Unorthodox Therapy (2 page)

To the world, Lina Riley was the model of a strong, independent woman who didn't take shit from anyone and lived by her own rules. In that moment, however, deprived of my number one coping mechanism, I was no better than a collapsing building. Maybe this was just the worst stage of healing. Maybe tomorrow I'd feel better and I wouldn’t long for the sweet, poisonous, disgusting smoke to fill my lungs.

Maybe...

I turned my eyes to the emergency drawer at the bottom of my desk with a deep longing. It was a siren call, promising an escape from my internal hell. The magic device would silence the blinding white noise and help me get through the rest of the day.

The grunt I made was not typical of a fine lady, but when you hit rock bottom, manners were the last thing you worried about. To hell with the stupid smoking regulations in the building, the city and the state. I needed my fix and I needed it now!

The life-saving pack was buried under tons of paper and I had to bend over to pick it up. I knelt with my designer heels raised in the air and rummaged through the old documents. I promised myself the next big investment I'd make would be to purchase my own office building. It would be the last safe haven for tobacco lovers. Smoking would be permitted everywhere, even strongly encouraged. I'd fire all non-smokers and fine everyone who didn't take full advantage of their smoke breaks. The corridors would be filled with nicotine clouds. Fuck safety and fuck health regulations. And to hell with the California smoking ban!

A sinister grin lit up my face for the first time that morning as I dug out the precious pack. I breathed in the tobacco smell like the desperate addict I was. Abstaining could wait just one more day. Just this meeting. Just this weekend. I'd start over on Monday.

I’d really hit a record this time, though. I'd gone nearly three months without lighting a cigarette, but I couldn’t take it anymore.

A rush of anger passed through me at the thought of the smoking regulations. I was paying truckloads of money for the four floors at ChaosTech Solutions. For all the rent and maintenance fees, the building owners could grant me the necessary privacy and comfort to run my company. Instead, whenever I lapsed I had to smoke on the fire escape, just like a rebellious schoolgirl. There was a naughty thrill in doing it and I had an excuse to breathe some air. Okay, I really didn’t expect to smoke in the building. I knew the laws, but it would have been nice to not have to go through the walk of shame when indulging in my only vice.

The nearest fire escape was a shelter for all the lost souls who hadn’t followed the healthy trend to give up smoking. It happened to be situated at the other end of the floor. The long hallway next to my reception area, where Katie's desk was, led all the way to it. There was only one intersection shortly after my secluded office and it went straight to the elevators. I had to cross the entire floor to reach my target and pass by the open office area. The passageway wound along the Cloud Development and Android/iOS departments, the big break room, and the cubicles of the consulting and support staff – in short, everyone who worked on the floor.

The board of directors, along with James Douglas – vice president of ChaosTech Solutions, insisted on being secluded from the rest of the company on an executive floor. They turned their snobbish noses up at the idea of sharing any kind of space with the “staff”. It didn’t matter that it was the software engineers and their hard work that brought them their huge profits. I, having started my career as a
C#
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developer, had no problem mingling with the techies, and the further I was from those pencil pushers and supposed executives, the better. I could monitor them from a long distance anyway.

It wouldn’t do me any favors if some members of the board knew how deep my habits ran. They’d been trying to find a reason to get rid of me for ages, even if they did very little to contribute to the company’s management. Having a female boss was too much for them.

They couldn’t do it because of my smoking habit, but every display of weakness an enemy saw could be lethal.

So, the big wigs were on the top floor and I chose a spacious office closer to the IT guys. At first, they were nervous to be in such close proximity to the CEO, so I made it clear that there was nothing for them to worry about as long as they stayed loyal and gave me their best work.

When I went for my cigarette breaks, I stole glances at them through the glass walls of their open office area. My developers and designers were too engrossed in whatever project occupied their time to notice me. Nobody was watching my every move or keeping score of how frequently I made those escapes, which was more often than I cared to admit. Still, sometimes I was possessed by the paranoia that I was being watched and judged every step of the way.

Of course, there were also the days when I couldn't be bothered.

Katie nearly jumped into her seat when she heard me bursting out of the office door. The bulge in my blazer pocket was enough of a giveaway of the ugly passion I'd surrender to. The sweat on my brow shone under the artificial light in the reception area.

“If anyone wants to see me, tell them I'm in the marketing department. I won't be long.”

With those words, I dashed away before guilt could attack me. My assistant was a smart girl, though, to be honest, the fact I was going outside for a cigarette would be obvious even to a four-year-old. Katie would never think of reprimanding me, even if I wasn't her boss. So why did I need this ridiculous charade? To keep the illusion I was invincible? How pathetic.

The red haze in my brain was rising as I walked quickly down the hallway. It was hard to go through the motions, nod politely at people and try not to look like a sweaty mess on the verge of collapsing. Just a few more feet. Some insignificant distance and it would all stop. Why was the last minute before my retreat taking so damned long?

Right then, the voices were nothing more than an addition to the omnipresent white noise echoing through my head. Was someone calling my name? I couldn't know. All my tortured body felt was the pain of my long, manicured nails ripping into my wet palms.

Finally, I made it to the fire escape and grabbed the iron rails, barely able to catch my breath. The light rain from the morning had stopped about half an hour ago. The caress of the cool summer wind and pleasant sunshine would have been bliss in any other circumstance. It was difficult to even acknowledge them when every cell in my body was screaming for release. My hands shook as I pulled the pack and a lighter out of my pocket. Oh, how beautiful they looked. They felt so damned fine between my lips – thick, with a delicious taste of tobacco.

For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating. It was as if the soft white cylinder was laughing at me when I slid the butt in my mouth.

Did you really think you could live without us? Don't even bother!

Screaming at people? Being a bitch? These were just the normal effects of abstinence. The moment I started fantasizing about my cigarettes talking to me, I knew I was screwed. “
Just fucking do it!”
I hissed at myself and flicked my thumb across the lighter's wheel... and the damned thing simply cracked, as if imitating the hissing sound escaping my lips.

“No, no, no, no!” My frustration hit its peak as I nearly ripped my skin in an attempt to make the lighter work. The white noise in my skull got even louder. Every movement got more difficult due to the copious amount of sweat making my hands slick and wet. “Just fucking work, you miserable fucking worthless piece of...”

The next level of madness would be to hurl the useless device down to the street without a care for the consequences. Instead, it slipped through my fingers and onto the iron grid floor.
Don't you dare start crying now!

It was that moment when a beautiful strong flame emerged before my bloodshot gaze. The gates of heaven opened for me, and I would have wept with relief if I hadn't been so busy taking advantage of the working lighter. My mind didn't even register the person who handed it to me. It could have been Satan himself, or an angel of mercy. Either way, my journey to insanity was postponed.

Someone would say I exaggerated, but I nearly had an orgasm the moment the cigarette found its way back into my mouth and I wrapped my lips around it. The thick, delicious smoke ran across my taste buds and hurried to fill my tormented lungs. Suddenly, the world shifted back into place. After a few more tugs of the blissful nicotine, I regained the ability to hear without constant white noise.

Why had I been so worked up anyway? It was just a meeting with a client I'd been buttering up for a while. They were disappointed with the services of their previous IT company and desperate for a change in their image. The software engineers I was recruiting were nothing short of the cream of the crop. I was confident in the high level of product we developed after many gruesome months of quality assurance. There were some spare clothes in my office. I'd change my shirt and reapply my makeup in less than half an hour, leaving me enough time to put the final touches on the presentation.

Life was beautiful once again.

The pleasure of smoking, after being deprived of my first lust and love for so long, was so intense I completely ignored the mysterious benefactor. His laughter interrupted my post-orgasmic moment. When I raised my head, I was faced with a pair of amused green eyes.

“Who would have thought a lady like you had such a potty mouth, boss?” He was spinning the shiny, smooth Zippo between his fingers with a sly grin. His playful comment made me smile nervously.

“Was I so easy to hear?” I leaned against the railing and let out a puff of smoke. Now I could appreciate the warmth of the sun on my back. Thomas Jett was still flicking the lighter with his gaze fixed on my face. Any other time, I'd have demanded he quit staring but the nicotine happiness still had its effect on me.

“Your voice was never easy to ignore, Lina.” He cocked his head to one side and smoothed his black hair back. The sunbeams reflected in his rimless glasses and I had to narrow my eyes to get a good look at him. “But it's really cute when someone as prim and proper as you bursts out in expletives.”

Somehow, he always succeeded in making me laugh genuinely. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and probably messed my make up even further.

“I think this must be the first time anyone has called me 'proper' in my entire life.”

Thomas raised his eyebrow and continued playing with the lighter.

“I haven't seen any evidence of impropriety in your behavior so far, boss. You've been nothing but straight-laced, save for your nasty habit. I've been trying to get you to get drunk and act silly at every Christmas party, but you’ve never been more than a little tipsy.”

I rolled my eyes at him and inhaled some of the smoke deep into my lungs.

“Dream on, brat.” Thomas hated the nickname I’d picked for him shortly after hiring him seven years before. It was probably just my imagination but I was sure his gaze darkened with a dangerous gleam whenever I teased him with it. “I'm the only one in this company who can hold their liquor.”

“Damned shame.” He kept on watching me with curiosity as if trying to pick my brain apart. “I'd really like to observe your behavior without any masks or pretenses. It'd make a compelling case.”

From the moment I’d left my hometown for college, plenty of my friends and professional contacts had consisted of programmers and IT specialists, but Thomas was, without a doubt, the most unusual developer I'd ever known. My employees were magicians at their jobs. They wouldn’t have been working for me otherwise. They lived and breathed for the perfect code and usually got along better with computers than people. It was probably some terrible movie cliché but true nevertheless.

Don't get me wrong. Thomas had the same zest for his profession, but his interests went beyond the ones and zeroes. He was just as fascinated with the software of the human brain and psychology. It was one of the reasons I’d valued him so much when he was my personal assistant. Thomas synced with me to the point where he could predict all my reactions. It was a great relief to have somebody in my entourage with whom I didn't have to waste too many words. He simply understood me. Still, at times his ability to peek into my thoughts was scary.

Once I told him he should have become a psychiatrist. He replied, with a goofy smile, that he was too much of a deviant and wouldn't be able to resist seducing his attractive female patients.

“Maybe you should channel your energy into more meaningful projects than trying to make me embarrass myself.” I looked down to his lighter and something clicked in my brain. “Hey, wait a minute. How long have you been smoking?”

“Oh, this old thing?” He flipped the lighter in the air and it landed on his open palm. “I keep it around just in case. You know, for the ladies.” His smooth operator wink was more ridiculous than sexy. “You're not the only smoker on the floor. I like to be prepared.”

“Ugh. When did you become such a sleazeball?” I wrinkled my nose in exaggerated disgust.

“Since when is helping women in distress a sign of being a sleazeball?”

“Oh, give me a break. You do it out of the goodness of your heart without expecting anything in return?” We often argued about women’s rights and gender roles. Usually we agreed to disagree.

“That's exactly it, actually.” I took another cigarette out of the box and he brought the lighter to its tip. “I happen to enjoy the sight of a woman's smile when I make an unexpected gesture like this.” Thomas smirked and withdrew the metal once the stuffed tobacco turned red with the flame. “See? It won't kill you or make you seem incompetent if you let me be a gentleman with you every once in a while.”