I struggled with pronouncing my name as a child, so I called myself Arsy. My parents thought this was adorable and basically encouraged it. I just wished they’d have seen the potential issues arising from that.
Pre-schoolers can be fucking harsh.
“No. Well, it is, but …” I shake my head and let out a growl. “I’m sorry, but how did you get my number?”
“The classified you placed on Anything Goes.” He speaks slowly like I’m crazy. “If it’s a bad time, I can call you back,” he offers. “Although … maybe you could just let me know where you stand with the bodily fluids issue. No point wasting both our time.”
“No, I do not consume bodily fluids,” I snap.
“Right. Okay, then. Maybe you want to consider rewording your ad then. I’ll do anything twice is pretty misleading if you’re not open to consuming my—”
I hang up and stare at my phone, laughing helplessly.
I can’t even string words together right now.
“I’d ask if this is something for me to be concerned about, but I think I already know the answer is yes.”
I spin around, my eyes widening when I see Jim standing there.
Fuck.
At least he looks amused. He glances between Mom and me, then back to Mom, who is now sitting on the floor, gasping from laughing so hard.
“I guess when Darcy is involved, I’m always a little worried,” Jim continues with a grin.
“Says the father of Satan,” I mutter under my breath. But not low enough, because Jim throws his head back and releases a hearty laugh.
“Don’t worry.” He grins, “I’m the first to admit that Cameron can be a … handful.”
“A handful?” I raise an eyebrow. I can think of so many words that would be much more appropriate to describe him. “Okay, let’s go with that.”
“So, do I want to ask what I walked in on?” He pauses. “You should probably be aware that in some countries, consuming someone else’s bodily fluids is illegal.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. I guess I’ll go cancel my around the world fetish trip.” I shake my head and start to walk out of the kitchen. “It’s nothing. Trust me.” I give him a smile. “I better go and get ready for lunch.”
As I pass Mom, I shoot her a glare, making it clear that I don’t want him knowing, because A: it’s embarrassing enough as it is and B: I don’t want to risk Cameron finding out. He might have some cute friends, so the less he knows about me, the better.
The second I’m in my room, I call Katie.
“Are you kidding me?” I growl. “My mom saw a photo that some creep just sent me. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she roped me into putting some weirdo who called, on speaker.”
“She did?” Kat bursts out laughing. “Oh, that’s even better than I’ve been imagining. Happy Birthday, by the way.”
“Gee thanks,” I snap. “Mom either thinks it’s real or she’s doing a great job of winding me up.”
“She’s always been good at stirring you,” Katie giggles. “It’s totally obvious whom you inherited that trait from. Hey, are we still on for lunch?”
“Yes. Lunch is still good.” I sit down on my bed and sigh.
“So, what did he say?” she presses.
“The guy who replied? Oh, it was just your average, cookie-cutter first contact phone call. He wanted confirmation that I was willing to consume his body fluids.” I pause. “At least I think he meant his own? Could’ve been someone else’s I guess.”
“Yuck,” Katie gasps. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. Oh, and the first guy? He sent a text. Well, a photo, actually, of himself dressed as a Care Bear, fucking some chick from behind. I think Mom was impressed.”
“A Care Bear?” She giggles.
“He got points for choosing the blue one.” I grin. “But sending a photo of yourself balls deep inside another chick—even if you are dressed as a bear? What do these people think?”
“Probably not too much.” She cracks. “God, Darc, I’m sorry. Sash suggested it—”
“Oh, so the fact that it’s pretty much the same thing you did to Adam last year is just a coincidence?” I tease her, referring to the prank she played on her boyfriend. “Which I helped you come up with, I might add.”
“All the more reason you should be able to take a joke,” she replies in a small voice.
“I’m taking it, aren’t I?” I grumble, ignoring the beep of my phone, alerting me to an incoming call. “I’ve been taking it for twenty-three years now. You’re lucky I’m finding these responses funny,” I say, cracking a smile. “Have your fun today, but if it’s not deleted by midnight—”
“It will be. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Good,” I say. “I’ll see you later then.”
My phone buzzes repeatedly when I end the call. Emails, texts, missed calls all come flooding in simultaneously. I shake my head because who knew there were so many people in LA, wanting to get their freak on?
I can’t resist reading through a few emails. Some of these replies are fucking hilarious, especially the super creepy ones, although most of them are too offensive to repeat. I toss my phone on the bed and laugh. I have to admit, as far as birthday pranks go? This one is pretty good.
One day of this I can handle, but any more is going to drive me insane.
Chapter Two
Darcy
Groaning, I roll over when my alarm goes off at seven, ripping it clean out of the wall. Why would anyone intentionally get up this early? I know seven won’t seem that early to a majority of people, but it might as well be three in the morning for me. It doesn’t seem right. I rub my eyes, forcing them to stay open as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. I’m at least sitting up now, even if I’m not really awake.
Welcome to the workforce, Darcy.
When Jim offered to use his connections to get me a job at Emerald Lodge, I was so excited. As far as psychiatric clinics go, Emerald Lodge is the place to be. It’s a private hospital that’s very popular among celebrities who require urgent, inpatient treatment. Working there, fresh out of college is unheard of. People with years of experience under their belt, get rejected because, in an already competitive field, EL is the top choice. But when you’ve got one of the most respected judges in California vouching for you, I guess anything is possible. Somehow, what was supposed to only be an interview turned into a job offer. I was grateful, but in the back of my mind, I worried about what other people might think.
Before I get up, I check to make see if the ad has been deleted. I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been, considering the number of times my phone vibrated through the night. A smarter person than I would’ve gotten up and switched it off or even turned it on silent, but the actual act of getting up wasn’t something I’d been ready to commit to.
I sigh. Just as I thought, the ad is still live. I create a new text, and I add both Katie and Sasha.
Me: If that ad is not removed today, I’m gonna go all postal on your asses.
And now for the fun part. Some of these messages—no, scrap that, all of the messages that have come in fall into three categories: Obscene, disturbing and offensive. Some people were even talented enough to tick all three boxes, so you knew right away, they were going to be a real catch.
I click on the first message and giggle. I turn my phone sideways because I’m not even sure what way it’s supposed to go. I study it for a moment, and then I nod decisively. Yep. I definitely understand why this guy is still single. I click on the next message and wince.
Words I never thought I’d say? I’m so sick of cock.
Seriously, I’ve seen more cock than a chicken farm over the last twenty-four hours. If you’re going to insist on sending me a photo of your manhood, then for God’s sake, at least make sure it’s impressive. But, do you know what offends me even more than that?
The fact that “Aaron” sent me this at four in the morning.
Four in the fucking morning.
&
nbsp; All I can say Is thank God I don’t have notifications hooked up. Does nobody care about first impressions anymore? I guess when you’re sending a dick pic, making a good first impression isn’t high on your list of priorities.
When I can’t avoid it any longer, I reluctantly kick back the blankets and stomp down the hall to the bathroom. After a quick shower, I get dressed and then make my way into the kitchen. After living alone for nearly three years, I moved back in with Mom and Jim last week, because the hospital is literally right around the corner. This is definitely a temporary thing until I find somewhere nearby. I love Mom and Jim—sometimes even Mack is okay, but I love the independence of living alone more and boy do I miss it.
Jim has been more of a father to me for the last six months than my real Dad has been for my entire life. He left us when I was eight and over the years, the contact with him dropped off, until I was lucky to hear from him once a year. It’s just been Mom and me for so long, and I’m really protective of her like she is with me. Before Jim, she showed little interest in dating at all, despite my constant encouragement. All I’ve ever wanted was for her to find happiness again.
I trudge into the kitchen, put my phone down on the table, then I make myself some coffee. My body is desperate for caffeine like it is every morning. I don’t fully function until after cup three, which is usually consumed within an hour of getting up. My phone is still buzzing every five seconds, which for someone who’s usually glued to her phone, is as irritating as hell. As I wait for my coffee to be ready, I silently thank Jim for his stupidly expensive Italian cappuccino maker.
Will they miss it if I take it with me when I move out?
I stand up and throw some bread into the toaster, which I know I’ll have to force myself to eat. I’m not hungry in the slightest, thanks to the fifty different cock pictures I’ve been forced to look at. My phone continues to buzz behind me on the table as I slather my toast with peanut butter.
“Oooh, another sex call.”
I turn around to find Mack holding my phone, reading my messages. He looks up, grins at me and then keeps reading.
That little shit.
I lunge forward and snatch it off him.
“Dude … privacy,” I growl, shaking my head. “Respect it. Reading my texts is not okay.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “But you shouldn’t leave your phone unattended if you don’t want people reading your messages. But can I just say, these are way more entertaining than Cam’s emails?”
I shake my head at the little smartass.
“Stay out of my shit,” I warn him.
“Which is apparently, what you’ll be saying to these creeps,” Mack cackles.
I reach over to slap the back side of his head while trying not to laugh.
“Have a nice day, Mack. Try not to get yourself expelled, okay?”
He grins at me. “Nah, the teachers love me.”
I bet they do.
I grab my peanut butter toast, drink down the last of my coffee, then head for the door.
* * *
The psych facility is just a short drive from home, so less than five minutes later, I’m pulling into the parking lot. I’m shitting myself, which is strange because I don’t usually get nervous about anything. I just can’t shake the fear that’s floating in the back of my mind … and in my stomach.
What if I hate it?
I’m not even talking about specifically here, at this place, but more psychology in general. I chose it as my major because I had to pick something, and I didn’t know what I wanted. The idea was that when I figured it out, I’d change my major, but I never did. Now, at twenty-three, I’m still not sure what I want and that’s scary as hell to admit.
My phone beeps. I don’t think twice about looking at it, but as soon as I do, I wish I hadn’t.
What kind of sick fuck…
I shudder. That can’t be what I think it is, can it? There is no fucking way someone would take a photo of themselves doing that. Wait, how the hell did he get it all the way up there in the first place? I forward the image to both Katie and Sasha, because if I have to visualize an internal picture of someone taking a dump, then so should they.
Getting out of my car, I walk over to the entrance. As you’d expect, there’s a lot of security before I even make it inside. Security cameras are positioned everywhere outside the building and inside. When I finally make it inside, there’s a whole new round of security waiting for me. I get it, with such high-profile celebrities paying a fortune for treatment here, they need to be thorough, but fuck … are they going to pay me for the hour will take to get through this circus every single day?
“Do you have any phones, recording devices, cameras on you?” the guard asks me as he rummages through my bag. “They’re prohibited, you know.”
“None of the above,” I say. “Why are they prohibited, though?”
“Visitors aren’t permitted any devices that may pose a privacy threat. We get a lot of reporters who try to sneak them in, after claiming that they’re here to see a relative,” he explains.
He looks at me like he suspects I’m smuggling all of the above in my anus, so I flash him a smile. There’s no way in hell I’m handing my phone over to this guy. The last thing I need is for the guy I have to walk past every week to think I’m a sexual deviant because he’s been snooping through my phone.
“My phone broke last night,” I explain. “The screen smashed. Damn thing is going to cost a fortune to fix.”
“Yeah,” he finally nods. “My daughter smashed hers last month, so I feel your pain. Though my wallet feels it more.” He chuckles. He reaches for his scanner, and my heart drops. “You’re not going to do what my girl did, and go hit up Daddy to fix it for you?”
“Daddy isn’t in the picture, but Judge Hunter is about to be my stepfather, so I guess I could try that …” I muse.
I hate myself so much for namedropping, but desperate times and all that. Thank God, it works. He puts the scanner back down, then gives me a wink.
“Go on,” he mutters, waving me through.
I smile, and then I quickly move through, before he can change his mind. The first chance I get, I’ll turn it off and then for tomorrow it stays at home—locked in a drawer, where Mack can’t get his dirty little paws on it.
I sit in an area near the back end of the hospital, waiting. My orientation was supposed to begin nearly twenty minutes ago and the more time that passes, the more on edge I am. I don’t know much about the person who’s supposed to show me around, other than her name is Sarah Sanders. I shift in my seat to tug the hem of my skirt down, which suddenly feels way too short—or maybe it’s just the way Mother Teresa, is scowling at me from behind her desk.
My phone. Shit.
I’m reminded the damn thing is still on when it buzzes softly in my pocket. I wait until the receptionist has turned her back, then I fish it out, but before I can turn it off, a voice startles me. I look up to find a woman in her late thirties smiling at me.
“Darcy?” she guesses.
“Yes,” I quickly reply.
I flash her a confident smile as I stand up, while simultaneously sliding my phone back into my pocket. I’m pretty impressed with my stealth abilities, except I’ve missed everything she’s said to me up to this point.
“Anyway, you’ll learn more about that later,” she says, ushering me into a room.
“Can’t wait.” I grin.
I quickly realize we’re in her office. She closes the door and I sit down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. I study her as she walks around to her seat. I’m not sure whether I like her or not yet. She’s nice and all, but something about her is … off.
She sinks down into her chair and smiles at me.
“So, a little more about your role.” She glances at me. “I’ll be honest with you and say that we don’t really have a name for what you’ll be doing. We don’t have a dedicated intern program here at all.” She pauses to give me
the onceover. “You’re the first of your kind to work here.”
The first of my kind? I keep the smile plastered on my face but suddenly I feel the latest attraction at the zoo.
“To begin, you’ll be assisting me. I’ll have you observe at first, and then over the coming weeks, we might look at what areas you feel more comfortable with taking on an autonomous role in. I am hoping things like client interaction and our basic group counseling sessions are tasks you’ll feel comfortable enough to lead after a few weeks. Sound good?”
No. It sounds terrifying.
“It sounds fantastic,” is what I actually say.
“Okay, great. Before we progress any further …”
She reaches into her drawer and pulls out a folder, sliding it across the table to me.
“I’ll need for you to fill out this mountain of paperwork. You’ll find in there a confidentiality agreement and a non-disclosure statement. We have a lot of very high-profile people who use our services. Their privacy is extremely important to us.”
I nod. “Of course.”
“I’ll show you to the staff room. Coffee is in there for you if you want while you fill those out.”
A rush of relief hits me. Because coffee.
“Thank you so much,” I say, smiling widely.
“You don’t need to thank me. Just show up on time, work hard, and get as much out of it as you’re giving.”
She rummages through her pockets, a frown on her face.
“I was going to give you my card, so you can page me when you’re done,” she murmurs, her forehead creased. Then she stops, looks up at me and smiles. “Or maybe you can just put it directly into the phone you’ve got hiding in your pocket that you really shouldn’t have on you, without the correct forms being signed?” she suggests, raising her eyebrows.
“I’m sorry, I’ll leave it at home next time,” I promise.
Wow. She has me worked out.
My face heats as she smirks at me. Yeah. I don’t like her.
PAYBACK’S A BITCH Page 2