Linsay drove her 2009 Black Range Rover in route to B.A.M. treatment center. She looked in her visor mirror to the check the obsessively impeccable design of her make-up. Satisfied her eye liner was just right with that dangerous look bordering on to much; she set the not finished text on the i-phone down; another message saved in unfinished drafts. Lindsay let her mind run with thoughts of both her lovers, Misty and Darren. Last night at the mansion in Bel Air at the Gucci party I saw Darren pick up a piece of paper Misty placed under a napkin. Then, I picked up my drink and watched Darren punch in the numbers, text a long message with that face I know so well arching in concentration mode with those gorgeous dimples on his cheeks stretching, message sent. Then seconds later Misty trying to be covert standing in her white 5 inch strappy Bebe sandals, long, tan, impossibly toned and juicy sexy legs wearing a high enough skirt to see her thighs exposing that impossibly perfect triangle of space where hips try to meet, reach into her Christian Dior purse to receive her phone. She thought she was fooling me by holding her phone inside the purse like I taught her as her face started glowing with unbridled delight over the message received.
Shaking the memory from her head Lindsay looked back in the visor mirror and noticed the lines stretching around her otherwise perfectly done eyes and felt like crying. As she pulled up to the 5 acre B.A.M. treatment center she told herself, I should bail on checking in to rehab, screw drug court…Then she remembered Robert Downey and how he ended up in prison…Then she remembered her agent tell her " to just get it over with so the career can move forward". He’d said, “If you don’t the media will have a field day and make you the next Britney Spears!” Lindsay took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out of the Range Rover and noticed a statuesque looking man holding a phone standing in front of the arched opening to the treatment center.
I’m Skip Uptown, councelor and crises intervention specialist for BAM treatment. My past includes a climb up the ladder in the underground drug culture if you were observing the outside of my cup; from the inside of it I learned it was a spiritual spiral down a twisty downward slope. The state blessed me with an interruption for me to gather my thoughts, build up my conscience and pick up a pen I won’t put down. In so doing I’ve found a way to turn my past research into a blessing by utilizing those observation skills honed over the years for be a miracle at Bam treatment.
At BAM treatment we are the most comprehensive full service drug/alcohol and any other addiction facility in the world. We have a medical wing, detox wing, a Christian treatment, a traditional A.A. N.A. C.M.A. S.A. and G.A. treatment and an Eastern style treatment offering all types of acupuncture, message, meditation and a bunch more that ends in the newest colonic treatment. Having done my homework on my new client Lindsay, I knew her choice was Eastern.
She stepped out of the Rover in a black Valentino dress with black uncomfortable looking spiked heels and her hand went right inside her Dior handbag. I knew the practiced way she held it, strap over the shoulder, arm bent cradling it like a baby so her other hand could explore, that Lindsay did a lot of business there. My first intuition was that she was reaching for her phone until I saw it nestled under the bag against her arm.
My second intuition was that she was checking on a hidden pouch drugs were stored. I ruminated over the memory of a conversation I had with the owner of BAM concerning searches. He’d told me, “We’ll push everyone away if we violate their privacy with searches. We’ll push them right to our competition, Pathways!” I’d told him we could do it unobtrusively unbeknownst to our clients with an x-ray door and a lot of eyes watching. The owner had already made his mind up and I’d ended by telling him, “So it’s going to take somebody dying to get this back on the table huh?”
Now, I watched Lindsay walking toward me, apparently satisfied with the contents in her purse. She studied me unashamedly from the ground up, taking me in completely as if she had every right always afforded her. When her eyes finally met mine I saw her interest prying further and felt her try to untie my outer armor. Right then we both heard tires screeching around the corner. I studied Lindsay as she reacted to the intrusion. She focused on the black v-12 Mercedes so intently I knew it, or one like it, held memories. I watched the occupants fly by us. The driver, a G.Q. model cut, age early 20’s, wearing a pin stripe fedora hat low over Italian designer sunglasses, prominent dimpled cheeks, strong jawline leaning over the middle console resting on his right forearm. The passenger had Barbie doll looks, blond hair, porcelain skin, and pouty lips and she was leaning over the same way on the console so they’re heads were touching. Both of their hands were seen clasped together like they’d had all night steamy action bolstered by chemicals to the point they were coming down now all Bonnie and Clyde and in luv. The 100,000 plus car passed us and I saw Lindsay react harder than she should have. Her eyes furrowed in extreme focus that affected the rest of her face in combination. Her body language buched up and jerked her head first until her hips followed suit, then her legs shuffled to study the driving away back of the Mercedes. I watched her pony tail swinging and her head swivel back to me. My first intuition was that the driver or passenger was romantically involved with Lindsay.
Lindsay’s desperate look focused on me and she demanded, “Did you see the license plate?” I did see the plate. Dealer plates from Santa Monica. I said, “No. Lets get you inside and checked in. We have the best center in the world but what you do with it is up to you. There’s horses and beautiful trails, rock climbing, pools, sauna’s, dolphins you can swim with and countless other activities to guide you toward a new beginning.”
I saw an associate close to me and told him, “Watch her close. Her emotions are all over the place. She’s either going to try and rabbit out of here or do something desperate. I think she has something in her purse so pay attention to it.”
He nodded his head and said, “Yes sir. I’ll have the house monitor watch her for every moment she isn’t in the bathroom.
Lindsay told herself, That was Darren and Misty! They slept together already! I know they’re in love and I know they will lie to me about it! Fuck this life! Nobody tells you the Truth! They all play games and everyone uses each other. There isn’t any meaning!” Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, she pulled out all of her Zanex and Oxycotin and swallowed them.
My associate called me, “She’s been in the bathroom to long!”
I speed dialed 911 and barked the emergency with enough details to get them moving.I ran to the bathroom and yelled, “Lindsay!” No response. By now I’m knocking on the door so hard it’s shaking. No response. It’s locked. I press against it and lean on the door knob and slam my knee. I feel the lock break through the hinges and use my shoulder to push all the way through. Lindsay is laying on the floor going pale white already. I see a vision of the future if she dies. Our treatment center and the story of Lindsay selling why not to go to rehab. Being trained in C.P.R. many times over I tilt her chin so her airways through her trachea is opened the furthest and said a silent prayer to Jesus right as my lips blew life giving oxygen. I’m pushing against her chest and prayingfor her to gasp for air and blowing more life giving air into her mouth. Over and over and the time disappeared. I felt the medical team tapping my shoulder to let them take over right as Lindsay gasped for air. Stepping out of the way and thanking God I immediately busied myself taking notes in my log book to force my mind to follow protocol. Then I went straight for her purse and found the empty bottles to send with the medical team.
Lindsay survived and we got her back. I walked her around the treatment center and spent hours talking. She followed me with a willing spirit having a near death experience and decided to give the Christian treatment a chance after hearing the choir. She said it soothed her spirit. I told her that all that is happening in her life is happening for a reason and I will guide her through it and have the pleasure of watching her become a miracle.