Page 38 of Broken Princess

Hal is a fascinating subject to watch and to be honest he’s the one I thought I’d have to be most patient with to uncover his secrets. Everyone knows he parties hard, drinks like a fish, and ingests whatever will get him to an altered state of consciousness. But I’ve stumbled across something no one else knows. Not even his friends.

Unfortunately his thing means, I have to confront my own. I guess I owe the BP’s a thanks. They’re the reason I can walk in here without lying, because the return of my panic attacks is a very real and valid issue that needs to be addressed.

The therapist looks at me, waiting for me to speak. It takes everything in me to open my mouth and say the words. I hate talking like this, even more so when it’s in a group setting.

“Jordanna, this is a safe space. These are your peers.”

“I know it’s supposed to be, but the truth is, when I look around all I see are the faces of the people who hurt me.”

Dr. Chan does this thing with his eyes. Questioning me without trying to read too much into my answer. “Not physically, but emotionally. They were cruel, and now whenever I get in a group and the voices get louder, I feel like I’m sinking to the bottom of the ocean.”

“We’ve discussed before about swimming to the surface.”

“It’s hard to do with a weight around my ankle pulling me down.”

“You know you have the tools to unlock that weight.”

I look up, meeting his gaze. “What if sometimes I think about leaving it there?”

“Do you?”

I shrug my shoulders, not giving an exact answer. “Jordanna?”

“I think disappearing into myself. Being numb. All of that would be better than the fear.”

“And how long have you felt this way?”

“Since my dad’s accident.” I swipe at the tear, because it’s allveryreal.

When group lets out, I linger in the hall to make a one-on-one appointment with Dr. Chan. Turning, I come face to face with the man of the hour, Hal Bishop. He sees me and freezes as the door closes behind him. “What are you looking at, charity?”

I ignore him, stepping up to the front desk when it’s my turn and make a show of scrolling through my phone, finding the next date I’m available for a session. I wonder how Hal’s father would feel about how close he is with his future stepmother.

Finding this secret was purely by happenstance. I really did come here for counseling. I was so out of sorts afterwards, after my second appointment, that I had to go to the bathroom to get myself together. It took longer than I thought, and the office was empty by the time I was done. On my way to the elevator, I realized I wasn’t the only one left on the floor.

The future Mrs. Holbrook has a very hands on approach to her therapy sessions. When she and Hal are behind closed doors, whatever breakthroughs he’s having bringshercloser to god. I guess as a thank you, she supplies him with his party favors.

Dr. Chan walks over to the desk and hands a file to the medical assistant. His presence breaking through the tension in the room. “Jordanna, I’m proud of the work you did in group today.”

Stealing a glance at Hal, I mumble, “I’m kind of wishing I would’ve skipped it.”

Dr. Chan places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Everyone is bound to the same rules whether they’re in my group, seeing another therapist, or visiting family. Nobody talks about who they’ve encountered here.”

I look up and see he’s staring at Hal, who gives a small nod acknowledging the confidentiality expectation.

I nod my understanding and take the appointment card from the nurse, plugging the date and time in my calendar. I’m no expert on the dating and mating habits of the rich and ruthless, but I can only imagine what would happen if Mr. Holbrook finds out his arm candy is applying therapeutic touch to Hal’s penis.

Fifteen

Logan

Iswipe through my phone, wondering how many more drinks and horrible jokes my dad plans to suffer through before calling it a night. We’re at a mandatory charity gala and the under thirty crowd broke off from our parents as soon as the welcome speech was over.

I’m reclining on the sofa in the sitting room we’ve taken over, with a bottle of 16-year-old Lagavulin in my hands, and no, I haven’t offered anyone a drink. They can get their own. There’s maybe thirty of us in the room, and the setting is right for us to have some fun. None of our parents will come looking for us anytime soon, and even if they find us in here, they won’t give a shit what we’re doing.

Adaleide Cartwright walks into the room, turning heads like she always does. The last time I saw her, I was thanking her mother for her help with a little project I had back in high school. Teen dream, Sophie Lareux comes through the door a few seconds later. The last time I saw her was whenshewas thankingmefor helping her book her new television role.

They work the room, trying to decide who to give their time and attention to tonight. I know from experience that whoever it is, is in for a treat. I guzzle another mouthful of Scotch straight from the bottle.

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