Twenty-Three
I had to get a taxi to the clinic, but when I got there, I was in for a shock. The practice manager asked to see me, and led me into her office.
“Take a seat, Dr Chase.”
I did so, wringing my hands nervously while her back was turned. This wasn’t a good sign.
She sat down, and stared at me.
“I’ve had some information sent to me, and I must say it’s very disappointing.”
No. God no.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what information that might be, Mrs Keller.”
She stared at something on her desk.
“Then let me elaborate. Driving under the influence of alcohol. A potential driving ban. And worse than that, there’s a suggestion of inappropriate behaviour with one of the recovering addicts under your care. A man called Damon Silver.” I wanted to die, right there in that chair.
“What do you have to say for yourself.”
I swallowed hard. “You’ve already decided I’m guilty of these things, so what is there to say? I made a mistake. It was wrong to get in the car last night. I just needed to check on someone who needed me. If I could redo it, I’d get a taxi, but it… it was a big mistake.”
“And the alleged abuse of your position with regard to Mr Silver?”
My god. I felt sick. “Is this coming from him? He’s saying I did that?”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Are you asking me to divulge confidential information? Or should I be worried that that’s another rule you’d break to suit your own purposes?”
I lifted a hand to my face, felt it tremble as I rubbed my eyes.
“I haven’t done anything that anyone could consider to be abuse of my position. I’ve given extra time to Mr Silver, when he’s needed to talk. He has complex issues. He needs… needed to talk out of hours.”
She sniffed. She was one of those uppity bitches who always looked down her nose at people. Especially me. I usually tolerated it because I loved my work, but right now, I wanted to slap that hoity-toity look off her face.
“Even if that were true, you were unable to prevent his relapse into drug use. I’ve been made aware of an incident last night that left him hospitalised. Do you care to address that at all?”
I stood up, smoothing my skirt with both hands.
“Is there any point? I tried my best to stop him, but he got away from his clubhouse, and found an opportunity to use. Is… is he okay?”
She stood up too. “I’m suspending you from seeing patients while I discuss this with my business partner. If our investors found out that one of our therapists was caught drink driving, and abusing her role with one of her patients, who then relapsed, we’d probably lose vital funding. You know we can’t afford that.”
I did know that. I hated the fact that it was a business, rather than a government funded clinic. I hated that people like her were able to make decisions about people’s care, based on what was lucrative and what wasn’t, rather than their health and their best interests.
“I understand.” I pulled my ID badge from my lapel, and dropped it on her desk.
“Will Mr Silver still receive treatment? He’s going to need more help.”
She picked up my ID badge, and shoved it in her drawer, almost like she was dumping it, and me, in the trash, rather than just holding onto it temporarily.
“He’ll get proper care, if he’s willing to return to us at all. I’ll have Camille rearrange any appointments on your schedule for the next few weeks. Grab anything you need to take home, and leave. I can’t have you seen here after allegations like these. This is a PR nightmare.”
“Well, I’m so sorry that it affected your day. I’ll see myself out.” I slammed her door as I left, and immediately berated myself for showing her even that much of my anger and hurt.
“Lissa, you okay?” Cammy followed me as I headed for my office or, I guess, my former office. I shook my head, going to my desk to pick up my personal effects, shoving my few framed photos and bits and pieces into my handbag. I glanced around at the pictures I’d chosen for the walls. I wanted to take them, and yet, I wanted to believe that I’d be back in a few weeks, and this would be my office again.
“My god, what’s going on?”
“I’ve been suspended, and I don’t think I’m coming back, Cammy.”
“Why? What happened? Stop, don’t just run out of here.” I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t voice what had just happened. What I’d done. The mess I’d made. And I couldn’t talk at all, without breaking down, and I was determined not to do that anywhere where that bitch Mrs Keller could witness it.
With no car outside, I headed down the road, for the nearest coffee shop, and sat in a corner booth, my face in my hands. I’d just lost everything in one morning. Ice; I couldn’t see him anymore. I was banned from going near him, and I’d just lost my job. It wasn’t a suspension. The more it replayed in my mind, the more I realised that was me being fired . With no job, next I wouldn’t be able to make rent on the small house I lived in, so then I’d be homeless too. How the hell was this happening to me?
My phone buzzed on the coffee shop table, and I ignored it. It would be Cammy calling me. She’d want to make sure I got home okay.
The coffee shop was quiet at this time of day, so the barista, Clare, popped over and checked if I wanted my usual. It wasn’t a table service kind of place, but she recognised me.
I checked my phone after it buzzed again, with a message this time.
Has-Been: Ice is out of the infirmary. He’s fine. He’s a dumb fuck, but he’ll survive. Just thought you’d want to know.
I stared at the screen, wondering what the hell to say in response, or if I should even respond. A second message popped up in front of me as I dithered.
Has-Been: Reacher is still spitting feathers, so I’d stay away still. Sorry.
I picked up the phone, fuelled by my anger at the mention of Reacher, because that bastard had just destroyed my life. It had to have been him, and I knew it was my fault, but his actions had left me no way to try and fix anything.
Me: He just got me fired, so I get that he’s still pissed. Thanks though. I’m glad Ice is okay. He’s all that matters.
I set the phone down, and accepted my coffee from Clare with a thanks. I’d gone from hurt and upset to really angry. Reacher had just fucked my entire career. I’d wasted years on a doctorate that I’d never get to use again, because what clinic would hire me after this?
My phone was buzzing again; a message, then another came through.
Has-Been: He did what? Fucking hell. Where are you?
Has-Been: Are you okay?
I sighed, pushing the phone aside. Why was it that Has-Been was so keen to keep in touch, when the only one I wanted to speak to, was the one who wasn’t allowed to contact me. And why wasn’t he doing it anyway, without Reacher’s permission? Was he just following orders? Or did he blame me too?
I spent too long staring at my coffee, so that it was nearly lukewarm by the time I sipped it. My phone had fallen silent, which was a relief, because I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know Has-Been anyway. I barely knew Ice.
“Doc?” I lifted my head, and realised I wasn’t off the hook after all. Has-Been slid his large frame into the opposite side of the booth. He practically dwarfed the table.
“How did you find me?”
He grinned, and once again I was struck by the face of the teen star I’d had a crush on when I was younger.
“I have skills. Ice isn’t the only one who can track a phone.”
“Why are you even here?” He sighed, his hand reaching in my direction. Was he reaching for my hand? No, he was taking my almost-cold coffee. He slid back out of the booth, and headed for the counter. I watched him chatting and flirting with the barista. It wasn’t Clare this time. It was one of the ones I didn’t really know. A few minutes later, he was coming back with two drinks in hand.
“Here. That other one was stone cold.”
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I do a lot of things I don’t have to do. I like to think it’s my penance for things I’ve done in my past.”
He stared at me for a moment.
“You’ve been crying.”
“I got fired. What do you think? My career is over, because Reacher reported me. He told them everything. The drinking and driving. ‘Abusing my position’. Ice’s relapse. My god, no wonder they fired me. I’m a fucking disgrace.”
Has-Been leaned back against the padded booth seat.
“I didn’t know he’d done that. I disagree with that course of action. I think he was angry and scared, and he reacted without considering the consequences.”
“The consequences don’t really affect him, so why should he? You know, I don’t know how a club voted in such an arrogant asshole to be president, but I don’t like him.”
Has-Been laughed. “You’ve only seen one side of him. Trust me, he’s a great man. And uh… yeah, presidents don’t get voted in. They’re uh… either a legacy, or they take over from a former president. Don’t ask. Club shit. Anyway, the main thing is, I don’t think keeping you away is the right thing. I’ll help you and Ice communicate, if that’s what you both want.”
“Why?”
He stared at his black coffee for a moment.
“Because I’ve been where he is, and I wish I’d had someone like you to help me through it.”
I reached out and placed my hand over his.
“I’m sorry you went through that, Has-Been, and I’m doubly sorry, if you didn’t have proper support.”
He shrugged, a slightly haunted look crossing his face for a split second.
“It was a long time ago, and I know my limitations now. Booze, I’m okay with. Nothing stronger though. I don’t need it anyway. It was an escape from a life I hated, and I don’t hate the life I have now. I’ve never been happier… well, apart from the porn thing. Ice might hate me, but he did help remove the videos.”
“You weren’t joking about that?”
He shook his head, looking frustrated.
“Not the kind of thing I’d joke about, believe it or not. I guess someone saw pound signs when they realised they could market me as ‘child star gone bad’ or some shit. Ice was tracking the videos, to keep them from reappearing, but I guess that’s not a priority right now. Not that it ever was for him. We’ve always had this uh… hate hate relationship, I guess you’d call it. No idea how it started.”
“He needs friends right now.” I could see my words hit him.
“I’ve been doing the best I can, but he’s not an easy guy to help. He pushes people away much more easily than he asks for help. Honestly, one of us usually starts yelling, and then someone stops us before it comes to blows. I think that’s why it was easier when he was in the coma. I could help him without him knowing I was there. Weird, right?”
“You’re a nurturer. You have a really kind nature, and for someone who resents people helping him… I think I’m seeing why you guys don’t get on, but it’s a real shame.”
He waved a hand. “It’s irrelevant, especially right now. I’m serious about helping you guys see each other, or whatever. He deserves to be happy, even if he’s a prick half the time.”
We finished our coffees, and he offered me a ride home, and that’s when I realised he’d come on his motorbike, and the offer meant sitting on the back of it, and holding on to him. I felt guilty the whole way home.