Breakfast, consisting of eggs, bacon and toast, was spent mostly silent.  Vanessa noticed Riley silently studied her, carefully measuring each bite and each movement.  She found it only slightly unnerving.  Both bottles of pills prescribed to her last night sat on the table in front of her plate.  She grabbed the antibiotic, read the bottle and followed the instructions. 

“No pain pill?” Riley questioned.

“No.  Tylenol or Advil I could use.  I’ve never taken any prescription pain pills before last night.  I’ve always wondered what they were like.  Mystery solved.  They are not an experience I need to have again.”  She smiled.  “I will say this:  I did sleep very well.”

“That’s good.”  Riley looked down at his plate and continued eating. 

“So, if you don’t mind,” she added gently, “I would like to find some clothes to change into and take a shower after I help you clear the dishes.  I need to find a place to stay until my flight tomorrow.”  Vanessa hoped she sounded matter of fact and not snarky.  She did not want to appear rude after his thoughtful hospitality.

However, he looked briefly as though he’d been slapped.  She immediately felt guilty, but she hoped her expression gave nothing away. 

“Okay, Dr. Taylor.  After I’m done, I will show you where your things are.”

He finished quickly and insisted he take the dishes himself.  He led her to the stairs and taught her how to lead with her good leg, carefully taking one step at a time.  He took her to the same room he had taken her two days before to shower.  Gone were all the trampy clothes – not even a price tag left – replaced by her boxes and things. 

“Where are all the other clothes?” Vanessa asked quietly, not wanting to bring up any pain.

“Well, I decided after you left Tuesday that I really didn’t need to keep them, so I donated them all.  I had Javier deliver the appropriate ones to a woman’s shelter, and the rest went to one of those charitable thrift stores.”

“And you’re okay with this?  You said you had complicated reasons for keeping them.” 

Riley smiled knowingly.  “You’re fishing again.  But actually, I already planned to tell you.  I was toying with the idea of pressing charges against the girl who bought them.  She,” he made air quotes, “borrowed my credit card when I was out of town for a few days.  When I came home early to surprise her and found her riding my pool boy on that very bed,” he nodded his head in the direction of the bed, “I kicked her out and made her leave the clothes here.  I never found the receipts.  And I didn’t want to risk returning the clothes in fear the stores would leak the story, and it would get all twisted around in the press. 

“She was a textbook gold digger.  Looking back, I think I always knew she was.  I’m really not sure I even liked her that much.  I just liked that she seemed to really like me, or at least she pretended to.  Being with her beat being with no one.”

“So, besides liking you, what did you expect from this woman?”

“Companionship, someone who was happy to see me.  Someone who liked me for me, not my star-status.  Someone who doesn’t nitpick.  Someone who would sit with me on the couch and watch TV.  Someone who would run with me and not worry about her hair or makeup.  Someone who was real and genuine.”

“So you want a puppy?  Because that’s what it sounds like.”

Riley looked stunned.  “No, I just want someone who won’t betray me.  I think that’s why I hung on to those clothes for so long, a reminder of her betrayal.”

“Well, there’s that,” Vanessa added, “and by holding on to the clothes, there is a memento of what happened.  And you blame yourself for that.  You thought she liked you and you were wrong.  You felt betrayed, by her, yes, but you think you betrayed yourself more for letting her get close, for letting your guard down.  You thought a smart guy like yourself doesn’t get played like that.  Those clothes reminded you of what you lost.  Not her, but that big chunk of who you thought you were.”

Riley’s piercing eyes widened.  “Jeez Louise, lady, how do you do that?”

“When it comes to matters of the heart, Mr. Tate, a person cannot find what he seeks when he looks for it out of desperation.  A desperate person makes desperate choices.  He has to find something when he doesn’t need it so badly that he is willing to settle.  Settling never makes anyone happy.”

“Get that out of a fortune cookie, Dr. Taylor?”  He smiled teasingly.

Vanessa fought the urge to roll her eyes.  “My point is that you made a bad choice.  Learn from it, but don’t let it completely change who you are.”

“Well okay then, I think I’ve been psychoanalyzed enough for one morning.  Do you need anything before I go, Dr. Taylor?”

“No, I don’t think. . .”

“Because if you need any help getting in to the shower or if you want me to stay close in case you need me, I will.”

Vanessa leveled her gaze at Riley, trying to figure out his angle.  The thought of Riley seeing her naked?  She was not sure how to respond.  You’re thinking too long, Ness.  For fuck’s sake, say something. 

Since she didn’t respond, he continued. “Because I can stay in here, just in case, and you can call out if you…”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” she rushed.  Then she softened her tone.  “Thank you, though.”

Riley smiled, turned slowly and left the room, glancing back at her once more before shutting the door behind him.

Call him back.  Tell him you need him.  Ugh. Why do you never listen to me?

She found her iPod, the relic she still had from when she started college, and her portable speaker and plugged both in to the counter in the bathroom.  Blaring her music, which she had desperately missed over the last few days, she peeled off her dress and hobbled to the cavernous shower.  She would have to keep the singing to a minimum today for fear she might be overheard.

Carefully, she washed her hair, bathed and shaved her legs, very thankful the architect installed a bench in the shower.  She decided to take her time and enjoy the luxury, since this was probably the last time two opposing spray jets would ever be on her at the same time.  She reveled in the warmth of the shower, totally emptying her mind of everything but relaxing jets and a Korn song.  As she became pruny, she carefully exited and dried off.

She opted for minimal makeup today, only the essentials – eye liner and mascara.  Her specially blended lotion was in order, loving that she finally found the perfect combination of scents at that bath place where you can choose your own blend; she felt this blend fit her personality, spicy and fruity, with vanilla and a hint of jasmine.  Tank top and shorts seemed to be in order as well.  Minus the sprained ankle, the fading greenish bruise on her forehead and the shiny red, burning gash in her arm, she felt almost like her old self, the pre-doctorate self.  

She quickly took inventory of the things in the room.  Some of her boxes were missing, but since they contained heavier items, she decided that Riley probably had them stored downstairs out of sight.  He really was thoughtful and a genuinely nice guy for a big Hollywood star. 

Don’t get stupid, Nessa.  He will never be interested in someone like me.  He goes for the tall, skinny little model-type bitches, not a short girl from Texas who can’t seem to stay upright around him.  This is unsalvageable.  I really need to get the heck out of here, but something about that man makes me want to stay.  Stupid.  Save what little face you have left and go.

 One last look in the mirror practicing her brave face, Vanessa headed out of the room.  Riley had explained when he showed her how to go up the stairs that she would want to lead with the bad leg going down, still taking one step at a time.  Slowly, she made it to the bottom without stumbling or tumbling. 

“Mr.  Tate?” she called twice, but she didn’t see him.  She heard laughter coming from the deck, so she turned to see outside.  What she saw made her sick to her stomach.

Outside, Riley sat shirtless on the end of the chaise where she had relaxed the night before.  Behind him sat a slender red head with a French braid and a bikini top, rubbing sunscreen on his back and shoulders.  Upon further examination, the scene was of two people familiar with one another, but it didn’t feel like an intimate exchange.  It didn’t stop Vanessa from wanting to snatch that red head bald and force feed the skank her own hair down her laughing throat. 

Whoa, girl.  Where did that come from?  Get it together, breathe and get out there.

She took about three (or maybe nine) Zen breaths, steeled her expression and headed out the door.  Both outside parties turned when the door opened.  The red head jumped up to greet her, towering over her by at least five inches.

“Hi.  You must be Dr. Taylor.  I’m Darby.  Darby Cheetwood.”  She reached out to shake Vanessa’s hand.  “I’m Riley’s friend.” And she emphasized the word friend why? “We’ve been friends since we worked together.” She smiled charmingly at Vanessa.  “I hear you had an exciting evening.  How’s your ankle and your arm?”

Darby’s genuine smile and comforting demeanor almost made Vanessa feel guilty for wishing to rip out her hair.  Almost. 

“Not terrible,” Vanessa answered.  “It’s nice to meet you, Darby.  Please, call me Vanessa.”

“Dang, Darby.  You must rate higher than I do,” Riley ragged.  “She won’t even let me call her Vanessa.”

Darby smiled at Riley.  “I have that effect on everyone, Chief.”  She turned to Vanessa.  “When Riley told me about you yesterday, I knew I had to meet you.  I had to make sure you were the girl for the job.” 

Vanessa raised her eyebrows at Riley.  “Just what does she know, Mr. Tate?”

Riley gave her his familiar deer-in-the-headlights look.  “Well, Dr. T, I…”

“He basically told me the truth,” Darby interjected, “that you were sent here to psychologize him.  I’ve been trying for weeks to pull him out of this funk.  His aura is all changed and he doesn’t respond to anything I have tried.”

“That’s because you tried some new-agey, hippie-voodoo ritual.  Incense and chants are weird, Darbs.”

“Oh, you closed-minded jerk off, you didn’t even give it a chance.  It’s not like I made you wear the headdress.”  Darby smacked Riley’s arm.  She turned back to Vanessa.  “Did he give you grief, too?”

“Yeah, he said that only crazy or weak people needed psychologists,” Vanessa smiled, reluctantly starting to like Darby.

Darby looped her arm through Vanessa’s and led her to the end of the porch.  “Damn, Vanessa.  You got balls for staying.  I gotta put up with this from him all the time, and if he hadn’t saved my life, I’d of been out of here a long time ago.  Points for your persistence, Doc.”

Vanessa was intrigued.  “He saved your life?”

“Yeah,” Darby grinned, helping Vanessa down the steps that lead to the pool.  “On the set of our movie, the first day of shooting actually, he pulled me out of the way of a guy on a hot pink motor scooter.  It coulda killed me.” 

Vanessa laughed.  “Oh yes, those vicious Vespas are killers.”

“Hey!  Don’t downplay the heroism.  It was very brave of him.”  Darby looked at Riley.  “Ever since, I knew this guy was going to be a great friend.  He reminds me of my older brother so much, except for the blonde hair, the height and the muscles.”   She paused.  “So, are we going to rematch, or what?”

“Rematch?” Vanessa asked.

Riley jumped in the pool, splashing the two women.  When he reemerged, all wet and glorious, he wiped his face, flexing his muscles.  “Yeah.  This one,” he pointed at Darby, “thinks she can take me at a game of horse in the pool.  She’s beaten me once in, what, five years?”  He turned to Vanessa.  “You can watch, unless you are too busy finding a place to stay.”

“No,” Darby shook her head.  “You’re watching.  I need your support.”  Darby grabbed Vanessa’s right arm.  “C’mon.  I’ll show you to your front row seat.”