She always had an “up to no good” look on her face. It was as if she was always plotting or had a joke of some sort going on in her head. She maintained a quirky smirk that didn’t compliment her blue eyes. She was an average unnatural blonde that didn’t have too much conversation for me. Anytime I’d ask her to do something work-related, she’d have that devilish grin on. I knew not to take it personally since I saw her give it to everyone else. I guess Mr. Witherspoon had good reasons keeping her near after all. She would be very short and disrespectful in her tone and choice of words to him and her mother. There were several occasions where I was tempted to give her a piece of my mind but then reminded myself these were a different breed of folks that I was dealing with.
In the Thousand Oaks office, where I primarily worked, there were quite a few celebrities on the roster as patients. During the time of employment at any location, you’re required to sign not just HIPAA disclosure forms but also a confidentiality contract as well. California was funny. Everything was so Hollywood! It was a distant cry from the east coast. Everyone seemed so superficial, so pretentious. I kept telling myself that I could work with it. One day Dan Smith, one of the two partners who so happened to be Michelle’s uncle, informed me that a client was coming in through the “back door”.
He continued, “Please be extremely sensitive to her celebrity as she is extremely self-conscious of her appearance and her visit here.”
“Sure, Mr. Smith," I offered with a nod in agreement.
This was very odd because we had steady flow of public figures in and out of the office almost every day. Well this day, a Caucasian 1980s heavy-hitting actress came in with her son. He was at least five shades darker than me! She was and is extremely popular but never disclosed to the public having a half-black son. He seemed so attentive to her needs, more like a servant than a son. I only learned his relation to her when Rich informed me after their departure. My mouth hung open for at least a half hour after seeing them.
During the turn of the New Year, I was found at a lounge with Michelle. She was upset that she couldn’t be with Mark to celebrate New Year’s and therefore, wanted to live on the wild side–her style. I had a couple of drinks, Michelle a little more, and we enjoyed the nightlife energy. I couldn’t remember the countdown to the New Year because just before things got so blurry. At the time of the countdown, the crowd’s chanted numbers were slurred like voices under water. The room seemed to move in slow motion and my heart sped double its rate. In desperate need of familiarity, I turned to Michelle and saw her head cradled her in her palms. I blacked out.
We both woke up in a rinky-dink hotel in downtown L.A. the morning of the first day of the year, clearly having been with men whose identities we had no idea of. I remember being so hung over that when my eyes opened I couldn’t move. I thought I was dreaming. The eggshell shaded walls were stained from water damage, the entire room wreaked of mildew.
I heard sharp whimpers from a room nearby. I struggled to my feet from the cricking bed. I lost my balance after about the fourth step. I followed the sounds of the cry until it led me to the bathroom and I found Michelle bent over by the bathtub. She was totally naked crying her eyes out. When she recognized me she screamed, sprouted to my wavering frame and grabbed onto me. She pulled too hard because I vomited all over us. I was sick, weak and emotionally bruised. Who could have done this to us? My aching body told stories of defenseless violation.
After managing to get myself cleaned up, I asked Michelle why she was so beside herself. I understood the circumstances but her cries were more like pleas. She couldn’t even look herself in the mirror when washing her smeared makeup off. I knew that I could shut my emotions down as easily as one could switch purses with an outfit, but there was something strange about her reaction. Her eyes were hazel with specs of green, her skin was pale, all of the color had drained from her face. This was difficult considering Michelle’s pigmentation, but she was as pale as a ghost.
She kept her head down at the sink. Her shoulders were collapsed in defeat and her entire body trembled. “I cheated on Mark. I can’t even remember what happened last night or who we were with. I feel like a slut!” she sobbed.