Love Ignited (Hollywood Series Book 2) Read online

  “Yes,” she ground out.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I returned to my office to wait on her. It was clear to me that I was going to have to take a much firmer approach with Mimi. I wasn’t getting through to her. She had continuously pushed the boundaries I’d set for this program. This was the first time she’d actually broken a rule, but I had lost count of how many of her tasks had gone half-assed.

  I always began with the respectful approach. I tried to treat everyone as I would like to be treated. I thought it set a certain standard for the patients to hear the way the staff: Anna, Frank and I spoke to each other using our formal titles. The patients that came here were all from wealth, most of them celebrities. They’d become accustomed to believing that made them better than those around them. I found that trait despicable.

  In most cases, I eventually earned their respect, but Mimi just didn’t seem to be responding to that method. I was going to have to try something different.

  She arrived in my office a few minutes later, fully clothed with her black hair still wet from her swim. I sat silently waiting for her to begin speaking.

  “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment of staring at her hands. Her sincerity actually piqued my interest.

  “Would you like to explain why you would pull a stunt like that?”

  “I thought I could convince you to let me go early.”

  “Well, wonders never cease!” I slapped my desk. “A moment of pure honesty from your lips. I never thought I would hear it.”

  “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it,” she said taking a seat.

  “On the contrary, Mimi, I think a bitch is exactly what I need to be to get through to you. Lord knows I’ve tried every other approach. I’ve let you drone on and on about your parents, your friends, your boyfriends, blah, blah, blah. How about we cut the shit and have a real conversation about you?”

  “You can’t talk to me like that,” she shrieked.

  “Well, I just did. Would you like to hear my professional opinion about what your problem is?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I think you are a spoiled little brat who has never wanted for anything. I think you’re bored with your life so you turn to drugs, alcohol, and apparently sex to ‘spice things up.’ Does that sound about right?”

  “You don’t know me!”

  “Yes, I do. I’ve known a hundred versions of you. Poor little rich girl has everything she’s ever wanted and hasn’t a clue what to do with it all. It’s a classic really. Have you ever once thought of doing something worthwhile with your fame?”

  “Look who’s talking. It doesn’t look like you’re struggling for cash. Did daddy set you up, or do you fund all of this by hustling people like me?”

  I attempted a blank stare, but I couldn’t help the emotion that crossed my features at the mere mention of my dad.

  “So it was daddy then?” She smiled.

  “This isn’t about me. This is about you and your issues.”

  “You can’t be that old, maybe thirty? Is daddy trying to compensate for something? Did he abandon his little girl?” She smirked, continuing her verbal assault.

  “My dad is no longer with me,” I said, relenting. I never relished giving away personal information about myself, but some cases required it to establish trust.

  The smirk dropped right from her face. “Oh…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  “Yes, you did. But that’s okay. Like I said, this isn’t about me; it’s about you, Mimi. Here’s the bottom line, little girl. You can either get with the program or stop wasting my time. There is a line of people wishing they were in your position right now.” I slammed my notebook closed and leaned toward her. “I’m tired of your attitude. If you don’t want to be here, leave. If you can’t handle this, get out. I’m not going to stop you. But I’ll tell you this, if you keep going the way you’re going, you will find yourself alone in this world. All alone. Then, when you’re at your lowest, that’s when you’ll do it.”

  I had captivated her for the first time since she’d been here. She stared at me wide-eyed, as though I’d just described her worst nightmare. “Do what?” she whispered.

  “Take one hit too many. Then that’s it. Is that what you want? Do you want to die?”

  “No.” Tears made her eyes glisten.

  “Sure, your parents will blame themselves. Everyone who loves you will wonder what they could’ve done differently. They’ll all apologize, but you won’t be around to hear it.”

  “Stop it,” she wailed. “Don’t say that!”

  “Then shape up! I’m trying to save your life. The judge who sent you here is trying to save your life, Mimi. Work this program. Make it work for you. I can’t do it; your parents can’t do it. You’re the only person who can do it. You are the only one who can save yourself from cocaine. You let that shit it in, and you’re the only one who can snuff it out.”

  “You don’t understand! I…I don’t think I can. It’s all I think about; it’s all I dream about. When I think of leaving here…” She was full-on sobbing. “All I can think about is walking out of here and getting fucked up.”

  I relaxed back in my chair and reopened my notebook. Now we were getting somewhere.

  ****

  I had had to work double-time with Mimi since the day she’d fallen apart. I hadn’t meant to break her. I’d only meant to get her attention. For her, that had meant collapsing completely on an emotional level. Some people had to crack to be open. Sometimes it was the only way.

  Since then, she’d opened up to me. She was slowly rebuilding her self-worth, word by word, day by day. She still hadn’t owned her addiction, but she would. It had been only a week. I thought she would say the words any day.

  “What do you think, Ivan?”

  Four barks.

  “Four more days until she says it, huh? I think you’re shooting long, but we’ll see.”

  I glanced at my daily faxes over dinner. There was another one about Nathan Bradley. The cover letter said so. I skipped the rest for now. It was the fourth one this week. I’d received two from Judge Macon and another from his attorney. I assumed this one was from his attorney as well. It wasn’t unusual for Judge Macon to get so involved, but the attorney? One letter, okay, I could understand that, but two in a week? That guy must’ve been getting some kind of kickback.

  I decided to call Judge Macon, Richard, after dinner to explain why I couldn’t take the case. He deserved that much after all he’d done for me.

  I reached over to grab the phone from the cradle and knocked my glass of tea over. Ivan ran from the liquid as I shook my papers around to dry them with a cuss.

  Dr. Lindsey. The cursive script handwriting caught my eye. I grabbed a dishtowel and dabbed at the paper.

  Dr. Lindsey,

  Please, I need your help.

  Sincerely,

  Nate Bradley

  I dialed the Los Angeles phone number. “Richard, this is Ella. I’ll do it. I’ll take Nathan Bradley.”

  Chapter 2

  Judge Macon had been more than willing to work with me when I agreed to take on Mr. Bradley. I had explained that I was already committed to a patient at the moment, so if he wanted me to take the case, he would have to figure out what to do with Mr. Bradley until I wrapped things up with Miss Vines. He’d agreed without hesitation.

  “So how are you, Ella?” he’d asked in that dad-like tone.

  “Just fine, sir.”

  “You haven’t called in awhile. I’ve been worried about you.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve just been keeping busy.”

  “So I see. Well, please come out and see me when—”

  “I’m sorry, Richard, I really have to go.” I cut him off before he had the chance to guilt me into a visit.

  “Sure, sure. Well, thank you again for taking this case. My office will be waiting for your call.”

  That had been six weeks ago.
I had thought for sure Judge Macon would’ve given up on me by now, but he hadn’t. He’d simply put Mr. Bradley under house arrest. I’d rolled my eyes when he’d told me that little tidbit, knowing that my patient-to-be would most likely be high as a kite when he got here.

  Now I was admittedly a little nervous. I had never felt nervous meeting a patient before, but I had never had one wait for six weeks either, or hand-write me a letter asking for help.

  “Mimi, I’m very proud of you,” I told her sincerely as I handed her the exit confidentiality contract.

  She took the paper then paused, throwing her arms around me. “Thank you.”

  I smiled a little to myself because she’d changed so much since she’d arrived. She had done a complete 180 since that day she had offered to lesbianize me at the pool in exchange for an early release. Her appreciation was sincere and tearful.

  “Do you think I’m going to make it?”

  “Of course you will,” I told her. “You’re going to do just fine. Don’t even question yourself.” I pulled away, squeezing her shoulders. “Now let’s get this business taken care of so you can get out of here.”

  “Wow, I can’t believe it’s been three and a half months since I’ve seen my friends, ah…enablers,” she corrected, looking at her feet.

  “Yeah, they aren’t your friends,” I said to reinforce her statement, pressing a pen into her hand. “Now remember, this agreement protects both of us. By signing this, you agree not to disclose my name or the location of this facility to anyone. And I agree not to disclose any information about you.” Knowing good and well I couldn’t anyway. I was bound by the laws of my profession, but she didn’t know that.

  She signed it. “Why wouldn’t you want anyone to know what you do here? I know a few people who could benefit from—”

  “Mimi, I work on a case by case, one on one basis. I’m always appointed by the court. I never take personal referrals. This”—I tapped the paper I was also signing—“is a legally binding document. I like to choose my cases. I hope you’ll respect that.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Well, I guess this is it. Thanks again for everything.” She took another look around the property as her car approached.

  “You’re welcome.” I waved as she got into the waiting limousine.

  I hurried back inside to reset the environment for our new arrival. I checked the marble cleansing room. Mimi had left it sparkling. I rushed into the bedroom I’d had prepared for Mr. Bradley and straightened the bedspread and fixtures, making sure everything was just so.

  “Mrs. Faulkner, could you take these flowers? They don’t feel right for the room.” I handed her the multicolored arrangement of gerbera daisies.

  “Would you like lilies?”

  “No, I think less is going to be more with this one.”

  I’d spent every evening this week combing through Nathan Bradley’s judicial file. Judge Macon had sent a copy via Fed Ex as soon as I had called to tell him that I was available.

  It seemed that Mr. Bradley had managed to fly under the radar quite nicely between his stints in rehab. He’d gone a year the first time and another year after the second. I was under no illusion that he’d stayed clean during those times.

  I was just making my way back downstairs when there was a call from the main gate at the entrance of the property. Mrs. Faulkner looked at me for approval before she buzzed them in. I usually took time off between guests, so receiving an intake the same day as a release was new for all of us. We walked together onto the cement porch in front.

  I felt unusually nervous. I glanced down at myself, feeling self-conscious. I was wearing the same thing I wore every day, a button-up silk blouse and a black pencil skirt with black Christian Louboutin heels. Maybe I should’ve worn my blue blouse today instead of pink? Pink made me look vulnerable…girly.

  I gave myself a mental shake just as a taxi came into view. A taxi? Well, there was a change of pace. I usually only saw limousines come through here.

  The man I saw stepping out of the cab was not the same man that I’d had a silver-screen crush on for the past fifteen years. This man was disheveled. I barely recognized him from the silver screen. His dark hair was long and unkempt. It looked as though his face hadn’t seen a razor since his mug shot was taken.

  “Hey, sweetness,” he called out, his words slurred.

  I looked at Mrs. Faulkner. “I think he’s talking to you,” she whispered.

  “Can you pay the guy?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh…no, excuse me,” he said, lifting his sunglasses to reveal dark circles so apparent they could’ve been mistaken for black eyes. “I didn’t know this was a full-service spot. Dayum, girl, you’re fine! Classy too. I like that. I’m going to take good care of you.”

  “Is that right?” I clasped my hands in front of me, suddenly feeling at ease. He was no different than any of the others, and it made me almost laugh at myself for expecting anything more.

  “Absolutely!” He sauntered toward me, tossing his bag at Mrs. Faulkner’s feet. “You look like you could show me a thing or two.”

  “I probably could.” I played along.

  “I can’t wait to take you up on that, but first, what’s the doc like around here? You think he’ll hook me up with a little something to take the edge off?” he whispered.

  “Hmm…Well, she’s pretty strict.”

  “She?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I hate female therapists,” he said with a grimace.

  I just loved this game. He might not be this honest with me again for months. I found it sad that he was so messed up he believed that a rehab facility would provide him with a hooker and drugs, but who was I to judge? It was working in my favor.

  “Why do you hate female therapists?”

  “Because I have to work them to get what I want. How old is she? Am I going to have to fuck her?”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Good. I’m more than happy to let you keep me busy.”

  “That’s great to hear.” I smiled.

  “So what’s doing around here? How do I get my shit in and out?”

  “Your shit?”

  “Yeah, my pills.”

  “Ah, what is your pill of choice?”

  “Oh, I like them all. I’m easy.”

  “Yes, it seems that you are.”

  “Where are my manners, gorgeous? I’m Nate. You are?”

  “Dr. Ella Lindsey. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Shit…”

  “Indeed.” I grinned widely.

  He dropped his gaze to his feet, rubbing his forehead. “Do you think we could maybe start over?”

  Mrs. Faulkner let a small laugh escape. I could tell she’d been holding it in. “This is Mrs. Faulkner.” He nodded at her dismissively. “She’ll be going through your things just as soon as you get them up to your room.”

  “Don’t you have a guy who does that?”

  “Yeah, I’m looking at him.”

  He grunted but bent down and retrieved his bag.

  “Am I to take it that I need to pay the taxi driver?”

  “Ah, yeah. I don’t have any cash on me.”

  “Well, how on earth were you planning to pay for your ‘shit’ then?”

  “Don’t mock me, Doc. I feel stupid enough as it is.” The fact that he actually did look remorseful gave me pause, but just for a moment. He was an actor after all.

  “Well then, I’ll settle up with the driver. Mrs. Faulkner will show you to your room. I’ll be right behind you.”

  He hung his head and followed her inside. I paid the cab driver and went up the staircase to his room.

  Here we go.

  “Mr. Bradley, do you have any drugs on your person or in your bag?” I asked before Mrs. Faulkner began her search.

  “Yes.”

  Honesty, a good start. “Do you have any sharps or needles that Mrs. Faulkner might stick herself with if she reaches into your bag?”

&nb
sp; “No. I don’t do needles. That’s the hard shit. I’ve never touched heroin.”

  I nodded for Mrs. Faulkner to go ahead with her search. She began tossing out each item one by one. He rolled his eyes. This wasn’t his first time. “That’s not necessary. The pills are in the side pocket,” he said.

  “We have to be thorough. You understand. Empty your pockets please.” He complied.

  “Mr. Peters,” I called down the staircase to our chef, Frank, who always assisted us with intakes. He knew to be waiting for my call. I had to have a male in the room for the next part. “Could you come up please?”

  Frank was the biggest man I’d ever laid eyes on. He hated being addressed as mister, so in private, we just called him Frank, but of course, in front of patients, it was a show we had to put on. When he stepped into the room, he filled the space. He was as sweet as he could be and a wonderful chef, but that wasn’t why I had hired him. I’d hired him because he was intimidating.

  “Mr. Bradley, could you remove your clothing? You may keep on your underwear.”

  He stared at me, his dark eyes ablaze. “You didn’t say please.”

  I returned his glare, letting him know that the little banter we’d shared earlier was over. This was standard procedure. He was a three-timer. He should’ve known as much. He pulled his shirt over his head, kicked his shoes off, and removed his jeans, his eyes never leaving mine.

  Wow…

  “Do you like what you see?” he asked. I blinked a few times and looked away. I hadn’t realized I was staring. Frank retrieved his clothing while Mrs. Faulkner finished with his bag. She handed me a bag of white and blue pills.

  “Thank you. You may get dressed in some clean clothes. When you’re done, I will go over the basic rules with you then let you get settled in.”

  “Yeah,” he said as I closed the door behind me.

  “Thank you, Frank. Please take those clothes to the wash. Anna, thank you.” They both nodded and left me in the sitting area at the top of the stairs.