“Give or take,” I replied.
“And in all that time, I have never known you to spend an extended period of time with one person.”
“I’m with you guys all the time.”
Jamie shook his head. “Not the same.”
“Aside from Sienna, Tenley is the only person you’ve been with who you seem to actually care about,” Lisa said.
“I don’t give a fuck about Sienna.”
Jamie coughed.
“That’s not really the point, Hayden,” Lisa said. “Tenley is the point. You don’t have to tell her every detail of your past for her to accept you. She’s already done that. Tell her what she can handle right now and go from there. It doesn’t always have to be all or nothing.” Lisa sat down beside me. “We all know what it’s like to go through the kind of session she did tonight. She’s going to be emotional. I know why you reacted the way you did when you saw Sienna, but Tenley doesn’t. She’s important to you; make her feel that way.”
“I should be able to do that.” At least I thought I could.
Now more than ever I understood what Lisa meant about the intimacy of putting ink on someone I was into. Tenley’s pain affected me, and I wasn’t used to feeling helpless.
“You said she told you about her accident?” Jamie asked.
Our losses were so similar in some ways, and so different in others. I still didn’t know much about how she managed to survive. I imagined the things she saw would have been horrifying.
“She was in a plane crash. Her parents were with her . . . but they died.”
Lisa looked shocked. “She told you that during the session?”
I nodded.
“How did you handle it?”
Her concern over my reaction worried me. “I don’t know. Okay, I guess? I figured it would be bad, I just didn’t know how bad.”
Lisa looked at the clock. “You should go check on her.”
“Sorry I lost it.”
“You had good reason.” Lisa gave me an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
“Is Chris okay? I should probably call him.” I felt bad about using him as a scapegoat.
“Maybe give him the night to simmer down. He’s pretty upset about the Sienna thing, and not just because you went off on him,” Lisa replied.
*
I tried to call Tenley, but her phone kept going to voice mail, so I showed up unannounced. My plan was to say as little as possible about Sienna and focus on how Tenley was managing. By the time I got to her apartment, she’d been home almost an hour. I doubted she would be asleep, even if she was exhausted from the session.
Music came from inside her apartment; the bass made the floor vibrate. That could be good or bad. She cracked the door and peeked out at me.
“Hayden?” She looked confused and a little guarded. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying. It made me feel like shit.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay after the session. I tried to call.”
“I took some Tylenol like you told me to.” She opened the door a little wider. A pungent, familiar aroma hit me.
“Are you high?” It was a stupid question; she most certainly was. Her eyes weren’t bloodshot because she’d been crying; she’d been hotboxing her apartment. I wanted to know where the hell she got the weed from. I’d put money on that Ian guy in her group.
“Shh.” She pressed a finger to her pouty lips and pulled me into the apartment. She stuck her head out into the hallway, probably checking to make sure the DEA weren’t onto her, then slammed the door shut, fumbling with the lock.
“I didn’t like your friend at the shop,” she said, winding her arms around my neck. Her lips connected with my chin. I could smell alcohol on her breath in addition to the substance she’d been smoking. Clearly her filter was gone, and with that, her inhibitions. Her hands slid down my back and went under my shirt.
“She’s not my friend,” I said, annoyed she hadn’t stopped at Tylenol. I hugged her back as best I could anyway. One hand rested at the nape of her neck, while the other had nowhere to go but her ass.
It was my fault she was in this state. I should have taken her home. I was about to ask her about her weed supplier when I heard footsteps coming from the direction of her bedroom.
“Who was at the door?” The body attached to the voice rounded the corner.
The waitress from The Dollhouse stopped short, her face registering surprise and then recognition. She looked so different fully dressed that I almost didn’t place her.
She pointed at me with one neatly manicured finger. In her other hand was a half-smoked joint. “You! I know you! You’re friends with that guy who keeps harassing me.”
Tenley was still wrapped around me, petting my arm. Her pupils were huge. I worried about what else she might have taken, given the cocktail of narcotics I’d seen in her medicine cabinet.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, unsure how they knew each other.