by Claire Adams
BILLIONAIRE IN REHAB
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Claire Adams
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BILLIONAIRE IN REHAB PART I
Chapter 1
Cassidy
“This is our dining area. You should come out here for all your meals,” Ronald March was saying as he brought the new guy around the facility.
I had seen enough tours of our swanky, Aspen drug and alcohol rehabilitation center that I could probably have given the tour myself if I had to. Mr. March was dressed in a custom-tailored suit and looked more like a celebrity stylist than the manager at a drug rehab center. But then again, our drug rehab center wasn’t exactly like the ones you would see on television.
My heart flipped as I looked at the man Mr. March was giving a tour to. My initial thought was that he must be famous. His deeply-tanned skin was covered with a scruffy beard, and he was wearing a winter beanie hat that probably cost more than I earned in a week.
A guy like that showing up at our treatment center wasn’t all that unusual. We were a high-end facility that cost a lot of money. But what caught me about this guy was his general level of casualness. He seemed comfortable in our facility, more like he was on a tour of a candy factory than a drug and alcohol treatment facility. I had to wonder if he was even the patient or perhaps instead he was the agent to someone famous. That wouldn’t be unusual.
But no, Mr. March had said “you” when he talked about where to eat, so the man must be a new patient. Secretly, I was happy to have such a handsome guy around; it was fun to have a little eye candy when we were busy working such long shifts.
The whole room paused and watched as the two men made their way through the dining area. It was an open area with several tables, each seating two or four people. Most of the patients were already out of the rooms and waiting for their meals; watching a new patient get his orientation was something to keep them busy with while they waited.
People paid thousands of dollars to hide away at Paradise Peak. Many of our clients were famous actors, musicians, and children of the rich. So, I wasn’t exactly surprised at my physical reaction to seeing the man. Hot guys were just as susceptible to addition as ugly guys were.
But there was something different about this one, something in his eyes that seemed genuinely lost. At Paradise Peak, people had the opportunity to work on mental health issues, drug issues, and alcohol issues – and many people had them all. Some celebrities even came to spend a week and just get away from all the people trying to control their lives.
“Hi, Brad, are you ready for some delicious stuffed chicken?” I asked as I brought a tray over to one of my patients for the day.
“What’s it stuffed with?”
“I don’t know,” I laughed.
“I don’t eat things if I don’t know what they are stuffed with. Come back when you know what’s in it.”
Brad seemed like he had Asperger’s syndrome or some form of autism that had never officially been diagnosed. Although, his behavior could have been from being spoiled all his life just as easily as it could have been an official disorder.
“Sure thing; how about I leave the applesauce and salad for you right now, and I’ll bring the rest back after I talk to the cook. Will that work?”
“Whatever.”
Brad Hanson was a musician and child celebrity who had frequented Paradise Peak for as long as I had worked there. Over the two years I had known him, I witnessed just what addiction could do to a man and it made me so sad. Brad was forty-two years old and all alone. In his prime, he had been in a boy band that had been very popular in the ’90s, but in recent years cocaine had taken over his life. He had also been part of a sitcom that ran for many years after his band broke up. All that happened before he turned twenty-five.
Most of the other technicians that worked on my unit didn’t like to deal with Brad, so inevitably I ended up caring for him whenever I worked.
As a technician, my job was to make the stay more comfortable for our patients. Sometimes I called them clients, and sometimes Mr. March asked us to call people our guests. But it didn’t matter what people were called, they were at our facility to deal with their demons and hopefully get better during their time with us.
Brad was rude and often mean, but there was an honesty to him that hit home with me. I didn’t mind his attitude and found him quite enjoyable when he sobered up and got to the end of his stays at our facility.
Nothing much usually bothered me while I was at work. I didn’t take insults personally, and I was patient with people and knew that they would eventually become more friendly.
Drugs and alcohol had a way of changing how someone dealt with life and the people in it. So when a patient arrived who had to go through detox and withdrawals, I felt it was my responsibility to make that process as comfortable as possible. Trust me, they were going to go through enough pain and uncomfortable feelings; they didn’t need me to have an attitude with them, as well.
“Is Brad giving you a hard time?” Kaitlin said as I returned to the back room with the tray of food. “I don’t know why you even try with that guy. He’s never nice.”
“Oh, you know Brad. I need to go talk to Chef Alexander and find out what the chicken is stuffed with before Brad will eat it.”
“Just give it to me. I’ll tell him what it’s stuffed with,” Kaitlin said as she reached for the tray.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind going and finding out. It will make him feel better, and that’s all that matters.”
“You’re way too nice to him. He’s a drug seeker who’s not interested in getting better. I don’t know why you baby him like you do. He’s not even nice to you.”
Brad wasn’t a drug seeker in my eyes, though. To me, he was just an addict who didn’t know how to cope with even the simplest of things in his life. He had popped a pill or drank some alcohol anytime he felt bad for as long as he could remember; it was going to take some time for him to truly learn new coping skills.
“I’ll be right back,” I said as I headed down the hallway. “Can you start handing out the other trays please?”
“I guess. But if they don’t like it, that’s just too bad.”
Kaitlin was a nurse at Paradise Peak and one of my best friends. As a nurse, she was responsible for ensuring everyone’s medications were correct and administering them throughout her shift. She liked to pretend like she wasn’t compassionate, but I knew that deep down, she cared a lot for our patients. Tough love was just as important as empathy, and Kaitlin’s value was seen just as much as mine by Mr. March.
“Cassidy,” I heard Mr. March say as I walked into the kitchen.
“Yes.”
“This is Erik. He’s going to be staying in room eight; he’s a vegan,” Mr. March said as he looked at Erik to confirm. “It’s vegan, right? Not vegetarian.”
“Yeah,” Erik said as he totally ignored me and looked out the window at the snow-capped mountains.
His eyes seemed glazed over, and I suspected he was coming down off of a pretty major drug or alcohol binge. W
hatever landed him in our facility had probably only happened a few hours before, or he had used before arriving.
It was very common for people to try and curb their withdrawal by thinking that one last sip or hit would make them feel better. I felt bad for the guy; he was about to have a pretty horrible couple of days as his body got rid of the drugs he had taken and the withdrawals began.
“I’ll try to remember, but you might have to remind me sometimes,” I said as I reached my hand out to shake his.
I smiled and tenderly looked at him to offer my support. I always made sure new patients knew they could count on me to make their stay as comfortable as possible. It was my job, but I also really enjoyed helping people.
“Just remember. Let’s not make excuses for why you can’t do your job,” he said curtly and walked away from the two of us.
I opened my eyes large and looked at Mr. March; he knew that look and just shrugged his shoulders in response.
This new patient seemed to have a pretty big chip on his shoulder. I had to wonder what he was there for. My guess was drugs –he seemed pretty strung out. He looked like a spoiled rich kid whose father probably sent him to our facility to straighten up before he was handed the reins of some multi-billion-dollar company. Those guys were the hardest to take care of because they expected so much and put in so little.
Rich, spoiled kids were used to getting exactly what they wanted without having to be polite or work at all. Even when they became addicted to drugs, they expected that just coming to a rehab facility would cure them. Actually doing the work and learning about their addiction wasn’t really what they wanted. Those kids wanted a quick fix and someone to blame when it didn’t work out.
“I suppose he’s going to by my patient?”
“Cassidy, you’re so good with the tough cases. We are lucky to have you. You know, I just submitted your name for employee of the month.”
Nothing Mr. March could say would make it easier to work with a difficult patient. But normally, I could just put their words aside and see that they were sick and needed some loving attention. I already suspected that was going to be more difficult with this man.
My job was to be nice to the patients. I didn’t do therapy sessions. I didn’t give them their medications. My whole purpose for being with the patients was to make their life better while they were in our care. Sometimes that meant walking with them. Other times, it might mean getting them a different meal. It didn’t matter to me, as long as what I was doing would help them.
“Mr. March, we don’t even have an employee of the month program. It’s just you typing up a certificate for me,” I said with a wry smile.
It was a little joke that Mr. March had with all the staff when he needed something done that no one wanted to do. We were a small facility and it wasn’t reasonable to even do an employee of the month program; everyone worked hard and everyone got recognized for their work on a pretty consistent basis. But our recognition usually came in letting us leave early, or Mr. March might buy pizza for the staff; it was a nice gesture at least.
“But I would give you employee of the month if we had a program,” he said as he patted me on the back.
“Thanks, I think,” I laughed. “Now, I need to go get Alexander’s recipe for this chicken so I can convince Brad to eat it.”
“See, that’s the kind of thing that just goes so far above what others do. And everyone else does a pretty fantastic job, too.”
“I know, I know, I’m employee of the month.”
I started to walk away, hoping Mr. March was done with me. But there was one thing that I knew he was going to comment on. I cringed as I heard him start to talk to me and hoped he wouldn’t write me up for my blatant refusal to follow this one rule.
“Let’s take it out before anyone else sees it, please, Cassidy.”
“Mr. March, it’s so much work to take in and out. I really don’t understand why I can’t keep it in. Just because the patients need their piercings out doesn’t mean I should have to take mine out.”
“No unusual piercings are allowed; you know the rules. If the patients have to take theirs out, so do you.”
“What unusual piercings do you have?” the new patient, Erik, said as he rejoined the conversation and suddenly seemed very interested in me.
For the first time, Erik looked me dead in the eyes. I felt my body warm at his attention. Not because I wanted him to like me or anything like that. But his deep, brown eyes penetrated me. They looked so far into my soul that I felt the need to take a step backwards as I reeled and tried to figure out if I should respond to his question.
I looked at Erik and then at Mr. March and didn’t open my mouth to respond. My tongue piercing had been a fun little excursion when I went to Vegas for my twenty-first birthday. I had been so drunk that I almost married a complete stranger, and only by vomiting on the man had I been saved from that horrible mistake. The next morning, I woke up with my tongue pierced. I could have taken it out and my hole would have healed, but I liked keeping it as a reminder of my past and all the changes I had made.
“Let’s go look at the pool area,” Mr. March said in an effort to distract the new patient. “We have a spectacular pool, hot tub, and sauna. All visits need to be with staff for your safety,” said he continued as he guided the man out of the kitchen.
“Clit, nipples, tongue; which is it?” Erik boldly asked just before turning the corner and grinned at me while he waited for my response.
“What?” I said in total shock.
“Where’s your piercing?”
I burst into laughter at his bold question. Erik was a handsome man with a bit of an attitude, but everyone had an attitude when they arrived at our facility. His smile would certainly stick in my mind for the rest of that evening, though. His half wink and brilliant white teeth mesmerized me and gave me a shot of adrenaline. For a man with such an attitude, he sure did seem to be flirting with me.
“Let’s go,” Mr. March said without giving me time to answer.
Mr. March put his hand on Erik’s elbow and guided him out of the room and toward the pool area. Luckily for me, I didn’t have to answer his question. The tour of our facility was quite impressive and Mr. March was a pro at it. He showed them the workout room, the pool, the spa; he walked new patients around the grounds and looked up at the mountains. Our treatment center was more like a resort than a hospital and that was exactly why we got the rich and famous to send their loved ones to us.
“That one looks like trouble,” Alexander said from behind me.
“Yeah, I bet he won’t last a week. Probably one of those rich, spoiled kids.”
“I think he’s that guy from Slap 142, that rock band?”
“I don’t know. But he’s not very friendly, and he’s a vegetarian. Or wait, was it vegan? Crap, I don’t remember.”
“I’ll give him a bacon omelet tomorrow and we can find out,” Alexander laughed. “Is it horrible that I enjoy a bacon freak out so much?”
“No, don’t do that,” I begged. “At least I’m not working tomorrow; I won’t have to deal with that disaster. Speaking of disasters, Brad would like to know what the chicken’s stuffed with. He’s not going to eat it unless he knows.”
“Tell him it’s stuffed with my soul,” Alexander joked. “Or mozzarella, whichever sounds more appropriate.”
Poor Alexander had been stuck working at Paradise Peak for the last six months. He was an internationally-acclaimed chef who had run his own restaurant in Paris for two years before he got caught with drug paraphernalia on a trip to Miami. Luckily, his lawyer had brokered a plea agreement and found him a position at Paradise Peak for his year of probation.
I knew he hated it with us, but he was the best chef we had ever had and despite Brad’s pickiness, Alexander delivered top-tier food. Probably better than any other rehab facility in the country.
“I’ll tell him it’s mozzarella,” I replied.
After serving Brad his mozzar
ella-filled chicken, I finished getting everyone started on their meals before leaning against the nurse’s counter to talk with Kaitlin. It was our normal afternoon routine and a short bit of semi-solitude while the patients enjoyed their meals.
“That new guy seems like a giant asshole,” I said.
“A hot one.”
“Well, I don’t think looks have a bearing on someone’s asshole rating. Mr. March told me to take my tongue piercing out again; what is the probability I can get him to forget about that damn rule?”
“Cassidy, just take it out. It’s not like you’re giving blowjobs here and need to impress your boyfriend with it. Oh, wait, you haven’t had a boyfriend in two years,” she dramatically laughed.
It was the truth, and I hated when Kaitlin brought it up. I had purposely been avoiding men since getting sober myself. I could have dated any number of guys if I wanted to, but I didn’t. I was single and very happy. But she just drove me nuts when she teased me about it.
Most guys my age drank and it was impossible to find a guy who didn’t want to go out to the clubs or drink at a restaurant, and I just didn’t think I could handle that kind of pressure. I hadn’t even gone out with my friends lately because I wasn’t confident enough in my own ability to stay sober yet.
“You’re just jealous because I could have any man I wanted, down on his knees begging to have me,” I said to try and get her riled up and then I turned toward the room to go back to work.
Sure as hell, when I turned around, there was Mr. March and that damn new patient Erik standing right there. They had both heard everything I had just said. Mr. March stood there with a disastrous grimace on his face.
“Do I have to get on my knees?” Erik said and winked at me.
My eyes got big, my face turned one hundred shades of red, and I looked to Kaitlin to rescue me, but she just turned around as she started to laugh. There was no way of avoiding the fact that both Mr. March and this new patient had just heard me and I stood frozen as I tried to figure out what the heck to do.
