The True One

Chapter 9 Part 1

Verity

Loathing for my bodyguard grew as I listened to Janene drone on about our upcoming "wellness adventure" starring Alek Sinclair as our intrepid leader.

I interrupted her as soon as I could. "Wellness is a day at the spa not five days sleeping on dirt."

"I thought you liked mud," she said, referring to the pond scum I'd deposited onto my bus's carpet the night of my ill-advised outing to a park in Sacramento.

"As a skin moisturizer, not a mattress." I handed Janene the cup of oolong tea I'd prepared for her. I prided myself on being a good hostess, even to people I wanted to strangle. The tea's woody smell, normally a mild, pleasant aroma, burned the hairs on the insides of my nostrils. Another day of obnoxiously heightened senses, for no good reason. "You can call Alek's phony treasure hunt whatever name you want. I'm still not going."

Sipping her tea, Janene glanced at the notification that flashed on her phone and then turned it upside down. Shit. This was her signature move whenever she was going to discuss something she considered of utmost seriousness. Janene's phone was practically an added appendage, and yet... I'm putting it away because this conversation comes first.

"Sweety, let me say this immediately. I can't make you go."

That was a surprise. "Glad to hear it. You think we can wrap this convo up soon then? Macy's coming over at ten to go over some new choreography."

"I mean, making you go—that would be de facto kidnapping, wouldn't it?"

I'd never fully understood what de facto meant, but it sounded right in this context. "It's settled then. I'll ignore the fact that you even suggested kidnapping me. Let's focus on the positives: I've seen all your doctors. Done all the tests. I'm feeling like a million bucks but that million is going to depreciate if I can't get back on tour soon. So, when are we hitting the road again?"

"No, no." Her phone buzzed. She looked at it wistfully but did not turn it over. "You misunderstand. I can't make you go on this wellness trip."

"Stop calling it that. That's not what it is. It's a fucking scam."

"But if you don't go on this fun, life-changing adventure scam, I'll declare the tour over."

"What?" The room tilted. The steam from Janene's tea set my brain afire. I would die by oolong this very day. "You can't do that! I did what you asked. There's nothing physically wrong with me and the psychiatrist thinks—"

"The psychiatrist thinks this trip is a solid idea."

"She what?" I put my elbows on my dining room table and pressed my head into my palms. "I knew I didn't like her."

"You don't have to like her. She wants to help you, not become your bff."

"Why is she giving you advice about me? Why are you talking to her about this? She's my head doctor. This is my medical privacy we're talking about. Maybe I should call my lawyer."

"Verity, you gave both your father and me permission to receive your medical information. Had you not, then you're right; that sort of conversation would not be legal or ethical."

I vaguely remembered signing documents during a weak moment in which I'd forgotten Janene and my father were conspiring against me. "Why the hell did I do that?"

"Probably because you're used to passing off tasks to assistants and you look at dealing with doctors as one more thing you don't want to be bothered with."

"Did you mean that to sound judgmental, Janene?" I sat back and wrapped my arms around myself. "Because I feel judged."

The gongs on my grandfather clock rang, its sonorous lament dulling the heat building inside of me. Flanking the clock face were the two elaborately carved figures of women adorned in garb not dissimilar to my goddess costume, arms raised above them. They held up the pinnacle façade, upon which was painted a woman with flowing silver hair sitting next to a wolf with fur the same hue. This clock made me happy. Its unapologetic Baroque gaudiness stood out of place in my otherwise minimalistic, modern dining room.