Color Me Crazy by Carol Pavliska

Author:Carol Pavliska [Pavliska, Carol]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Entangled: Select Contemporary
Published: 2015-05-25T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The Los Angeles office of Dr. Frederick Hamilton was small and stuffy. Julian had already endured a long morning with his head hooked up to electrodes, and he was anxious for the psychologist to come in and tell him what it all meant.

Cleo put her head on his shoulder and yawned. Such a simple act, and yet the familiarity of it gave him a lump in his throat and increased his resolve to make the biofeedback work.

“I’m hungry,” she said, and her stomach growled to back up the claim.

“We’ll hit the Farmers Market on Fairfax for lunch. Can you wait?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.”

Sitting in doctors’ offices frustrated him. He’d done plenty of it throughout his life, and it hadn’t ever resulted in anything positive. But this time might be different. For one thing, there was more at stake.

He thought about the appointment scheduled with Dead Ringer’s label, Utopia Records, later in the day, doing his best to snuff out the sense of unease. Signing the contract was a good decision. It had to be. But he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his end of the deal if he couldn’t get a handle on his synesthesia.

Yesterday, he’d watched Cleo interview Andy Snipes, Vaughn Gilbert, and Bruce Taylor, also known as Jump Six. Ever since the Sylvie Sandstone article, she’d been interviewing bands left and right. She was good at it, but part of her shtick was shameless flirting. It relaxed and distracted the guys so they’d answer extremely personal questions. Julian understood, but in light of Lou’s comments at the release party—You’d better have some tricks up your sleeve if you want to keep her—it bothered the hell out of him. These guys were young, talented, and on their way up. He was thirty-three, quite possibly clinically insane, and a fucking has-been session musician. Believe me, Cleo had said at the release party, you’re not in their league.

The Utopia offer couldn’t have come at a better time.

The door behind them opened, and Dr. Hamilton loped in, wearing his expression of perpetual surprise—magnified eyes behind thick frames and raised eyebrows. Ah…saved by the dork.

Julian had been twelve years old the first time he’d met Dr. Hamilton. He’d come to Los Angeles from London for a concerto competition and, much to his mother’s dismay, had ended up in a psych ward. Dr. Hamilton had been the doctor on call. He was the first person to say Julian was anything other than crazy, so Julian had a soft spot for him. Over the years, he’d let Hamilton try various things on him, but so far, none had ever helped.

Pushing his glasses up on his nose, Dr. Hamilton sat at his desk and got right to the point. “Julian, the test results are very favorable. As I told you last month when we ran the preliminaries, you are an excellent candidate for biofeedback therapy. The trials we did this morning helped us personalize the program for you, and it should be ready”—he stopped to look at his watch—“by about two o’clock.

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