Yeah, he’d seen her through the glass.

B.C. stood in the shower of the posh suite. The shower even had glass that looked out over the manicured grounds of the facility. Of course, it was one-way glass – rich people’s glass. The kind where you always get the view, but the people on the other side don’t even know you’re looking at them.

B.C. had seen her clearly.

Dang, if she hadn’t looked like the blonde vixen from the night at the club.

Would he admit that he’d thought about that kiss?

No.

It’d been innocent. He hadn’t understood her being upset and shoving him. How many women would die to have him kiss them and even more, pay to put it on the social media sites?

Fine, she did have a boyfriend. He could tell she wasn’t that kind of woman.

Maybe that’s why he’d been so drawn to her. Why he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. It was almost like the habit of thinking about drugs had shifted to thinking about her. Honestly, it was what had driven him to demand a punching bag around this place.

He wondered why she’d been here. She was a performer at Julliard, what would she be doing here?

He finished the shower and got out, toweling off quickly. He had a group session, then snack, which he always opted for a protein shake, then mandatory yoga. Joy.

Then his mind flipped to the fact she’d been wearing yoga type clothes. They’d been down an instructor.

Hope filled him.

Throwing on clothes, he headed to the group session down the hall thinking of her. Would she be the new yoga instructor? Dang, she’d be good. He knew that just from dancing with her. Lithe, long, lean. And graceful.

He was glad he went through the hardest ‘dry out’ part last week. It’d been hard. He wasn’t sure what the doctor had given him to help ease the pain of drying him out, but he felt measurably better every day without the use of drugs.

This was huge. No pills. No alcohol.

His mind flashed to her. Was it stupid that this had been the first thing he’d been excited about all week? The fact she might be working here?

When they had both stared at each other through the glass, did she feel it too?

Talk about chemistry. Chemistry in a way he’d never felt before. He’d felt lust, thought he’d been in love once after getting home from the military and before really starting his acting career. And…he’d been attracted to women. A lot. But this. He was a live wire and she was picking up all of his electrical senses and shaking them around. Every part of him was on edge. He got to the room they had the therapy in and commanded himself to breathe. He was trying to ‘show improvement’ to the group. Out of nowhere, he wondered about the idiot Africa boyfriend.

He re-focused on the group. The first week had been like a slow torture, including being dragged to group therapy. Truth be told, all B.C. could remember was some kind of peppermint smell. It had been comforting. The first week had still been like five layers of hell. He’d been feverish, which he hated. DTs, or the shakes, had made his body shake like he was playing the role of an earthquake. But his appetite was back even though the jitteriness hadn’t completely gone away. So that was good.

Dr. Schneider had made the decision he wouldn’t get his phone even after his first week was up. He’d told him taking a break from the pressures of social media was helpful and the doctor thought B.C. needed his head clear. Then B.C. had approached him about a bag to hit and he could tell the doc didn’t want to agree to it. After an hour of taking the doctor through why punching something really did clear his palette, the doctor had relented as long as B.C. stopped pushing the phone issue.

He was actually starting to like the doctor. Which was strange. He didn’t make B.C. talk about all the crap in his past. Rather, he told B.C. stories about growing up on a ranch in Canada. He had found himself liking the way those stories and the ‘lessons’ in them, actually made him reflect on things in his own life. The doctor didn’t push. That aspect of this place was so much better than he’d expected.

Group session, here he was. It was only his second time. The other three people were all actors, too, but not A Listers. Gary, an older guy he didn’t even know, was clearly trying to work B.C. for some help getting into another movie. He kept trying to tell him about all these old Three’s Company shows he’d been an extra in.

Another, a lady named Tina, looked completely absent sometimes and angry at other times. She was kind. She’d been in a soap opera in the early nineties. B.C. had wondered if she was okay. Sometimes it felt she wasn’t even paying attention but at other times she would hone right in and say something pretty profound.

Then there was the Kardashian of the group, Zoe. She was obsessed with her finger nails, and talking about the pressures of plastic surgery, which she’d clearly had her fair share of. Her face never moved; it was locked in a perpetual surprise.

The doctor started the group session by posing a question about strategies they personally used or could you imagine using for staying clean?

Surprisingly, it was a good discussion. Not surprisingly, Zoe said she liked to go to the beach as a distraction from the mirror.

“Stillness,” she said, in a somewhat nasally, uppity, diva sounding voice. “I need stillness and if I find a place to go when I get to feeling like I need a drug, it helps.”

Gary offered. “Sex.” He sniffed and gave a longing look to the women.

B.C. ignored him.

Tina, the soap opera star, gave B.C. what he could only describe as a cougar smile.

There were several other answers. B.C. didn’t respond. He hadn’t honestly thought about a strategy.

Most of the time, with his addiction, he’d gotten used to just berating himself. To thinking all military—you do or you don’t, you win or you lose. He should have the will power.

Finally, Dr. Schneider turned to him. “B.C., any thoughts?”

“Thoughts?" This was putting him out of his comfort zone.

The doctor smiled. “Think about your thoughts. We’ll talk later.” He winked.

They covered a few less interesting topics and B.C. remained just as quiet. They closed the session and then Dr. Schneider pulled him aside. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

B.C. nodded. “Okay.”

“B.C., I wanted to bring up the fact, you need to find some strategy to deal with your drug use. To replace it. Something to do in place of when you want to do drugs.”

He grunted.

The doctor looked sympathetic. “You’ve said before, ‘I’ll just quit, but that hasn’t worked for you.”

B.C. didn’t like the doctor pushing him. “I’m hitting a bag.”

“True.” The doctor agreed. “I think that’s a good place to start.” He exhaled and gave B.C. a concerned look. “In my experience, if a person comes here because it’s court ordered, one of two things will happen; they either buy in to recovery and really get clean or, they fail. The second group ends up right back on pills or drugs and this whole process was a waste of time.”

B.C. thought about the fact he did want to be clean. That desire grew inside of him. “I want to be part of the first group, doc.” He decided to be honest. “I just don’t know how.”

The doctor’s face turned compassionate and he nodded. “I’m glad you’re being honest, that’s the first step.”

B.C. nodded and sucked in a breath. “I look at people, I’ve looked at them for a long time and I’ve wanted to be free. Free from addiction. I just…” he broke off, feeling emotional. “I haven’t been able to do it. I’m just weak.” Self-loathing washed over him.

The doctor shook his head. “You’re not weak, B.C., but…this is a weakness for you.”

That made no sense.

The doctor gestured to him. “You obviously, don’t have a weakness for carbs or chocolate, like I do.”

B.C. swept his eyes over the doc, who was a bit paunchy. “Not the same.”

“True.” The doctor leaned forward, getting more intense. “Not as destructive, but not good for me.”

B.C. didn’t think they were on the same page at all.

“My point,” the doctor said, “is that all of us have to find reasons we want what we want bad enough. I’m sure for you, you have just made it your standard that you don’t eat junk because you don’t want to look like me.” He flashed a smile. “And I’m not offended by that.” The doctor smiled. “Hey, I haven’t made a choice I want to live your life, all buff and good-looking. I mean it would be horrible to have women stare at me the way they stare at you.”

B.C. let out a light laughed, because he could sense the doctor’s kindness.

“B.C., you have to find the reasons you buy in to your own recovery. You have to dig deep and find those reasons, no one can give them to you.”

B.C. suddenly thought of Kira and how she’d talked about her Nana and God. “Maybe I don’t have any.”

The doctor let out a breath. “I don’t think that’s true. I think you just need to think about it. You know, there’s a lot of good drug and alcohol programs that focus on tapping into a higher power. You might thing about that.”

B.C. thought about the last time he really felt God in his life. It’d been during the war. He looked away from the doctor.

The doctor moved toward the door, then turned back. “And, there’s another thing.”

B.C. felt nervous, instantly. “Okay.”

An intense look swept over his face. "Here’s the deal. I don't know what you have going on with Ms. Moonwater, but just let her be, okay?”

This took him completely off guard. “What?”

The doctor nudged him. “I may be a doctor of healing, but I can see a broken heart and when you two were looking at each other…” he broke off and shook his head. “I don’t know, I would just ask that you let Ms. Moonwater deal with some things first."

It was ridiculous that the doctor would even say this. The words came out before he could take them back. “Did she tell you that we kissed?”

Now the doctor’s eyes widened and he looked baffled. “How have you kissed her already?”

B.C., realizing all his ability to keep his mouth shut had obviously been lost when he’d quit the pills, threw his hands up. “I met her the night before coming here and I kissed her.”

The doctor let out a long breath. “This is not good. Lulubelle would not have liked this.”

“Lulu who?”

The doctor waved a hand. “Never mind. Just…” He let out another breath. “Please don’t kiss her in the class you have with her this afternoon.” The doctor shook his head. “Keep it professional, B.C. For your sake and hers.”

* * *

B.C. sat in yoga class, or better, he half-sat half-stretched his leg to the side and felt like he would die. She’d worked them amazingly hard.

Her body wasn’t just a long, lean body, it was trained to twist and turn in all sorts of ways. Clearly, she was trying to kill them.

“I want you to feel the stretch,” Moonwater said. He smiled as he thought of her last name.

Oh man, he could have fun with that last name.

Then he felt her hands on his shoulders, pushing him further into the stretch. “Let yourself breath and extend."

He liked her hands on his shoulders. How did he tell her everything he liked about her? The lithe, long, graceful way she moved around the room. The way her blonde, curly short hair seemed to flow with the pink flowy thing she wore over the black unitard. Everything about the woman felt feminine.

When they’d started the class, his heart had raced so fast he’d thought he was having a panic attack, but it had nothing to do with the exercise.

She’d been completely professional, introducing herself as Kira. He liked that name, too. He thought Yoga Moonwater had a ring to it also, no one could deny it.

She moved back to the front and went easily into the pose she had them planted in. “Okay, now I want you to move to downward dog.”

She easily bridged her body to that position.

There were five people, including him, in this class. There was light, flowing, water kind of music playing. There was the smell of something in the air. Something he wasn’t sure what, but he was actually feeling relaxed today.

He tried to go back to downward dog, grunting and knowing his body would probably scream at him tomorrow a lot more for this than it would for a three-hour punching, kicking session on the bag. He’d always resisted this type of instruction as much as he could. Some movie producers demanded it for technique and smoothness in movements, so he did it. He could tolerate it. It just wasn’t his favorite.

She continued her professional posture, taking them through all the moves. What could he say? He liked her style. It was just like her—lithe, lean, graceful. By the end of class, he found he was sweating but he felt really good. She ended the class with, “Namaste.”Which they all repeated back.

Most people started shuffling off, but the older nineteen-seventies guy, Gary, stayed back and tried to chat her up. “Have you ever watched Three’s Company? I was on the sixth episode, the fourteenth, the twenty-sixth.”

She gave him a very curt, unimpressed look, then succinctly put things away, turned off the diffuser, then turned the music doc off of her phone. “Well, nice to meet you, Gary, I must go now.”

She sounded nurse-like. Why did he think that? Maybe like she was trying out to be a nurse in a movie. She was just being orderly.

He waited until Gary left, crossing his arms when Gary looked at him expectantly, saying 'we have to leave' without using words.

He gave Gary a ‘take off and I won’t rearrange your face’ look.

Luckily, Gary took the hint and left.

Suddenly, all the pretense was gone. She turned and asked quietly, “How are you?”

Her words melted inside of him. It was strange at how soft they sounded. It sounded like she really cared. “I’m okay.” He felt himself smile and realized it was a real deep down type of smile.

She nodded.

He coughed. “Anyway, how’s Kevin? How’s the ranch?” It was funny to him, that she’d been part of his other life and now this life.

She shrugged and turned to the large window that overlooked another section of the mountains. The sun was still high in the sky. “He’ll be happy I got a job today and can stay out of his hair a little bit." She shrugged. “We're still trying to figure out what to do with the ranch.”

He wanted to say something. To ask something else, but he didn’t know what to ask. “I’ve thought of you.” It actually didn’t sound as lame as it could have.

She didn’t respond.

“How’s … the Africa guy?” he didn’t mean to say it like a checkmate, but he couldn’t help it.

It was even better when their eyes met and she looked bugged. “None of your business.”

It actually made him feel better she was just treating him like a normal person. He grunted. “I was wondering if you were all right. You’re the only thing I’ve thought about besides my own problems.” He didn’t like being vulnerable or even sounding that way.

Their eyes held and finally she blinked and shook her head. “I can’t talk about that kiss.”

Man, she was breaking his heart. He full on grinned. “Proves you’re thinking about it.”

She let out a loud laugh and turned for the door, but didn’t leave yet. “Oh, the movie star ego."

He liked that he felt more himself with her. The past couple of days he’d felt not at all like himself and he knew it was the absence of pills. All the thoughts he'd been having seemed foreign. He followed her to the door. It was just nice to flirt for a minute. “How’s Spence again?”

She hesitated. “You remembered his name.”

Dang, that did show he was paying close attention to the stupid boyfriend. “I remembered he’s an idiot.”

She walked out of the room and waited for him. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about that.”

He shrugged. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I work here. I need to keep things confidential.”

It felt like she was grasping for a reason not to talk to him. “Is Spence confidential?” He was humored that she clearly felt a bit nervous, too. “I mean, the guy’s not even in the country, so I don’t think he’d qualify as a confidential topic.”

A look of what was hopelessness or misery washed over her face. “I don’t want to talk about it." She put her yoga master face in place.

He felt like a puppy begging for a treat at her side but he didn’t care. “Have you heard from him? Did he even call yet?” Was he really pushing her for information about her boyfriend?

“I have to go, see you tomorrow,” she whispered and took off fast down the hall.

He watched her go and thought of that first night on the dance floor with her, twirling her around in the air. He thought of the freedom he’d felt. The realness. The grace and the beauty.

He kept watching as she gave Clark and Tricia a key then turned for the front doors.

It was stupid how happy it made him when she turned and looked back, catching his eye before walking out.

Happiness surged within him. Things at Red Rocks Acres just got a bit more impactful. He wondered if he really recovered and got clean … could he have a woman like her?