Bad Girls (21 page)

‘I should tell you straight up, Joe, what I do for a living,’ she said, going in for the kill. ‘I’m an exotic dancer.’

She widened her eyes and gave him her most innocent stare, knowing that her big blue eyes, her pretty, girlish features, were a perfect contrast to the admission she was making. Reaching round, she took hold of her ponytail with one hand and played with it, tilting her head to the side as she continued: ‘Well, a stripper, if I’m being completely honest.’

‘Joe might be at Cascabel under false pretences, but he’s got to think you’re completely legit,’ Kevin had warned her. ‘Don’t be fooled by that country-boy act he pulls. He’s pretty smart. If he thinks for a moment you’re a plant, you’re fucked.’

‘You’re not going to look down on me ’cause of my job, are you?’ Skye finished, giving him a pleading, seductive look.

Have I gone too far? she wondered for a second. Was that too obvious?

And then Joe’s ridiculously handsome face broke into a shit-eating grin, as he threw his head back and burst out laughing.

‘Look down on you? Baby, I’m more likely to . . .’ He winked at her. ‘Well, let’s just say I’d goddamn
love
to look down on you, if you catch my drift! Jesus . . .’ He shifted on the stone, and Skye’s gaze was drawn down to his crotch. His jeans were old and worn, but not so loose that she couldn’t see the effect her body and her admission had had on him.

Oh, thank
God
– he’s built to scale, she noted with huge relief. He was smiling at her ruefully, acknowledging his erection, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders that said, Hey, what can I do? You’re a gorgeous chick and now you’ve got me picturing you in a thong on a pole!

All her flirtatious artifice forgotten, Skye broke into a big, happy smile, as natural as his. This was how things were supposed to be: easy, fun, both of you laughing from the get-go, knowing perfectly well you were going to end up naked and giving each other the ride of a lifetime.

‘Boy oh boy,’ Joe said, shaking his head, his eyes glinting, and reaching for his pack of Camels. ‘Trapped in sex rehab with the girl of my dreams, and banned from laying a finger on her.’

He lit up and blew a big, round smoke ring straight at her. Skye puckered her lips into a kiss and blew it back at him; for a moment, before it dissolved, they watched it hang in the air between them. Shifting again, pulling at his jeans to ease off the pressure on his crotch, Joe let out a long sigh of infinite frustration.

‘I tell you, babe,’ he said frankly, ‘this is going to be the longest goddamn month of my entire life.’

‘
T
his is
crap
! This is
total, fucking crap
! I shouldn’t even
be
here!’ Petal wailed. ‘This is a
shitheap
!’

She kicked the bed furiously, then wailed as she stubbed her toe.

‘And
you
– get out of my
bag
, for fuck’s sake!’

Stumbling, she lunged towards Dave, who was unbuckling the straps of her beloved Balenciaga bag and reaching in one wide, meaty hand.

‘That’s
my
stuff! It’s
personal
!’

‘We have to go through everything, Petal,’ said Daniyel from behind her. ‘It’s Cascabel policy.’

Petal swung round on her, hands on her hips, her small form radiating fury, like a kitten having a tantrum.

‘You get off on this, don’t you?’ she snapped furiously. ‘You get off on the power!’

Infuriatingly, Daniyel refused to be drawn. Instead, she replied sympathetically: ‘I understand it’s unpleasant to see someone going through your things. But we can’t let you keep items that are banned here. If you’re carrying drugs, you could risk an overdose, for instance—’

‘I just flew in from London! How the fuck do you think I’d manage to score between the airport and here!’ Petal screamed.

‘Codeine,’ Dave said flatly, dropping onto the coverlet the two big red packets of Solpadeine Petal had picked up at Heathrow.

‘That’s
headache pills
!’ Petal wailed. ‘What if I get a
headache
?’

‘Codeine’s a narcotic,’ Daniyel pointed out, as Dave unzipped Petal’s gold leather Tarte vanity bag and dumped out the contents. ‘We can give you medication for headaches, if you have any withdrawal symptoms.’

‘Ritalin, Xanax . . .’ Dave said, pawing through the plastic strips of pills and containers. ‘Uppers, downers. The usual suspects.’

‘Oh my
God
, you’re taking
those
?’ Petal’s jaw dropped. ‘I thought I was just here about doing coke!’

She watched in horror as Dave pulled a flimsy plastic bag out of his pocket and scooped all her pills into it, handing it over to Daniyel. Desperately, she lunged towards the bag, trying to rip it away from them; but somehow Dave’s bulk interposed itself between her and Daniyel, and his sheer size blocked her completely. He had to weigh over twenty stone; her hands, beating briefly on his torso, looked so tiny and futile they fell to her sides almost immediately in defeat.

‘You
can’t
. . .’ she wailed, but she already knew it was a lost battle. Gulping, throwing herself on the bed, she grabbed her handbag and rifled through it, going for the snug inside pocket that contained her Swarovski-studded mobile phone. Frantically, she hit a familiar key sequence and started texting; but the next thing she knew, Daniyel’s slim hand reached down over her shoulder and slid the phone out of her grasp so efficiently that Petal didn’t even have time to tighten her grip.

‘That’s
mine
!’ she yelled.

‘Cellphones are banned,’ Daniyel said gently, slipping Petal’s into her pocket, ‘though we may allow you to have yours back for controlled periods if you’re responding well to treatment. We do have a phone here that you’re allowed to use, out in the hall.’

‘Oh my
God
!’

Petal burst into hysterical floods of tears. She was jet-lagged, mildly hungover – she’d been hitting the free champagne heavily on her Virgin flight over, knowing it would be the last alcohol she’d get for weeks – and in huge withdrawal from Dan, who she was already missing terribly. She’d practically crawled home from her meeting with Gold and Jinhee and spent the rest of the day, and her last night, wrapped in his arms, crying and cursing her fate.

Tas and JC had come round, of course. And they’d all come in the limo with her to Heathrow, drinking fizz like it was going out of fashion in a vain attempt to cheer her up. Tas, the only practical one in the bunch, had done her best to spin Petal’s stay at Cascabel as a positive outcome.

‘You
were
caning it,’ she’d said with her normal brutal frankness. ‘You know you were, man.’

‘Tas—’ JC started, but Tas wouldn’t be cut off.

‘No, come on!’ she’d said, looking around her. ‘We all know Petal was caning it! She missed every single appointment we got for her. We’re a team, yeah? All for one and one for all. But we can’t make it without Petal doing her bit.’

Petal had slumped back against Dan, hanging her head.

‘Accessorize . . . Rimmel . . . they won’t look at me now,’ she’d muttered guiltily.

‘No, but what about when you come back all cleaned up?’ Tas had said encouragingly. ‘They’ll be all over you! Everyone goes to rehab nowadays, it’s cool! You do some big interviews . . .’

‘“My Drug Hell”,’ JC muttered.

‘– and everyone’ll be queuing up to get your face on their ads!’ Tas had finished cheerfully.

‘Bit of scandal never hurt anyone in the long run,’ Dan had agreed, stroking her hair. ‘And we’re going into the recording studio next week, pet. I’ll be in there all hours. You’d barely have seen me anyway.’

‘You’ll all ring me, won’t you?’ Petal had pleaded miserably. ‘Every day? I’m going to be so lonely . . .’

They’d all promised faithfully that they would; but she’d assumed, of course, that she’d be able to keep her mobile with her. Now, looking around her nasty shared room at Cascabel, Petal could see that there was no TV – worse, no computer. And her phone was tucked into Daniyel’s pocket.

‘I wouldn’t have
come
!’ Petal collapsed on the bed, grabbing a pillow to hug for comfort. ‘I wouldn’t have
come
to this fucking place if I’d known I wasn’t even going to be allowed to
text
my
boyfriend
. . .
God!
’

I’ll be gone for a whole month, she thought frantically. Anything could happen in a month! There’ll be tons of girls after him – he’s so gorgeous, and now we’ve been photographed together all the time, everyone’ll be chasing him to try to get where I’ve been. How is he ever going to resist all those girls throwing themselves at him if I can’t even get in touch with him?

‘We can schedule calls for you and your boyfriend,’ Daniyel said kindly, but that just made Petal sob even harder.

‘He’s in a
band
! He’s practically a
rock star
!’ she yelled through the pillow. ‘You don’t schedule calls with
rock stars
, for fuck’s sake! He doesn’t work in a bloody
bank
!’

‘I’m going to give you half an hour to feel your feelings,’ Daniyel said, as Dave left the room with Petal’s stash of pills. ‘Then I’ll come and collect you for your intake interview. Would you like me to bring you a cup of tea? Maybe camomile? It’s very calming.’

‘Go away!’ Petal screeched, her voice rising high enough that it could easily have been heard by any bats in the Los Angeles area. ‘Go
away
, go
away
, go
away
!
’

The pillow was already drenched with tears. She grabbed the other one, and the duvet too, bundling them all up over and around her, packing herself in under layers of padding, insulating herself as best she could from the outside world and the horrible, brutal reality of this place she’d been dumped in. Her nose was clogged up with snot, her head was throbbing; she’d been craving a text from Dan, or at least the ability to read through the lovely ones he’d sent her since they’d been dating.

When Daniyel returned, carrying a big glass of water, Petal was almost passed out in a sodden, tear-stained mess of sheets and duvets. Daniyel eased them off her, handed her the water and went into the ensuite bathroom to dampen a hand towel for Petal’s face. Petal was so exhausted by her emotional meltdown that she didn’t have a drop of energy left to resist: like a zombie, she sat up, washed her face with the towel that was handed to her, drank the water and got to her feet as she was told, following Daniyel out of the room and down the corridor.

Daniyel had paused and was about to tap on a door when it swung open, and a stunning girl emerged. Even in Petal’s debilitated state, she could tell what a bombshell the girl was: blonde, slim, but with curves in all the right places, and a baby-sweet face with big blue eyes, smooth skin and a shiny pink pout.

And also, Petal noticed, the girl seemed shell-shocked. She barely acknowledged Petal and Daniyel, moving slowly past them and down the corridor in a sort of trance, her blonde ponytail, its end curled prettily into one big ringlet, bouncing behind her as she walked.

‘Dr Raf?’ Daniyel was saying as she entered the room, Petal on her heels. ‘I have Petal Gold here. Do you want to take five, or shall I bring her in now?’

It was a doctor’s office, lined with bookshelves, an examination table on one side with a curtain on a rail half drawn around it. A man was rising from behind a desk, coming round it to greet them, and as soon as Petal caught sight of him, she realized why the girl who’d just left had had that stunned expression.

God, he’s fucking
gorgeous
, Petal thought inelegantly. He looks like an actor playing a doctor on a TV show. Or one of those American soaps –
General Hospital
or something.

‘Hi, Petal, and welcome to Cascabel,’ he was saying, smiling at her, taking her hand and enfolding it briefly in both of his, which were dry and warm and strong. ‘I’m Dr Rafael Green, one of the consulting psychiatrists here at the clinic. Call me Dr Raf, everyone else does. Please, take a seat. Thank you, Daniyel,’ he added over Petal’s shoulder.

‘Just beep me when you’re finished here, and I’ll come back and give Petal a tour of the facility,’ Daniyel said, and Petal could hear how even tough, focused Daniyel softened her voice when she spoke to Dr Raf.

Daniyel closed the door, and Dr Raf took the seat opposite Petal, in front of the desk; they were face to face, and Petal almost found herself wishing that he was sitting behind the desk instead, in a more formal setup. Having him this close was disconcerting. Although he was pretty old by Petal’s standards – he had to be mid-thirties, at least, and when guys that age hit on Petal in clubs, she was merciless in mocking their aspirations – he was so handsome that it was hard to feel natural around him.

‘How are you feeling, Petal?’ he asked gently, his dark eyes intent and empathetic. ‘You must be pretty jet-lagged, right?’

Even though he wore glasses, his eyes were amazing, so dark brown they were almost black. His hair was the same colour, thick and so curly it was almost in ringlets; a couple of curls fell over his forehead as he leaned forward to hear Petal’s response. His features were strong, dominated by a Roman nose and a very defined jaw-line, and his skin was pale olive. He looked like his family came from the Mediterranean. Italian or Jewish, maybe.

Awkward, feeling she was gawking at Dr Raf’s chiselled features, Petal lowered her gaze, but that didn’t help much. He was wearing a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to below the elbows, showing lean, strong forearms. Petal’s ideal was a guy built like Dan: definitely muscled, but skinny enough to fit into toothpick-sized jeans. Dr Raf would
not
fit into Dan’s jeans, that was definite. His flat-fronted black trousers showed off slim hips, but the way his trousers pulled a little over his thighs, the way the cotton of his shirt stretched over his chest and shoulders, it was clear that he was no stranger to the weights room at the gym.

‘Petal?’ he repeated. ‘Can you tell me how you’re holding up?’

Petal snapped her attention back to his questions. To be honest, she’d been focusing on his looks to avoid answering; she was exhausted and woozy, she had a screaming headache, and the last thing she felt like doing was running through a list of her woes. She just wanted to be left alone and, preferably, pass out.