by Helen Vera
“If only.” I sigh. “I honestly want to tell them to shove their sympathies up their butts. I want to shout it out for the entire world to hear.”
“How about we tattoo the words no sympathy needed on your forehead?” Sue jokingly suggests.
I try to laugh but find myself unable to feel anything but guilt at the moment. Guilt for not mourning Andrew, and resenting him for dying without giving me any closure. The wound of betrayal is still open, and I doubt that it will ever close.
3
JAX
“Man, you must be a fucking vampire because I never see you wearing a jacket this time of year.”
Felix unzips his blazer to reveal a gray sweater underneath. His cheeks are flushed from the cold. We always have lunch together on Wednesday, which was definitely his idea, not mine. He’s the poster boy for gentlemen everywhere. Reliable, commanding and knows how to stay out of trouble, unlike yours truly.
See, I’m a loose cannon compared to my dear older brother.
“It’s too early for jackets,” I reply, scanning the menu for something to eat. The Olive Garden is busy with tourists and hungry New Yorkers this time of day. The atmosphere is lively and upbeat for a Wednesday. Felix orders his usual beef lasagna with salad on the side, and I order my favorite pepperoni pizza.
“So, anger management therapy, huh?”
“Don’t fucking remind me,” I grunt, toying with my fork.
“I honestly think it’s a good idea.” He cocks a brow at me. “Your temper has always been your greatest weakness, Jax. It makes you blind as a bat; a bat without sonar that is.”
“Bullshit. My anger is what makes me win my cases. It makes me a better lawyer.”
“Yeah, but at what cost?” Felix argues. “Look, we both deal with our unresolved childhood issues in different ways. I fucking get it. But you chose to go down an ugly and violent road, and now you’re paying the price.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest and glare at him. “Do not try to fucking psychoanalyze me.”
Felix pinches his nose bridge then gives me an innocent look that looks foreign on him. “See that’s what I’m talking about. Look at you getting all defensive. I was only pointing out the obvious.” He glares back at me.
I dig into my pizza with a huff and wolf down an entire slice to stop myself from getting angry. Food always puts me in a good mood. Not today though. Today is my very first session with my probation psychiatrist. My appointment is in less than an hour but I’m not exactly looking forward to this fucking therapy bullshit. It’s a complete waste of my time.
We eat our lunch in silence for a few minutes. Felix wipes his mouth with a napkin and clears his throat. “You know, every time I remember what we went through at the hands of our old man, I think of going to therapy myself.” He shrugs, admitting all of a sudden.
“I thought your nightclub was your therapy. They should call you the Mother Theresa of abuse victims after hiring all those tweens to work at your club.”
He shrugs and takes a long sip from his tall glass of ice tea. Every time Felix mentions our fucking father, I feel sick to my stomach and lose my appetite. This subject makes me want to punch a wall. Hard.
I take a few calming breaths and glance at my watch. My session is now ten minutes away.
“Sometimes, I feel this anger of yours is my fault. I should have done more to protect you” Felix tells me for the hundredth time. I hate how he feels responsible and guilty after all these years.
“My mother should have been the one protecting us,” I say through gritted teeth, remembering how she’d pretend not to hear our screams of pain. She’s the one who failed to protect us from the fucking bastard she called a husband. She chose to turn a blind eye to his sadist behavior. She may be dead and gone, but I will never really forgive my her. Not in a million years.
“Jax. Your jaw is about to break. Relax.”
I release my poor soda can from my tense fingers and lean back against my chair. “Shit. I can’t believe they’re forcing me to see a shrink.” I tug on my short hair in frustration.
“As your brother who loves you unconditionally and without any reservations...”
“Here we go again..”
“I really think you should take this opportunity by the hand and make the most of it. Your commitment issues alone need hundreds of hours of therapy.” Felix continues. “I still remember the sweet gal who slapped you and walked away in full sight on everyone at the club. You really know how to keep them, don’t you?”
“Christ. Thanks for the vote of confidence, man. Speaking of therapy, I’m already late.” I fish out my leather wallet and pay for our lunch.
“See you around, Mother Theresa.”
He flips me the bird and walks away, telling me to behave.
I put on my sunglasses and toss the parking valet my card. Telling a man like me to behave is like telling a shark to go vegan. I wait for my silver Maserati, not really paying attention to the time. I know I’m running late, but honestly, I don’t give a fuck.
I park across from the art-deco style building and walk the short distance to the main entrance. The clouds gather in the sky and hide the afternoon sun from view, so I take off my aviator shades and hold them in my hands.
I take the elevator to the fourth floor where the psychiatrist’s office is located. The smell of coconuts greets me out in the corridor. I fucking hate coconuts. Maybe this is a sign that I should turn around and get out of here. I never really bothered to look at his or her name when I was first given the address, but judging from the calm blue walls and the IKEA furniture, I could tell my therapist is a lady.
The male receptionist greets me politely, but I can tell that he finds me scary as fuck. I smirk to myself and sit down on the ridiculously small couch in the corner. The music playing from the speakers reminds me of my dentist. I tap my foot impatiently on the carpet and that’s when I hear her voice. It drifts from behind her office door, delicate and musical.
The door swings open and my eyes fall on her shapely legs first. She’s wearing a sexy pair of distractingly pink heels. Her dress is black and modest. She looks like a porcelain doll. A very attractive, yet familiar porcelain doll. I quickly get up and our eyes meet from across the room. Her wide, almond-shaped eyes are sad and fragile, but she carries herself with natural grace and confidence.
Fuck me.
She’s none other than Vivian Caldwell. The one and only widow of Andrew fucking Caldwell.
What a weird and terrible coincidence this is.
I almost break my sunglasses in half as I struggle to maintain a calm facade. She motions for me to follow her into the spacious and well-lit office. I can tell from the way she keeps on glancing back at me that she finds me hella attractive.
Oh this gonnabe fun.
4
VIVIAN
The door swings open and I step outside to greet my fashionably late patient. According to his file, he was arrested for physically assaulting a bartender who did not press any charges, and for vandalizing a bar on Park Avenue.
I have a troublemaker with severe anger issues as my patient. I sigh and glance around the ocean themed reception area to find him standing there like a Greek statue in an ancient temple. His striking gray eyes meet mine and I grip the doorknob a bit too tight...
He’s wearing a charcoal gray shirt with short sleeves that show off his menacing tattoos. His aura radiates danger and I find myself intimidated by his powerful, dominating presence. His penetrating gaze makes me forget what I’m about to say, so I motion for him to enter my office.
I take a deep breath and turn around, glancing at him every now and then with a polite smile on my face. He’s built like a tank and his corded muscles are so damn distracting. My throat feels dry all of a sudden and I regret not drinking enough water on my lunch break.
We stand in my cozy office and I hold out my hand and introduce myself. “Hello, I’m Doctor Swanson, but you can call me Vivian.” He tak
es my hand and shakes it firmly. His hand is warm and huge compared to mine.
“Jax Knight.” He says, his voice deep and smooth like dark chocolate. I take a step towards my armchair and tell him to sit down on the leather couch facing it.
He glances around my office with open curiosity and takes his sweet time to sit on the couch. I flip over to a new page in my notebook and take another quick look at his file. He finally makes himself comfortable on my couch and stretches out his arms on its cushioned back. The tattoo spanning his left bicep is distractingly beautiful. It looks like the wings of a falcon or maybe an angel. I force myself to look away and concentrate on the session ahead.
“So, how about you tell me a little bit about yourself,” I suggest.
He nods towards the file on my lap and licks his full lips. “Everything you need to know is in there.” He coolly responds.
I clear my throat and open his file again. “It says here that you are a lawyer.”
“Yes.” He nods.
“My husband used to be a lawyer too. His office was on the other side of town, near Madison Square Garden.” I say, hoping it will encourage him to talk.
He seems to be incredibly interested in my legs, so I tug on my dress, reminding myself that I have dealt with clients far worse than him. I’m more than equipped to handle him. “May I call you Jax?”
“Sure.” He shrugs nonchalantly.
The sun suddenly peeks out from behind a bunch of fluffy winter clouds, flooding the couch with warm light. Jax’s wavy golden-brown hair and sculpted cheekbones make him look like an angelic devil as he sits there, smirking at me.
“So, Jax, how is it like being a lawyer? Do you enjoy your profession?”
“I do.” He replies. “It has its perks.”
“Like?”
He taps his fingers against the couch. “The money, the women and the drugs of course.”
Drugs?! There is no mention of drugs in his file.
“Relax, Doc. I’m only kidding.” He emits a deep chuckle.
“Very funny.” I sigh. “So I take it all is good at work?”
“Yeah. Work is pretty fucking great actually. See, I am the senior partner at my firm. Whatever I say goes. My working hours are flexible and my clients worship me, so I get to be in court every week.” He says. “How about you? Do you enjoy talking to sick, demented people all day?”
“Negative words like the ones you’ve just mentioned are not allowed in this room. Besides, we are here to talk about you and your deep-seated anger issues.” I tell him, using a gentle yet firm tone.
He crosses his arms defensively and holds my gaze with defiance burning in his gray eyes. “We are here because Judge Adams decided to fuck me over.”
“So you feel like this is punishment and not therapy.”
“Exactly.” He nods. “People do crazy shit when they’re drunk. It happens.”
“Yes, but according to your file, this is not your first arrest for violent misconduct.”
Jax completely evades my statement and his eyes drift to my pink suede shoes. I wear them to brighten up my otherwise dull outfit and he seems to have taken an interest in them.
“Tell me, Vivian. Why are you wearing a pair of distracting heels? What if one of your patients had a crazy foot fetish and ended up attacking your feet.”
He grins devilishly and I can tell that he’s not taking this session seriously at all.
“This is highly unlikely. Now can we please focus on you?”
“Oh, by all means, focus the hell out of me.” He leans forward like a predator sizing up his prey. I feel incredibly uncomfortable for the very first time in years while in the presence of a patient. Jax Knight is definitely a handful and clearly stubborn as hell.
“Okay.” I jot down his name on my notebook and try to remain calm. A cup of tea would have chased those nerves away, but it’s too late for tea now. “Let us steer the conversation away from work and your anger issues and discuss your life in general.”
“Doc, you can Google my life. It’s all out there in newspapers and tabloids, even Twitter and Facebook can tell you more than you need to know about my fucking life.” He licks his lips and fishes out his iPhone from his pocket.
I open my mouth to tell him phones are not allowed in my office, but nothing escapes my lips. His long fingers fly over the screen as I jot down a few observations in my notebook.
“If you’re interested in my love life, you can simply check out Page Six for my latest conquests. So far I’ve dated my fair share of Victoria’s Secret Angels, a few Hollywood actresses and according to The National Inquirer, I’ve also slept with Queen Elizabeth.” He winks at me and I can feel my heart racing.
Focus Vivian this is just another patient.
“Do you enjoy being in the spotlight?”
“Hell yeah I do.” He nods, leaning back against the couch and crossing his arms behind his head. “In my profession, you either adapt or die. I choose to adapt, and part of adapting is becoming friends with the camera. There is no such thing as bad publicity you know.”
I nod and jot down a few more notes. I can feel his eyes burning holes through my body, and I find the young school girl in me gushing over how handsome he is. He is definitely the type of guy I fantasized about dating during my high school days. Back then, I used to have an immense crush on Jared Leto. He played the bad boy in My So-Called Life, my favorite teen show of all time.
“Tell me, Doc. How did a gorgeous woman like you end up working as a psychiatrist?” He asks.
“Long story,” I reply. “Besides, I should be the one asking you personal questions, not the other way around.”
“Yeah, but what’s the fun in that?”
I sit up straight in my chair and smooth my hands over my cashmere dress.
“We have ten minutes left, so I’m going to give you a small questionnaire to fill out,” I tell him, reaching over to grab the two-page questionnaire from my desk. “Please make sure to answer all of the multiple choice questions as accurately as possible.”
He shrugs nonchalantly and gets up from the couch to take the papers from me. Our fingers accidentally touch and I feel my spine tingle. Jax towers over me like Hercules in designer clothes. I can tell from his crisp button-up shirt and tailored slacks that he takes pride in the way he looks. The dangerous vibe I get from him makes me wonder if he turns into the Hulk when he’s angry.
My cheeks give me away. They look like twin pink petals in the vintage mirror behind my chair. I sit back down and wait for him to finish answering the questionnaire.
He finishes in less than five minutes and hands it back to me. His phone starts ringing, so he quickly says goodbye and leaves the office like it’s on fire.
Curious, I glance down at the questionnaire to find that he did not answer any of the questions. Instead, he drew weird doodles and a pair of round breasts. On the second page, he wrote the words ‘Perfect tits’ in capital letters.
What a cocky bastard.
5
JAX
I leave Vivian’s office as fast as humanly possible and head straight to the front desk. The nerdy receptionist greets me with a nervous smile, so I decide to toy with him a little.
“Are you familiar with cult leader and murderer, Charles Manson?”
He swallows and nods like an idiot.
“He’s actually my cousin twice removed,” I tell him in a hushed tone.
His freckled face turns pale all of a sudden. I resist the urge to laugh when he reaches for his phone. “Relax. Murder does not run in the family.”
An old lady with the oddest pair of yellow gloves enters the reception area. She heads straight for Vivian’s office without talking to anyone. I shake my head in amusement and turn to look at Mr. Freckles who was printing out some sort of application form.
“This is for you to sign.” He tells me. I reach out and grab the paper from him. He flinches but keeps smiling anyway. “Your next appointment is on Wednesday at thre
e.”
“Fuck me,” I mutter. “Listen, I want a different therapist. Someone old and boring. Who else is available on Wednesday?”
“Sorry, Mr. Knight, but this decision is not yours to make.” He replies. “Doctor Swanson is the only one who can make that call.”
I lean forward across his desk and shoot him a murderous look. “Do you see this scar on my arm? I was stabbed by a ninja assassin while on a trip to Tokyo. He attacked me late one night, but instead of cowering away like a pussy, I fought him off using nothing but my own bare hands. I always fight for what I want, so when I tell you to find me another therapist, you need to say yes sir and make it happen!”
