by Tasha Black
Neve nodded her assent.
“You wrecked your car,” Jocelyn guessed.
Neve shook her head.
“Got drunk?” she asked hopefully.
“Nope.”
“Cat put to sleep?”
“No.”
“Gross roommate stuff?” she asked.
“No. Do you really want to know?” Neve asked.
“Yeah.”
“My boyfriend dumped me,” she told the kid.
“Classic,” Jocelyn laughed. “Well, if you came here thinking I could help you, you’re in the wrong place. You know that, right?”
But Neve heard the hurt in the girl’s voice and it pained her that Jocelyn could be so worried about break ups when she was so young and on top of her career.
“Sure, I was up all night, it was pretty ugly,” she admitted. “But if I’m honest with myself, I’m more disappointed that I don’t have a built-in wedding date anymore, you know? Someone to take home for the holidays. But the guy himself… meh.”
As soon as she said it, she knew it was true and a small weight was lifted from her.
“Look,” Jocelyn said calmly. “I’m sorry about Tacos.”
“Oh, you mean the iguana?” Neve asked.
“Yeah, I didn’t mean to yell at that other lady,” she said. “But she called him a dinosaur. Said he needed to be in a cage. I just don’t like him being boxed in.”
Neve wondered if Jocelyn would see the parallels.
But patients seldom did.
“I’m just bored,” the girl continued. “And I don’t like anyone telling me what to do,” she confided.
Surprise, surprise.
“He’s important to you, I respect that. Let’s see if we can get maintenance in here to put up some baby gates or something so we can make sure he doesn’t escape or get hurt. Does that work?” Neve offered.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Jocelyn replied.
They looked out over the reflecting pool a while more.
“I guess I should get going,” Neve said at last, and rose, smoothing down her skirt.
“Can you come back later?” Jocelyn asked suddenly.
“Did you need something?” Neve asked.
“No, I just want to hear about your break-up. Maybe I’ll get myself another song out of it,” Jocelyn smiled.
There was a hint of life in her tired young eyes now. It did Neve good to see it.
“Sure, I’ll come back and tell you everything. But be warned, it won’t take long,” Neve told her with a smile. “Meanwhile, if you’re bored, why not go to a group session?”
Jocelyn was already shaking her head.
They never wanted to go in the beginning. They saw it as embarrassing to share their dirty secrets with strangers, Neve understood. After the addiction claimed her mother, she had felt the same way.
Being around other people who understood what she was going through had been a turning point in dealing with her grief. Some things just needed to be let out. And now she wanted to keep this young girl from taking as long to figure that out as she had.
“Well, if you change your mind, the card with the schedule is right here, ok?” she said, dropping a square of printed cardboard on the table. “Be nice to my maintenance guys. They’ll drool at you, but be nice anyway, or there will be hell for me to pay.”
“Yeah, okay, but no autographs,” Jocelyn laughed.
“Definitely no autographs,” Neve replied, on her way out the door.
She pulled the door shut behind her and allowed herself one moment to feel proud of what she had accomplished.
Then she looked down the long hallway at all the other doors. Every single one opened on someone else who was hurting.
Quick footsteps from behind roused her from her reverie.
“Neve, thank God, you’re here. The new patient in 103 is freaking out, can you help?” Scott asked breathlessly. He was a good nurse, and experienced.
“Can’t you take care of him?” she asked him, thinking longingly again of that Coke, condensation deliciously blurring the design on the red aluminum.
“He just wants you,” he replied.
“Okay, I’m on it,” she agreed, and headed for the elevator.
It was going to be a long day.
5
Johnny dreamed of ringing bells.
Far below him, the peal of church bells echoed between rhythmic gusts of wind.
But the intervals were too regular, and the bells were too soft. Something wasn’t right.
He woke up suddenly, blinded by the harsh afternoon sun pouring in mercilessly through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
His phone was ringing. Somewhere.
Those bells were Mom’s ringtone.
Oh, fuck.
He pressed a button on the bedside table and night panels slid in front of the windows.
Now it was so dark he couldn’t see.
He stubbed his toe on something hard on the way to the light switch.
Was there a level of stardom, he wondered, where you never had to stub your damned toe? Did Bowie’s room have a button by the bed for the lights too? Did Ozzy get some kind of robotic maid to clean up his stuff?
Johnny’s clothes were piled haphazardly on the floor, a tangle of leather and denim. Underneath it all the phone still rang.
He managed to dig it out before it went to voicemail.
“Mom,” he said, wincing at the rough quality of his voice. He should have given himself time to wake up first. But he wasn’t raised to keep his mother waiting.
“Did I wake you up?” she asked too brightly.
“Um, no, I was just…” he began.
“How was the show last night?” she asked, saving him from making up a lie.
“It was great,” he replied carefully.
“You know you’re the top video on the internet today?”
Crap.
“So you saw that?” he asking, playing for more time.
“Of course I did. How could you be so careless?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” he assured her. “Don’t worry.”
“I know you’re fine. It was just fire. What I’m worried about is what the hundred million people who’ve watched the video are going to think.”
He sighed. She was right. She was always right.
“Now do you want to tell me what really happened?” she asked, compassion in her voice now.
“I’m not really sure,” he admitted. “I’ve been… on edge lately. And then last night, there was this girl, she took her shirt off. And I, I thought I was falling in love with her or something. My animal was bursting to come out, worse than he ever has. And then my arm was burning.”
He stopped speaking for a minute to look down at his left forearm. Beneath the tattoos there was definitely something dark.
When he looked closer it almost seemed to be… pulsing.
God, he was a mess, he was seeing things.
Maybe it was an infection of some kind, but the tattoos there were pretty old. Although not nearly old enough to be fading the way they were.
“I was afraid of something like this,” she said in her familiar worried tone. “You shouldn’t have let them extend the tour into this month, John.”
“You think this has to do with…” he couldn’t say it. To say it would be to make it real.
“Your 300th moon,” she said matter-of-factly. “What else would it be?”
“I thought that was just a made-up thing,” he offered unconvincingly. “Something to keep us in line.”
Mom laughed hard. The sound of that deep laugh always made him feel great inside.
“Well it certainly didn’t do much in that regard,” she said.
“I guess not,” he agreed with a smile.
“We need to talk about it, son, it’s high time. How much have you figured out?”
Johnny thought about it.
“I remember the night I came to you. I was so upset when my mom was leaving. I was afraid
I would explode. But I didn’t. You read me those funny stories,” he said, starting with what he knew was true.
“Yes,” Mom agreed. “Pippi Longstocking.”
“And Mrs. Cortez came, with sweets.” He suddenly remembered the rich bitterness of the chocolate in the heavenly sweet pastry - he could taste it like it was still in his mouth.
“She did,” Mom agreed, her voice subdued.
“And when I finally got tired, she started singing,” he finished. “But I don’t remember the rest. I think I fell asleep on her lap.”
“That was pretty much it,” Mom told him.
“The same thing happened to the other kids, right? I mean not the part with the book or the sweets, but the song,” he offered.
“Yes,” Mom agreed.
“Is that song the reason why I don’t shift all the time when I’m mad?” he asked.
“Yes,” she agreed.
“And in 300 moons it wears off, right?” he asked. “Why would you never admit it when we asked?”
“Because we’re not sure that’s what happens.” The tone of her voice told him it pained her to admit it.
“What do you mean, you’re not sure?” he demanded.
“No one had ever attempted this before, John. Mrs. Cortez did her best and she succeeded. For three hundred moons you’ve had control over your gift. But no magic is free. The price will be paid. We just don’t know yet how.”
“Will I lose my gift, if I don’t give in to it before the moon is over?” he asked, trying not to let her hear the hope in his voice.
“I don’t know. You might,” she allowed. “Please come home, so we can help you through it.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” he told her, sure that if he went home she would not want him to give up his animal. She and the rest of his family had always seen it as some kind of blessing. But of course, they’d never caused the kind of pain he had.
“John, you’re an adult and I can’t make you come home, but I’m asking you, please. You need your family right now.”
His heart broke at the idea of disappointing her. Kate Harkness was a strong woman and it wasn’t like her to openly admit that she was powerless.
“We’ll fix you a room on the third floor, away from the little ones, away from the tourists - a sanctuary. Think of it just like a little vacation so you don’t have to go through this in the public eye,” she continued. “I’ve asked Derek, and Chance and Darcy, as well. Since you all arrived at the farm that same month, they’ll be dealing with it too. It will be a chance to catch up with your siblings. We miss you.”
The idea of seeing them all again was appealing, but of course they’d just take Mom’s side if he ever mentioned that he wanted to give up on shifting. Darcy would clobber him for even thinking about it.
And besides, his mind had caught on something she’d said already.
Sanctuary…
An idea began to form in his mind.
“Mom, I have a plan,” he assured her. “I’ll be home as soon as the moon is done. Everything will be fine, I promise you.”
6
Johnny was starting to get uncomfortable under Seth’s gaze. His bandmate looked distinctly suspicious.
And for good reason.
Johnny looked out the window to avoid conversation.
“Are you sure about this?” Seth asked.
Damnit, they were so close.
“It’s something I need to do,” Johnny replied.
“I don’t know, you seem okay to me. I’m afraid you’ll come out all church-y or something,” Seth worried.
“It’s only for a month, buddy,” Johnny assured him.
“We need you, Johnny,” Seth said flatly.
“The tour is over. And you know I do my best writing when it’s just me and Ruby. This will give me a chance to hole up. I haven’t been feeling myself lately - too much drinking, not enough music,” he lied. “I need this.”
He felt pretty bad about it when he felt Seth’s hand on his arm.
“Whatever you have to do to get your head straight, man,” Seth told him. “You know I’m behind you.”
Johnny knew that was true, which made the lie all the more painful.
“Thanks. And don’t try to replace me while I’m in there,” he joked weakly.
Seth laughed and the car mercifully pulled up to the iron gates before they had more time to talk.
Malibu Sanctuaries spread out before them on an emerald lawn - a campus of luxury adobe buildings with huge windows and terra cotta roof tiles. The grass alone would cost a fortune to irrigate.
A guard came around to chat with Ethan. That would be a one-way conversation.
“Swanky,” Seth said, eyebrows raised.
“Right?” Johnny said.
“It looks like the place where I had my Bar Mitzvah,” Seth noted.
“I’m here for your things, sir,” a young man said in a firm, clear voice without making more than a normal amount of eye contact. He did not seem to be overly excited to see a big star in person.
That was what eight thousand dollars a day bought - anonymity - or the closest possible imitation.
“Not the guitar,” Johnny corrected him. “I’ll carry her myself.”
He jumped out and grabbed little Ruby out of the trunk. She had her own compartment, but he always worried.
He could see even more of the property now. It looked like there was a swimming pool. The sun reflected off its surface like blue glass.
He turned back to say good-bye to Seth and couldn’t help but notice a black SUV parked across the street. Had that been there before? He was probably just being paranoid.
He knew this would hit the papers, the trashy ones, at least. But he had been hoping to delay it for as long as possible. He didn’t want his family to worry. And once he was checked in, he’d be cut off from the outside world. That was part of the deal with this place. One of the main reasons he chose it.
“I’ll walk in with you, man,” Seth told him.
Johnny nodded and they headed inside.
The open lobby was all glass walls and uncomfortable looking chairs - like the inside of a spaceship or something. At least they were getting interior design mileage out of that green, green grass outside.
A buxom brunette at the desk stood up to greet him. Her face turned pink when she recognized him.
The beast inside him tasted the air.
“Welcome to Malibu Sanctuaries, I’m Angela,” she said in a breathy voice.
She might as well have said, “Hello there! My name doesn’t matter. I’m here to give you a championship blow job.”
“Hey babe,” he said with a wink.
Her lips parted and she blinked twice at him.
“Um, Dr. Carter will be right here to do your physical. Then I can help you get settled in your room if you’d like,” she offered, batting her eyelashes just a bit.
“That sounds great, but I don’t need the physical. I had my results sent ahead by my own doctor,” he corrected her.
The nurse who was seated beside the receptionist stepped into the conversation. She was an older woman, and she wasn’t batting any eyelashes.
“All patients have an intake exam,” she explained. “It’s part of treatment.”
“No,” Johnny said firmly. “I will not be examined by another doctor.”
If some strange doctor got access to him, this whole thing was up in smoke.
“Sir, as you can imagine, in a rehabilitation facility, you will be examined, and often,” she said, standing to look directly into his eyes. “Blood testing, urine testing, none of this is optional if you want to get well.”
“I will not be examined or have samples taken by anyone here. I came here for privacy, that was part of the deal,” he tried to stay calm, but the creature within him was stirring.
“What seems to be the problem?” a young doctor walking past stopped and came over. For sure the doc was a fan - he had a goddamned claw tattoo on his right hand. B
ut he made no sign that he recognized Johnny. Which, come to think of it, was beginning to piss him off.
“He doesn’t want to let us examine him,” the nurse put in, before Johnny could reply.
“Sir—” the doctor began.
“Look, you can ‘sir’ me all you want, but there’s no way any of the quacks in here are having access to my body. You’ll have my blood up in an online auction in a heartbeat. I’m a fucking rock star! I spit on a guy once, and he sold the shirt for a thousand bucks. If you want samples, you’re gonna have to try the grocery store, cause I don’t give my shit away for free. ”
He was just gearing up to make a real ass of himself when he heard another set of footsteps from behind.
“John Lazarus?” a husky female voice asked.
It sounded like the teacher calling his name on the first day of school - familiar, maybe even a tad condescending, but in a reassuring, contralto tone that made him feel weirdly safe.
He turned to see the owner of the voice.
A nurse. Dark hair and darker eyes, warm brown skin like the beach at twilight, clean but well-worn purple scrubs. She could have been any woman - someone’s sister, someone’s wife, a stranger on a bus. She was neither thin nor fat, her skin didn’t glow. Her eyes were a bit large but quite at home in her kind face. She was in every way unremarkable.
But there was something…
She stood before him, simply looking. She didn’t subconsciously adjust her hair or clothing. She wasn’t trying to see herself through his eyes.
Under her frank gaze, he realized that she was not pretending not to know that he was a star. Her expression told him clearly that she knew it all and was planning to judge him on his own merits anyway.
The words he had been shouting froze in his throat and he swallowed.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he said at last.
She cocked her head slightly to the side in a cool manner that the beast inside found most pleasing.
“I’ve got your files. If you can step this way I will see you to your room. Angela, make sure Mr. Lazarus’s belongings make it to his room. Dr. Thayer, please check with Marlene if you have questions about this patient,” she said over her shoulder as they walked.
