Beneath the Stain - Part 3 by Amy Lane Read Free Book Online

me that sort of cancels shit out, doesn’t it?”
    Dr. Cambridge sighed and poured himself another cup of coffee. “No,” he said shortly. “If you can have faith in your fellow human beings, you can have faith in yourself.”
    Mackey hmmed, shifted on his sore ass, and then made a sorry little sound in the back of his throat.
    Dr. Cambridge eyed him sourly. “And speaking of asking for help, Mr. Ford said something about letting you have ibuprofen on doctor’s orders?”
    Mackey felt pathetically grateful as the man pulled out two tablets and let him have them with his coffee. He chuckled evilly as he washed them down. “Gotta say, Doc, you’re not filling me with a lot of confidence here. Trust everybody but help yourself? No drugs but wash down your muscle relaxants with your stimulants? Telling ya, I think your theory’s a little cracked.”
    “You’re very funny,” Dr. Cambridge said in a voice that indicated he didn’t think Mackey was funny at all. “With lines like that, you should do stand-up instead of music.”
    Mackey grinned and pulled his sunglasses down to cover his eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, all swagger. “Doesn’t everybody want to be a rock star?”
    “Not particularly. Now I’m going to give you some time to go get gum from the little gift shop. Trust me, by the end of the day, everybody wants gum. Gum or cigarettes. Stock up.”
    Mackey nodded, thinking that gum might take up some of his body’s boredom if he was going to be sitting around talking so much, and then looked hard at Dr. Cambridge. “Thanks for the advice, Doc. Now what did I say to piss you off?”
    The doctor grimaced. “You pointed out what you felt to be contradictions—which is fine. But the fact that you did it? Makes me pretty sure you’re set to find reasons for the program to fail. You find reasons for something to fail, Mackey, and it’s going to live up to every bad expectation you have.”
    Mackey sighed. Yeah, well, couldn’t argue with that. But he couldn’t let the doc think he was whipped either. “Man, you have no idea how bad my expectations are here. So far I’ve been pleasantly surprised.”
    Cambridge shook his head. “I only wish I had been. Go get your gum. First trust exercise is at eight o’clock, down the hall and to the right. It’ll look like a big living room, with coffee, water, and snacks.”
    “And flowers,” Mackey said, making Cambridge blink.
    “Yes, we do have them—”
    “ That is a good thing, Doc. My mom used to say flowers made everything better. We’d bring her handfuls of them—dandelions, mustard flowers, poppies before she told us they were illegal to pick.” Mackey shrugged and stood, picking up his coffee. “I mean, we send her big bunches of them now when we get the urge, but looking around here? She’s right. The flowers are a nice thing. Make sure you keep doing that.”
    He left, aware that Cambridge was staring at his retreating back and not giving a fuck why.
     
     
    T HREE DAYS later Mackey had about had it. This whole rehab gig was such an endless repetition of questions. Why are you here? What different choices can you make? What are your triggers? Who have you hurt? How would you make it up to them?
    Mackey didn’t feel like answering any of that shit.
    And the trust exercises made him roll his eyes.
    “So lemme get this straight. You want me to fall into Blake’s arms and see if he catches me?”
    “Yes—you can see everyone else is doing it.”
    Mackey surveyed the room with deep suspicion. So far he’d met starlets, bankers, producers, and agents. Everyone was too pretty, too made-up, too rich, and too obsessed with being pretty and made-up and rich.
    The girls were falling into men’s arms and getting all happy and clapping, and the men were heartily shaking their own hands for daring to trust their bodies to women who spent more time in the gym than Mackey probably spent sleeping.
    “Yeah, Doc, it’s a laugh