Noir

Le calme avant la tempête (calm before the storm)

[Sorry it's been so long. Hope you enjoy. Also, this playlist (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/63SXtVqWkNjm3T43UTZomc?si=u2IivYLuS7i3vthpKhi1ZQ) comes in to play during the chapter.]

•••

Another day, another doctor. Only this time, Maddox was the patient. Ray Bans intact, she tapped her fingers along the steering wheel, trying to find the good sense to get the hell out, already. She watched car after car roll past, people coming and going as they pleased, and debated following the next one out and on toward freedom. Besides, it was a beautiful day. Maybe all she needed was the sunshine, a mai tai and a few hours at the beach.

She mumbled along to the third song that'd come on the radio since she pulled into the parking lot, a kind of experiment to see how long she could stall. Maybe she could push it out to just beyond her appointment time, when she'd have to reschedule. Again.

However, Dr. Valerie Kellie came highly recommended, had saved half of Los Angeles, people said, and snagging a slot in her schedule was no easy feat. Maddox had done it three times so far. A fourth would be sheer dumb luck and likely months away.

Her chest rising and falling with a heavy sigh, she pushed the ignition's button and killed the engine. It was dangerous to be as comfortable within misery as she'd become. She needed the help. She couldn't put it off anymore. Not when she'd awakened every night the past week in fits of panic. And Tori's willingness to answer the phone in the middle of the night was hit or miss.

Besides. She couldn't properly care for Cheri if she wasn't well herself. And if Cheri could leave each treatment session with her head held high, Maddox imagined she'd take a cue from her sister, suck it up, and drag herself into Valerie's office.

She took the elevator to the seventh floor and checked in with the receptionist. She then sat near the exit in case she decided to bolt, after all. Clutching her bag's strap, she focused on the soothing bubbling sounds of the fish tank and parked an elbow against the top of her knee, anything to keep her leg from bouncing. An annoying habit, according to her mother.

"Maddox?"

Maddox turned at the sound of her name. Dr. Valerie Kellie stood at the door of her office, a warm smile on her red-painted lips. She was impeccably put together, so well that Maddox nearly asked for tips. She couldn't help but notice how Valerie favored her very own mother, sans the ice cold demeanor. The same brown skin, the same high cheekbones... it was almost strange when Valerie instructed her to make herself comfortable, offering water or coffee as she sat in armchair across from her.

"I'm fine, thank you," Maddox said politely, glancing around at the intimate office. Truthfully, she'd expected something impersonal, like a doctor's office, sparsely furnished. But Valerie, dressed in a red silk top and obviously-designer yet sensible slacks, clearly possessed the kind of taste that expanded into all facets of her life. Maddox, self-proclaimed 'hot mess' she was, could relate. She'd never say so aloud, however, beautiful spaces eased her mind. Always had.

"You can relax," Valerie said, crossing her legs as she settled into the armchair opposite Maddox. "I promise, it's not that bad."

Maddox was suddenly aware of how she clutched her bag against her chest, sitting upright, visibly uncomfortable. The moment she looked into Valerie's deep brown eyes, she decided to trust the woman. Maddox dropped both her bag and inhibitions to the floor.

"Maddox Celine West," Valerie read from a clipboard before placing it aside. She rested clasped hands on her upraised knee. "Tell me about you."

"I'm bad at this. I don't know," Maddox said, running her fingers through her curls. She leaned forward, shrugging.  "I'm twenty-seven. Single, no kids. I'm an art dealer. I graduated with honors from UCLA—"