t have your reasons, girl. For now, why don’t you just try to enjoy the moment? If you want to go rest up for the dinner rush, I can handle things here until you get back. Besides, Jimmy is working with you tonight, so he can close up and you can get out early.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Nope. I still need to rotate the perishables in the cooler before we open for dinner.”
“Okay.” Julia stood, took off her apron, and fetched her purse. “See you later.”
* * *
Even though she wanted to nap, Julia couldn’t resist the tug from her sculpting studio when she got home. The natural midday light in the casita was a welcome change from the harsh bright bulbs she sculpted by at night. She’d spent many a late night holed up in that casita molding and shaping her visions, losing track of time until dawn pierced the skylight. Stocked with all her basic needs, the casita was her adult version of a tree house for her private club of one, a place where the world outside could be held at bay. She changed into the sweatshirt she wore when working and uncovered her latest work-in-progress.
Julia selected her knife and sliced through the next layer of malleable clay—studied it—ran her fingers across its smooth surface until her hands knew how they would continue to build the head and face. Holding the double-edged sculpting tool with the medium blade, she carefully finished carving the outline of the first human bust she’d ever sculpted.
Each painstaking stroke of her cutting tool shaped another long strand of wavy hair, as organically as if the knife was a comb. Building the chiseled cheekbones and nose, she added bits of clay shaping the slope from beneath the nose to the full lips.
The angle of light coming through the skylight had drifted far from when she had started. She glanced up at the wall clock.
“Dammit, I’m late!” Julia hastily covered the bust. She scrubbed her hands, changed into her work clothes, and headed back to the Starlight.
“Sorry I’m late, Cass,” she said when she came through the door.
“Did you catch a good nap?” Cass leaned on the counter and tallied two checks.
“I wound up in the studio the whole time.”
Cass chuckled. “I swear, you should just move into that casita. You’re always in there sculpting.”
Julia stowed her purse beneath the counter and smiled. “I had the urge to continue working on my new piece, and honestly I couldn’t wait.”
“You carving another Arabian horse? I like those the best.”
“Not a horse.”
Cass removed her apron and patted Julia on the back. “I’m heading home to plant myself on the couch in front of the TV. Jimmy, you’re closing tonight.”
“Why?” said the young man. “Julia’s here.”
Julia stared at Jimmy and then at Cass. “You know, I’d prefer closing tonight,” she said. “Which means, you get to do all the clean up, Jimmy.”
“Me and my big mouth,” he said as he went to wait on the table of four he had just seated.
After the dinner rush came and went, Julia counted the cash and managed the receipts while Jimmy mopped the floor. She only glanced up when headlights reflected off the large window of the closed diner.
“Jimmy, please unlock the door and let Nicki in.”
“Sure,” he said leaning his mop handle against the wall.
Julia gathered the cash that she was in the middle of counting and walked back toward the private office. “Tell her I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.”
As Julia counted the last pile and entered the amounts into her ledger, her office door opened.
“Hi, beautiful,” said Nicki.
“Oh, didn’t Jimmy tell you I’d be right out?”
Nicki crossed the room and kissed Julia on the lips. “Yes, he did. But I couldn’t wait to see you,” she smiled.
“Give me one minute or I’m afraid I’ll mess up.” She checked her totals and placed the cash in the bank deposit bag. Julia walked to Nicki, sat on her lap, and put her arms around the woman. “Sorry about last night but…”
“It’s okay, Julia. I know what it’s like to work a long day and then go out afterward. Truth is, I didn’t have much energy myself last night. Sorry I fell asleep at the movies.”
“No worries. I’m off tomorrow. Would you like to come out to the ranch tonight? We can go riding in the morning.”
“I would, but I have new inventory coming in very early tomorrow. Why don’t we just plan on getting together this weekend?”
“Great.” Julia smiled at the thought of spending more time in the studio until then.
“I’m putting you on notice to make sure you take off the two days after my birthday party.”
“The diner is closed on Sunday and your party is Saturday night, so we’ll have the day afterward.”
“No, take Monday off too in case we want to…”
“I can’t just take off, Nicki. But let’s not worry about it, we have a few weeks to work it out.”
“You’re getting someone to feed the horses so you can stay over, right?”
“Already handled,” Julia said politely.
“We can sleep in, make love. You could serve me breakfast in bed.”
Julia laughed. “Sounds like you’ve given this some thought.”
Nicki pulled her close and gave her a lingering kiss. “I always give us a lot of thought.”
“Breakfast in bed, huh?” Julia teased. “Maybe you should serve me breakfast in bed for a change.”
“I’d love to bring you breakfast in bed. You like your toast light, medium, or dark?”
They both laughed.
“I’m going to take off,” said Nicki. “I just wanted to stop by and kiss you good night.”
Julia stood. “Thanks, that’s so sweet of you to come all the way out here for that.”
“Thanks for noticing. Night,” she said and left.
Julia gathered her things and put the deposit envelope in her knapsack. She turned off the light when she left the back office. Cass is right. She does care about me.
Chapter Five
Rina disguised herself behind oversize Balmain sunglasses and a cap before her limo pulled up to the entrance of Namaste Rehabilitation Center West. She exhaled a hard sigh and savored what she hoped would be her last bite of Belgian dark chocolate. The gypsy in her soul would have to find a new, healthy addiction to replace this one.
The driver lifted her suitcase from the trunk and handed it to the male coordinator who came outside to greet Namaste’s latest high-profile rehab-ee.
“Welcome to Namaste. I’m Mike.” He pointed toward the sliding door. “After you. Namaste.”
She entered and surveyed the place. It was strategically painted in a boring hue of sage green, a sedate color, she decided, that was designed to elicit no emotional response. Rina had the opposite reaction. On the walls hung bland still-life paintings best described as paint-by-number. She hoped this wasn’t going to be rehab-by-number.
“Welcome,” said the crisp blonde approaching in a white polo shirt with the Namaste logo on it. “I’m Dr. Malinworthy. Namaste.”
Rina shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rina…”
“No introduction necessary. I’ve been expecting you.” The doctor turned to Mike. “After Intake completes the contraband search, please bring Miss Verralta’s things to her room.” She smiled at Rina. “Your purse, too.”
Rina placed the Balmain sunglasses and case inside the purse. “Please be gentle with that purse, Mike—it’s Hermes.” She turned back around to Malinworthy. “Okay, now what?”
“Follow me, we’re going to chat and then get you settled in.”
“Don’t I need to fill anything out?”
“No, your people have taken care of that for you. I have all your basic information, although we do need to go over the ground rules.” The doctor led Rina down another bland hallway whose walls also were lined with homemade art.
“Who drew these pictures?” Rina asked.
“Our clients did them during art therapy. You’ll be doing one too.” She opened the door to her office and entered.
“You must be pretty smart,” Rina said.
“What makes you say that?”
“The letters following your name look like alphabet soup.” Rina had stopped to read them off the door. The alphabet code ended in PhD.
The doctor waited for Rina to enter and then closed the door behind them. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said extending her hand toward the sofa. She placed a bottle of water on the coffee table, picked up a file and pen from the desk, then took the chair opposite Rina.
“Before we get started,” Malinworthy began, “I want to assure you we’re very exclusive. Many of our clients, like you, are either well known or famous. Everyone here goes to great lengths to protect your privacy. That means if someone offers personal information—whether privately or in a group situation, that knowledge never leaves these walls. So, as a matter of record,” she laid a pen and paper in front of Rina, “would you please personally sign the confidentiality agreement?”
“Of course.” Rina scribbled her name and leaned back into the sofa. “I hope everything here is that easy. What’s next?”
“Why don’t you start by telling me about your drug habit?”
“My drug habit?”
“Yes, why you’re here.”
“I don’t have a drug problem.”
“Ah, denial.” Malinworthy began writing. “First, you have to be able to admit you have a problem, so what’s your drug?”
“Dr. Malinworthy, I think there’s been a mistake…”
“It’s okay,” the doctor interrupted, “a lot of people get here and want to bolt, thinking they’ve made a mistake.”
“It is a mistake.”
“I can assure you that we…”
“No, I’m saying there’s an actual mistake in your information.”
“Oh, forgive me.” Malinworthy drew a line through her notes. “So then, you’re an alcoholic.”
“N-no. No drugs or alcohol—unless you consider enkephalin an actual drug.”
The doctor put down the pen and paper. “I’m confused. Why are you here?”
“Enkephalin,” Rina mumbled inaudibly.
“I didn’t get that.”
“Chocolate. Okay? Chocolate! Enkephalin in chocolate acts like an opioid. I’m here because I’m addicted to chocolate.”
“Chocolate,” Malinworthy repeated tentatively. She looked into Rina’s eyes. “Really?”
“Am I in the wrong place?”
“No. You’ve just taken your first step toward recovery: admitting you have a problem. Now, did you come here of your own free will?”
“That depends if you consider emotional blackmail of oneself willing.”
The doctor stared at her. “Do you?”
“I suppose so, since everyone around me tried to talk me out of this. I told them they were enablers.”
Malinworthy fought back a smile. “I’ll be honest with you, Rina. We’ve never treated a chocolate addict here before. I can’t even confirm that’s actually a thing. We’re pretty old school. Drugs, alcohol.”
“Is it a problem that I’m not a drug addict or alcoholic?”
“No. But I am curious.”
“I self-medicate with chocolate. We’re not talking a candy bar here. The night I lost the Oscar, I binged all night!”
“Did you purge it afterward?”
“No!” Rina rolled her eyes. “I got fat afterward. Which depressed me and only made me want more chocolate.”
Malinworthy jotted down some notes and then signed the pages in the file. “You’ll have your private therapy with me.” She glanced up at Rina. “I’ll admit I’m very intrigued.”
“That I have a chocolate addiction?”
“There is that. But I’m more interested to know why you feel you need an intervention?”
“I can tell you.”
“Okay.”
“How can the most wonderful thing you know betray you every time and still you go back for more?”
Malinworthy studied her. “Are we still talking about the chocolate?”
“Yes, we’re talking about the chocolate!”
“Are you sure?”
“That’s why I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Are you? Maybe there’s more to this than chocolate.”
“No. It’s about the chocolate.”
“What if the chocolate is a metaphor? Have you ever explored what chocolate represents to you?”
Rina scoffed as though Malinworthy was an obnoxious fan. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well, that’s what you’re here to uncover. I’ll do everything I can to help that happen.” The doctor stood. “This has been a good ice breaker. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss this further, but right now would be a good time to find your room and unpack. You have a group session in half an hour, in the Community Room on the second floor. You’re in a private accommodation on the third floor. Room 314. Any questions?”
“What time is dinner and where are the menus?”
“Any dietary restrictions were already submitted by your staff. Your individualized menu was based on a nutritional approach geared toward rehabilitating your body along with your mind.”
“What if I don’t like what’s being served at a particular meal?”
“Then you’re free to wait until the next meal or you can help yourself to the snacks in the kitchen. Don’t worry, I’ll see to it you have no access to chocolate.” Malinworthy escorted her to the door. �
��We’ll pick this up again tomorrow.”
“What time?”
“Your schedule is waiting for you in your room.”
“Good, I’ll enter the appointments in my phone calendar.”
“Um, your phone has been confiscated.”
“What? Why? It’s not chocolate.”
“No outside contact while you’re here. That’s a rule. No one here has their phone.”
“What if there’s an emergency and someone needs to reach me?”
“Your emergency contacts have been instructed to call our main number and we’ll get a message to you.”
“Well…as long as I’m in good company, I can manage for the next few weeks.”
“Be sure to get a good night’s rest. Your first full day will be very busy.”
Rina nodded and left. She found her room and marveled at its simplicity. Except for the picture window, it was more college dormitory than the Ritz. Still, the manicured grounds offered a peaceful view.
Rina glanced through the brochure on her desk. “So this was an orchard on one of the original ranches in Southern California. Hmm.” Carefully, she scanned the property, which stretched through verdant hillside almost as far as the Pacific Ocean. A large man-made lake sat in the center of Rina’s view, reflecting the peacock blue sky.
In the distance, a thin woman with medium-length straight brown hair meandered toward the lake and took a seat on the bench, her back to Rina. A brace of ducks waddled toward her even before she tossed them breadcrumbs.
What the hell am I doing here? Gigi was right. This was a mistake. She changed into a pair of worn designer jeans, her favorite classic crew T-shirt from Fred Segal, and sneakers. Here goes, she thought as she left for the first group therapy session of her life.
“Hi,” said the therapist when Rina entered. “You must be Katarina. I’m Britt.”
“Britt?” Rina improvised her first therapy expression, which she reluctantly named Therapy Are-You-Kidding-Me Number One. “As in Britney?”
“No. Brittany,” she replied, adding the “a.”
“Great.” Rina thought of Cavell with an internal sneer. “Call me Rina.”
Smile Number Seven Page 3
