She sighed, a long deep sigh, turning the phone over in her hands. She was dying to share this unbelievably juicy gossip with JC and Tas. They’d kill her if they found out she’d been keeping something like this from them. And it was 5 p.m., the time that Cascabel unblocked its call jamming for an hour so that patients allowed cellphone privileges could ring their friends and whinge about how miserable they were. She could send the video right now if she wanted.
Petal was really and truly torn. Part of her still violently resented having been packed off to Cascabel; but another part of her knew that it was doing her a ton of good. Part of her was furious at being separated from Dan; another part knew that Dan was working like a maniac in the recording studio and that if she were in London too, she’d probably be driving him crazy trying to drag him out partying with her rather than let him get on with his work. And that wouldn’t exactly be good for their long-term prospects.
Part of her was gagging to share this insanely hot piece of gossip with her best friends. But, bizarrely, another part of her was thinking of the trust that had built up in the rehab group in the time they’d spent together.
Joe’s a really nice guy, she admitted to herself. She’d thought in the beginning he was totally full of himself, uninterested in anything but leching after Amber and Skye. But he’s been really cool with Brian. I’ve seen how much he’s put into looking out for Brian, spending time with him. He’s really been there for Brian. And Joe’s been great in group. You feel like you can say anything and he won’t judge you.
Plus, he’s never leched after me. Which would have been totally creepy, ’cause he’s practically old enough to be my father.
That fact hadn’t stopped more friends and acquaintances of Gold’s than Petal could count trying to flirt with her. Ever since she hit thirteen or so, started wearing some makeup and short skirts, she’d been fending off creepy older guys. With no help from Gold, who’d never even noticed.
So I’ve got to give Joe points for that too. Even with Skye and Amber, he’s been cool. He hasn’t, like, been playing them off against each other or anything like that.
Petal discounted Jennifer Downs, Joe’s world-famous film star fiancée. Growing up in Gold’s household had made Petal completely aware of all the fake Hollywood marriages and relationships that were arranged to conceal one or both star’s homosexuality, weird sexual preferences, or simply to promote their latest project. And she’d heard on the grapevine for years that Jennifer was a lesbian. So when Joe and Skye had got it on in the storage closet, he hadn’t been betraying anyone who remotely cared where he put his willy.
But Skye . . . Skye was another story.
What Skye did to Amber in group today was awful. Really nasty.
Petal had seen every kind of manoeuvre by women frantic to get close to Gold, ready to trample anyone else underfoot if that was what they had to do to achieve it. And she knew that Amber wasn’t after Joe; the only man here Amber cared about was Dr Raf. He’s given her double sessions now, Petal thought jealously. Lucky bitch.
But, like everyone else in their rehab group, Petal was genuinely touched by Amber: her beauty was hypnotizing, but beneath it was the really heroic struggle Amber was undergoing, to clean up after so many years of being hooked on pills, and to find out who she was underneath her addiction. Plus that awful mum waiting for her when she gets out of here, Petal thought, shuddering. That’s totally got to be hanging over her head.
Skye’s attempt to bring Amber down had triggered plenty of memories for Petal, none of them pretty. All those women – many of whom were supposed to be looking after her – squabbling and fighting over Gold.
Skye’s just like them. My nannies, the mums of my friends, my teachers. I thought she was nicer than that, but she isn’t. She’s just another bitch out for what she can get.
Her fingers danced over her phone keypad, pulling up Tas and JC’s names, attaching them to the video, her thumb hovering over the Send button. She hesitated for a moment, her brain racing. After all, the whole reason she was here was that Rudy had taken those photos of her and Dan and sold them to the papers! Wasn’t she doing exactly the same thing?
Nah. I’m just sharing it with my best mates. No one’s going to be flogging it to the tabloids.
She hit Send, and watched, hypnotized, as the process was set in motion; the tiny globe popping up at the top of the screen, little arrows spinning round it, signalling the transmission of the mini-film all the way across the Atlantic. After a minute or two, she dialled Tas’s number, and waited impatiently for her to pick up.
‘Petal?’ Tas yelled over the sound of pumping dance music behind her, people shouting; she must be in a club.
‘You sound like you’re having fun!’ Petal hissed enviously.
‘It’s, like, really late!’ Tas slurred. ‘We’ve been out for hours . . . I can’t hear you – it’s well noisy here.’
‘I just sent you a video!’ Petal went into the bathroom and shut the door, so she could raise her voice a little without being overheard. ‘You’ve got to watch it!’
‘What the fuck – I’m pissed out of my skull, man – I’m going into the bog so I can hear you . . .’
The noise behind Tas abated a little, as she said: ‘Oh, I just got a message from you – hang on . . .’
A long pause followed. Petal knew she hadn’t been cut off; she could still hear the driving beat of the music.
And then, eventually, Tas said: ‘No. No. You are fucking messing with me, man. Is that—’
‘Yes!’
‘But what are they – oh my God, he’s – and she’s – oh my God!’
‘Yeah!’
‘Outrageous!’ Tas breathed deeply. ‘I got to show this to JC!’
‘Tas! Oh my fucking God!’ came JC’s voice. ‘Wait till you see what Petal just sent me!’
‘She’s on the phone now.’
JC grabbed the phone from Tas.
‘Babe,’ he said devoutly, sounding slightly more sober than Tas, ‘we miss you so much! You know how much we miss you! But this goss – oh my God – it’s almost worth missing you for! You’re supercool!’
A big smile was spreading over Petal’s face. ‘I miss you too,’ she said.
‘You’re the gossip queen!’ JC crowed. ‘Who’s the girl with him?’
‘Just a slutty stripper in here with us,’ Petal said vindictively. ‘Don’t send it to anyone,’ she added quickly. ‘You can show it but don’t send it.’
‘No worries,’ he said. ‘Promise promise. But, oh my God! Talk about juice!’
‘We miss you!’ Tas slurred into the phone. ‘Come home soon!’
Petal was beaming from ear to ear. ‘I miss you too,’ she said happily.
They loved her; they missed her; they wanted her back. And she had re-established her cool credentials, even from rehab.
Sending that video had definitely been the right thing to do.
Amber
After the shattering events of the previous day, Amber had no idea what to expect from her individual session with Dr Raf the next morning. But as soon as she walked into his office, it was obvious that he had been preparing for this moment. He was standing behind his chair as the door opened, restraining himself from crossing the room towards her by grasping onto the leather back of the chair.
‘Amber,’ he said, his voice husky, ‘please sit down.’ He nodded towards the client chair. ‘Would you like –’ he blushed deeply – ‘would you like someone else to be present while we talk?’
Amber stared at him, her green eyes widening, and shook her head so vehemently that it hurt.
‘OK, that’s fine,’ he said quickly. ‘I just thought I ought to ask . . .’
She settled into the chair, looking up at him, as he continued: ‘First, I have to apologize to you for what happened between us yesterday. Obviously, it was completely and utterly inappropriate. It should never, ever have happened. That kind of contact between a doctor and patient – any
kind of contact between a doctor and patient – is absolutely forbidden, for very good reasons—’
He broke off, clearing his throat, his dark eyes utterly focused on her. Still keeping the chair between them like a shield, he asked: ‘Amber, do you know what transference is?’
Amber shook her head again, this time more gently.
‘It’s when you – the patient – develop feelings for your psychiatrist or therapist,’ he explained. ‘But those feelings aren’t real. Or rather, they aren’t really about the therapist. In other words, your feelings are just projected onto me. And counter-transference –’ he blushed again – ‘is when the therapist begins to feel they have feelings for the patient. But those feelings aren’t real either. If it’s properly directed, transference and even counter-transference are essential to the therapeutic process, because it means the patient is truly working through their issues. But if they’re mishandled . . .’
His hands were digging deep into the back of the chair now, his knuckles whitening with the strain.
‘If they’re mishandled – and yesterday was a textbook example of exactly how to mishandle them – then the entire treatment is in jeopardy. And I want to stress that it’s entirely the therapist’s fault in that case. You’re in no way to blame for what happened between us.’
He was clearly in such agony that Amber was craving to get up, go over and put her arms around him. His handsome face was tortured, his mouth tight.
‘Of course, it goes without saying that I’ve never done anything like that with a patient before,’ he said, ducking his head in shame. ‘Really, I ought to report myself to the American Medical Association. And you could do that if you chose to. I’ve totally breached the trust you placed in me.’
‘I would never do that!’ Amber said quickly.
‘Well, you might change your mind, and if you did, you have the absolute right to report me,’ he said nobly. ‘I’ve been struggling with this all night – I’ve barely had any sleep – Amber, I feel so terrible about what I did to you! And obviously, there’s no way I can treat you any more. I’m transferring you over as a patient to Dr Lucy immediately.’
‘Oh, no!’
Amber was on her feet; she didn’t even realize she’d jumped up. The prospect of not being able to be alone with Dr Raf every day was more than she could bear.
To think I was so worried about what Skye said yesterday in group! she thought frantically. I was so scared it would put him off me – make him think I’m just like my mother, just another woman who’ll have sex for money. Just another prostitute. And instead, he’s been up all night worrying what I’ll think of him . . .
‘Please don’t make me leave you!’ she blurted out. And then, because that sounded desperately clingy: ‘I can’t be treated by Dr Lucy! She hates me!’
Dr Raf looked even more guilty than he had before. She would have expected him to deny it, but instead he mumbled: ‘Well, that’s not impossible.’
Amber stared at him blankly.
‘We’ve been seeing each other,’ Dr Raf clarified, red to the tips of his ears by now. ‘Dr Lucy and I.’
Amber froze. Her lips felt as paralysed as if she’d had a shot of Novocaine from a dentist. But she managed to get out: ‘Is it serious?’
She held her breath as she waited for his response. Dizziness ran through her; she thought she might faint if the answer was yes. It seemed to take for ever for Dr Raf to answer. He was struggling with himself, and by the time he said: ‘I thought it was,’ all the blood had drained from his face. The skin over his cheekbones was drawn tight, his jaw set; he was pale as a sheet of paper.
Amber wasn’t conscious of making any decision to move. But she must have done, because, slowly, she was crossing the carpet, walking towards him, around the chair onto which he was still gripping for dear life.
‘You thought it was,’ she echoed softly.
‘Amber . . .’
Hopelessly, Dr Raf looked into her eyes. She was so close now she could have touched him just by raising her hand. She could smell his aftershave and the warm heady scent of his skin, see the stubble on his chin where he had missed a tiny patch shaving this morning. A dark curl of hair was hanging down over his forehead, and she yearned to twist her fingers around it.
‘What we’re feeling isn’t real,’ he said. ‘You’re looking for someone to take care of you – you’re lost and alone – and I’m looking for someone to take care of.’
What’s wrong with that? Amber thought, a little puzzled.
Dr Raf must have realized that his objection wasn’t as powerful as he had thought, because he continued swiftly: ‘You came here for therapy, and I’ve betrayed you. I’ve done the worst thing a doctor can do to a patient. I should lose my licence for what I’ve done to you.’
His voice was getting stronger; his own words were convincing him. She needed to give this everything she had, every ounce of conviction and confidence and certainty that she had built up over her time in therapy.
But it’s too soon! she thought, panicking. I’m not ready! I’m not strong enough!
And then another voice, clear and firm, said simply: You have to be.
‘You’re the best doctor I could ever have had,’ she heard herself say out loud. ‘You’ve saved me. You’ve showed me how to feel my own feelings. To be honest with myself, and know what I want. We keep talking in group about being connected. Well, I am connected now. I’m connected to my feelings, and I know they’re real. They are.’
She looked at him pleadingly, her heart in her eyes.
‘I know what I want. I want you,’ she said, so bravely she could hardly believe her own courage. ‘And you know what? I want you even if it goes horribly wrong. I want you even if you go back to Dr Lucy. I want you even if it causes me huge amounts of pain and suffering. And isn’t that what being an adult’s all about? Isn’t that what I’m learning how to be? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be learning with all this therapy – knowing what I want, and being prepared to pay a price for it?’
She smiled, a huge, beautiful smile.
I’m so proud of myself, she thought, radiant with triumph. I’ve never been more proud of myself in my life.
‘I want you,’ she repeated, and in a final act of bravery, she took one step closer to him, so their bodies were brushing against each other. He was only a little taller than her, so when she tilted her head up, her lips were almost on a level with his.
And then she waited.
He has to do it. He has to kiss me. He has to meet me halfway.
It was unbearable. She held her breath and closed her eyes.
If he doesn’t kiss me, I’ll never take another breath again – never, never, never . . .
Dr Raf made a sound deep in his throat, a rough, guttural sound full of frustration and lust and confusion.
Amber tensed. And then the breath was squeezed out of her as his arms came around her so tightly, his mouth came down on hers so hard, that she would have gasped if she had been able. Instead, she threw her arms up round his neck, dragging his head even closer to hers, grinding her body into his, pressing her breasts against his chest, her crotch against his, dizzy now with the thrill of knowing that he couldn’t control himself when it came to her. That her words had had the power to convince him.
That he had thought he was serious about Dr Lucy – before he’d met Amber.
She felt like crying and laughing all at once. Their bodies strained together, Dr Raf’s hands running up and down her back, trying to mould her as close as he could, his legs wide to pull her between them, so that she felt his cock springing up against her as his tongue drove deep into her mouth. Amber dragged his shirt out of his waistband, sliding her hands up his bare skin, hearing him moan as she ran her hands over him. He twined his fingers into her hair as she tilted her head back eagerly, wanting him to kiss her neck, and it was as if he knew exactly what she needed, his lips tracing a line down to her throat. His hands left her hair, followin
g his mouth, his fingers hot on her skin, making her writhe with excitement as they wrapped round her breasts, lifting them up to his mouth, kissing them through the fine cotton of her top.
Amber was arching back over the chair, her hands on his bottom now, dragging him even closer, glorying in the feel of his tight-muscled buttocks, completely and utterly out of control. As Dr Raf pulled down her T-shirt, enough to expose her silk bra, she writhed against him, half-delirious, wanting him inside her that moment.
‘Amber – oh God, we can’t do this again . . .’ Dr Raf groaned, though the fact that he couldn’t stop kissing her breasts contradicted his words.
‘Yes we can,’ Amber said firmly, sliding her hands round to the front of his trousers, stroking him through them, feeling his cock bound with excitement against his zipper. She reached for his belt buckle, but his hands closed around hers, pulling her up to stand again, holding her tightly against him, his lips against her forehead, his breath coming in fast, desperate gasps as he struggled to regain some mastery of himself.
‘Not here, not like this . . .’ he said, his chest heaving. ‘Not like you’re some cheap little fling. You deserve better than this.’ He raised their joined hands to his lips, kissing her fingers. ‘I won’t treat you like other men have done, Amber.’
But I want you to! Amber thought frantically, her whole body sparking with desire for him.
And then she heard her own words, and took in the truth of what he was saying.
‘You need to be respected,’ Dr Raf said. ‘I have to respect you, not just throw you down on the carpet like we’re animals in heat—’
‘Oh God, that was wonderful,’ Amber said dreamily.
‘Amber, you’re not helping!’ Dr Raf said, so reprovingly that she started giggling, light-headed with relief and excitement and the knowledge that he didn’t just want her, he respected her, even though she’d made love with him yesterday on this very carpet, and he knew now, thanks to Skye, that she’d had sex with men for money.
Dr Raf tucked his shirt back into his trousers, stepped back from her and stabbed his fingers into the tight curls of his black hair, taking a long deep breath.
Bad Girls Page 28
