Hypocrite.
I blink at her a few times, pretending to think before finally giving an uninterested shrug. “Well, after we sacrifice a baby, I assume the usual. You know, chanting, orgies, andsnacks.”
Her perfectly lined eyes glaze over, and I find myself way more amused than I should be. Inching away, she presses her back against the padded limo door as if it’ll swallow her up and transport her back to the land of maids and homeowner’s associations. Inevitably, I put her out of her misery because an on-edge Bianca West is a pill-popping Bianca West, and she’s already taken a stroll down the Klonopin highway oncetoday.
“Just kidding, Mother.” Patting her knee, I swipe the pill bottle lying next to her leg and drop it in my purse. It’s a risky move, considering where I’m headed, but someone has to cut her off. I should’ve let it go at that, but I can’t resist fucking with her. As Malcolm opens my door, I give her a dramatic wink. “They save all that for the secondmeeting.”
Leaving her sputtering, I walk to the building with an added bounce in my step. It’s probably a little sadistic to screw with my poor mother’s head like that. However, sending her away with visions of a hedonistic, socio-economic melting pot of group sex gives me the giggles as I swing open the door to my first drug and alcoholmeeting.
I have no idea what the hell I expected, but this isn’t it. In California, rehab was simple. After the accident, I spent so much time in the hospital, I detoxed by circumstance, not by willpower. Granted, it was the easy way out, but the easy way has always been my exit strategy. Anything else requires too much effort and commitment on mypart.
However, this is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Maybe I’ve been watching to many made for TV movies, but last night I pictured a room full of bandana wearing thugs and dealers—not khaki wearing Little League coaches and soccermoms.
Silence fills the room as I grip the doorknob. At least a dozen pairs of eyes settle on me, some widened in shock, some narrowed in suspicion, but all bright with curiosity. It’s not like I expected to slip in unnoticed. I mean, come on, I’m not exactly blendable. However, the level of animosity in the room almost chokesme.
Thank you, national newscoverage.
Unease churns in my stomach as I slip past the long rectangular table, trailing my fingers along the starched white tablecloth, already stained with the red fruit punch from the bowl in thecenter.
Keeping my eyes lowered, I slip around a chipped metal chair that’s obviously seen better days, when a familiar chuckle catches myattention.
“We’ve gotta stop meetin’ up like this, Snowflake. People are gonnatalk.”
The white noise in my head vanishes, and I wrap my arms around his neck without thinking. “Frankie! Oh my God, what are you doinghere?”
I honestly don’t care to hear the answer. I’m just ecstatic to have a friendly face by my side who doesn’t look at me like I’m Satanincarnate.
“I’d ask what a nice girl like you is doin’ in a place like this, but I kinda know the answer,” hejokes.
I pull back and smile awkwardly. “Plus, you already know I’m not a nicegirl.”
“Still playin’ the poor me act,huh?”
I give the room another once-over, still noting the scowls on everyone’s faces. “Just imagining the things you’ve beentold.”
“People tell me lots of things. Doesn’t mean Ilisten.”
If he’s hoping to shut down my inquiry, that’s not the way to do it. “What’s that supposedto—”
Frankie slaps a hand over my mouth. “Quiet, it’s about tostart.”
I fling his arm back in his lap and slump back into my chair, the unforgiving metal hard against my spine. “How do these things goanyway?”
His dark eyes glitter with amusement. “You know, blood, sacrifices, robes, chanting. Your typical underground cultshit.”
I hold in a laugh, remembering my mother’s deer-in-the-headlights look from earlier. The tension in my shoulders eases, and I palm my forehead. “Beserious.”
Placing his finger over my lips, he nods toward a middle-aged man in jeans and a t-shirt approaching the front of theroom.
“Hi, everyone, I’m Gary. Welcome to Substance Abuse Rehab and Awareness, or as we simply call it here, SARA.” Opening his hands wide in a welcoming gesture, he makes a point of looking everyone in the eye, and I immediately drop my stare. “For those of you with us for the first time, if you’d like to introduce yourself, now is thetime.”
Frankie nudges me, and it takes all I have in me not to punch him in the face. As I move my chair away, a woman with a brown bob haircut stands and makes her way to the front, obsessively tucking her short hair behind her ears. The more it falls back, the harder shetucks.
Newbie. It’s written all over her face. I remember the same fidgeting and hollow expressions on the faces of all the newborn kittens. That’s what we called the fifteen-year-old ingénues the agencies shoved onto the catwalks. None of them were ready for the harsh glare of the runway or the cutthroat backstabbing that went along with it. Most kittens never made it to full grown feline status. The pressure proved to be more than they couldtake.
I was never a kitten. I went into the show already a lion. That’s why I can smell her fear. She’s a kitten in the wild, and I’m simultaneously ashamed for her and morbidly fascinated. I’m trained to never show fear. To be the unflappable icequeen.
Smile for thecamera.
