Whittaker 01 The Enemy We Know (16 page)

“
Well, I had a few things on my mind, Marshall.” Defensive
and
sarcastic—not attractive.

Marshall gave an exasperated sigh. “Letty—”

“
Wait!” My turn to raise a STOP hand. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have told you, and I should have addressed it in more detail with Mary Kate. I just … I guess with everything going on, I dropped the ball.”

He squinched his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t say that I blame you. We just need to figure out where to go from here.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I wasn’t sure what exactly needed to be figured out, but I was willing to turn the problem over to him. My mind was on overload from Alpine pornography and Wayne’s latest sneak attack.

“
OK, here’s what I’m going to do,” Marshall eventually said. “I’m going to reassign Mary Kate to Regina. If anyone can teach her about boundaries, it’s Regina.

“
And, for you—I think we need to increase your supervision for the duration of Wayne’s acting out. What do you think?” His eyes smiled into mine.

Talk about boundaries. I couldn’t meet regularly to discuss my clients’ treatment progress with a guy I was having naughty lumberjack fantasies about. Damn that flannel jacket. Ever decisive, I broached the issue.

“
Umm…”

“
I know you enjoy working with Mary Kate, but—”

“
No, it’s not that. I mean, I do enjoy working with Mary Kate, but I understand. Her internship’s almost over anyway. I’m not sure I’d assign her to Regina, but that’s up to you.”

“
Then what’s bothering you?”

I gave myself a mini-pep talk. I was a professional. I was a therapist, experienced in dealing with tense and embarrassing subjects. I was a
grown-up,
for pity’s sake. Took a deep breath…

“
I think it would be better if I met with someone else. Someone… not you.”

A flash of something—irritation? Hurt?—crossed his face, but too quickly for me to identify. I braced for an argument.

A knock at the door interrupted, and Lisa poked her head in. My mind skittered back to the day after Wayne’s attack when Marshall and I had shared that intense is-he-going-to-kiss-me? moment and only Lisa’s entrance had stopped us from answering that question. Remembering, and not wanting to know if Marshall was also, I kept my eyes glued to Lisa.

“
Letty, your first appointment is here.”

“
I’ll just be a moment.”

Lisa grinned as she shut the door. When I turned back to Marshall, his expression had softened, leading me to believe that he’d had his own deja vu moment.

“
Maybe it
would
be good for you to meet with someone ‘not me.’” He crooked an eyebrow. “But it would need to be someone with a bit more experience than Carol or Hannah.”

“
Not Regina.” That got a smile. An evil one. “You’re already assigning Mary Kate to her; we don’t want Regina overburdened! She’s cranky enough as it is.”

“
That’s true.” He rocked back in his chair, steepling his hands before his face. He still smiled.

“
I suppose,” he drawled, “we’ll have to assign Mary Kate to Hannah. They should do well together. And that will free up Regina for you.”

“
Oh goody,” I said. All he did was laugh.

I spent the next fifty minutes trying to concentrate on Hillary, a married homemaker certain her husband was cheating on her but who couldn’t decide whether to hire a private detective and a divorce attorney or even things up by having a fling with her son’s band instructor. I’d met her husband and secretly rooted for the PI/attorney combo, but I didn’t think Hill was ready for a showdown. Plus, she really had the hots for her band boy toy.

Unfortunately, her sense of helplessness was contagious. My thoughts kept circling back to Wayne’s latest ploy. Once again, he’d managed to strike at the heart of my life. My own sobriety came about when my work was threatened. I’d never,
ever
had a complaint filed, and the fact that it was entirely baseless didn’t lesson my shame. In fact, it made it harder to accept.

I made it through the rest of the day, but I wasn’t proud of the work I did. Mostly I nodded and said “uh-huh” a lot, while clients shared their innermost concerns. Nobody noticed my inattention, which was also discouraging.

I needed a meeting.

As soon as I said good-bye to the last client, I took off for the HP & Me club. Twenty minutes later, crossing the parking lot, I found myself scanning the shadows, alert for a menacing presence.

Relief washed over me as soon as I entered the doors. My shoulders dropped at least an inch, as shoulder and neck muscles unclenched. Felt good; felt like home.

Taking note of the regulars and waving at a few friends, I crossed to the coffee counter, plucked my mug from the wall and poured a cup. The meeting didn’t start for another fifteen minutes, so I joined the group clustered under the TV. I plopped down on the couch, joined moments later by Paul. To avoid talking, I tuned into the ongoing argument about whether or not the contestant on
Wheel of Fortune
was stupid to buy a vowel. Recovery folk are frugal with vowels, so the general consensus was yes.

A few minutes before start time, people started making their way to the meeting room. I hung back. I was pretty sure I knew the word for the “Before & After” clue and a bonus prize hung in the balance. The contestant had that I-bit-tin foil-with-my-filling look that didn’t bode well for her.

“
Hello, sweetheart.”

Hot coffee scorched my hand, slopping into my lap. Wayne stood next to the couch, smiling down at me. I leapt to my feet.

“
What are you doing here?” Fear contracted my voice into a thin, squeaky whisper. Paul, seated on the couch, looked simultaneously scared and fascinated.

“
Well, you know after our little misunderstanding, I realized I needed help. I’ve been sober four days now. Aren’t you proud of me?”

I’d seen him in many moods—shy and polite during our two phony therapy sessions, drunk and raging, and, of course, threatening. This playfully flirtatious approach was incomprehensible, until I realized it wasn’t for me. He was performing for Paul and the few stragglers in the lobby, his audience.

“
It wasn’t a ‘misunderstanding.’ It was assault.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Paul frown. “And since your harassment has progressed to a fraudulent complaint to the licensing board, my lawyers have advised me to have no contact with you.” Sounded good anyway.

His eyes narrowed, not at all pleased with my assertiveness. He liked fear better. He fed on it.

“
Then I guess you’ll have to leave,” he said.

“
I’m not leaving.
You
are. I’m getting a restraining order against you. I’ve been documenting your harassment, and, don’t forget, there are witnesses. Anyway, I’ve been coming here since…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t want to get into details with this asshole. Besides, he was smiling again.

“
I
can’t
leave,” he said in a sing-song. He leaned into my face. His breath stunk. “My sponsor wants me doing ninety meetings in ninety days. Plus—thanks to you!—I’ve been court-ordered to attend AA. I need
help
. Remember?”

“
Nobody doubts that. Which will make getting a restraining order even easier.”

“
Sure, why not? You go to the court commissioner and explain how you need to come to AA, too. ‘Cause you’re a
drunk
. I think it’s a great idea to make that part of public record. Then I can add
that
to my complaint. That’ll make real good reading for the licensing board.”

My heart pounded so hard my ribs ached. “I’m
not
going to tell you where Carrie is. You might as well—”

“
Carrie? I don’t give a shit about Carrie. You want to know where she is?”

“
You’re saying you know?”

He scoffed. “Carrie’s not important anymore. That’s settled.”

“
Then why are you
doing
this?”

He smiled again, spreading his arms wide. “Because I need help!”

Separated by inches, our eyes locked. I felt like I was staring down a cobra.
If I blinked…

Behind me, a slight form moved and suddenly Paul was at my side. “Letty?” his voice quavered. Wayne broke eye contact to glare at the intrusion. “The meeting’s started. Sh… shouldn’t you…?”

Wayne laughed in Paul’s earnest face. “My, my. You do get around, don’t you, sweetheart? You might want to get this one some vitamins.” He poked Paul in the chest. Hard. Paul paled but stood his ground.

A chair scraped back. One of the regulars stood. Harry was at least seventy, a grizzled and flabby retired truck driver, but, unlike Paul, he had dealt with a few bullies in his day. And had fun doing it.

Wayne raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing again. “No worries, old-timer. Just a little lovers’ spat. I got to get in to my meeting anyway. Don’t want to upset the judge, do I?” As he turned to leave, he blew me a kiss. Made my flesh crawl.

I sank to the couch as Wayne sauntered into the meeting. Paul sat next to me, rubbing his sore chest with one hand and awkwardly patting my shoulder with the other. Harry stomped over.

“
You okay?” Harry growled. Harry lived in fear of being thought soft, and except with newcomers, worked hard at being an ass. He was outspoken, nasty, and sexist. It was all fake. I reached up and held his gnarled hand.

“
Thank you.”

He grunted, squeezed once, gently, then tossed my hand loose and stalked back to his chair.

I turned to Paul. “Thank you, too.” My smile raised a blush and a stutter.

“
I … I … didn’t … I mean, okay.” He rubbed his sore spot hard enough to raise a blister.

“
Look, I really appreciate what you did. But… um… I’m going to get out of here now.”

“
I know. I should go, too.” He eyed the closed meeting room door. “But I’m not going to let him push me around. He doesn’t scare me.”

Right.

“
Just be careful, Paul. He’s not a nice guy.”

There were things I should have asked. I realized that later as I cuddled with Siggy on the couch. Ever since I’d gotten home, I’d been replaying the scene over and over again—something I caution my clients against, but unable, as usual, to take my own advice. Like scab-picking, I poked and scratched at Wayne’s intrusion into the club. AA was more than just a place to learn how to stay sober—it was both my sanctuary and my deepest secret. Heaven and hell. The violation was total.

He knew I’d never pursue a restraining order if there was a chance my alcoholism might be outed. Yet I couldn’t risk my sobriety by avoiding meetings. I couldn’t get rid of him and couldn’t stay away from him, either.

And what did Wayne mean when he’d said Carrie was “not important anymore?” Did that mean he had found her? Was she okay? Carrie hadn’t told me where she was going, but she
had
told me that her mother knew. A woman tough enough to scare Wayne? The thought filled me with awe. I’d have to check Carrie’s file to see if her mother had been listed as an emergency contact. On the other hand, did I have an ethical right to contact her even if she was? As Marshall had pointed out, Wayne’s right to confidentiality was nullified, at least as the investigation went, but Carrie’s hadn’t been. I batted the issue back and forth and decided to bounce the conflict off Regina when we met for supervision.

Something else bothered me, but it danced just out of reach, a mental vapor that evaporated on contact. It wasn’t until I woke the next morning that it solidified.

Four days.
Wayne said he’d been sober four days, which would be Friday night. The night I was Marshall’s designated driver. The night Robert picked up a newbie to sponsor.

Even though I’d left an urgent message, I wasn’t sure if Robert would return my call. As the day passed, I became more certain that he wouldn’t, and was pleasantly surprised when his number popped up on my cell’s Caller ID. Pleasant didn’t last.

“
What?” he said in greeting.

I took a deep breath, mentally deleting sarcasm from my repertoire, and gritted my teeth. “Thanks for getting back to me. Listen, I was wondering… You mentioned that you agreed to sponsor a new guy?”

I paused, but he declined to fill in the blank. He was still there, though; I could hear his breath puffing against the receiver.

“
What’s his name?” I’d planned to use more finesse, but puffy breathing annoyed the hell out of me.

“
Oh, now you want to know? I thought you didn’t give a shit about my sponsoring somebody?”

True. I didn’t. But this wasn’t the time to point that out. “I just need to know if it’s a guy named Wayne. Big guy, dirty blond hair cut short.”

“
No, his name is Randy. And I don’t have time for your—”

“
No, it’s not,” I interrupted.

“
What the hell do you know? You’ve never even met the guy!”

“
No, I mean that Wayne called himself ‘Randy’ before he attacked me. I think you’re sponsoring the guy who’s been stalking me!”

The silence lasted long enough to get my hopes up. Silly me.

“
What do you want from me? The guy says his name is Randy. If it’s not, maybe he’s trying to keep a low profile while all this stuff with you gets straightened out.”

“
Straightened out?
Are you kidding me?”