Stash: My Life in Hiding by Laura Cathcart Robbins

Author:Laura Cathcart Robbins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2023-03-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN The Ice Woman Melteth

At seven o’clock, I wait for Shauna and Laura to leave for the Love Addicts meeting and then take the long way down to the pool patio. I feel like I’m sick or dying or crazy—my head is pounding, and my chest and throat are hot and shaky. I stop in my tracks when I get near the meeting and hear the others going around the circle, identifying themselves one at a time. Holding my breath, I’m stuck around the corner peering at them through the bushes. A celebrity checked in today, and he’s sitting at the end of the table. His name tag says Tommy T. 423, which I find to be kind of hilarious because we all know his real name (his show’s been running in syndication for years). “Tommy” is sitting next to Scott S.’s roommate James, and James is sitting next to Scott, who is casually leaning back in his chair and looking around. To an onlooker, it might look like Scott’s making an aimless survey of his surroundings, but I know he’s looking for me, worried about where I am. I also know that I’m acting a little Looney Tunes, standing in the shadows, looking through the bushes, but I think I’d do anything to stall the inevitable. As soon as this meeting ends, we have the eight o’clock med call, and I’ll be getting my last dose of Ambien.

I close my eyes and take in a five-count breath through my nose like they taught us in group meditation, but my heartbeat is so erratic that I’m scared I’m having an anxiety attack. If I could only sit next to Scott, I know my heart would slow down some, and maybe my discomfort wouldn’t be so obvious. But that thirsty blond Jill has parked her little ass right on the other side of him.

As soon as they get a chance, all these bitches are always right up under him.

The only empty chair is on the far end next to a crazy old man named Guy who reeks of patchouli.

Fuck.

I inhale as though I’m about to dive under a wave and then emerge from the bushes, walking toward the table with my shoulders shrugged and an apologetic look on my face. Scott S. spots me first and smiles and then the whole group turns around to look at me. I start to skulk around to the left side of the table toward the empty chair, but then James stands up and motions me toward him.

What’s he doing?

Mortified to have everyone’s eyes on me, I freeze, unsure what he wants. But then he pulls out the wrought iron patio chair, which makes a wretched squeaking noise against the concrete, and motions for me to take his seat instead.

Flustered by all the attention, I switch directions and speed-walk around to James, mouthing “thank you” before sliding into the seat and slinking down as far as I can.

Scott’s grinning and looking right at me. “You okay?” he whispers.

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