“Courtney needs a real therapist,” I called after him.
He spun around and peered at me.
“Professional help,” I added.
“She has it. Here.”
I arched a brow.
“My office please,” he snapped. “Now!”
I followed him down the hallway. Surely I had a point.
Richard leaned back against the front of his desk. There was something altogether eerie about his stance. Mainly because it reminded me of the day I’d asked for my job back, or as he’d succinctly put it if you could call it that.
Within the hour I’d enjoyed a mind-blowing fantasy about Richard. The kind never to be shared, the kind I hoped he couldn’t read from my face.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he said.
“What?”
“The correct term is ‘excuse me.’ ‘What’ is something an errant teenager says to their parents.” He gestured. “You wanted to share your insight?”
“Courtney looked terrified.”
“Her expression reflected her emotions.”
“She didn’t look like she wanted to go down there.”
“That’s because you suggested another man would be sharing the same space.”
I swallowed hard, my inner voice telling me to shut up. My mouth ignored my brain. “What did you do to her?”
“We completed a round of therapy.”
So we’re calling it therapy now?
I frowned. “We?”
Richard pointed to the wall. “That’s a doorway. Each office has one. They all lead to the dungeon. Courtney is Cameron’s client.”
I stared at the wallpaper, hardly able to believe the flawless pattern camouflaged a door.
“What I’m about to share with you is confidential,” said Richard. “Courtney suffered severe abuse as a child. Having been married for fifteen years and unable to conceive she sought out alternative therapy.”
“She’s infertile?”
“She had an aversion to sex.” Richard shrugged. “We cured her.”
“What did you do?”
“Firstly, working alongside her husband, we desensitized her to touch.” He gestured downward. “Lotte escorted her husband through the ground entrance.”
“Why didn’t she come through that way?”
“As the submissive they rise in the first elevator, thus accepting the challenge to face change, and as they descend in the second elevator they give themselves permission to surrender.” He gestured to his head. “It’s subliminal of course.”
“If she was so badly abused aren’t you making it worse?”
“She did ask to come here, Mia.”
“Maybe she needs a different therapist.”
“Fifteen years of conventional therapy with no resolution proves talking didn’t work. Not for her anyway.” He raised a shoulder. “Her husband’s a construction worker. They needed a little guidance.”
“Did she say it helped?”
“This was her final session. The series of treatments helped, yes.”
“How do you know?”
Richard folded his arms. “She’s pregnant with her husband’s child.”
It still didn’t seem right.
Richard stood in that familiar stance he liked to hold to intimidate whoever was in the room with him.
I placed my hands on my hips. “Then she shouldn’t be drinking alcohol.”
His stare narrowed. “That look on her face is the expression you’ll see on all our clients when they leave. That’s exhilaration.” He arched an eyebrow. “Different kind of intoxication.”
All he had to do to seduce me was stand there. I fought off this dreamy trance, this hypnotic enthrallment that was Richard Booth; dominant, master, enigma.
My gaze drifted over to the photographs. “What happened to you?”
“How do you mean?”
“Why do you do this? You told me you were once a stockbroker.”
“Yes.”
“But not one now.”
“Evidently.” He broke the tension with a smile.
“Why this kind of work?”
“I like it.”
“Why?”
“Did you change your occupation?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure if you’ve switched to interrogator or attempted psychiatrist.”
“Is Cameron your psychiatrist?”
Richard’s gaze fell upon the photo of him rock climbing. “Want to see how he does it?”
My mind raced with what he meant.
Richard strolled toward the wall and gestured to it. “We often allude the truth because of the pain it causes us.” He pushed against the wall and the door popped open.
“I should be getting back.”
He nudged the door wider. “Down you go.”
“Not after last time.” My cheeks blushed.
“Have you not learned you can trust me?”
“You knew I’d say something, didn’t you? About Courtney?”
He took my hand and guided me over the threshold. Together we descended wooden steps. The walls, painted a soft beige, gave off a comforting hue from lights set in the floor.
Perhaps Cameron now had another client and was whipping the poor man or woman within an inch of their life. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see this. I should have kept my mouth shut. Instead, we found him crossed legged, meditating in an empty room. Richard guided me in and stepped back, putting some distance between us, leaning casually against the wall. Cameron stretched out of the lotus position and elegantly rose.
“Dr. Cole,” said Richard. “We were discussing your expertise. Mia would like a demonstration.”
The air in here was too thick to breathe. Counting how many steps it would take to reach the door, I faced that direction. Richard closed the door.
Cameron had shown his true strength last night during dinner, when he’d gripped my leg and squeezed all the blood out of it. I dared to think what he might try here.
I headed for the door.
Richard cut me off. “That’s a normal response.”
I peered up at him. “Please, let me out.”
“Mia,” said Cameron, his voice low, soothing. Luring.
Richard gestured for me to turn around. “We won’t touch you. I promise. Nor will there be anything sexual during this session.”
Session?
My mouth went dry.
Cameron observed us both with a critical intensity.
My thoughts drifted back to last night, the way Cameron had sliced his knife through his steak, blood tinged juices oozing. There was something dangerous about his precision. He’d have made a good surgeon, but no, he’d chosen psychiatry and was now using his unnerving expertise to dissect me.
“We believe you may have a better understanding of what we do if you get to spend a few minutes with us. Down here,” said Cameron.
Oh fuck.
“You’re always fantasizing about what we do,” he said. “And what kind of people we are. How about we put that mystery to bed.”
“You won’t touch me?” I glanced at Richard.
“We’ll just talk,” said Cameron. “You have our word.”
“About what?” I said.
“Let’s start with this room,” said Cameron. “How do you find it?”
I felt lightheaded. “Empty.”
“So we have no choice except to go within,” he said.
My hands trembled. “Have I done something wrong?”
“Of course you would think that,” said Cameron. “You have low self-esteem. Gauged by your level of confidence, you also have abandonment issues.”
“Abandonment?”
“Your parents abandoned you.”
“They died. They didn’t abandon me.”
Cameron folded his arms.
I wondered if this kind of body language was used to intimidate. They were both standing in this pose. I tried to read Cameron but his gaze held the ground, his thoughts seemingly far away. There
came a real desire to please them both and make them drop this posture reflecting I’d disappointed them.
I hated the silence. “Anyway, I’m over all that now.”
Richard’s expression remained impassive.
“That’s good to hear,” said Cameron. “May I approach?” He motioned slowly with a raised hand. “At no time will I touch you.”
I gave a nod of permission.
He closed the gap between us. “Let’s have some fun. You can ask Richard any question you like. Let’s say you get five or six of them. In exchange, I’ll ask you ten questions. I know you’re dying to know more about him. This is a perfect opportunity. However, you don’t ask him anything about his life before he came to work at Enthrall. Understand?”
I blushed. How far would I be able to go with this and not faint with embarrassment.
“Mia, you go first,” said Cameron.
This was ridiculous, like schoolgirl silly, like no way was I doing this.
“Ask him,” said Cameron sternly.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I said quickly, startled by Cameron’s austereness.
“No,” said Richard, his smile infectious. “I’ve already told you that.”
I was relieved to see Cameron’s face relax.
“My turn,” he said. “What’s your first memory?”
I twisted my mouth trying to remember. “Sitting on the sofa at home.”
Cameron gestured toward Richard.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I said with a smile.
“No,” said Richard and shared an amused glance with Cameron.
“What is your favorite childhood memory?” said Cameron.
“Um...” I reached way, way back trying to remember.
“What do you hear?” he whispered.
“There’s a dog barking. I think it’s a Rottweiler,” I said. “How did you know?”
“You glanced left. Your brain accessed a sound it remembered.” He stepped closer. “Let’s reach for that happy memory.”
I pressed my hand to my chest. “A birthday party. Mine.”
“Ask Richard a question,” said Cameron.
I came back into the room feeling decidedly shaken. Had that birthday really been the happiest day? Even though, there on the couch, my father had lain in a drunken stupor.
I shot a glance at Cameron and Richard, trying to think of the next question, having lost count of where we were.
“Hint,” said Cameron. “Ask an open-ended one.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “Do you like your secretary?” I beamed at him, realizing that wasn’t an open-ended question, but all this made me nervous and thinking straight was a challenge.
“Very much so,” said Richard.
I went to pursue that line of questioning when Cameron stepped in front of my line of sight. “The day your father died,” he said. “Your step-mother took you to the funeral home. Do you remember?”
“She did,” I answered. “How did you know?”
“She needed you there. You were the strong one.” He again gestured to Richard.
This back and forwards made me lightheaded and a strange mixture of emotions washed over me. Peering over at Richard and hearing his voice made me feel safe and those moments were helping in-between Cameron’s probing.
I felt brave, saying, “When we kissed last night did you like it?”
“Yes,” said Richard. “Very much.”
I’d asked yet another close ended question, my mind too addled with these foreign feelings rising within to focus properly. “Why did you push away from me?”
“Because it felt… so good,” said Richard. “I care deeply about you.”
Cameron fixed his gaze on Richard and they swapped unspoken words, it seemed. Richard merely nodded, sharing this silent communication with his friend. I tried to make out what this shared look might mean.
“Our kiss made me want to take you right there in the pool,” said Richard. “But I consider myself a gentleman.”
I smiled back at him, seeing a look I’d never seen on Richard before. He held my gaze with affection. Something shifted inside me as though these new memories dared to push the others out.
Cameron nodded approvingly. “What color dress are you wearing?”
I frowned at him, amazed he knew…
My step-mother and I were sitting on an old, stained sofa in the funeral home.
“Blue,” I muttered.
The funeral director discussed with my step-mother which coffin might best suit our needs. Lorraine asked for the least expensive.
My lips trembled.
“Share that thought with us, Mia?” said Cameron.
“I don’t remember the funeral.” I fought back the sting of tears. “I think Lorraine decided it was best for me not to go. I wanted to go.”
“What else do you remember?” he said.
“Lorraine was angry. Isn’t that the first stage of grief?”
“Did she cry?” he said.
“I don’t think so...”
Cameron looked thoughtful, his gaze finding Richard’s again and another unspoken moment passed between them. Could close friends really communicate merely with a look and read each other’s thoughts?
“What’s your happiest memory?” said Cameron, breaking my trance.
My gaze shot to Richard and I realized that swimming in his pool had to be it. Along with that kiss. The way his hands had swept over me, caressing. The promise of getting closer to that all elusive love.
“What do you see?” said Cameron.
“Stars.” I wanted to say Richard’s face but felt too embarrassed. “That is, we can’t see the stars because of the smog.”
Richard flashed the biggest smile.
“We’re not talking about your childhood anymore, are we?” said Cameron.
“No. I don’t like it back there.”
“Ah,” whispered Cameron. “There it is.”
“What?” I bit my lip. “I mean excuse me?”
“Tell me about your father.”
“When I was growing up he worked as an administrator in exports and imports. After he left my mom he moved to L.A. and worked in a wine store in Pasadena.” I looked over at Richard and he gave an encouraging smile. “My dad divorced my mom because of her drug habit.”
If either Cameron or Richard were judging me they didn’t show it. I assumed they were used to hearing all sorts of things here.
“You’re an only child?” asked Cameron.
“Yes.”
“How was your dad around you?” he said.
“Didn’t really have a lot of time for me to be honest.”
“How did that make you feel?” he said.
“Didn’t know any different.” I raised my hand in defense. “I’ve never done drugs. Ever.”
“You chose to stay with your mom?”
“Didn’t want to. I begged my dad to let me go with him. He told me mom needed me. So I stayed in Charlotte.”
“You weren’t responsible for her death,” said Cameron.
“I should have been there.” I twisted my mouth in shame. “She overdosed on cocaine.”
“Where were you?”
“School.” I lowered my gaze. “I’d always been able to read her before. Get a feel for when she was going to treat herself to the ‘good stuff,’ as she called it. It was the only thing that made her happy.”
“You found her body?”
I gave a shrug. “Still did my homework that night.”
“You still did your homework?”
“There were so many people in the house. Neighbors, cops, and other relatives. It was my excuse not to have to talk with any of them. Couldn’t stand the way they looked at me.”
“You came to live with your father.”
“I moved to California to be with him and his second wife Lorraine. I felt guilty because I’d wanted it so badly. The only way to get it was for my mom to die.”
Cameron nodded as though somehow
he understood it all, all the angst, all the suffering, all the pain. All the regret.
“Every first Sunday in the month I go to IHOP,” I said. “The one on Ventura, in Sherman Oaks. My dad and I used to eat there every Sunday.” I smiled. “He always ordered the same thing. Even now I wait to get the same booth we used to sit in. I even order the exact same thing he used to eat. Same thing every time. Coffee, a plate of waffles, and a side order of grits. I never eat the grits.”
“Why every first Sunday?”
I shrugged; wasn’t going to share with them it was all I could afford.
Ignoring the silence Cameron was using to encourage me to go on, I held his gaze to let him know I was done.
“Your childhood pain,” he said. “It has a hold on you. Your life is a journey and you’re starting out with a squeaky wheel.”
I swapped a glance between Richard and Cameron. “I thought it didn’t matter anymore.”
“That’s what you told yourself,” said Cameron.
“You think S & M will help me get over it?” I said.
“I didn’t say that.” Cameron gave a gentle smile. “What I do believe, Mia, is that it’s time for you to forgive yourself.”
I SAT ON THE BENCH watching the carp swim around each other, making hypnotic ripples in the pond, several of them coming up for air. We had something in common, it seemed.
Within this very hour my life had been turned upside down, when Richard had guided me into that dungeon via the coolest secret stairwell I’d ever seen, I’d expected to find Cameron waiting for us, wielding some form of leather paraphernalia. Or even wanting to talk about that toy.
I’d not expected this…
With what had felt like a party game, Cameron had cracked my psyche wide open, allowing me to see my life differently for the first time. Turns out I’d been dragging a whole lot of baggage around with me and didn’t even know it. Which probably resulted in my sketchy trust issues. Apparently, I’d always been a member of the fucked-up crowd.
Those ivy strewn high walls on either side of the garden separated us from the world. I wondered how many people out there went about their daily lives telling themselves the knot inside their stomach was normal, like the one I had inside me now. I caressed this nagging ache, the one I thought I’d gotten used to.
It felt good to be outside and lose myself in the distraction of this well-tended garden that was a lush-green haven. I wasn’t any good with naming flowers and only recognized that spray of daisies growing along the wall to my right. My mom had loved daisies though we’d only ever had the plastic kind. Something Richard would scoff at, no doubt. Still, money was tight, needed for everyday essentials like high-end cocaine for mom’s dirty little secret.
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