15. Good Luck, Babe!

CHAPTER 15

GOOD LUCK, BABE!

CHAPPELL ROAN

My leg won’t stop bouncing. Even when I hold it down, it’s bouncing like I drank three pots of coffee. I hate waiting rooms for so many reasons and I should have phoned this appointment in, but I promised Cynthia I’d do this in person. Pongo puts his head on my leg and I grimace. “Sorry, bud. I’m trying to stop. I swear.”

I haven’t talked to Ren since I fucked up. I heard Dani tried to convince her, but she didn’t budge. I don’t blame her; even if she hates me now.

“Coop?” My head snaps up at the voice. “You ready?”

Dr. Theo Clay isn’t much older than me, but he’s got one of those faces that says he’s lived an interesting life and seen a lot out there. It’s part of why I trust him. His salt and pepper hair makes him appear older and wiser, too. A smart thing to have going for you when you’re a psychiatrist in the middle of Los Angeles. He doesn’t say much until we get into his office and the door shuts. I take my usual seat and look around. He’s added some new artwork. He takes photos when he visits different restaurants and kitchens in Europe and fills the walls with them. There’s nothing personal, but no stupid motivational shit either. And he can, and will, tell you about every picture he’s taken and what they were making or how incredible the food was.

“So, what’s new? I assumed you’d be on a set somewhere?”

“The indie movie has a few special screenings. I just got the script for the next one.”

Our sessions always start off this way. Small talk at first until I’m ready to dive headfirst into the deep end. Sometimes I never do, but he says those are still productive appointments because it’s bringing whatever’s bothering me closer to the surface.

Pongo walks across the room and curls up in his usual sunny spot on the couch. There’s a window and he can watch the squirrels play in the tree outside. I envy how quickly he can relax and fall asleep in almost any situation. Most nights, I can’t even sleep in a bed that costs as much as a car.

Theo offers me some kind of baked thing he’s made. I’m not hungry, but I don’t want to come across as rude, so I take it. Plus, he trained in France, so he knows what he’s doing. He baked an epic cake for Jamie’s wife, Alexis, last year for her birthday. He’s been seeing her as a client for a while to help her get through some fucked up stuff with her family.

“Coffee?”

“Nah. I’m alright,” I answer, nibbling on the cookie.

“So what’s with the bouncing leg?” I stare at him, confused. “The new receptionist is very perceptive. She’s practically Sherlock Holmes, and when she sees something like that, she texts me. Mostly because you all love to come in here and lie about how you’re doing while you’re falling apart on the inside. How are the madeleines?”

“Who? Oh, the cookie thing? No, it’s…buttery. Thanks.” We’ve been doing this for a while now, so he knows my tells and most of my dark secrets. It’s weird, because in this office, he’s my therapist, but once we step outside, he’s become more of a friend. We both know that could jeopardize the whole therapy thing, but for now, it’s working.

“Good, so what are your plans for tomorrow?”

“Why, you asking me out, Doc?”

He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even smile. Instead, he sits there and stares at me. “Just curious what you’re doing in your free time, since you’re not shooting.”

“You’re the second person to ask me about tom—” I swallow hard as my mouth goes dry. Tomorrow. Fuck. I should have known why Jamie called me to ask about my plans and decided on dinner at my house, but he does that all the time. I shake my head and pick at the crumbs on my jeans. “I totally forgot.”

How could I forget? I mean, it’s not like I keep it on my calendar. What would I even write there? Reminder, it’s the fucking worst day of your life? That’s why I’m here, to keep myself from putting those exact words on a damn calendar.

“Hey, breathe.” He’s handing me a cup of coffee. I never even noticed him standing up and crossing the room. “That’s an improvement. A big one, at that. The act of mourning a loss should have ebbs and flows. You’ve been stuck on a plateau for so long, it’s nice to see some movement in the needle, alright?”

“Not remembering the day someone kills themself isn’t exactly an ebb and flow situation, Theo.”

“It means you’re letting yourself move on, what we’ve been working on from the start. The ability to accept that she’s gone, but you’re still here. Did you make plans for tomorrow that weren’t your standard idea of mourning her from the bottom of a bottle?”

“Friends are coming over for dinner.”

“Okay?”

I shake my head. “I need to talk to you about something else first. And I’m not deflecting. I promise.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“I met someone and I kind of asked her out on a date. I’m pretty sure that’s why I forgot about tomorrow.”

“No shit? Like a date date? Dinner and dancing or whatever you kids do these days?”

“You’re not old enough to say that to me,” I point out and he holds up his hands. “Her sister and Jamie kind of set us up to meet. She’s a teacher at a school where Jamie had one of his art classes.”

“How’d the date go?”

I let out a long breath and sit back in the chair while I run my hands through my hair. “Here’s the thing, she uhm,” I stop and laugh again. “Shit, I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this but, she’s into some kinky stuff. She’s a domme…dominant…dominatrix? Whatever it’s called.” I swallow hard and lean forward so my elbows are on my knees. “Theo, I cried in the shower after she—uhm, well, to be blunt—after she tied me up, blindfolded me, and gave me the best blowjob of my life.”

“Why do you think you cried?”

I stare at the floor for a long time, processing the question and the feelings I’ve had over the weekend. “I felt…free. Like I let something huge go. That’s fucking stupid, huh?”

“That’s not stupid, Chase. I’ve talked to plenty of people who’ve found healing in the kink community. It’s not for everyone, but it’s also not only about sex, pain, and bondage. It’s deeper for most people. You said she’s the dominant one, which means she’s helping you work towards letting go of that death-grip you have on your past and things you can’t control.”

“It’s not a death-grip .”

“And your leg wasn’t bouncing because I made you wait an extra two minutes past your appointment time?”

“Fair. Rude, but fair.” I run my hand through my hair before I wipe my face, trying to focus and not daydreaming on the shower. “She told me she had been stuck in a shitty relationship, and that she lost part of herself until she found a way to take back control. Do you mean something like that? Like, self control?”

“So long as it’s safe and consenting, it could be therapeutic, yeah. Just make sure you listen to her and your body. Don’t be afraid to use your safe word.” He scribbles a few notes while I nod. “I consider your willingness to let go of any measure of control a big step. You don’t need to jump in with both feet before looking, though. Take your time.”

“Don’t get too happy. I already fucked it up.”

“Ah, okay. Spill it. What did you do?”

“Why does it have to be me?!” I stare at him, but give in because the look he’s giving me says it all. “You’re right. The king of self-sabotage strikes again. I asked her—no, I begged her for more.”

“More?”

“More than friends.” My mind flashes to the shower, and how she held me after. The constant reminders of all the ways we took care of each other over the weekend while avoiding the personal, painful questions. I remember how comfortable it felt having her around the house. She never coddled me. I would have hated that.

Friends. Shit, are we even friends anymore?

“She wanted it casual, and I failed. Every time something good would happen on my trip, I wanted to tell her all about it. I literally ran back to my room one night so I could call her before she left for work.”

“And how did she react to all that?”

“She kept telling me to go out and meet someone new. To let loose and enjoy life. I tried one night, drunk out of my mind. I almost hooked up with this chick.”

“What made you stop?”

“I didn’t want the bartender.”

“You wanted this new woman?”

“Yeah, I headed back to my room and called her, told her what happened, and she sounded, I dunno, happy for me.” My heart sinks again, remembering the conversation. “That’s when I told her I wanted more. I wanted a chance, and I blew it.”

“Have you asked her why she only wants the relationship to be casual?”

“No, because I’m an idiot.”

“You said she got out of a rough relationship. Did you stop to consider she’s in a similar situation as you? Stuck on someone or something in the past and unable to move forward yet?”

“We didn’t get too deep into personal stuff, so no, I should have thought of that.” I curse myself under my breath. “You know, she never said octopus.”

“Hmm?”

“The safe word. She told me to use it, even when we’re not…you know.” I can feel her even though she’s not there. How her fingers played in my hair while we watched movies. The feel of her arm curled around me when we slept. I can hear her laugh, and if I close my eyes, the scent of summer fills my head. It’s been like this since I left Los Angeles. But now that I’m back, it’s worse. “It all feels so…different with her. She didn’t say it though, when I told her I wanted more. She didn’t say our safe word. So maybe, there’s?—”

“Chase?”

My throat tightens and the next thing I know, Pongo’s head sits in my lap. “I’m sorry, buddy.” I whisper as I lean down, holding my head against his until I can breathe again. He licks my face and goes back to the sunny spot.

“What happened just now? Before Pongo nudged you?” He hands me a tissue and nods to my hands. My thumb has a bead of blood forming where I picked at it. I haven’t done that in months. Fuck.

“I don’t know. Realizing how bad I fucked this up. She hasn’t called me back, and I told her I would respect her decision, no matter how much it hurt.”

“I’m going to start off with the obvious—You should have called me sooner. I could have told you that a friends with benefits situation would be hard work for you. It’s why you couldn’t take on Steve’s lifestyle successfully, you’re a commitment guy. You don’t want to waste your time with games, you saw your mother do that and your brain actively fights against it.”

“I wish it didn’t have to end. Not like this, anyhow.” He jots down a few more notes and tips his glasses down so he can look at me over the top of them. “In her mind, we’re too…I don’t know…different. But not super different, just, like, I’m a fucking movie star and she’s a teacher. For her, that spells disaster..”

“And you disagree?”

“Yeah. I don’t get it. I mean, she opens my eyes to possibility, she talks to me, she cares, she helps me feel safe. I like her, and I want to give this a shot, you know. See where it goes.”

“Did you open up about your past or the things we’re working through?”

“No. I wanted a clean slate. I liked her not knowing how fucked up I am?”

“Why do you think there’s something wrong with you? Because you were rejected?”

“Fuck you. She didn’t reject me. She just—” I purse my lips and groan. “Dammit. You did that on purpose.” I pick up another cookie and shove the whole thing in my mouth. I eat when I’m nervous and it buys me time to come up with an answer. “I hoped this time I wouldn’t fuck everything up like I did with Cassie, since we’d have no relationship to fuck up as friends with benefits..”

“Full circle.” He leans forward, tossing his glasses on the table. I’ve gone back to square one. “Chase, we’ve talked about this, and you’re not responsible for what happened to Cassie. The woman who did that will die in prison, you watched her get a multi-life sentencing.”

“Not one of those convictions has a damn thing to do with Cassie’s case! They didn’t find anything to tie her to Cassie or me other than Jamie, and that’s not enough for closure!” I yell before throwing half a cookie to Pongo. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself.

I wring my hands so hard it hurts. “I hope someday I’ll believe it when you say I didn’t hurt Cassie. If she hadn’t been dating me, it wouldn’t have ever happened. I’m the cause, I’m the whole reason she—” I close my eyes and picture Cassie. The memory of my screams rings in my head. The strange way the cries echoed as they mixed with the sound of rainfall from the shower. The taste of iron lingers in my mouth. The ghost that still gives me nightmares. Pongo sits at my side again, leaning against my leg when I open my eyes.

“One step forward, two steps back. It’s a struggle, but I promise you’re making progress, Chase. We need to find a way for you to accept that you did everything you could to protect Cassie. You were a little misguided in that protection, but certainly not to a level of hurting her.” He writes some more in his notebook. “Be proud of yourself, Chase. You’ve taken a big step, even if it didn’t work out the way you wanted it to. You opened yourself to something new. That’s brave.”

We ease into a more relaxed tone for the rest of the session. We shoot the shit about Devin and how he’s handling the season, and about my filming schedule. He gives me a new website to try for recipes; we argue the merits of baking and cooking. He insists I try baking, but I tell him he’s nuts. Baking comes from science, cooking comes from the heart.

When I get down to my car, there’s a large brown envelope on the windshield. I open the door and let Pongo hop inside while I toss the envelope in the passenger seat. I close my eyes and do my breathing exercises while he gets comfortable in the back. When I’m done, curiosity gets the better of me. Inside the envelope, I find a few pictures and another marriage license, which I’m about to laugh off until I read the names..

I grab my phone off the dash.

“Morning, Coop. Did your session go well?”

“Fine. Cyn, I got another fan thing for your collection, but this one you might want to look into. There are photos no one should have of Cassie and I.” I swallow hard before I add, “And a copy of our marriage license. The real one. Can you see if anyone has heard of Julie Horowitz?”

“Doesn’t sound familiar, but I’ll send someone over to pick it up and check it out.” She’s protective, like the mother I wish I had. That’s why I’ve never entertained offers from other firms, no matter how big they are. “You could use some uplifting news. Are you sitting down?”

“Yeah, I’m in the car. Why?”

“Well, Marc Stone got a hold of me this morning. They’re taking the movie to France.”

“What?” The director has been generating some buzz around the small movie I had the lead in recently. It’s why we were in Toronto. But taking it to Cannes? I’ve never been to Cannes, only ever watched clips of the carpet on my computer. This is…big.

“Your name has come up in discussions, Chase. You’re the reason they want to show the movie. They’re saying it’s your strongest performance yet. This will be a damn huge year for you, kiddo. Not bad for a movie that you filmed in less than a month.”

I hang up with Cyn and stare at my phone. There’s one person I want to celebrate this with before anyone else. My finger hovers over her name.