Who is this person Harrison dragged along? Helen Reddy? Is she in costume for a Suicide Squad party? What the hell? Is he going to pick up the Joker and Deadshot too? Maybe I need a costume. I’m as fucked up as any of those characters, only I don’t have a superpower to fit in. Wait ... I can fuck like a champ. And blow jobs ... no one can out-suck me. I probably could slide right in with that group of misfits.

“What’s that look all about?” Harrison asks, still sitting next to me.

“What look?” I don’t dare confess my thoughts to the man. Besides, I need to pull myself together here.

“I’m not quite sure I can put a name on it.”

Switching topics, sort of, I ask, “Tell me about Helen over there.” I reach in my purse for a handful of gummy bears and pop one in my mouth. He eyes me with curiosity.

“She was a huge help in getting the security tapes from the hotel. The manager was not cooperative. I had to offer her a job because after we left, I’m sure he would’ve fired her.”

“And a move to LA comes with her employment package?”

He laughs at my question. “Yeah, it does. But we got the name and credit card info of one of the guys who hurt you. Before the end of the week, I’ll have everything I need on why they picked you.”

“Will you know why he’s stalking me?” I chew on another gummy bear.

“Can I have one of those?” Harrison asks. I hand him a green one, my least favorite. He holds it up and says, “Wow. You’re really generous with these things.”

“I don’t do drugs. I do gummies. It’s why I don’t share them.” It’s not intended as a comical statement but he smiles anyway.

“So, go on,” I prod.

“Yeah. I’ll let you know what we find and to your question, we will find out why he targeted you. If there was some kind of deep motive, we’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

“I have ways.”

He’s not forthcoming on what his ways are and I don’t really want to know. He can beat the shit out of those creeps for what they did. I would, however, want to look them in the eye and find out for myself. It doesn’t look as though I’ll get the chance.

He’s silent for a few and then adds, “Emily says the first responses to your statement are coming in and they are more favorable than we expected. You should check your Twitter account. People are showing you all kinds of love, Midnight.”

“Great. Thanks.” My emotionless response has him sitting up straighter in his seat.

“You need to respond to some of them while you can. Maybe say you’re flying back to the West Coast and are so humbled by all the love. Hashtag rehab so they know you’re all in.”

I glare at him. “I’m all in. A good way to put it.”

“You should have a better attitude.”

“Yeah, like I should be happy someone drugged and raped me and now I have to go to rehab.”

“Damn, I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. What I should’ve said was you should be happy they’re buying the story.”

I huff out, “The story about being abused isn’t a story. It’s the truth. I don’t want someone’s love for what I went through.” This conversation needs to end. My glass walls are about to shatter and I’m in the wrong place for that to happen.

He gives no response, of which I’m grateful. Several minutes pass before he moves to sit by Helen. She’s chomping on bubble gum like I am gummy bears. I signal the flight attendant and ask for water. Since I eat so many of these things, I’m conscious of drinking lots of water to get the sugar out of my mouth. The last thing I want is a bunch of cavities. I laugh. I could be any man’s dream—the toothless blow job giver.

Leaning my head back in the cushy seat, I close my eyes and am surprised when Harrison jiggles my arm.

“Hey, we’re here.”

“Where?”

“LA. Where else?”

“So soon?”

“You snored the whole flight.”

I swipe my hand across my mouth and sure enough, it comes back wet from drool. Nice, Midnight. I’m sure it was a pretty sight.

Everyone moves to grab their belongings, except for Harley, I mean, Helen. She beebops out of her seat and practically dances to the door, acting like the happiest person on earth. And why the hell shouldn’t she be? Harrison just rescued her from a shit job, gave her a new one, and is moving her to LA, all expenses paid. I’d be happy as fuck too. And she doesn’t have to go to rehab.

Harrison is the last one off the plane. He stays behind, thanking everyone. It’s easy to see why everyone enjoys working for him because he does show his gratitude. I’m sure they are well compensated too.

We pile into the waiting limo and everyone gets dropped off, except for Harrison and me. I guess he’s my escort to the rehab facility. By this time, I want to crawl out of my skin. The dread of going to this place is unbearable.

When we arrive, they are expecting us. And this place is posh. I can’t imagine how much I’ll be in debt after this.

We get a brief tour, at Harrison’s insistence. The take-charge guy in him emerges, and everyone jumps at his requests. When we get to my room, I realize I never went home to unpack and repack.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“My things. We never stopped at my place for me to switch them out. I don’t have any clothes, other than what I took to New York.”

He slides a hand over his squared jaw, which is covered in scruff. I ignore the tightening of my stomach muscles because for once, I’m not angry or bitter as I glance at him. He exudes a raw sexuality that I respond to. Why now of all times?

“I can get Emily or Misha to run by and grab some things for you.”

“Guess that’ll have to do.”

The person checking me in says, “You’ll only need casual things while you’re here. We have yoga classes and other exercise groups you can join. You’ll need those types of clothes too.”

“Running shoes,” I say. “I don’t have anything like this. Maybe I need to run home and do this and then come back.”

“Um, I’m sorry. Once you’re here, you’re here,” the check-in person says.

“Excuse me, what’s your name again?” I ask.

“Melody.” She smiles.

“Can’t you make an exception just once?” I ask sweetly.

“I’m sorry, but we never do that here.”

My temper flares and I want to punch her, but what good will that do? Probably land me in solitary confinement.

“Midnight, I promise Misha or Emily will handle this,” Harrison says in a soothing voice. The problem is, I don’t want two strangers rifling through the contents of my drawers, or my apartment for that matter. It’s more than a little unsettling. But what other choice do I have?

“Yeah, fine.”

Merry Melody chirps away about how lucky I am they had a spot open and then she talks up the room I’ve been assigned. It is nice, I’ll grant her that. But for the undisclosed price tag, I should probably be back at The Plaza.

We tour the rest of the facility, and my knees almost buckle when we get to the group therapy room. I have no idea why this comes as such a shock, but it does. How the fuck will I get through this? Acting 510—the truest test of how good I am. Maybe it’ll propel me to the top of the list of contenders for the envied Oscar. Doubtful, but a girl might as well dream.

Harrison leaves me to my new home for the next thirty days and I scurry back to my little cave. Tomorrow begins a new life for me, bright and early at 6:00 a.m. This should prove interesting, to say the least.