“Get Victoria in here.” Sophie pulled the sheet up to her neck as if it would protect her from Belle and the two guys she’d brought with her. “Get out.”
Belle was familiar with all the steps Sophie would go through before the recognition of what was happening finally sank in and she accepted nothing was going to change the course they were on. The next month was going to be hard, but not as tough as the next week or so as Sophie’s body went through withdrawal.
“Victoria’s busy right now, but she signed off on you coming with us. There’s no choice in that, and you’ll make this easier on yourself if you simply agree.” Belle didn’t make any moves toward the bed, wanting to avoid a violent outburst.
“Give me my fucking phone.” Sophie’s screaming brought the doctor to the room. “Get Weston on the phone and tell him I’m ready to go home.”
“I’d rather not do restraints, but if that’s what it takes, I will. All we need is a clean exit out of here.” Belle spoke to the doctor but kept her eyes on Sophie, already missing the life she was working toward.
She’d done this for years, staging interventions and private rehab for the privileged few who achieved the kind of fame Sophie had, but who then handled the stress of it with chemical enhancements to cope with their chaotic lives. Getting them back to sobriety had burned her out, and she’d escaped to Skull’s and her girls. When she was onstage, her only responsibility was to her audience, and she didn’t have to peel their layers away to figure out what their problems were or how to help them. She lost herself in performance and music. Yet here she was.
“A little sedative will do the trick,” the doctor said, “and the laundry area is empty at this time of night, so that’s your best bet out.” The doctor waited for the guys to hold Sophie down before injecting the small dose that would make the move more manageable.
“I’ll have your ass for this,” Sophie said, but she was already speaking softly. When her eyes closed, the doctor escorted them out the way he’d mentioned.
There was an ambulance waiting for them, and the EMTs were quick in transferring Sophie from the hospital bed to the gurney. Belle closed her eyes when she was seat-belted into the back, knowing it was at least thirty minutes to Mason’s, and she was curious about what she’d find. Her relationship with Mason was about fun and mutual satisfaction, but she wasn’t familiar with the rest of Mason’s life.
Until this moment, she hadn’t given it much thought. What Mason did when they weren’t together wasn’t something she dwelled on because she knew the parameters of their relationship or, more accurately, their arrangement. Mutual satisfaction was at the center of who they were together, so this was weird. Once she exposed all of Mason’s secrets, perhaps it’d make it harder to stick to what they knew, but it was too late to turn back now.
She opened her eyes when they stopped, and she heard the driver talking to someone. Belle glanced outside and saw they were following a utility type vehicle, and it took a few minutes before a beautiful house came into view. The rest of her team were waiting at the front, but there was no sign of Mason.
“Hey, Belle,” Cassandra Unger said as Belle stepped down from the ambulance. “We’ve set up in one of the guestrooms, and there are another three right by it. I went ahead and set the schedule, but I thought we’d take the first week.”
Belle had worked with Cassandra from the time they’d graduated together and Cassandra now owned the practice they’d built together. Their specialty had been private, individualized rehab for the rich and famous, away from any type of formal treatment facility, which minimized the chances of anyone trying to exploit their recovery. She and Cassandra still saw each other, though, since Belle gave her dance lessons, but it had been a while since they’d shared anything like this.
“If anything, we get to enjoy how the other half lives while we work.” She heard snorting coming from the other side of the white fence close to the drive and went to investigate. Belle smiled when she saw the large black horse staring at them as if they were bothering him and his home.
“That’s Zeus, and he runs the place,” Mason said as she materialized out of the dark. “He should be in his stall, but we give him the run of the farm.” Mason raised her hand, and the stallion pressed his nose to it. “He probably came out to see who’s disturbing his domain.”
“You have a beautiful home, Mason.” She scratched Zeus between the ears, and he whinnied loudly. “Maybe it’s time to share it with someone.” It slipped out, and she hoped Mason didn’t take it as some kind of hint.
“My big boy is a major pleasure hound, so stop before you’re out here all night, and I share this place with Jeb.” The horse trotted off when Mason kissed his nose and gave him a gentle shove.
“Who’s Jeb?”
“That’d be me, ma’am.” The tall African American man who’d joined them had a handsome face and a head topped with gorgeous snow-white hair. Belle didn’t know him, but she had a sense she’d like him. “I’m Jedidiah Abbott, and I’m Blue Heaven’s manager. We got everything you requested, but if we’re missing anything, give me a call.” He handed over a card with his name and information.
“Thank you, and I’m Belle Lenox. I appreciate the help.”
Jeb took his hat off to shake her hand, and smiled when they touched. “Mason did a good job describing you, ma’am, so I know who you are. I’m pleased to meet you.”
“I’ll have to hear what she said later. Right now I should go see our patient.” Belle placed her hand on Mason’s forearm and gazed up at her. “Hopefully you’re not a light sleeper. Once that sedative wears off in about an hour, Sophie is going to raise forty kinds of hell.”
“Do whatever you need to. I’ll be okay. I’m going to wait for the delightful Miss Roddy and get her settled before I decide on my sleeping arrangements.”
Belle kissed Mason’s cheek before walking toward the house. She certainly seemed to know her audience, since both Mason and Jeb stayed quiet until she disappeared into the house. The extra roll of her hips had to be the cause. “It’s good to know my glamour works without the pasties on,” she said softly, glancing back once before going through the front door.
* * *
“You sick in the head or something?” Jeb asked with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“Some people certainly think so, but why do you ask?” Mason shook her head, remembering the last time she was alone with Belle and how sexy she was in that bustier, but it wasn’t the time to dwell on that. She wanted to get some sleep, but tired didn’t seem to trump horny, and she was certainly both.
“I’d be begging that woman to take my ring. She’s beautiful.”
“She’s also smart, kind, and sexy as hell, but she doesn’t want my ring, or anyone else’s. Belle’s a strong woman who knows what she wants, and more importantly, what she doesn’t. I’m not it.” The quiet was broken by another vehicle approaching.
“You’re an idiot.” Jeb slapped her on the back and laughed when Victoria got out of her car. “Or maybe you’re after something else.”
She rolled her eyes at the absurd thought. “Do I look suicidal to you?”
“That little bit scares you?” Jeb laughed as he started toward Victoria.
“Scared is a strong word, but after a few minutes you do feel like running.” She lifted her hand in greeting, and Victoria’s stony expression never changed. “Can I carry your bags upstairs, or are you going to come and go?”
“Where is she? I want to see her.” Victoria spoke as if she didn’t hear a word Mason had just said.
“Right this way.” Mason glanced at Jeb before walking off. “Meet you down by the west barn at seven. Thanks for tonight.”
“The girls did all the work, and you were right. Sometimes running keeps you sane.”
She laughed and then guided Victoria upstairs, but they heard the screaming way before that. Whatever was wrong with Sophie, be it withdrawal or cravings, it was making her nuts. The behavior was totally out of control and irrational, but the addict could no more help that than breathing. Mason had only seen it once before, and she prayed, at least for Victoria’s and Sophie’s sakes, this time the result would be different.
“Maybe you should wait a few days.” She wanted to spare Victoria some of the pain this was going to inflict. Not that she hadn’t endured enough already, but the coming days were going to be a fresh kind of shit storm.
“Maybe you should worry about yourself, and I’ll worry about me.”
Then again, maybe Victoria was a masochist without any of the fun parts. “Go right ahead.” She pointed to the door before going back down to the kitchen for a drink. The screaming went into overdrive as she got to the bottom step, and from the sound of it, Belle was louder than Sophie. Then a door slammed, and it was back to the Sophie Roddy show.
Both Victoria and Belle had no problem finding the kitchen. Mason poured herself a glass of orange juice, and both of them stared at her as if she was supposed to pick sides. She’d rather stick a fork in her eye.
“Mason, it’s time for you to explain to Ms. Roddy how this works. If she’s not intelligent enough to follow the rules, I’m out of here.” Belle didn’t give her a chance to refuse. She walked out and left a pissed Victoria behind.
“Juice”—she held up the pitcher—“and don’t.” Victoria was going right back upstairs from the set of her shoulders, and Belle seldom if ever kidded about walking away. “Don’t go back up there. Belle’s methods may not be orthodox, but they work, and you need to fall in. If Belle quits, we’re right back to what got us here, and there’s no guarantee Sophie survives the next round. What about that do you not understand?”
“She’s all I have left. What about that do you not understand?” Victoria shot the words at her like daggers. “I’m not leaving her to face this alone. She needs me.”
“How about we compromise? There’s another option that’ll keep you close by but not in the house. Will that make it easier for you?”
“I’m not leaving,” Victoria said each word slowly and angrily.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, especially from me, but what she needs is to face this alone. She got to this point alone, and that’s the only way for her to get out of it. Belle will navigate her through it, but the last thing your mom needs is a crutch. You keep giving her a pass, and she’ll keep taking it right to the grave.”
“What the hell do you know? You’ve probably lived a charmed life, with your dimples and big house. What do you know about this kind of pain?”
Victoria apparently had a real talent for finding the vulnerable fleshy parts and driving a knife right through them with no hesitation.
Mason’s anger simmered red hot right under the surface, but she remembered her promise to Belle. “I know plenty.” She moved slowly, and Victoria seemed wary, but Mason put her arms around her and held her. Victoria was stiff at first, but it didn’t take long for the tears to come and totally overwhelm her.
“Oh, Christ.” Victoria clung to her in a desperate kind of way.
“I know plenty, and you aren’t alone.” It was the first of a string of hard days, but compassion might make it easier. “You’re not alone.”
* * *
The rest of the night was spent listening to Sophie scream, then moan when it sounded like she was too tired to raise her voice any longer. Victoria figured whoever was in the house wasn’t sleeping unless someone had knocked them unconscious. She’d spent hours lying in the big bed in the room Mason had led her to, but aside from her mother, the house was quiet. Hours before she’d heard the door to the room next to hers close, and she guessed she and Mason were neighbors.
She got up when she heard that door open again as dawn started coloring the sky and saw Mason sneaking by in bare feet. Mason stopped when she cleared her throat. “Good morning—not that there’s anything remotely good about it after last night, but I’m sorry for all of this.” Victoria was stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid. No one put themselves through something like this if they weren’t trying to do something good.
“I knew what I was signing up for. Don’t apologize.” Mason put her boots down and walked back to her. “How about taking a break somewhere quieter?”
“Is it in another state?”
Mason smiled, making those damn dimples reappear. “Was that a joke, Miss Roddy?”
“Blame it on the noise, stress, and exhaustion. Don’t get used to it.” She kept smiling as she said it and genuinely enjoyed Mason’s laugh.
“Put on some shoes, and I’ll give you a break.”
“Give me a minute.” She changed out of her wrinkled shirt and threw on a T-shirt with a sweatshirt over it. “I know I’ve been a royal bitch since we met, but thank you for doing this. You’re probably sick of the Roddy family already, but we appreciate you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Miss Roddy. I’m just happy you agreed because you and your mom deserve a chance. It’s no one’s fault we’re here, and you’ll see—it’ll get better.” The outside was cool, and the early light painted the expanse of land in soft pinks.
The vista was beautiful, and she stopped to appreciate the area and the horses that were grazing on the other side of the white fence that seemed to go on for miles. That Mason had money was plain from the house and where it sat, but she wasn’t dressed like the lord of the manor—this morning, Mason wore an old denim jacket and scruffy boots. The sweat stained hat completed the look, and Victoria liked this version of Mason better than the executive who’d shown up to deal with Sophie.
“Will my break include some kind of manual labor?” She followed Mason down the hill, feeling her toes getting wet as the dew on the grass soaked into her shoes. It didn’t take long for a house closer to the water to come into view, and it appeared original to the property even though it was in pristine condition.
“You’re safe from hard work since I’ll take care of that, but you do have an assignment for today.” Mason walked up the few steps and unlocked the door. “This house was here when I purchased the land, but the insurance folks wanted me to build farther up the hill because of seasonal flooding.”
“They should’ve seen this place before deciding that. It’s beautiful, and more importantly, it’s still here. That should count for something.” The space was open with a bank of windows that overlooked the river.
“The water comes close every year, but thankfully it’s never flooded. My mom did a great job of redoing it to fit what I wanted, and it reminds me every day that you shouldn’t toss things out because they’re no longer a safe bet.” Mason opened the door to the back porch and went out. “Everyone told me to tear this place down since it was in pitiful shape, but I love it more than the big house. It was worth saving.”
“You’re good at convincing me that things will be okay.” She wrapped her arms around herself, and the move made Mason lead her back inside to what appeared to be a home office.
“Nah, no one has ever accused me of being that slick. I’m just talking about the house.” There were some awards on the bookshelves, but mostly they held books, lots of them, and their spines were cracked, indicating they’d been read. “I find that couch is really good for naps, or for enjoying a good book. Stretch out and close your eyes for however long you want. You’re safe from the flood,” Mason said, pointing outside where the river level actually appeared low. “There’s stuff in the fridge if you get thirsty, and if you need anything, head up the hill to the house. The staff will get you whatever you need.”
“Where are you going?”
“Jeb and I are riding fences this morning. Some sections need repair, and he keeps telling me they won’t fix themselves.” Mason held her hat against her body, resembling a polite cowboy from a long ago past.
“You’re full of comments that could be taken another way,” she said, sitting on the sofa. “And thanks for this. The quiet is almost deafening. Does that make sense?”
“Perfectly. Take that nap, and I’ll be by later, or I can stay away if you need some time to yourself.” Mason waved and her footsteps sounded loud on the wood floor of the porch.
She walked to the front to see what direction Mason headed off in, and she stayed by the window until the trees seemed to swallow Mason up. Whatever this place was, it appeared lived in from the piles of paperwork on the desk to the music sheets scattered on the piano in the main space. There were also some guitars on stands with chairs and music stands close to them.
“Recording studio?” she said out loud. That couldn’t be it either, since there was still ambient noise even if the place was peaceful.
There was also a great stereo system with a turntable that was state-of-the-art, giving Mason points for knowing the best way to enjoy music. Mason had left a record on the turntable, which made her curious—that wasn’t the norm for true LP connoisseurs. That it was a compilation of her mother’s greatest hits surprised her, but then it didn’t. What Mason was doing for her mother wasn’t simply to keep someone under contract. You didn’t bring that kind of hassle in without mostly pure motives.
“What’s your story?”
She snooped a little more, but nothing too invasive. The desk and its scattering of papers were off-limits, but she stared at it, then followed Mason’s advice. She stretched out on the couch and used the soft blanket across the back. It smelled of citrus with a hint of sandalwood, and it reminded her of Mason. She hadn’t thought she’d noticed much about her in their short meetings, but obviously her subconscious had.
Her nap lasted three hours, and to chase away the grogginess she moved to the other room and sat at the piano. It was a Steinway and the nicest instrument she’d ever laid her hands on. “Of course it is. Nothing but the best, Ms. Liner.”
She closed her eyes and started playing one of the first classical pieces she’d learned, and the music transported her to a better place. That was one of the things she loved about playing, and something she wished her mother would remember. This was better than any drug or alcohol, and it totally filled her soul. There, in the peace and quiet, she felt more like herself than she had in far, far too long.