Bad Girls (20 page)

Rehab was the downside to this setup. Rehab meant that she had been met off her JetBlue flight not by a chauffeur-driven limo, but a guy called Ramon driving a white minivan. And that she’d been taken, not to the Roosevelt Hotel or the Chateau Marmont, but to the Cascabel Recovery Center. Though Cascabel almost looked like a hotel from the outside, with its long white ranch-style buildings, its wide path leading up to the big sliding glass doors, surrounded by palm trees and oleander bushes, its gardens landscaped with plantain lilies, their leaves a riot of colour, from chartreuse to a verdant, almost bluish-green. Tiny white flowers were spiking up from the foliage. It was beautiful and welcoming.

And then the glass doors slid open, and Skye came down to earth with a bang. So much for Kevin selling this as a luxury spa. No hotel reception, no chic designer lighting and smiling greeters holding the door open. The only reason Ramon was pulling her bag from the back of the van was so he could hand it over to a guy in a white uniform, flashing him a significant look.

‘Skye?’ said a slim woman, coming forward.

She was dressed in jeans and a white shirt, no makeup; her brown skin was great, smooth and shiny, but drawn tightly over her bones. And her eyes were . . . Skye hesitated for a moment, wanting for some reason to find exactly the right word to describe the expression in the woman’s hazel eyes. She looked as if she had seen everything there was to see, and yet there was no disillusionment or cynicism there. A little weariness, maybe, but that might just be that she’d been up since dawn dealing with other people’s problems.

Experienced, Skye thought suddenly. She looks experienced. It wasn’t a word Skye had ever thought of applying to someone as a compliment before, but in a weird way, now it was.

‘I’m Daniyel,’ the woman said, reaching out to shake Skye’s hand, her own warm and very dry. ‘That’s D-A-N-I-Y-E-L.’

Daniyel smiled at Skye, and Skye recognized something else in Daniyel’s gaze; an absolute boundary. Skye was used to that kind of thing in the Midnight Lounge, a look that another girl would give you on first meeting that told you not to mess with her, to back the fuck off and stay there. But this was different. Daniyel’s look –
oh, Skye had it now
. She was like a teacher in reform school. A teacher who’d be fair and do her best by you, but one who let you know upfront, without a word being said, that she wouldn’t stand any nonsense either.

Fair enough, Skye thought. But she knew damn well that there was no bribing this one. If Daniyel found the camera in Skye’s bag, Skye’d be out on her ass before she could say ‘whoops’.

‘I’m the head tech around here. We’re like the doctors’ assistants,’ Daniyel said. ‘Me and the other techs are the people you’ll see most of on a day-to-day basis.’

She led Skye through a set of swing doors, past a seating area decorated in middle-price-range IKEA, and down a corridor hung with paintings done in egg-yolk yellows and oranges: meant, Skye assumed, to cheer up residents going through withdrawal. When Daniyel stopped, pushed open another door and gestured Skye to walk through, Skye found herself in a bedroom so bright with the same colours that she blinked hard.

‘I guess we’re not supposed to relax in here too much,’ she observed drily.

Daniyel smiled, but there was watchfulness behind it; nothing Skye did or said would escape her scrutiny.

I’m being observed all the time, Skye realized. I’ve got to play the part twenty-four seven.

Accordingly, she slumped onto the closest bed, heaving a sigh. Then she did a genuine double-take.

‘I’m
sharing
?’ she exclaimed in horror, looking over at the other bed. ‘I don’t even share in
New York
, and our apartment’s
tiny
!’

‘Hopefully your roommate and you will build a supportive relationship,’ Daniyel said cheerfully. ‘That’s the point of shared rooms. She’s coming in tomorrow.’

‘You’re
kidding
,’ Skye said in utter gloom.

Luxury spa my ass, she thought furiously. Kevin’s in such shit when I get out of here, I swear to God. No one said
anything
about having to share a room!

A tap on the door heralded the arrival of Skye’s bag, carried by the burly guy in white to whom Ramon had handed it in the entrance lobby.

‘Dave’s going to unpack your bag and check it for anything on our banned list while I go through the house rules with you,’ Daniyel said, sitting down on the small orange armchair as Dave put Skye’s suitcase down on the other bed and started to rifle through its contents. ‘I understand you’re a stripper, Skye.’

‘Exotic dancer,’ Skye said automatically.

‘Did you bring any toys with you? Sex toys?’

Skye shook her head.

‘Any prescription drugs? Sleeping pills?’

‘I’ve got some Xanax,’ Skye said, just as Dave pulled it out of her toiletry bag and brandished it in the air.

‘We’ll have to confiscate that, I’m afraid,’ Daniyel said.

Skye threw herself back on the bed, sulking. It wasn’t completely faked. And the sulks intensified when she felt the cheap mattress and pillows. Everything in this place was goddamn IKEA.

‘How am I going to get to sleep?’ she whined.

‘We’ve got a wide selection of herbal teas,’ Daniyel said calmly. ‘And I suggest you avoid smoking before bed. Most clients here are smokers and I tell them all the same thing – nicotine’s a stimulant.’ Her voice softened a little. ‘We do have meds if you really need them,’ she assured Skye. ‘But I think you’ll find you’ll be so exhausted by the work you’re doing here that getting to sleep will be a non-issue.’

She glanced over at Dave. ‘Anything else?’

‘Clean,’ he grunted.

‘You didn’t have to throw everything around like that,’ Skye complained, looking over at her suitcase, which looked like the contents had exploded; she shouldn’t seem too relaxed at having a strange guy go through her stuff.

‘He’s just doing his job,’ Daniyel said pacifyingly as Dave popped open Skye’s handbag and pawed inside.

She held her breath, watching him; had she misread that look between him and Ramon? What if Dave had decided to take the
Investigator
’s money and turn her in all the same?

Though honestly, she thought, weeks here without a drink or a Xanax, sleeping in a fucking single bed in a shared fucking
dorm room
, having to do
therapy
– maybe if Dave announces he’s found the camera, it won’t be the worst thing ever to happen to me in the world.

‘Just some more Xanax,’ Dave announced, tossing Daniyel another vial.

‘I’m a nervous flyer,’ Skye said.

‘Believe me,’ Daniyel said wryly, ‘no need to explain. No one’s come in this clean in years.’

‘Found an eight-ball on a guy last week,’ Dave grunted. ‘Wouldn’t’ve been such a biggie, but he’d flown in from Hong Kong with it in his jeans pocket. Can you believe it?’

‘Thanks, Dave,’ Daniyel said as Dave nodded and lumbered out of the room. ‘So, Skye, the rules of Cascabel: no one of the opposite sex in your room at any time. No overtly provocative clothes or behaviour. No asking people their last names. No touching other members of the group without asking their permission first. Smoking only outside. You have to be present for all group meetings, which start at eight a.m.’

‘
Eight in the morning?
’

But Daniyel must have been used to this objection, because she rolled straight over it and continued: ‘You must stay on the grounds, unless you’re on a supervised excursion. If you’re found with any forbidden substances on you, you will be asked to leave immediately. And obviously, there’s no sexual contact at any time. Even –’ she cleared her throat – ‘with yourself.’

Skye sat up and stared at Daniyel, speechless with shock.

‘You’re here for sex addiction, right?’ Daniyel asked, frowning, her gaze cool and assessing as she focused on Skye’s reaction.

Skye nodded. ‘And, uh, I do too much coke,’ she managed to get out. ‘Plus I overuse the Xanax, after I’ve binged on coke. You know?’

‘Cross-addiction is really common,’ Daniyel assured her. ‘That’s why our groups always have a variety of addicts.’

She uncrossed her slender legs and stood up. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to unpack and settle in. We have dinner at six and then a meditation session afterwards before bed.’

‘I’m really jonesing for a cigarette,’ Skye confessed. ‘Can I go smoke now?’

Daniyel’s frown decreased; Skye had clearly said something right.

‘I
thought
you seemed too OK with us taking your Xanax!’ Daniyel said. ‘I’ve never seen an addict who didn’t put up a fight to keep their sleeping pills before.’

‘It’s all a front,’ Skye said quickly. ‘Inside I’m screaming.’

‘Well, this is a safe place to scream,’ Daniyel said, but she didn’t look completely convinced.

I’ve got to look more addicted, Skye told herself firmly, as Daniyel led her out of the room. I’ve got to watch the others and act more like them. Daniyel’s as smart as a whip, as my mom used to say. And if I’m not fooling Daniyel, I sure as hell won’t fool the shrinks.

‘The garden area is through there,’ Daniyel was saying, pointing down the corridor. ‘Please use the ashtrays provided, OK? I’ll come to collect you for your intake interview. And welcome to Cascabel, Skye. We hope you find what you’re looking for here.’

That was weirdly prescient. Because what Skye was looking for happened to be in the garden, lying on a long stone slab that bordered a pool into which was trickling a tall, elegant bamboo water feature. His head thrown back to the sky, he seemed completely absorbed in an attempt to blow a perfect series of smoke rings. Hearing her step out onto the paving stones, he tilted his head sideways to see who had just arrived; and, on spotting Skye’s blonde hair and curvy figure, he sat up enthusiastically.

‘Well, hey!’ he said, looking her up and down. ‘Just joined us at the Cascabel five-star spa retreat?’

Skye thought she giggled, but she couldn’t be sure. It was as if she had lost control of her entire body the moment her eyes made contact with his. Of course she’d met celebrities before: the Lounge had hosted plenty of them: TV actors and presenters, sports stars, politicians. But never celebrity with this sheer wattage: never a major movie star at the height of his fame and glamour.

Joe Jeffreys was the sexiest man Skye had ever met. Actors were almost always a disappointment, height-wise; an action hero might look over six foot onscreen but in the flesh would turn out to be five foot six. Joe Jeffreys had to be six foot two, wide-shouldered and big-muscled; he towered over her. And he had so much natural charisma that it actually radiated from him like a wave of heat. It was what hit her first, even before she realized how handsome he was: his sheer personal magnetism. She found herself walking towards him without even being aware of what she was doing, as if he’d lassoed her and pulled her in like the big gorgeous suntanned cowboy he could easily have been.

Golden hair, bright denim-blue eyes, dark-gold skin; he was like sunshine come to life. She could have held out her hands and warmed them in his force-field.

Skye goggled at him as he said, looking at her with a more-than-appreciative grin, his deep sexy drawl infinitely familiar to her already from all the movies of his she’d seen: ‘I’m Joe.’

‘I’m Skye,’ she managed, amazed she could even get her lips to move, let alone form coherent words.

‘I’d give you a hug to say hi, but they’ve got these no-touching rules here,’ Joe said, rolling his eyes, ‘and I’ve got busted a coupla times already.’

The mere thought of being hugged by him sent waves of heat up and down Skye’s body.

Thank God I touched up my makeup when we were taxiing to the stand at Burbank, she thought with huge relief. Her big blue eyes were outlined with mascara, her cheeks were lightly touched with blusher, her lips were pale pink and shiny with L’Oréal plumping gloss. She’d applied fresh DKNY perfume; she was wearing snug jeans and a T-shirt that clung to her without being so low-cut that Daniyel would make her change it. And she’d brushed her hair into a glossy, high ponytail. There wasn’t a man in the States who didn’t like a ponytail. It reminded them of cheerleaders.

‘Yeah, I just got the rules breakdown from Daniyel,’ Skye said, pulling her cigarettes out of her pocket. Joe was there with a lighter before she’d even put the Merit to her lips.

‘Thanks,’ she said, inhaling, raising her gaze so he got the full, upward-tilted flirty look through her long lashes. ‘Oh, and you’re not supposed to ask me my last name either.’ She flashed him her best sexy stare; the nicotine, plus the familiar routine of dragging on her cigarette, were helping her get her confidence back. ‘Though you probably recognized me as soon as you saw me, right? ’Cause I’m a really famous movie star.’

Joe frowned automatically, aware that couldn’t be true, because he would have known her if it were. It took a beat, no more, before he realized she was finding a cute way to refer to his near-godlike status without sucking up to him.

His grin widened into a big, appreciative smile.

‘Pretty
and
funny,’ he said happily. ‘Well, I got lucky, didn’t I? Come over here, Miss Skye, and tell me all about yourself.’

Not half as lucky as you’re going to get, Skye thought happily, following Joe Jeffreys over to the fountain. The back view was nearly as breathtaking as the front. The muscles of his back and arms were clearly defined, even through his T-shirt; his ass, in faded blue jeans, was as firm and round as a speed skater’s, and he walked like an athlete. Skye remembered photos she’d seen of him in
People
magazine, a high-school quarterback at eighteen, holding his helmet and grinning at the camera, before he’d been spotted by a model scout and whisked away from the Iowa cornfields for ever.

Joe lowered himself on the stone slab again. It was warm from the sun, and as she curled up opposite him, she felt like a cat settling itself down, purring with pleasure.

All I need is Joe stroking my fur, she thought naughtily.

She looked at him, and was more than happy to see that his gaze was openly directed to her figure, checking her out, lingering on her thighs, her narrow waist, and the swell of her breasts, before rising again to her face. She met it with a glint of acknowledgement in her eyes, a dimpling smile, that told him she knew exactly what he’d been looking at and she didn’t have the least objection in the world.