by Suzie Nelson
Finally, at ten past nine, her assistant came in looking a little shell shocked.
“Is Mr. Snow here yet, Lauren?” Rosie asked a little impatiently.
Lauren nodded silently, her eyes wide, as a tall, muscular man brushed passed her and sprawled in the chair across from Rosie. “Mr….uh, Snow, for you, Rosie,” Lauren squeaked and closed the door.
Looking across at her new patient, Rosie suddenly understood Lauren’s weird behavior. Mr. Snow was, in fact, the one and only Lewis Maserati. Rosie tried to keep her lip from curling. Just great.
“Would you like me to refer to you as John or as Lewis?” she asked. “You can call me Rosie.”
The superstar grunted. “Lewis. The fake name was Ben’s dumb idea.”
Unsure who Ben was, Rosie moved on. “Okay, great. So, can you tell me why you’re here, Lewis?”
“Because some dumb bitch got her panties in a twist,” Lewis replied.
“Because you assaulted an innocent woman?” Rosie rephrased his reply, trying to keep her anger out of her voice.
“Because you assaulted an innocent woman,” Lewis repeated in a twittering falsetto. “It was just one fucking punch.”
“Please try to refrain from swearing during these sessions, Lewis.”
“Whatever,” he replied.
“So, do you know why you punched Ms. Rossetti, Lewis?” Rosie asked.
“Yeah, ‘cause I’d drunk a bottle of tequila.”
“And does drinking make you feel aggressive?”
“No, being asked dumb fucking questions makes me feel aggressive,” Lewis answered.
“You’re not taking this session very seriously,” Rosie pointed out the obvious, fighting to keep her cool.
“I never did like women who talked too much,” Lewis said, leering at her.
Rosie’s face turned dark. “You’re misogynistic asshole,” she snapped, momentarily losing her cool. “Why should we care what you think?”
Lewis laughed dryly. “Now look who needs anger management therapy, doctor? Tsk, tsk, temper, temper,” he wagged a finger at Rosie.
“Get out of my office, Mr. Maserati,” said Rosie coldly.
“With pleasure, you quack,” Lewis replied, levering himself out of his easy chair. He yanked open the door with such force that it hit the wall behind it and bounced.
Rosie glared furiously at his disappearing back, only to have her door filled with a shorter, skinnier, older man with a slight potbelly and a well-groomed mustache.
“Ms. Suarez,” said the man.
“And you are?” Rosie asked.
“Ben Johnson. I’m Lewis’s manager,” the man replied, coming into her office.
“The one who decided to register him under a false name,” Rosie replied.
The man smiled apologetically. “Can you believe it? I tried registering Lewis under his actual name and all the other therapists ran screaming.”
“I certainly can believe it. Your charge is extremely unpleasant.”
“And that’s putting it mildly,” Ben agreed. “I’m really very sorry about his behavior today – it was over the top even for him.”
Rosie raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
“Look, Ms. Suarez, I’m well aware of just how shitty a person Lewis can be. But that’s exactly why he needs your help. He’s not actually such a bad kid. Before all this fame went to his head he was actually a pretty decent guy, I swear. I’ve known him since Little League.”
“Mhmm,” Rosie replied skeptically.
“Please, I’m begging you, just take him back. The guy needs help. And not just to save his career - for his own sake, too.”
Rosie shook her head silently.
Ben eyed her. She was a beautiful woman, but she had an edge to her that made him think she’d seen a lot worse than Lewis – and not just with her patients. “I’ll pay you double your going rate,” he told her. “Fuck, I’ll pay you triple.”
Rosie was tempted. God knew she could use the money. Unbidden, an image of Angelo’s gap-toothed grin came to mind. “Triple,” she said finally.
“Thank you, Ms. Saurez,” Ben grinned. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I swear you won’t regret this.”
Rosie laughed dryly. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mr. Johnson.”
Ben smiled. “Whatever BS he pulls, I’ll make it worth your while. How’s that?”
Rosie smiled back. “Better.”
“You’re a life-saver,” he told her.
“I expect him here on time tomorrow,” she replied.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ben nodded. When she began reading her next patient’s case notes, he took the hint and left, closing the door gently behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Rosie groaned, burying her face in her paperwork. What had she gotten herself into?
***
The next morning Lewis arrived on time, though clearly not of his own free will. Ben popped his head in the door behind Lewis and gave Rosie a cheery wave and smile. She smiled back, although a lot less cheerfully.
“Here we are again,” Rosie said, eyeing her new patient.
“Huh,” Lewis glowered, his arms crossed over his chest. “You know, I should report you for your outburst yesterday. It was pretty unprofessional. I don’t know if I feel safe with you.”
Rosie smiled tightly. “I’m sure you can see the hypocrisy of such a complaint coming from a man facing the batter and sexual assault charges.”
Lewis shrugged. “Sure. But that doesn’t make my complaint less valid.” Then he smiled. “How about we make a deal, Rosie? I agree not to file a complaint and you agree to let me spend these sessions on my phone. So I gotta be here. Fine. But that doesn’t mean we both have to waste our time. I could even…you know…sweeten the deal a little bit for you.”
Rosie raised her eyebrows. “Sweeten the deal?” she repeated skeptically. The man didn’t look like he even knew the meaning of the word ‘sweet’.
“Yeah,” Lewis licked his lips, his smile growing. “You know…” he waggled his eyebrows and thrust his hips at her in a lewd invitation. “I mean, you’re not bad-looking, after all.”
Rosie felt anger bubble up inside her and took a deep breath to keep herself from losing her cool again. “Mr. Maserati, you are an arrogant, self-centered, and spoiled individual and, honestly, I’m having a tough time imagining someone I would less like to spend time with, never mind sleep with. However, my job is to help you and that is exactly what I’m going to do, whether you like it or not. So,” Rosie’s voice grew hard and forceful, “for the next few months you will arrive on time, sit down in that chair, and speak only when you are spoken to. Do you understand, Mr. Maserati?” Rosie’s expression made it clear that there was only one right answer.
Lewis blinked, surprised by Rosie’s forceful tone. “Uh, yes,” he answered. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans and realized with surprise that, once again, he was finding it kinda hot to have a woman put him in his place. Especially one who looked so delicate.
“Good,” said Rosie, leaning back in her chair. “Then let’s start with your childhood. How was your family life growing up?”
Lewis rearranged himself in his seat, watching as Rosie uncrossed and crossed her legs, admiring the silky, tanned skin of her thighs.
“Eyes up here, Lewis,” said Rosie, who wasn’t blind.
The baseball player smiled and shifted his gaze to her face. “Sorry,” he said, “my eyes drift when I’m thinking.”
“Well, then, you must do an awful lot of thinking,” Rosie shot back. “Tell me about your childhood.”
As he watched her glare at him with her large, dark eyes, Lewis suddenly realized how he would make this therapy bearable: he would seduce her. By the time these stupid sessions were done she’d be begging to get into bed with him. He got the feeling that she was wild in the sack, plus he wanted to make her regret being such a bitch. He’d have her panting after hi
m like all the other girls – that’d show her. Lewis smiled widely and shrugged. “Pretty normal. My dad worked in a plant and my mom was a grade school teacher.”
“Did they get along? How did your father treat your mother? How did they treat you?”
“Dad was a big guy,” said Lewis. “Used to take me to watch the Mets. Terrible seats, of course, we didn’t have much money. But he loved baseball too.”
“You didn’t answer my questions,” Rosie pointed out.
Lewis rolled his eyes. “Ooh, better read something into that.”
Rosie raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently for him to get to the point.
Lewis rolled his eyes. “Dad drank. He’d get mad from to time. His job was awful, really stressful, you know.”
Rosie nodded, letting him talk.
The superstar shrugged. “Sometimes he’d take it out on my mom.”
Rosie nodded again, taking notes on her clipboard. “And what did you think about that?”
“Well, I mean, I wished he wouldn’t. Mom would cry. But he was under a lot of stress. It wasn’t his fault.”
“So you think stress makes it okay to beat someone?” Rosie asked softly. “Do you think your mom deserved to be hit?”
“Of course not. She never did anything to deserve it. And I’m not saying it’s an excuse, I’m just…saying...” Lewis trailed off, feeling somehow tricked.
“Right,” said Rosie. “So is that why you thought it was okay for you to punch Carla Rossetti? Because you were stressed?”
“I wasn’t stressed,” said Lewis, keen to steer the conversation away from his childhood. “I already told you. I was drunk. Two very different things.”
“And do you find that you often feel more aggressive when you drink?” Rosie asked.
Lewis made a show of thinking about this. “Nah,” he finally answered. “Just more horny.”
Rosie raised one eyebrow.
“No, I’m not trying to be a dick,” he said, waving his hands and putting on his most charming smile. “It’s the truth.”
Rosie nodded and scribbled in her notepad. “So why did you attack Ms. Rossetti, then? Was your ego hurt that she and her partner rejected your advances? Or are you homophobic?”
“Pfff, no,” Lewis replied. “Have you seen Ben? I don’t give a shit who people sleep with. I mean, yeah, sure, I’d liked it if they’d come home with me, but, honestly, I don’t remember why I hit her. Judging by the video, I’d say she was just being super annoying and I got fed up.”
“So you consider a woman telling you that she isn’t interested in your advances to be ‘super annoying’?”
“Stop twisting my words, doc,” said Lewis. “I’m sure you’ve seen the video. That bitch was all up in my face.”
“Don’t use that word in my office, Lewis. It’s dehumanizing and your victim was very much human.”
Lewis caught himself before he spat out another nasty remark, remembering that he was trying to get this woman into bed with him. “Sorry,” he said. “Old habits die hard.”
Rosie nodded again. “And why do you think it’s a habit of yours to refer to women as ‘bitches’?”
Lewis was caught off guard. “Uhhhh,” he stuttered. “I dunno. I guess I never really thought about it before.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Kind of a lame reason, huh?”
Despite herself, Rosie smiled. Turning her head away to hide it, she didn’t see Lewis’s smirk. “Yeah,” she replied, turning back to him, “it is.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here, I guess,” he replied, giving her another charming smile.
This time, Rosie was unmoved. “Yes, it is,” she agreed. “Now let’s talk about when you’re sober. Do you find yourself getting angry a lot? You’re known for violent outbursts on the diamond – or are you drunk then too?”
“So you’ve seen me play?” Lewis asked, grinning.
Rosie shook her head. “Not even once, I’m afraid. But you’re avoiding my questions.”
“You don’t get distracted easily, do you?” Lewis asked rhetorically. “And no, I’m not drunk when I play. Don’t be ridiculous. I get angry because the umps make stupid calls or because one of my teammates is fucking up. I have reasons.”
“Do you ever consider not reacting so aggressively to these problems?”
Lewis shrugged. “It’s a sport. The fans like a little action.”
“So it’s all for the fans?” Rosie asked doubtfully.
“No, but they’re certainly not complaining, are they?”
“So why do you do it, then?”
“Because I get angry. That’s just who I am. It runs in the family.”
“Yes,” Rosie agreed, “so you said. Do you think it would make you less of a man if you didn’t react so violently?”
Lewis laughed, but it sounded a little forced to Rosie. “Trust me, Rosie, I have no doubts about my masculinity.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” Rosie replied dryly.
“What about you, Rosie? Do you doubt my masculinity?” Lewis waggled his eyebrows again.
Rosie sighed and said very calmly, “There’s more to masculinity than big muscles and a brash attitude, Lewis. As I’m sure you know.”
Lewis shrugged. “So people say. But I’ve never heard the ladies complain.”
“Maybe that’s because they’re too afraid of getting slapped if they do,” Rosie shot back.
Lewis was stung. “Look, I don’t make a habit of beating women,” he replied. “This was the first and only time.”
Rosie nodded. “A lot of my clients say that,” she told him. “But let’s leave that for now. Why don’t we practice some calming techniques? You have a quick temper, Lewis, and, while that may be fine on the field, it’s getting you into trouble in the real world. I think you need to learn how to control that temper and channel it into your playing rather than your nightlife.”
Lewis flashed her another winning smile. “Whatever you say, doc. I’m all yours.”
“And aren’t I a lucky girl,” Rosie replied acerbically.
Chapter 4
As the weeks went by, Rosie had to admit that Lewis wasn’t all bad. Yes, he was an asshole, and, yes, he had a fast temper and no control over himself or his desires. But he could also be surprisingly funny and thoughtful. What he wasn’t, however, was making progress. He came every day as required, and he answered her questions and took part in the exercises she gave him, but Rosie had the sneaking suspicion that he was just going through the motions.
Usually, with her clients, there came a moment of self-awareness, a point where their behaviors – and the consequences of said behaviors - became clear to them and they understood why they needed to change. It might take them a long time to solve their problems, if they ever did, but the will to do so was there. With Lewis, there was no spark, no dawning of comprehension. He just kept answering her questions and nodding along, but he never actually seemed to grasp that there was something wrong with him, that his actions were hurting himself and others. It didn’t help that she had to stay on her guard every second of their appointments together because Lewis was constantly flirting with her.
It wasn’t that Rosie minded being hit on - she liked to flirt as much as anyone – but, first of all, he was her patient. Second of all, he was an asshole, and third of all – hell, she didn’t even have a third of all. Those were good enough reasons on their own. It was a pity, really, because sometimes he could be really funny and, instead of being able to just enjoy the joke, she’d have to swallow her laugh and keep her face straight, just to keep him from getting any ideas. Men like Lewis were constantly pushing the boundaries, wanting just a little bit more, and Rosie knew that if he thought he could make her laugh, he would think that he could get her into bed with him as well. And that was definitely not happening.
But all her efforts went to nothing at the end of their third week together. It was Friday morning and they were nearing the end
of their session, practicing the breathing exercises that Rosie hoped would one day help Lewis to control his outbursts.
“Do these really help people?” Lewis asked as he sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his eyes closed, breathing deeply.
Rosie nodded then realized he couldn’t see her. “They do,” she said. “But the trick is taking them seriously and remembering to do them when you feel yourself getting angry. It’s all well and good to sit around at home doing deep breathing exercises but, if you don’t do them when you need them, then all you’re really getting is a bigger lung capacity.”
