“Are the Rumors True? Is Mr. Hollywood in Rehab?”
~Celebrity Times~
Chapter Five
Z
“It’s nice to meet you, Zane. I’m Dr. Wilson, the head therapist for Sunnybrook Haven. Come in and take a seat.” Gesturing to a nice leather couch seated beside a matching chair against one wall of his office, he held the door open for me.
“Thanks,” I replied, not wanting to seem rude, even though I wasn’t looking forward to this session at all. I wasn’t one who liked to sit around discussing my problems. I was more of a sweep it under the rug and forget about it kind of guy. But then again, that could be why I ended up here. And really, how much actual forgetting had happened doing things this way? I was pretty sure I wasn’t forgetting one damn thing.
As far as first impressions went, I thought Dr. Wilson seemed the perfect therapist. An older gentleman with silver hair, his smile was warm and friendly and there was a kindness in his eyes that made him look like someone trustworthy. I could easily see why he was picked for this job. He immediately made people feel at ease.
Moving to the couch, I plopped down, sagging into a comfortable position. The medication Aubrey had given me earlier was helping a lot with the tremors, but I still felt jittery and out of sorts about everything.
My encounter with Aubrey hadn’t helped my nerves any. I knew she’d be angry with me—hell, I was angry with me—but I hadn’t expected her to be quite so bitter about it or willing to shut me out of her life completely.
Now that I’d seen her again, I was sure of only one thing. I had to fix things between us somehow. There was no way I could leave things like they were; only I had no idea of where to even start. It wasn’t like I could make up cheating on her. There was no way to take that back.
Dr. Wilson spoke, dragging my attention away from the situation with Aubrey. “Before we get started, I just want you to know that everything you say to me in here is confidential. Nothing will be shared with anyone else unless you sign off on it. You’ll only be asked to sign a release if something you say during our sessions is pertinent to the rest of your care and needs to be shared with another physician. Is that good for you?” Picking up a clipboard and a pen off his desk, he joined me in the seating area, sitting in the leather chair.
“Works for me.” I’d do whatever they wanted me to do, just so I could get on with my life.
“Great. So basically, we can talk about anything you’d like. Our focus is to bring to light any underlying issues that may contribute to your need to use substances. We want to teach you how to handle stress in a healthier manner, so you don’t feel the need to rely on anything outside of yourself for relief. Does that sound good to you?”
I shrugged, still feeling a bit obstinate. I knew what my triggers were, but I sure didn’t plan on sharing all of them. Some things were better left unsaid. “Sure. Whatever.”
He smiled, in a friendly manner, not patronizingly. “I get the impression that you don’t want to be here.”
A wry chuckle escaped me. “You’re good, Doc.”
“Lester. My first name is Lester. Feel free to call me that. We want you to feel like you’re part of the family here.”
“Well, no offense, but it wasn’t my idea to come here. I was kind of forced to do it by the studio who is producing my next picture.”
“And you feel their assessment of the situation is wrong?”
Sighing, I shrugged again. “I don’t know. I mean, I get that using hardcore drugs isn’t really a great thing, but it’s not like I was actively seeking to get strung out all the time—a lot of the time, yes. But I’ve still been working and being productive, so why does anyone else care if I use drugs or alcohol to party and take the edge off? As long as I’m getting stuff done, shouldn’t my private life be just that—private?”
“Is your private life private?” Dr. Wilson asked, making some notes on his clipboard and I was tempted to lean forward and try to read it. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen your private life plastered all over the media the last few days.”
Damn. “There is that.”
“Would you call your recent behavior—speaking specifically of the night club incident—normal for you?”
Scowling, I pondered his question for a moment. “If you mean am I with a lot of women, the answer is yes.”
He shifted a bit in his chair. “I’m actually getting a little more personal. Is it common for you to have sex in public places?”
I laughed. “Well, I’ve had lots of sex in public places where we could’ve been caught, but no, I wasn’t ever trying to get on camera, if that’s what you mean. It’s just kind of exciting to do it somewhere that someone might see.”
“So would you say you’re seeking the thrill?”
“Sure, I guess so.” What did this have to do with anything?
He made more notes on his chart.
“Is that bad?” I asked, feeling nervous about what he might be writing.
“Not at all. But it tells me a lot about you. If you are seeking the thrill when you act out, there may be other ways you can fulfill that need without resorting to substances.”
“Hmm. I never considered that.” I was impressed. He really was good, and actually made sense. This was something I’d never thought of before.
“My job is to help you identify things that might be a trigger for you and offer up suggestions which could be a healthy replacement. For instance, if you’re using substances to relax yourself after a hard day at work, I’d suggest you try meditation, massage, or a soothing hot bath—anything designed as a way to naturally reduce your stress levels. In your case, though, you may be seeking adrenaline. You could fulfill those needs with extreme sports like skydiving, rappelling, riding recreational vehicles, or anything like that which mimics the high you get from substances.”
If only it were that easy, I’d be booking my next extreme sport right now. “I’d love to do any of that stuff, but I can’t. I’m often under contract to not do anything dangerous that could result in injury or death. Producers don’t want me doing activities that could hurt me and leave their picture hanging in the balance.”
He pondered this for a moment. “Hmm. That does make things considerably more difficult. Are you prepared to choose your health over your job, if necessary?”
“Not a chance.” I planned to keep acting until no one would hire me anymore, or they carried my body out on a stretcher. I might hate it sometimes, but it was in my blood now. Plus, it funded the rest of my lifestyle and regardless of whether or not I successfully quit using, I wanted the rest of my life.
Damn it, he was jotting more stuff down.
“Is there anything else you like to do that gives you that same kind of thrill?”
Immediately an image of Aubrey popped into my head, her luxurious brown hair was spread out over a blanket, and the moans she was making filled my ears. Closing my eyes, I savored those sounds—sounds I’d replayed in my head over and over so many times since the last time I’d seen her.
We’d only been together, in the physical sense, for one day. She’d given me her virginity before I’d left for my first big modeling shoot with Zombie Gothic Apparel after I’d won their online model search.
I couldn’t help my smile. “My ex-girlfriend.” I knew that wasn’t what he meant when he asked me what I liked to do. This was the truth, no matter how crass it might sound.
“Ex?” His interest perked up. “Let’s talk about her. Are you able to stay in committed relationships for very long?”
“She’s the only truly committed relationship I’ve had,” I replied honestly. I’d had other girlfriends, one I’d been fairly close to since Aubrey, and while I loved her, I’d never been “in love” with her. It didn’t matter anyway, since it had ended very badly.
“How long were the two of you together?”
“A year.”
“And you were sexually active with her the whole time?”
I laughed. “Not even close. We fooled around a lot—heavy petting and whatnot. But as far as actual sex, we had one amazing day together, right before we broke up. She was worth the wait though.”
Holy hell, she’d been worth every frustrated blue balls moment I’d spent with her. I’d never wanted anyone in my life as badly as I wanted her. Just thinking about it was causing something to awaken in my pants.
There was no point trying to hide the truth anymore. Seeing her again had forced me to admit my feelings for her. I’d never loved anyone the way I loved Aubrey Hart. She was perfection as far as I was concerned. There wasn’t a woman on the planet that could measure up to her—at least not that I’d ever met.
“Why did you break up?” Dr. Wilson asked, continuing to probe for answers to my damaged psyche.
“Actually, we never did—at least not officially. I had hoped to bring her to LA with me when I first moved out here, but I got drunk one night and cheated. After that, I couldn’t bring myself to face her. Instead, I waited for her to get ahold of me again, but she never did. I’ve since discovered that she walked in on me while I was with someone else. She just left—didn’t confront me about it. I never knew why she disappeared, only my own part in it.”
“So this happened a long time ago? Haven’t you been in Hollywood for quite a while?”
“Yeah, ten years. She was my high school girlfriend.” There he went with that damn pen of his again. I sure wished I could see what he was writing.
“Was sex with her also your first time?”
That was funny. “Oh, hell no. I’ve been sexually active since I was fourteen.”
“And have you had any other meaningful relationships before or since then?”
Quickly, I thought back over the last several years and the people I’d been with. “I’ve dated one woman more seriously than others, but never with the intent that the relationship was going anywhere. Mostly it was just because I liked to pass the time with her. She was comfortable—easy to talk to—most of the time.”
“So you’ve never met anyone else who meant as much to you as your old girlfriend?”
“Not even close.” It was incredible how much pain those words revealed. Regret laced through me, making me feel tied up in knots. I wanted to suppress the feelings inside me and make them go away.
“How do you feel about this girl now when you think about her?” The questions were getting harder, but I was up for it. Somehow, talking about Aubrey was easing some of the frustration from our encounter.
“Honestly, she turns me inside out. I feel terrible about hurting her, but there’s no way for me to make it up to her. How do you take back being unfaithful to someone you love?”
“Are you still in love with her?”
“I am.” Wow. I didn’t even hesitate.
“Have you seen her since you split?”
“Not really. I just barely discovered—like two days ago—she’s living here in LA. I had no idea.”
“If you had the chance to make things square with her as part of your recovery, would you want to?”
“Absolutely! One hundred percent—no question.” I’d do anything to not see the pain in her beautiful hazel eyes staring at me from her lovely face.
“What was your substance abuse history like while you were with her?”
“Pretty much nonexistent, except for alcohol at parties on weekends and maybe some marijuana occasionally. Normal teenage party behavior.”
“When did you start getting more involved with substances, then?”
“Not too long after I cheated on her. Someone at a photo shoot offered me something. I was feeling guilty and wanted to numb the pain, so I took it. I didn’t use super often in the beginning, but it slowly escalated from there.”
“So would you say your guilt from cheating on her was one of your initial triggers to use?” He was writing like a fiend now. I tried not to let it bother me.
“I guess I would.” It was kind of ironic that this might actually all lead back to my initial mistake. Had I really been self-medicating all this time as a way to forget about Aubrey? If so, I was seriously messed in the head, and a complete jerk to boot.
“I think you may need to try to make things right with this girl. While I’m not necessarily advocating a rekindling of the relationship right now, since we don’t encourage that for people who are in rehab, I do think maybe clearing the air with her would help you with one of your triggers. How do you feel about that?”
“Actually, I completely agree and had already made up my mind to do so.”
“Good. Later on, when we get you more squared away, we can even invite people in for sessions with you. If you think she’d be receptive, we can even ask her to come sit in on one of our visits.”
“Okay. I don’t know if she will, but we can ask.” Just the thought of having a chance to sit down and really explain things to her excited me. Would she listen? Would she care? Or would she tell me to fuck off, like I deserved?
“Perfect. We’ll see how things progress from here. For now, I just have one more question for you.”
“Shoot,” I replied, feeling pretty comfortable with what we’d talked about so far today.
“I want to know if you think you’re an addict?”
Sucker punch out of nowhere. Point goes to the sneaky doctor. Pondering his question for a moment, I didn’t really know what to say. “I don’t know. I’ve always felt like I could stop whenever I wanted to. I just haven’t wanted to.”
There went the pen, scribbling more notes. After a moment he set it down and interlaced his fingers, staring at me. “I have to tell you, Zane. Treatment here will be totally pointless unless you can admit you have a problem.” I opened my mouth to reply, but he quickly raised his hand, stopping me. “No, I don’t want to argue with you about this, and I don’t want you to change your answer. Right now I want you to spend the next day contemplating your life. I’m going to give you a homework assignment.”
Yay. Homework. Just what I didn’t need.
He continued. “I want you to write down all the times you’ve had problems in your life—just the things that really stand out to you—and then I want you to note whether or not those problems were caused or worsened by using any kind of drugs or alcohol. Be as honest about it as you can. When we meet tomorrow, I’ll ask you this question again and we’ll see where we stand then. Can you do that for me?”
Nodding, I wiped my hands against my jeans, not caring for this idea at all. “Sure. No problem.”
“Wonderful. Until then, you’re free to go.” He stood and held out his hand. “I really enjoyed getting to visit with you today. I feel like you are very open and up front, and I think that will aid you a lot in your stay here. I’m confident this will be very successful for you if you’re willing to put in the effort.”
Rising, I shook his hand. “Thanks for your help. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” He really was good. I’d walked in here with a chip on my shoulder and feeling more than sulky. I didn’t want to talk; yet that was all I’d done. Of course, I hadn’t told him anything about that one particular incident—and I never would.
“If you need me for any reason, just dial extension 210 on the phone in your room. You need a special line to dial outside the facility, but you can call anywhere inside.”
“All right. Thanks for the info.”
He walked me to the door and held it open. “Have a great day. Good luck with everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Same time, same place,” I replied as I stepped outside.
My head was already buzzing as I slowly walked back toward my room. I wasn’t looking forward to this assignment. I didn’t need to actually complete it to know what it was going to tell me I already knew.