Chapter 1
Avery
I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I tap my heel against the floor. My hands are clammy. I wipe them on my jeans. I hate this kind of waiting—like I’m auditioning for a part I don’t even want.
Damn Sienna and Stella for making me do this. I glance around. Not that I have much experience with this sort of thing, but this doesn’t even look like a therapist’s practice. It reminds me of my agent’s swanky building, designed to impress people who have too much money—people like me now, although it hasn’t always been like that. But I suppose that goes for most of us, albeit not for Sienna and Stella, who have always been rich bitches—
Just as my thoughts start to run away with me, the big wooden door with the massive black metal handle swings open. A tall woman in a sand-colored linen blazer over a stark-white silk blouse walks out, a solemn smile painted on her lips.
“Avery?” She looks me in the eye, and her smile broadens.
“Yup.” Awkwardly, I jump out of my chair, as though I’m being called for something much more harrowing than an hour of talking with—let’s be honest—at first glance, a very attractive woman.
“Come in.” She holds that massive door wide open for me.
The space is full of colorful trinkets and velvet throw pillows. I was expecting every shade of soothing beige, but Dr. Nicola Forbes has other ideas about how to decorate a therapist’s office.
“Would you like some water?” she asks as she gestures to an inviting armchair.
“I’m good. Thanks.” I sink into the chair and look around some more. The room is large, with high ceilings and huge windows that let in all of LA’s warm, lazy light.
Dr. Forbes settles in the chair opposite me, and this setup does very much feel like every other shrink’s office I’ve seen on TV.
“Before we start,” she says. “I’m Nicola, but please call me Nic.” The skin around her eyes crinkles a little as she says it, as though going by Nic makes her more comfortable. “You’re aware that Leslie is my sister, and I’m aware that she’s your agent but, rest assured, nothing you tell me will ever leave this room.”
“Are you saying I can bitch about Leslie all I want?” I joke. What a silly thing to say. As if I would ever bitch about Leslie, agent to the biggest stars in Hollywood. The day she took me on as her client, I knew for certain my status in this town had changed. I knew that I’d made it—whatever that means.
Dr. Forbes chuckles. “I’m sure I have much more to bitch about when it comes to my sister, but sure.” She gives the slightest of nods. “Feel free to bitch away.”
I do like a sense of humor in a woman. Dr. Forbes is funny and good-looking. Things could be worse.
She smiles again, the kind of reassuring smile that’s supposed to put me at ease. But it’s going to take more than a smile to accomplish that.
“So, Avery.” She tilts her head a fraction. “What brings you here today?”
Ah, the million-dollar question. I’ve had time to practice my answer. Between the decade I’ve spent contemplating going into therapy and the two weeks since I got this appointment—Leslie pulled some strings with her sister, who is a much sought-after counselor for Hollywood’s finest—I should have it pretty much nailed. But playing coy is so much more fun—and safe.
“You can’t be the only person on the planet who hasn’t seen it,” I say.
“Oh, I’ve seen your infamous bar brawl.” That’s all she says. Back in my Echo Bay days, my character had to see a shrink, and all the actor playing opposite me had to do was stare at me intently while waiting out a heavily pregnant silence.
“And?” I ask.
“And what?”
“I’m sorry; I’m a little defensive. I don’t really know how to do this. I kind of know what to expect, but I also have no clue.”
“Okay.” Nic folds her hands together in her lap. “There’s no right or wrong way to do this, Avery. You’re just here to talk. So, let’s talk… I’ll start. Is that okay?”
I almost say ‘fuck yeah’. According to my last girlfriend—if you could even call her that—I could also use some therapy for the number of times I use the f-word on any given day. I swallow the profanity, and just nod.
“The sole reason I’m here is to help you. To listen to you. To untangle some things you might find difficult to untangle on your own. I’m not here to judge.” She chuckles. “I’m just here to nudge.” She holds up her hand. “Please excuse the atrocious wordplay.”
However lame it is, it works, because I can’t help but laugh at this extremely put-together woman poking a little fun at herself. That’s probably why she did it. It’s a little disconcerting to sit across from someone who’s always a few steps ahead of you—to say I don’t like it would be a huge understatement.
“I saw you push that guy away,” Nic says, alluding to the video of me that went viral a few weeks ago. “Did he deserve it?”
I wasn’t expecting that question. “Fuck yeah.” I can’t hold back an f-bomb now.
Nic chuckles again. “I bet he did. What did he say to you?”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to repeat his vile words, but they were disgusting and homophobic and dismissive of…” I just shake my head.
“Fair enough.” She shifts a little in her chair. “And you felt the only possible response was to shove him?”
“It was a gut reaction. I didn’t really think it through at the time.”
“Makes sense.” She narrows her eyes.
“You can take the girl out of the trailer park but, apparently, you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl,” I say.
“What does that mean?”
I scoff. “You’re a smart woman. I’m sure you know what it means.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She leans back a little. “For your information, I’m gay. If you’re the victim of homophobia, I understand that on a level that someone straight might not. I just want you to know that.”
Obviously, I know Dr. Nic Forbes is gay. Not that it has any bearing on why I’m here.
“He really rubbed me up the wrong way, and I don’t take any shit from guys like that,” I say. A pang of anger courses through me at the memory. Frankly, the only reason I regret shoving that ignorant asshole is because it happened in public and someone always has their camera out when I’m around. I definitely don’t regret doing it, although that’s what everyone seems to expect from me.
“Guys like what?” Nic is relentless, but that’s her job, I guess. I didn’t come here to sit in silence for an hour—although part of me wishes I could—because the view’s not bad at all.
“Insecure pricks whose only outlet for their lack of confidence is toxic masculinity.”
“Tell me what he said. I can take it. I promise.” She surprises me again—or maybe she’s just genuinely curious.
I roll my eyes. “Just the usual bullshit about me not having found the right dick yet. As I said, too vile and also too dumb to repeat.”
Nic huffs out some air. “He did deserve it, then.”
I nod, looking into her deep-brown eyes for a moment.
“If that’s the case, why are you here?” she asks.
She’s got me again. Hot, funny, and smart. I’d better watch myself.
