Page 44 of Wreckin' Amethyst

“Why would you do all of this for me?” I frown, trying to give it straight back. Ace retreats, putting a few feet between us. Spotting an approaching set of headlights, he signals to the cabbie and sighs.

“I know something about impulsive women, and the love they refuse to acknowledge. Do me a favor, when you find Myles, just tell him how you feel. It’s not weakness or a character flaw. It’s human nature. The only person you’re kidding is yourself.” His voice remains gruff, as if I’m testing his patience until he opens the cab’s rear door. I wait long enough to catch his attention.

“I don’t like being in debt to people.”

“Fine. I’ll take repayment in the form of being told my wife isn’t in that garage committing an illegal act right now.” His large, brown eyes hold mine for a moment too long.

“You know what, I think I’m okay with this debt,” I shrug and slide into the cab as Ace curses and storms away.

Once hidden in the safety of darkness, I release a smile. If Candy can manage to enthrall five men, I reckon I can handle one, and somewhere along the way with that thought train, I realize I’m no longer mad at Myles for lying to me. I’m going to kick his ass and make him grovel, but I’m not mad because deep down, I know Myles. He’s not the asshole everyone believes him to be. At least…I’m fairly sure he’s not.

Chapter 29

“Goodafternoon.WelcometoSerenity Heights Recovery Centre.” A woman shoots up from behind the desk as soon as I enter. The automatic doors slide closed on the manicured gardens beyond, shutting me inside the finest rehab lobby I could have imagined. Soft furnishings fill a waiting area, huge canvas’ of abstract art cover the walls. Approaching the semi-circle counter, my eyes snag on a self-serve coffee machine on the far end.

“How may I assist you today?” The receptionist continues. Her hair is pulled back so tight, there isn’t a single wrinkle on her middle-aged face. Neutral make-up and a standard black blouse allow her bright, red lips to pop from their stretched smile.

“Are you here…to visit a family member?” she starts making guesses when I don’t announce myself. I rest my boobs on the counter, the low plunge halter neck I bought doing nothing to keep me contained. The strap of my handbag does a better job, crossing over my cleavage. What can I say - I put Ace’s money to good use.

“Actually, I came here looking for some help, but now I’ve seen you,” I bite my bottom lip. “You look like a squirter.”

“Excuse me?!” she balks, her face whitening beneath the make-up.

“I bet you squirt all the time. Just so you know, I swallow and mama sure is thirsty.” I cringe internally, kissing goodbye to the portion of my soul which just withered and died as she calls for assistance. Reaching out to brush my fingertips over her breast, a gigantic male nurse tackles me to the ground.

I’m man-handled through a set of doors only accessible by keycard, along a hallway to a grand staircase. I knew from the information Ace provided and presumed from the asshole Carter is, this wouldn’t be a standard luxury facility. Those committed here are some of the worst cases and members of the most affluent families. In short – they need a quick and quiet fix without the chance of easy escapes. Putting on a show, I gyrate against the nurse’s leg as he forces me to keep moving and shoves me into an office.

“Sorry to barge in, Sir. We have an extreme case,” the male nurse eyes me as if I’m infectious. I brush off his touch with the same notion.

“It’s fine, Carl. Thank you,” an aged man nods from behind a walnut desk. Dr. Edwin Winters, as his pinned name badge indicates. His grey hair has been oiled back, his face riddled with long-term scarring and an off-set nose. He finishes scrawling his signature on some papers and puts them in his top drawer, giving me his full attention. “How may I help you, Ms…”

“Lloyd ,” I fill in, taking Sebby’s last name. I worked out my persona on the way over here – Sasha Lloyd is to be Sebby’s cousin. Our mothers were twins, providing me with the same black hair and pewter grey eyes as him. I push a strand of the wig back over my bare shoulder, batting my lashes over colored contacts. “I have decided after years of prostitution and stripping, it’s time to face facts. I love being railed and degraded by strangers because,” I suck in a loud breath, “I am addicted to sex.”

“I see,” Dr. Winters signals for me to take the seat opposite. I prefer to stand, wandering around his office. At first, I thought my perverse mind was deceiving me, but the more I move, I’m convinced. This room is filled with genitals, everywhere. Uvula shaped trinket dishes and cushions, the angled shaft of a lamp, girthy table legs with veins engraved, curtains printed with ball-outlines.

“Your office is one, giant orgy. Do you enjoy taunting your patients?” I run my fingers over a vase shaped as a woman’s naked body. Mostly for show, but also with curiosity.

“The intention is not to taunt, but to test control. There are temptations everywhere in the outside world. If my patients can’t handle my office, they aren’t ready to be discharged.” Oh, he’s one of those God above men type people. Good to know, playing up to his ego will serve me well. Finally taking a seat, my leather mini skirt rides all the way up to my red thong when I cross my legs. Dr Winters doesn’t seem impressed.

“I’m sorry to disappoint Ms. Lloyd, but we will not be able to accommodate you. Regardless of how you find us, this facility is top of the range. A place where our clientele can receive the finest care. Only for the wealthy and mostly famous. We don’t take walk-ins off the street.”

“Are you implying I can’t afford to be rehabilitated here?” I press a hand to my chest. I think you’ll find my cousin is the owner of Solstice Photography and co-owner of various, multimillion dollar businesses.” Yeah, I did my research. The seven-hour drive left plenty of time for some light reading. “Not to mention, I can fund my own stay. How about I pay two months upfront?” Tugging a fake AMEX from my cleavage, Dr Winters seems to suddenly have a change of heart. A small smile lights his aged face, his gnarled finger pushing against the intercom system on his desk.

“Elizabeth, prepare suite 101. We have a new guest.” His expression takes on a few edges which makes me feel slimy, but I thank him regardless and make my way to the door. Carl is there to open it for me, and pry the dildo candle from my hand as I snag it on my way out. His hands are bigger than my face, tugging me down the hall to a second pair of locked doors. I watch his keycard be extended and then snap back to his waist on a retractable cord. Mentally logging every security system and camera along the way, I’m escorted to room 101 where a copycat of the receptionist stands.

“We’ll require you to fill in a few forms, given you’re admitting yourself to our care,” she smiles her red lips. I look beyond her black blouse and trousers, to the room I’ve been provided. A suite indeed – fitted with a kingsize bed, corner library, reflection zone in front of a large window overlooking the pool and gardens. A personal bathroom can be seen through another open door within, boasting a jacuzzi bathtub.

As far as accommodations go, I don’t know why I didn’t book myself in here for a permanent stay earlier. I’ve resigned Charley, Pig and myself to some shitholes for the sake of staying under the radar, but this would have been a much more pleasant option. Taking the papers from Elizabeth’s hands, I’m one foot inside the door before being tugged to a stop by Carl and his face-hands.

“We’ll need to confiscate your personal property,” he reaches for my bag. Tugging myself free, I scowl and look to Elizabeth for back-up.

“Until I’ve signed these forms,” I lift them aggressively, “my property still belongs to me.” Then I lean in, whispering beside her ear. “I need certain lady products, if you catch my drift.” Elizabeth nods, soothing Carl with a courteous smile.

“We will retrieve your bag and clothing when you’ve been fully processed, and should you need any feminine care products from now on, just let an orderly know.” I thank her generously, waiting for Carl to ease the tension in his shoulders and stalk away. That’s the second time I’ve successfully used my shark-week card this month.

“Once you’re settled, wander downstairs to our rec room. There is a bulletin board in there of daily activities you may enjoy until your care plan has been drawn up. You’ll be expected to attend daily counseling sessions and at least three group-therapy talks per week. It also goes without saying - sex is strictly prohibited, no guests in bedrooms and doors are to always remain open when in the company of other patients. I hope you enjoy your stay here,” Elizabeth smiles and leaves me to push the door closed.

Setting my bag on the dresser, I hide the contents I wish to keep before turning my attention to the papers. The background information is easy enough to make up and I fill in Sebby’s card details from memory to cover my fee. Creating an autograph-worthy signature, I sign the dotted line and sigh.

---