Bad Girls (25 page)

I can look at him as much as I want, and no one will think it’s weird, Amber realized, a tide of excitement surging in her. He’s our doctor – we’re supposed to be focusing on him, that’s the point of these sessions, isn’t it?

And just then, as Dr Raf surveyed the group, his steady dark gaze met Amber’s. The naked longing in her eyes was impossible to disguise; somehow, in his presence, she felt that she had absolutely no control over her reactions. There was nothing flirtatious about Amber; she’d never learned how to be coquettish. All the cute tricks she’d seen Skye use on Joe were completely alien to her. She just looked at Dr Raf as she had never looked at any man, with her heart and soul in her green eyes.

And she could have sworn that she connected with him completely for that moment. That he saw her, fully, and that it was genuinely hard for him to drag his eyes away from her and turn to the next person in the circle.

‘Um, let’s start as we always do, OK?’ Dr Raf said gruffly, his light tenor voice a little rougher than usual. ‘We’ll go round the circle and say our names. And if you’re feeling up to it, why don’t you tell us why you’re here?’

He looked encouragingly at the far side of the circle from Amber, at the man dressed like a mid-level executive at a corporate retreat.

Hands on his chino-clad knees, the man muttered, staring at the floor: ‘I’m Mitch. Coke addict. Third time round.’

‘I’m Brian,’ the boy with the piercings contributed. ‘Only I fucking hate my name, so I’m changing it when I come up with something better. I’m an addict. Crystal meth, mainly.’

Dr Raf and Dr Lucy were following the progress with their eyes, and now they were both looking at Petal, curled up in her blanket, whose turn it was next.

‘Petal?’ Dr Lucy prompted finally. ‘Will you introduce yourself?’

Ugh, she has a horrible voice, Amber observed. Squeaky and nasal. Amber had met plenty of American women – fashion editors, models – with that voice, and they had all been snobbish and entitled.

‘I’m Petal,’ the girl mumbled finally, shaking her bright yellow bob over her face. ‘Like you all didn’t sodding know already. And I’m here ’cause my fucking hypocrite bastard of a dad says I’m doing too much coke. I hate it here, I miss my boyfriend and my mates, and the food here’s total
shit
.’

Brian choked back a giggle.

‘Thanks, Petal,’ Dr Lucy said seriously, as Joe, next in line, said with great good humour, running one big tanned hand through his blond hair: ‘Hey, you guys. I’m Joe and I’m a sex addict, but I’m here to get
cured
!’

‘Praise the Lord!’ Skye added irrepressibly, as Joe flashed her a huge grin that was so sexy even Amber blinked at the sheer energy he could project just by smiling at a girl.

‘
Skye
,’ Dr Lucy reproved. ‘
Please
.’ Her dark, perfectly threaded brows pulled together, but her smooth pale forehead didn’t move at all.

Botox, Amber recognized instantly, contemptuously; she was proud of never having had any surgical interventions.

‘Sorry.’ Skye ducked her pretty head, flashing a swift blue conspiratorial glance at Joe under her eyelashes. ‘I’m Skye, and I’m a sex addict. Oh, and I’ve totally hit the coke too heavily from time to time.’

It was Amber’s turn. She sat there, suddenly paralysed, her heart pounding: she hated having to speak in front of people, let alone confess personal stuff to them. One of the reasons she’d been such a success as a model was, paradoxically, her shyness. She would infinitely rather have her body communicate for her. Her facial expressions, her poses, were all the more eloquent because her body told stories her lips could not.

Dr Lucy started to speak, but Dr Raf raised his hand slightly, heading her off.

‘Amber?’ he said very gently. ‘Do you feel up to saying anything?’

Amber looked straight at him, and the rest of the people present, the entire surroundings, faded away like an effect in a film, the focus so tight on Dr Raf that everything else was blurred and meaningless. All she could see was Dr Raf, vivid and clear: so clear that she could see the faint five o’clock shadow on his jawline, the slight part of his lips, his white teeth. She almost thought she could hear him breathing.

‘I’m Amber,’ she heard herself say clearly. ‘And I’m addicted to painkillers. Muscle relaxants, downers . . .’ she remembered how Dr Raf had described them, ‘. . . opiates. Since I was in my teens. I took too many and had an overdose. I didn’t mean to. Or –’ she couldn’t lie when she was looking at Dr Raf, ‘– I don’t
think
I did. All I really wanted was the pain to stop.’

There was a long pause, during which Amber and Dr Raf’s eyes never left one another.

It was broken only by Dr Lucy saying eventually in clear, sharp tones: ‘Very good, Amber! Excellent sharing!’

As Amber’s concentration on Dr Raf was broken, she realized with a shock that her face was wet. Tears were pouring from her eyes; she hadn’t even been aware of it. Skye was pushing something at her – a tissue box.

‘Skye, I know you’re trying to be sympathetic,’ Dr Lucy said brightly, ‘but what’s the rule here about handing people Kleenex?’

‘God,’ the girl called Petal observed sarcastically, ‘sometimes you sound
exactly
like my form teacher at kindergarten.’

Both Joe and Brian, the young man with piercings, snorted with amusement at this sally.

Dr Lucy’s head snapped round; even more brightly, she said: ‘Petal, could
you
tell us the rule about Kleenex, please?’

Petal rolled her eyes.

‘Don’t-offer-anyone-else-tissues-’cause-it’s-like-you’re-telling-them-to-stop-crying,’ she recited.

‘That’s right.’ Dr Lucy looked back at Amber. ‘We want everyone here to be free to feel their feelings,’ Dr Lucy said, smiling compassionately.

‘I just thought Skye was being nice,’ Amber heard herself saying. ‘I mean, my face was all wet.’

‘It totally was,’ Brian said, leaning forward enthusiastically. ‘You know what you just had? Buddha’s tears. Daniyel was talking about those in meditation class last week. It’s when you don’t really feel like you’re crying, but, like, this tap gets turned on inside you to cleanse everything out.’

‘Thanks, Brian,’ Dr Raf said. ‘Very empathetic.’

Dr Lucy cleared her throat. ‘I was going to do some work this session on body image,’ she said, reaching up one perfectly manicured hand and smoothing her already sleek dark hair back along her skull. ‘Skye, I wonder if we could talk briefly about your T-shirt? I thought we could use that to open a discussion about how people perceive us.’

Skye looked down at her tight, hot-pink T-shirt. Over her breasts, in wriggly lines, was written: ‘My body’s not a temple – it’s an amusement park’.

‘What kind of message do you think that sends out?’ Dr Lucy asked. ‘And do you think it’s in keeping with the house rules of Cascabel?’

God, does this woman ever ask a question she doesn’t know the answer to? Amber thought.

Skye widened her big blue eyes and said in her best little baby-girl voice: ‘Oh! You’re saying that it’s like I’m telling people I’m a
ride
! Whoops!’

Joe guffawed.

‘I think I have a positive body image, though,’ Skye continued, tightening her pecs so that her breasts jutted forward. ‘I mean, if I were a ride, it would be at Disneyland
.
Like, the best one out there. I wouldn’t be, you know, some shitty old Coney Island thing made of wood and falling down every two seconds.’

Even Mitch, who had been completely silent the entire session apart from saying his name, sniggered at this one. Dr Lucy’s lips tightened as she stared at Skye, who returned her look with an innocent little smile.

‘I think Dr Lucy is saying that your T-shirt isn’t appropriate, Skye,’ Dr Raf said, stepping in. ‘We have a ban on provocative clothing here, for the good of the group.’

No one can resist him, Amber realized wistfully, as even Skye dropped her teasing façade and nodded dutifully at Dr Raf.

‘Maybe we could ask for comments on Skye’s T-shirt,’ Dr Lucy suggested. ‘It will help us work on how we deal with issues like this in the outside world.’

‘Well, it makes me think about sex,’ Joe offered cheerfully. ‘So, yeah, I guess it isn’t appropriate.’ He frowned comically at Skye. ‘I mean, me being a sex addict and all.’

‘I don’t know if the T-shirt makes that much difference,’ Brian said, his voice squeaking. ‘Uh, I would think about sex when I look at Skye anyway.’

‘Oh, thank you, Brian,’ Skye said, smiling at him warmly and tossing back her ponytail. ‘That’s so sweet.’

Dr Lucy jerked forward angrily, but Dr Raf managed to speak first.

‘Again, this is useful interaction on how we’re going to deal with our problems outside rehab,’ he said gently. ‘Obviously, everyone’s going to think about sex, and especially when it’s the subject under discussion. Sex is one of our most powerful triggers. In rehab, we’re all here to help each other, so that means not triggering each other into relapse. But I want to stress that no one should feel guilty about their thoughts. It’s whether we act on them or not that’s the important thing.’

Mitch, the coke addict, nodded vigorously. ‘I have all
kinds
of thoughts,’ he said gloomily, staring at his kneecaps.

Everyone went quiet for a while, until it became obvious that Mitch had shot his bolt.

‘Amber,’ Dr Lucy turned to her. ‘You were a model for a
long
time, weren’t you?’

Nice, Amber thought resentfully. That makes me sound like I’m about a hundred.

‘Do you have anything to share with us about your body image?’ Dr Lucy prompted. ‘This can often be a really hot-button issue for women in the modelling world.’

‘I’ve modelled too,’ Petal mumbled competitively.

Amber opened her mouth, but had absolutely no idea how to respond. All she could picture was her last, failed photoshoot: Jared clicking on the images of her in one tiny swimsuit after another, gold dangling from her ears, high heels making her legs seem endless, her hair a thick chestnut mane; but her green eyes empty and unfocused. Nothing there at all.

Nothing but the Xanax.

And then, even more powerfully, she remembered her last weekend away with Tony. The DVD of her on the
Sports Illustrated
shoot. Herself, stepping out of the sea, glossy and gorgeous, laughing into the camera, before the drugs had got such a grip on her that she couldn’t even connect with a lens, let alone the person holding it.

Images that had sold her as a commodity to all the men who had ‘dated’ her.

Amber had thought she’d feel better when the tears stopped flowing, but her head was spinning even faster now. Everyone was looking at her, and their expressions were so sympathetic that she felt utterly overwhelmed. Even Joe’s handsome face was grimacing in sympathy, his eyes soft.

Amber raised her hands to her head, palms pressed to each side, feeling as if her head were about to explode with confusion and stress. I need to lie down, she thought, starting to panic. I need to get to bed before something really bad happens.

She tried to stand up, but though she managed to get her feet underneath her, her knees buckled almost immediately. She swayed, her vision blurring, her lashes fluttering down to her cheeks. The last thing she saw was Joe, lunging forward to try to catch her before she hit the ground.

But it was Dr Raf whose arms she tumbled into. Even with her eyes closed, she recognized him immediately. His shirt was crisp and starched, freshly scented with fabric conditioner, and his skin smelled of green ferns, fresh and clean and rich. He caught her round the waist, and the next thing she knew, he had swung her up against his chest, her head tilting against him, her hair tumbling back over his shoulder.

‘I’ll take her to her room,’ she heard him say, his breath against her head. ‘It was too much for her first day. My misjudgement. Please, go on with the session.’

And then he was walking, long steady strides, Amber securely carried in his arms, rocking closer to him with every step, inhaling his scent. As soon as Dr Raf had touched her, a delicious cool had spread through her, calming her down, soothing the panic away. And yet he was so warm, like fresh-baked bread . . .

She turned her head into his chest even more. She couldn’t have spoken, and even if she could, she didn’t know what she would have said, but her lips moved against his shirt front, pressing into the firm muscles below.

I mustn’t make an idiot of myself, she thought dimly. I mustn’t kiss him.

When he reached her room and laid her down on the bed, she could have cried with frustration as his skin pulled away from hers. She wrenched her eyelids open, determined at least to see him; his face was still close to hers as he leaned over her, and colour flooded into his cheeks as he looked down at her, his breath warm on her face.

‘I’m going to get Daniyel to come check on you,’ he said, his fingers around her wrist, taking her pulse. ‘I have a nasty feeling you’re going to have a hard time of this withdrawal, Amber.’

Amber’s lips moved, but she couldn’t manage to say a word.

‘Your pulse is racing,’ he said seriously. ‘Don’t worry. We’re all here for you. The next forty-eight hours will be tough, but you’ll come out the other side.’

The hand holding her wrist loosened its grip; he pulled back. And then she felt his fingers on her forehead, gently pushing back a lock of hair.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said softly. ‘You’re safe now.’

‘
H
ow’s she doing?’ Joe asked as soon as Skye came out onto the patio. He jumped to his feet, and Petal, curled up on one of the chairs, knew instantly that his eagerness was not due to Skye’s presence, but because he was worried about Amber.

Skye pulled a face.

‘Puking a lot,’ she said frankly. ‘Apparently that happens in withdrawal. And she’s got the shakes.’

‘It’s like kicking smack,’ Brian volunteered from the far end of the long table, where he was occupying himself by laying out incredibly complicated games of patience, featuring two whole decks of cards.

Joe sighed. ‘That poor girl,’ he said with real emotion. ‘She’s like this beautiful fallen angel.’