Mr. Hollywood

by Lacey Weatherford

  “When did you start getting more involved with substances, then?”

  “Not too long after I cheated on her. Someone at a photo shoot offered me something. I was feeling guilty and wanted to numb the pain, so I took it. I didn’t use super often in the beginning, but it slowly escalated from there.”

  “So would you say your guilt from cheating on her was one of your initial triggers to use?” He was writing like a fiend now. I tried not to let it bother me.

  “I guess I would.” It was kind of ironic that this might actually all lead back to my initial mistake. Had I really been self-medicating all this time as a way to forget about Aubrey? If so, I was seriously messed in the head, and a complete jerk to boot.

  “I think you may need to try to make things right with this girl. While I’m not necessarily advocating a rekindling of the relationship right now, since we don’t encourage that for people who are in rehab, I do think maybe clearing the air with her would help you with one of your triggers. How do you feel about that?”

  “Actually, I completely agree and had already made up my mind to do so.”

  “Good. Later on, when we get you more squared away, we can even invite people in for sessions with you. If you think she’d be receptive, we can even ask her to come sit in on one of our visits.”

  “Okay. I don’t know if she will, but we can ask.” Just the thought of having a chance to sit down and really explain things to her excited me. Would she listen? Would she care? Or would she tell me to fuck off, like I deserved?

  “Perfect. We’ll see how things progress from here. For now, I just have one more question for you.”

  “Shoot,” I replied, feeling pretty comfortable with what we’d talked about so far today.

  “I want to know if you think you’re an addict?”

  Sucker punch out of nowhere. Point goes to the sneaky doctor. Pondering his question for a moment, I didn’t really know what to say. “I don’t know. I’ve always felt like I could stop whenever I wanted to. I just haven’t wanted to.”

  There went the pen, scribbling more notes. After a moment he set it down and interlaced his fingers, staring at me. “I have to tell you, Zane. Treatment here will be totally pointless unless you can admit you have a problem.” I opened my mouth to reply, but he quickly raised his hand, stopping me. “No, I don’t want to argue with you about this, and I don’t want you to change your answer. Right now I want you to spend the next day contemplating your life. I’m going to give you a homework assignment.”

  Yay. Homework. Just what I didn’t need.

  He continued. “I want you to write down all the times you’ve had problems in your life—just the things that really stand out to you—and then I want you to note whether or not those problems were caused or worsened by using any kind of drugs or alcohol. Be as honest about it as you can. When we meet tomorrow, I’ll ask you this question again and we’ll see where we stand then. Can you do that for me?”

  Nodding, I wiped my hands against my jeans, not caring for this idea at all. “Sure. No problem.”

  “Wonderful. Until then, you’re free to go.” He stood and held out his hand. “I really enjoyed getting to visit with you today. I feel like you are very open and up front, and I think that will aid you a lot in your stay here. I’m confident this will be very successful for you if you’re willing to put in the effort.”

  Rising, I shook his hand. “Thanks for your help. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” He really was good. I’d walked in here with a chip on my shoulder and feeling more than sulky. I didn’t want to talk; yet that was all I’d done. Of course, I hadn’t told him anything about that one particular incident—and I never would.

  “If you need me for any reason, just dial extension 210 on the phone in your room. You need a special line to dial outside the facility, but you can call anywhere inside.”

  “All right. Thanks for the info.”

  He walked me to the door and held it open. “Have a great day. Good luck with everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Same time, same place,” I replied as I stepped outside.

  My head was already buzzing as I slowly walked back toward my room. I wasn’t looking forward to this assignment. I didn’t need to actually complete it to know what it was going to tell me I already knew.

  “Sources Close to Z McCartney are Staying Tight Lipped Over His Whereabouts.”

  ~The Gossiper~

  Chapter Six

  Z

  Sitting in my room, I picked absently at my lunch tray that had been delivered by one of the orderlies. It actually tasted pretty good, but my thoughts kept wandering back to my session with Dr. Wilson and how my past with Aubrey, among other things, was a trigger for my drug use.

  Not that it was her fault at all. No, that was all me. I’d really fucked everything up, on several occasions.

  It was true what they said, about hindsight being everything. I’d been doing the assignment I’d been given, my paper of misdeeds sitting on the table next to my tray. Looking back over the past ten years, it was easy to see every bad choice and mistake I’d made. Instead of trying to fix anything, I simply immersed myself deeper and deeper into the party scene, convincing myself I wasn’t hurting anyone and that I was simply trying to forget those hidden secrets inside me.

  Where had that gotten me? Sure, I was currently the most sought after star in Hollywood, but at what cost? The people closest to me these days were all paid employees who were relying on me for a paycheck, and the rest of my “friends” were all people I partied with who were out looking for a good time. It made me wonder if all the money and fame disappeared, if everyone else would disappear with them.

  Which brought me back to Aubrey. Had I really ditched the one person who cared about me—the real me—and abandoned her because I was too weak to face my own guilt? I should’ve run to her immediately and begged her forgiveness. I should’ve not relented until she found a way to let me back into her heart. I should’ve brought her back here with me. Would things have ended up differently if I had? Would going to her have stopped the other awful things I was hiding?

  A soft knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. “It’s open,” I said, not bothering to get up.

  The door opened a crack, revealing Aubrey standing there. She obviously was hesitant to even step inside. “I just came to check on you before I go to lunch. I need to get your vitals again.”

  “Come in,” I replied, dropping my fork and wiping my mouth with my napkin. “I was just having some lunch myself. Would you like to join me?” I hoped the invitation sounded casual enough, but alarm instantly appeared on her face.

  “I . . . I can’t. I have lunch plans with some other people. Besides, it’s unethical.”

  Man, I hadn’t even been here twenty-four hours and I was already getting sick of that word. “I don’t care if it is unethical. You and I have a lot to talk about.”

  Mouth set in a firm line she anchored the blood pressure cuff around my bicep. “We have nothing to talk about. You lost your right to talk to me years ago.”

  Damn, she was still pissed from earlier it seemed like. I watched as she popped her stethoscope in her ears and began inflating the cuff. I was pretty sure she was enjoying torturing me as she inflated it extremely high again, much like she did earlier. That was okay with me though, I deserved it. If she wanted to lash out and hurt me, I’d let her.

  As soon as she was finished, she took the cuff off and checked my pulse. “How are you feeling, physically?”

  I shrugged. “Still a little out of sorts, but I think part of that’s because I haven’t had a chance to hit the gym yet today.” Working out had always been a good stress release for me, and was a great way to stay in shape for my job—and all the ladies. I’d worked hard to hone my body—well, except for when I was using. Regardless of that, I didn’t want to lose it while I was here.

  “The keycard for your room will get you into all the facilities. The card readers
keep a record of all the places you’ve been. It helps the doctors keep track of your activities.”

  “I know. They told me about it last night. Is the gym nice?”

  “Yes. It’s over in the Health and Fitness building across the courtyard. I think you’ll be pleased with it. It’s a state of the art facility and there are trainers on staff to help you with anything, if needed. There’s also an indoor swimming pool adjacent, if you like to swim to work out. A smaller outdoor pool, as well as a hot tub, is just outside the building, if you feel like sitting out and getting a little sun.” Her voice was cold, with no emotion. It was like she was reading me a damn brochure about the place. Still, hearing her voice was better than not hearing it at all. “A lot of our patients like to go check books out from the library and sit out there and tan and read.”

  “Where’s the library?” I asked, not that I really cared to read, I simply enjoyed hearing the sound of her voice and wanted to keep her here as long as possible. If I could be around her a little more, maybe I could convince her I wasn’t a threat.

  She continued speaking, spouting off the accolades of the amazing library, but I just watched her, taking in her long, brown hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing pale yellow scrubs with the name Sunnybrook Haven Center for Wellness embroidered above the pocket, and I thought the color looked amazing on her. I’d never considered scrubs as being sexy before, but she made them look like the best in fashion.

  Her figure was still as gorgeous as ever. She’d filled out a little more from the girl I’d known, with more of a soft flare in her hips and her breasts were a little bigger—fuller. I liked the changes. The curves just made her even hotter and more womanly. There was no doubt about it; I was just as attracted to her as I ever had been.

  Suddenly I realized she’d stopped speaking and was staring at me. “I’ll be sure to check it out,” I said casually. “Thanks for the info.”

  Nodding, her eyes drifted toward the tattoos on my arm. “That’s new. I never pegged you as a guy who would get the Virgin Mary tattooed on him. You used to complain about going to church when we were kids.”

  Normally, I didn’t talk to people about my tattoos. They were private and had special meaning to me. But this was Aubrey. I used to share everything with her and found I still wanted to.

  “I got it after my dad passed away.” I pointed to where three butterflies rested in the design. “Each of these represents someone close to me that I’ve lost. This one is for my dad, and this one is for my mom.”

  “And the third one?” she asked, obviously intrigued and it made me feel good that she was interested.

  Sighing, I reached out and gripped her hand. “The third one represents you.”

  Immediately she pulled her hand from mine. “I’m not dead.” The hardness was back in her voice.

  “I didn’t say you were. I said they represent people I’ve lost, and I’ve definitely lost you. I miss you, Aubrey. I always have.”

  She stiffened, backing away. “I’ve got to go. If you need anything medical, call the house line and they will page me.” Picking up her charts, she headed out the door and I didn’t try to stop her. She was angry and she had every right to be.

  Glancing back at my food, I didn’t feel like eating anymore. Maybe I’d just save it for later. For now I needed to go work out some of the aggression I was feeling in the gym before it was time for my group session later today.

  Three days had passed. While I felt my treatment was coming along nicely, I had yet to get Aubrey to loosen up around me, not even the tiniest bit. Every morning she reappeared, looking like a vision, as she did her rounds. Any attempt to speak about our past together was immediately shot down. I hated making her feel so uncomfortable, so I just gave up trying to speak to her entirely and it was eating me up from the inside out. There were so many things I wanted to tell her.

  After a restless night filled with extremely hot sex dreams that all starred Aubrey, I was feeling antsy today. The gym had become my favorite place to expel all my restless energy. I’d wolfed down my breakfast this morning and immediately came for a hard work out. When I was finished, I quickly rinsed off in one of the showers and jumped into the pool to swim several laps, too.

  Pounding my body into exhaustion was nice, but it didn’t seem to relieve the restlessness in my mind. I knew I was supposed to be concentrating on working the steps I’d been learning, but I was consumed with thoughts of setting things straight with Aubrey. I needed to fix things if I was going to have any hope of moving on.

  I’d received her messages loud and clear. She obviously wanted nothing to do with me anymore, but I took her cold shoulder as a sign of hope. If she were truly over me she wouldn’t seem so hurt, would she? If I could just get her to open up and talk to me, maybe we could work things out.

  A couple of female residents walked into the room, taking off their robes to get in the pool. Immediately, I got out, reaching for my towel. While other people in treatment knew I was a resident here, I tried to keep my distance from them. I wasn’t looking to form connections with others and I wanted to keep my recovery as private as possible.

  In our group session, people referred to me using my fake name I was registered under, John Carpenter. I didn’t delude myself into thinking anyone actually believed it. Judging by the not so discreet glances and stares, I was pretty certain everyone recognized me, unless they’d been living under a rock. My face was constantly in the media.

  “Good morning, John,” one of the women said with a smile.

  “Ladies,” I replied, flashing a smile and a nod. “Enjoy your swim. The water is perfect.”

  “Thanks, we will.”

  I didn’t miss the beginnings of quiet giggles as I headed past them toward the locker room. I was used to twittering females. Thankfully, everyone in residence here was under the same confidentiality clause as the staff. No one was allowed to leave this facility and speak about the others who were here seeking treatment. To do so was asking for a lawsuit. Still, I hated that other people knew I was a patient.

  Stepping into the showers, I quickly washed off before wrapping the towel around my waist and heading to my locker. I retrieved my clothing, a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, and put them on before heading to the door to go back to my room.

  My thoughts were so wrapped up as I stepped outside that I wasn’t paying attention and ran right into Aubrey, causing her to stumble backward. Instantly, I reached out to steady her, grabbing her arm and anchoring her against me so she wouldn’t fall.

  Damn, she felt good in my embrace. I didn’t speak, simply staring down at the gorgeous creature in my arms. Her eyes widened, fear creeping into them and she pushed away from me. Reluctantly, I let her go.

  “I . . . I’m sorry,” she stuttered.

  “Nothing to be sorry about. It was my fault. Are you all right?”

  She nodded, rubbing her hands over her clothing as if it needed to be straightened, and it only served to highlight some very attractive places on her figure. Immediately, my body flared to life, the dreams it had been tortured with too much for it to handle any longer.

  “I’m fine,” she answered, even though she clearly wasn’t.

  A moment of awkward silence passed between us, but neither of us seemed willing to move. “Were you trying to find me?” I finally asked, hopeful, but she shook her head.

  “No. Another one of my patients is in there.”

  Well, shit. “Look, can we maybe go somewhere and talk?” I asked, wanting to spend some more time with her, even if it was just a few more minutes. Even though things between us weren’t good, she still soothed me somehow.

  “I really can’t, Zane. It’s not—”

  “Ethical,” I interrupted, knowing exactly what she was about to say. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s ethical or not, Aubrey. You and I have a history together, and whether you want to believe it or not, you’re crucial to my recovery. I need you to let me talk to you. Can�
��t you see that my success in all this depends on whether or not I can set things straight with you? And even if that weren’t the case, you were my girlfriend—not just my girlfriend, but my best friend, too. Since you’ve been gone I’ve had this giant hole in my life—a hole no one but you can fill. I need you.” My heart was racing as I poured out my innermost feelings to her.

  “Zane.” That simple word said so much. There was loads of pain and regret in her tone. “Don’t you see? I can’t. I work here and need to keep this job. I could get fired if my boss found out about our connection.”

  Glancing around, I checked to see if anyone was watching, but saw no one. “Then don’t tell people. Damn it, Aubrey. I need to talk to you. Please don’t shut me out. I can’t take it anymore.”

  Her features hardened, as if a stone mask had replaced them. “You should’ve thought of that before you left me behind years ago and slept with every other woman in existence since then. I can never trust you again. Even if I wanted to.” Shoving past me, she made her way into the building.

  Head drooping, I stared at the sidewalk for a moment, sighing heavily. I’d fucked things up with her so badly she didn’t even want to be around me now.

  How the hell was I going to fix this?

  “Still No Z McCartney! Will Hollywood’s Favorite Star be in Attendance at the Movie Buff Film Festival?”

  ~Hype Magazine~

  Chapter Seven

  Aubrey

  “Hi, sweetheart,” my mom, Daphne, said as I entered the house. “How was work?”

  “Brutal,” I replied, going to hug her briefly before plopping down onto the sofa and dropping my purse at my feet. “I’m so drained I feel like I could sleep for a week. How was your day?”

  “It was great. I had lunch with your dad and some of our old friends from Montana. Do you remember John and Christine Bell? They were the ones who relocated to Montana from Australia and bought the Owen’s old farm during your senior year of high school.”