After Hours (The Dinner Club #1)

Chapter One

Alfie

I’m about to break the number one rule of being a therapist. It’s an unofficial rule, more of a strong suggestion if you want your patients to keep coming back.

But it seems obvious that someone, somewhere, should have written it down.

Do not, under any circumstances, laugh at your patient.

It doesn’t matter if they’re telling you they shit themselves outside their ex-girlfriends house.

It doesn’t matter if they tell you they fell into the casket at their grandma’s funeral.

Not even if they’ve developed a fear of seagulls because one pecked their penis whilst on a nudist beach.

Because yes, all of the above have been told in my office, the latter story is currently in progress.

And unfortunately for the inside of my cheek, my teeth are biting down on the scarred flesh, once again, drawing blood.

“It took one look at my penis and thought it was a French fry, or a hot dog, or some form of seaside snack and pecked the life out of it. I haven’t been back to the beach since.

” Richard, my patient, sniffles into a soggy tissue.

“How could I? Every time I see a seagull, the memories come flooding back. I had to get stitches. Stitches. On my penis. Do you understand the emotional trauma that comes with having your penis stitched up whilst you’re awake? ”

“I can imagine that was an incredibly traumatic experience,” I reply, jotting down a few notes on the notepad resting on my knee whilst taking a slow inhale through my nose.

Do not laugh.

This is Richard’s first session with me.

He’s been on the waiting list for a while after the unfortunate incident, described above, led to the breakdown of his marriage.

Richard is a bad person. He’s selfish, conceited, and takes no responsibility for his actions.

He also has a deathly fear of seagulls, which is limiting his ability to attend his workplace, form meaningful attachments, and maintain those he already has.

I suspect the seagulls in this story are a metaphor.

Despite one really nearly pecking his penis off, Richard is seeing the seagull as a physical embodiment of his transgressions, which has led to him being alone and unhappy.

He can blame the seagull because it’s easy.

We’ll be delving into this during our sessions, and I’m quite excited.

As far as new patients go, this one has pushed my poker face to the limit in the short forty minutes we’ve spent together.

“I think the universe is punishing me. You know, because I was at that beach.” His elbows are on his knees, his head in his hands, and his refusal to acknowledge his responsibility manifests itself in the constant shake of his head.

Richard is in total denial as to why a seagull took a bite out of his dick.

“Tell me more about why you think you were being punished.”

“Well, I was there with Erica,” he says matter-of-factly, lifting his head.

“And who is Erica?” I read his file. I already know, but I’d like to hear him acknowledge what she is to him.

“A woman…a woman I was having an affair with.”

“I see. And you feel like the universe is punishing you for having an affair by having a seagull peck at your penis?” I take another chomp down the inside of my cheek. The twitch I feel threatens my stoic expression.

“Wouldn’t you think that? If you went to a nudist beach with your receptionist whilst your wife was looking after her sick mother and your penis got bitten off?

” His pupils are like pinpricks, penetrating mine like he’s trying to push the memory of it into me so I can fully understand.

He’s angry of course, who wouldn’t be? Just the thought of anything other than a warm palm, a wet mouth or a…

anyway, the thought of a seagull coming near my penis makes me want to shrivel in on myself.

Back to Richard’s question. I don’t have a wife with a sick mother, or a wife, period.

But I do have an awfully tempting receptionist. Mia is without a doubt the most beautiful woman I have ever met.

Long, wavy black hair, cerulean blue eyes that look like the coolest pool on the hottest day—you just want to dive in and submerge yourself.

I wonder if she’s ever been to a nudist beach.

I squash the image as quickly as it arises.

Unlike Richard, I am not married. So, looking at my unwitting receptionist every now and then is not completely unethical.

He, however, took his employee to a nudist beach after repeatedly trying to keep up with her thrill seeking, and then had to explain to his now ex-wife why he ended up in the ER with half his penis hanging on by a thread.

Despite the need for therapists to be non-judgmental, I have to agree with the universe on this one.

Richard is a selfish man, and even now, divorced and alone, he still doesn’t take any responsibility.

It was his actions that led him to the beach.

Despite feeling like he is being punished by the universe, his tone, his actions, and his lack of remorse indicate that he feels he is being treated unfairly.

I glance at my watch, noting there are only a few minutes left of our session. He is my last patient before lunch, and I have somewhere to be, so I won’t be hanging around after our session finishes.

“I want to hear about what you think, Richard,” I say neutrally.

He hangs his head, his fingers clutching at his hair repeatedly as he sobs. “I was going to move to Utah. It’s where Penny, my wife—”

Ex-wife, I think without correcting him.

“Has moved there with her old high school boyfriend. They reconnected. But I looked it up, and you still get seagulls in Utah. It’s nowhere near the sea, but they migrate there. They’d still find me.”

“Do you think seagulls are really what you’re afraid of, Richard?

” I push, knowing that he won’t come to the conclusion all on his own.

It might be too soon; this is only our first session after all.

I don’t expect miracles from my patients.

Self-reflection is a skill to be mastered, and Richard’s head seems to be firmly buried in the proverbial sand.

“What else would it be?”

Consequences, the answer you’re looking for is consequences.

I shift in my seat, folding my notepad closed. Our session has finished, but it’s always nice to give a little homework to patients for the week.

“Something to think about this week. You can let me know what you come up with at our next session.”

He lifts his head and turns to the window, his eyes widening a fraction. “Will you walk me to my car?”

A sad sort of pity forms in my throat, but before I can offer my assurances, Richard’s eyes widen, and he starts to scramble back onto the couch away from the window.

My head snaps around, and that’s when I hear it.

A loud thump as a seagull flies head first at the glass, and Richard starts to scream.

“It’s found me,” he whimpers.

Maybe it really is the seagulls.

◆◆◆

I manage to grapple Richard into his car, pushing his head down like I’m shoving a criminal into the back of a police vehicle. His eyes dart around, even checking behind him in the back seats before clicking his belt into place and speeding off.

Heading back into the office, I pick up my wallet and phone from the desk drawer.

“I’m popping out to buy lunch. I’ll be back shortly,” I say to Mia, who is sliding the strap of her purse over her shoulder. She lifts it back up and untucks the long black strands that were caught underneath it, flicking them over her shoulder as she beams at me.

“Great, I’ll come with you. I didn’t bring lunch today.”

No. No. No.

I can’t exactly run my errand whilst Mia is there.

She wouldn’t understand, and given that it isn’t strictly legal either, I don’t want her involved.

I sigh audibly and see her flinch a little, which only adds to the guilt of committing a felony over my lunch break.

Well… given that it would be my first time getting caught, I’m sure a judge would bring the charge down to a simple misdemeanor.

Because whilst I do need to grab some lunch whilst I’m out, I also have a patient that I need to track down.

Vincent Dodd is the man I’m looking for.

A patient who attended a session this morning and made a throwaway comment about going to a specific café for lunch. So that’s where I’ll be going too.

“Sorry, I was thinking about Richard and the seagulls.”

Her eyes crinkle at the edges, and I note that she might need to work on her therapist-face before she finishes up with me and graduates.

Despite my usual professionalism, I feel a distinct tug at my lips, which only seems to encourage her further.

Her hand flies to her mouth after an ungodly snort frees itself from her nose, and she starts to howl with laughter, doubling over her desk as her bag slips down her shoulder.

“Mia…” I warn.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Adams, but honestly, when he started screaming, I had to shove my head into one of the couch cushions. It was so high-pitched.”

“I thought the window might split open and the bird would really fly into the office,” I admit as she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.

She blows out a breath, pursing her lips tightly so that it looks like she’s pouting, and makes her way to the door.

“Come on, we won’t have time for lunch at this rate.”

◆◆◆

As we enter the café, Mia heads straight to the counter as I hang back, looking for Vincent.

“Alfie!” she calls out with the enthusiasm of a town crier. “What do you want?”

She’s pointing at the various sandwiches available, and I take a quick glance. I don’t particularly care, and my attention is caught as I spot Vincent’s curly, bleach-blond hair coming out of the men’s bathroom.

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

The server behind the counter nods, her eyes dipping down to my stomach. “The Scooby Snack. Got it.”