Imperial Bedrooms
"Hey," Daniel says, "I'd like to talk to you about an idea." He mentions a script I wrote called Adrenaline that the studio had put into turnaround.
"Cool," I say. I'm holding a glass that's empty except for ice and limes, the remnants of a margarita.
"You're so thin," Daniel murmurs before he walks away with Meghan.
Rain has called twice and left a text and I've ignored them but when I see Daniel whispering something into Meghan's ear as they leave Spago I return Rain's call and she doesn't pick up.
Dr. Woolf leaves a message on my landline canceling tomorrow's session and telling me that he can't see me as a patient anymore but that he'll refer me to someone else and the next morning I drive to the building on Sawtelle and park on the fourth floor of the garage and wait for his noon session to be over because that's when he takes his lunch break and I'm listening to a song with the lyric So leave everything you know and carry only what you fear ... over and over again and I'm nodding to myself while smoking cigarettes and making a list of all the things I'm not going to ask Rain about and deciding I'll accept all the false explanations she's going to give me and how that's the only plan, and then I'm remembering the person who warned me about how the world has to be a place where no one is interested in your questions and that if you're alone nothing bad can happen to you.
In the stillness of the garage Dr. Woolf unlocks a silver Porsche. I get out of my car and walk toward him and call out his name. He pretends not to hear me at first and then he's startled when he turns around. He's annoyed when he sees who it is, but then his face relaxes almost as if he'd been expecting this.
"Why can't you see me anymore?" I ask.
"Look, I'm just not able to help you - "
"Have you been drinking?" he asks, pulling a cell phone out of his pocket like it's a warning of some kind.
"No, I haven't been drinking," I mutter.
"There's a very good guy in West Hollywood who I'll refer you to."
"I don't give a shit," I say. "I don't want a f**king referral."
"Clay, calm down - "
"Why the f**k are you dropping me as a patient?"
"Hey, Clay, between us ... " He pauses, makes a pained gesture, and his voice softens. "Denise Tazzarek." He lets the name hang there in the shadows of the garage. "I'm not able to help you with ... that."
I stand there for a second, wavering. "Wait, who's Denise Tazzarek?"
"The person you've been seeing," he says. "The one you talked about in the last session."
"What about her?"
He looks at me as if I shouldn't be confused.
"The girl you're talking about is a woman named Denise Tazzarek," he says, lowering his voice. "I know who she is."
"I don't understand."
"I know who this is and I'm not getting involved with her," he says. "I've had two patients involved with her and it's becoming a conflict of interest." He pauses. "There's nothing I can do."
"And you think this is ... the same girl?"
"Yes," he says. "It's the same girl. Her real name is Denise Tazzarek," he says. "This girl you were talking about, Rain Turner? She's Denise Tazzarek."
"I told you in our last session: just stay away from her," he says, moving back to the Porsche. "That's all you really need to know."
I move closer to him. "So you know Rip Millar?"
"Clay - " He swings into the driver's seat.
"And Julian Wells?"
"I have to go - "
"What about Kelly Montrose?"
Dr. Woolf puts the key in the ignition but stops suddenly at the mention of that name. Turning back to me he looks up and says, "Kelly Montrose was a patient of mine." And then he closes the door and drives away.
The valet at the Doheny Plaza opens the door of the BMW for me and as I get out he says someone's waiting in the lobby and that's when I see Julian's Audi, streaked with mud and rain, parked in front of the building. Walking toward the lobby I almost turn around and get back into the BMW but a wave of anger makes a decision for me. Julian's wearing Ray-Bans and sitting in a chair casually checking his phone but I can still see the slightly swollen left eye and the split lip, and the faint black and purple bruises on his tan neck and the bandaged wrist. I don't say anything as I walk past him. I just make a gesture for him to get up and follow me. The doorman behind the desk glances at Julian worriedly and then at me before I say, "It's okay." Julian walks with me to the elevator and we don't say anything as he follows behind me down the hallway on the fifteenth floor and the only sound is when he clears his throat as I unlock the door and we step inside the apartment.