by Taylor Hart
Getting out of her red VW bug, she pulled out her bag with her yoga mat and oils. She didn’t know what the interview would entail, but she wanted to be professional. The only thing she worried about was that she hadn’t been certified since high school. When she’d gone to Julliard she’d focused on dance and let all of that go.
She still practiced herself. She had perfect technique, if she did say so herself. Worry settled into her. She needed a job. Needed…something in her life.
She thought of the scholarship application she’d filled out a couple of days ago. Spence had always told her that only the really good kids got scholarships.
It made her angry at herself that she had never applied until now. She probably wouldn’t get it but she had to try.
Walking into the facility, she was quietly taken aback at the fountain in the center with the statue of the man holding the Earth on his shoulders. She moved to the front desk.
A guy flashed a wide grin at her. A really tall guy. He did a sweep of her body, but not in a weird way. She was used to the sweep, especially when she wore her dance clothes, but she tried to just be professional. “Hi, I’m here for the interview. Pilates and yoga instructor, meditation leader.”
The guy’s smile went wider. Truthfully, his face wasn’t bad, but, his haircut looked really red neck somehow, like it didn’t match his tallness.
He stretched his hand out. “I’m Clark, nice to meet you.” He hesitated, seeming to get lost looking at her for a second.
The girl standing at the desk, a petite girl, who was smacking her gum and had ridiculous fake eyelashes, the kind that felt like they could reach out and snap at you, elbowed him. “Clark, quit gawking, call Dr. Schneider.” She turned to Kira and grinned. “I’m Tricia. Nice to meet you.”
Kira instantly liked Tricia. “I’m Kira.”
Tricia nodded and then gave her body a sweep. “You do look like a yogi. Quiet grace. Long length.” Tricia stretched her body out. Her short, petite body. “If I do the exercises will my body stretch?”
Clark mumbled something on the phone, then got off and annoyingly looked at Tricia. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Then he swung his gaze back to Kira and plastered on a Ken doll smile. “I’ll take you to the doctor’s office.”
"Okay.”
Tricia winked at her. “Don’t worry, the doc is great.”
Nervous butterflies assaulted her as she took off to follow Clark.
He turned and slowed his pace. “So you’re applying for the job?”
It felt obvious, but she could tell he was trying to make small talk. “Yep.”
He nodded. “Are you qualified?” he asked, with a touch of judgement to his tone.
She wanted to say, "Have you heard of Julliard? Have you heard of the best Arts program in the world?" but she had to check her ego. After all, look at her. She pretty much was nothing at the moment and she had to get through this summer, help figure out the ranch and then decide what to do. Would she go back for her final year?
There was just too much to deal with. She drew in a deep breath as they got to the door that had a neat plaque with "Dr. Schneider” engraved on it.
Clark knocked and they heard, "Come in."
Before Clark opened the door he turned to her. “Hey, just so you know, the staff can hang out. Even though we can’t hang with the patients, we can hang with each other.”
Kira wanted to tell the guy she wouldn’t hang out with him, because she wasn’t the hang out type. Besides she had a boyfriend. Who wanted to think about Spence anyway? “Cool.”
“Cool.” Clark repeated and opened the door.
Kira hadn’t known what to expect, but this room wasn’t it. It was large and grand and if this place was a palace, this would be the king’s library. It had the same arched ceiling feeling to it as she imagined would be in any castle. It had a moose head-like chandelier in the center. She figured it could be from some king’s castle or a Shakespearean play.
“Thank you, Clark.” The doctor said, clearly dismissing him.
Clark gave her a half smile, which she returned but knew her smile was awkward. She didn’t know what to say.
The doctor waved her in and stood. He was average height, average build, balding, a beard, and glasses. Kind eyes.
“Hi there. I’m Dr. Schneider. I’m the psychiatrist here, but I pretty much run the place, it’s small enough. I bring in help when I need it.”
She was still nervous, but introduced herself. "Kira Moonwater.”
The doctor pushed his glasses back. “I got your resume on my email and it’s impressive.” He looked up at her. “Julliard.”
She nodded, but was happy that had been important to him.
His look turned inquisitive. “But, to be honest with you, that wasn’t why I asked you to come here.”
Her heart sank. “It wasn’t?”
Shaking his head, a small smile washed over his face. “Would your grandmother have been Lulubelle?”
Immediately, she felt the jolt of sadness hearing her nickname, but she simply said, “Yes.”
The doctor took on a look of sympathy. “I’m sorry about her passing. I was actually at the viewing, but I doubt you remember, there were so many.”
She thought of the overwhelming response from the community and it made tears come to her eyes. “Nana was loved.”
The doctor nodded and blinked. “Yes, she was. A good lady. So, when I saw your last name, I knew I had to have you come out for the interview.”
She’d always been proud of her last name. “Thank you.”
His smile widened. “I don’t know if you know this, but your grandmother and I have been teaming up for many years to find remedies for some emotional issues my clients have.” He tsked his tongue. "I don’t know what I will do without her and her remedies.”
Kira thought of the whole section of the kitchen with cast iron culinary and herbs hanging upside down, all the containers, where she had watched, then eventually helped her grandmother make remedies. Out of nowhere, the memory of Frankincense mixed with clove bubbling through the air hit her. She remembered burning herself and her grandmother taking a few drops of lavender and putting it in a cold bowl of water. The burn had magically gone away. The memory was so powerful, the way her grandmother had held her while she’d kept her hand in the water and smoothed her forehead and whispered reassuring words. “Somewhere in Time.” She found tears coming to her eyes and she blinked.
“I’m sorry." The doctor whispered, taking a step closer to her and gently putting his hand on her forearm. “I’m so sorry.”
She blinked harder and took a step back, not wanting to cry. “Thank you.” She grasped to find some stability in her mind. Something that would focus her.
Dr. Schneider cleared his throat. “Okay, so here’s the deal. We need complete confidentiality here. Our clients have to know that our staff won’t leak anything.”
This took her off guard. “I would never do that.”
“Right.” He pulled out a file. “Well, I need you to sign these disclosures and just so you know, we’ll need fingerprints, a full background check, and routine drug checks.”
She took the papers and started to sign them. “Of course.”
He sighed. “And I hate to have to spell this out, but you’re signing a contract that you won’t take any illegal drugs or prescribed medications here. If you see any, tell us immediately. We confiscate them from time to time, but you don’t need to challenge anyone. Just let us know.”
“I don’t take drugs,” she said defensively.
He put up a hand. "I know. I know.”
At just that moment, she looked out his window and saw the most random thing.
A man boxing. Well, not boxing so much as hitting a heavy bag. He was so striking with the force and violence of him, compared to everything else going on at the facility, that it stunned her for a second.
Seeming to sense her distraction, the doctor turned with her and let out a sigh. "I kno
w. He had to have something to hit." The doctor shook his head and turned back to her. "Usually, with my patients I can speak to them with meditation and yoga, Pilates, tai chi…but unfortunately, he doesn’t speak that soothing language and he’s not good at tapping into it.” He took in another breath. “But I’m not judging. Oh no." He waved his hand. "I learned a long time ago so many things affect each of us that we have to just be. Exist. We have to find how to handle those inner demons and what language they speak and if they must be exorcised by violence, because of inner or external things, then that is the way to get to them. To purify them. At least, as much as possible.” The side of his lip turned up. He wagged a finger at her. "See, this is where I would ask your grandmother for help. Something to soothe him.”
The boxer rotated around the bag, bringing his face into view. Two things got her attention at this point. One was that those were the lips that had been on hers. That was B.C. Knight. That night a week ago hadn’t been just in her imagination. Not that she didn’t know it wasn’t imagined, but part of her had felt it was so dreamlike. The way they’d talked and shared.
The second thing was the violence. The complete precise way he used his body as a weapon as he not only punched the bag, but unexpectedly flew off the ground and did a round house kick at it.
Of course this week she’d Googled the man. She’d found out even more about him. It hit her in the pit of her gut. She really wanted to get to know this man.
Instantly, it was like she knew what he needed. “Lavender, to soothe him. Maybe mix in hot lemon water. At the end of the day. I think.”
The doctor gave her an interesting look.
She shrugged. “I just know. I…Kevin says I have that talent.”
She put her hand over her mouth, wishing she could gulp back those words. Why had she said that?
Hesitating for a moment, he laughed and then pulled his glasses off.
“I should not have said that.” She really couldn’t believe herself. “I’m not Nana.”
Dr. Schneider still looked happy. He put his glasses back on. “I see. I have always been under the belief that herbs are here on Earth to help us. I believe that about medicine too, but it gets dicier in the world of addiction.” He paused. “Yes, some nighttime lavender tea would be good for him I believe as well. Maybe a dash of…”
“Coriander," she filled in for him. “He needs a transformation.”
He turned a quick smile to her.
Her heart thumped, but she knew. She just did. Knew what B.C. needed.
The doctor let out a deep breath. “Well, Ms. Moonwater, maybe you would consider not just doing the yoga, meditation, and Pilate classes, but maybe you would consider filling this product list for me.”
He went to his desk and pulled out a sheet then handed it to her. It was a product sheet she’d seen randomly, but hadn’t really thought about. It was her grandmother’s writing and she saw the prices on the potions.
It stunned her. They were expensive.
Dr. Schneider pulled her back to reality. “I think it’s how she helped pay for your Arts school.” He winked at her.
Her pulse raced. Was this how she’d done it? Who else was she selling them to? A million questions flashed through her mind.
She looked up into the doctor's kind brown eyes and it was one of those times in her life when it felt like everything had brought her to this moment. Like the universe, God, the Creator—had brought her to this. She nodded. “I can try.” She could make the products, right? She could have Kevin help. She could figure it out. What was that saying? Creativity comes from desperation. Something like that. Her grandmother had said that to her, too.
He smiled at her, looking at her bag. “Okay, well, here’s the deal. I have four classes that need to be taught today. If you can teach them I’ll pay you forty dollars per class.”
Wow. She’d known instructors got paid well here. This was pretty amazing. She didn’t want to tell him she’d let her certifications lapse, but felt she should. “I’m not certified anymore, I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Well, then I guess I’ll pay for you to get recertified, too.”
This dumbfounded her. “You’ll pay for it?”
He grinned at her and reached his hand out. “Yes.” He flashed her a smile. “Now go talk to Clark and Tricia. They know how to orientate you and will help fill out the new employee paperwork. Your first class is at three.” He looked at his watch.
Her mind was whirling, not only with the fact that she got a job, but a good job that would pay over a hundred dollars a day. That was huge for her.
Startled, she felt someone looking at her. She knew who it was.
Their eyes met and B.C.’s blue, dazzling, movie star eyes seemed to pierce her soul.
His shirt was off, sweat was dripping down the side of his face, and his hands were still curled. Sweat pouring, his beautiful, dark hair all modelesque, he seriously looked like a cologne commercial at the moment. It was like they had met all over again, in a dream. In the dreams she’d been having about that kiss.
“Ms. Moonwater."
The doctor’s voice jerked her back to reality and she felt her erratic heartbeat and could hardly breathe. There was something that tied her to that man.
The doctor turned to look at B.C. then back to her. “Oh well,” he let out what sounded like an uncomfortable laugh. “B.C. will be in your classes today. I’m proud of the work he’s done. It’ll be good for him.”
Chapter 5
Yeah, he’d seen her through the glass.
B.C. stood in the shower of the posh suite. The shower even had glass that looked out over the manicured grounds of the facility. Of course, it was one-way glass – rich people’s glass. The kind where you always get the view, but the people on the other side don’t even know you’re looking at them.
B.C. had seen her clearly.
Dang, if she hadn’t looked like the blonde vixen from the night at the club.
Would he admit that he’d thought about that kiss?
No.
It’d been innocent. He hadn’t understood her being upset and shoving him. How many women would die to have him kiss them and even more, pay to put it on the social media sites?
Fine, she did have a boyfriend. He could tell she wasn’t that kind of woman.
Maybe that’s why he’d been so drawn to her. Why he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. It was almost like the habit of thinking about drugs had shifted to thinking about her. Honestly, it was what had driven him to demand a punching bag around this place.
He wondered why she’d been here. She was a performer at Julliard, what would she be doing here?
He finished the shower and got out, toweling off quickly. He had a group session, then snack, which he always opted for a protein shake, then mandatory yoga. Joy.
Then his mind flipped to the fact she’d been wearing yoga type clothes. They’d been down an instructor.
Hope filled him.
Throwing on clothes, he headed to the group session down the hall thinking of her. Would she be the new yoga instructor? Dang, she’d be good. He knew that just from dancing with her. Lithe, long, lean. And graceful.
He was glad he went through the hardest ‘dry out’ part last week. It’d been hard. He wasn’t sure what the doctor had given him to help ease the pain of drying him out, but he felt measurably better every day without the use of drugs.
This was huge. No pills. No alcohol.
His mind flashed to her. Was it stupid that this had been the first thing he’d been excited about all week? The fact she might be working here?
When they had both stared at each other through the glass, did she feel it too?
Talk about chemistry. Chemistry in a way he’d never felt before. He’d felt lust, thought he’d been in love once after getting home from the military and before really starting his acting career. And…he’d been attracted to women. A lot. But this. He was a live wire and she was picking up all o
f his electrical senses and shaking them around. Every part of him was on edge. He got to the room they had the therapy in and commanded himself to breathe. He was trying to ‘show improvement’ to the group. Out of nowhere, he wondered about the idiot Africa boyfriend.
He re-focused on the group. The first week had been like a slow torture, including being dragged to group therapy. Truth be told, all B.C. could remember was some kind of peppermint smell. It had been comforting. The first week had still been like five layers of hell. He’d been feverish, which he hated. DTs, or the shakes, had made his body shake like he was playing the role of an earthquake. But his appetite was back even though the jitteriness hadn’t completely gone away. So that was good.
Dr. Schneider had made the decision he wouldn’t get his phone even after his first week was up. He’d told him taking a break from the pressures of social media was helpful and the doctor thought B.C. needed his head clear. Then B.C. had approached him about a bag to hit and he could tell the doc didn’t want to agree to it. After an hour of taking the doctor through why punching something really did clear his palette, the doctor had relented as long as B.C. stopped pushing the phone issue.
He was actually starting to like the doctor. Which was strange. He didn’t make B.C. talk about all the crap in his past. Rather, he told B.C. stories about growing up on a ranch in Canada. He had found himself liking the way those stories and the ‘lessons’ in them, actually made him reflect on things in his own life. The doctor didn’t push. That aspect of this place was so much better than he’d expected.
Group session, here he was. It was only his second time. The other three people were all actors, too, but not A Listers. Gary, an older guy he didn’t even know, was clearly trying to work B.C. for some help getting into another movie. He kept trying to tell him about all these old Three’s Company shows he’d been an extra in.
Another, a lady named Tina, looked completely absent sometimes and angry at other times. She was kind. She’d been in a soap opera in the early nineties. B.C. had wondered if she was okay. Sometimes it felt she wasn’t even paying attention but at other times she would hone right in and say something pretty profound.
