Lost in You

convenient for you,” I say as I point my finger at him. “If you know what’s best for you, you’ll move out of my way.”
    “You’re a spoiled little bitch, you know that?”
    I shrug. “Whatever, Ian, I don’t care what you think. Not anymore.”
    I walk past him, purposely bumping my shoulder into his. I slam the door behind me, hopefully conveying my anger. I doubt it did though. I opt for the stairs. I don’t want to see anyone out front. I don’t want to be stopped by the nosey receptionist who is supposed to order my lunch this afternoon. I just want out.
    As soon as I’m out on the street, I’m heading to the local coffee shop. Today is not the day to be accosted by fans, but I see it coming. I can’t even stand in line without someone pointing and whispering. Yes, people, believe it or not, Hadley Carter buys her own coffee. Better call the paparazzi and let them know that I do mundane things. The cashier asks for my autograph and I stare at her. Really? Isn’t there some unknown code where people waiting on you know better than to ask for an autograph?
    I slap down my money and tell her she can keep the change. I don’t even know how much that is, but I’m hoping it’s nothing more than a few pennies. I take my coffee and smile. I hear the word bitch as I turn my back.
    Whatever.
    I’m done.
    I pull out my phone and call Alex. “I quit,” I say as she answers.
    “Okay.”
    “Is that all you have to say?”
    “No, but I do think you need a break. You’ve been through a lot and you didn’t take any time after you and Ryan. And then there’s Cole and the media all over you because he’s dating someone new and they're desperate for a story that isn’t there. So, I don’t blame you.”
    I stand at the corner and wait for the traffic to clear or for the signal to change. As beautiful as it is today, the streets aren’t that crowded. I walk into Central Park and find a bench to sit on. There are a few street performers, but none who catch my attention. What I’d really like to do is sit here with my guitar and just play for people; people who don’t care who I am or what I do for a living.
    “You need to talk to someone.”
    “I’m talking to you.”
    Alex laughs. I know what she’s talking about. We discussed me going to see a therapist when I was on tour, but of course when the tour was over, I went right into the studio. Can’t let my fans down. Maybe Alex is right. Maybe I do need to talk to someone to help me deal with what’s going on in my head, because we all know the song writing isn’t cutting it. Usually that’s my therapy, my release, but not this time.
    “What do you think?”
    “I think people will think I’m nuts if they find out.”
    “No one will find out, Hadley, but I think you need this. You never saw one after the first time with Cole and then there was Ryan and now this very public relationship with Cole again. Talking to someone will help you deal with it all.”
    “Okay.” I don’t want Alex to list all my problems. I know them. I’ve always thrown myself into my work and never dealt with what Cole did to me or what I did to Ryan.
    “Okay?” she asks.
    “Yeah, call someone for me.” I don’t say goodbye. I need to get off the phone before I change my mind. Within minutes Alex texts me with a name, location and a time, a time that is an hour from now. I have a sneaking suspicion she had this set up for a while now. 
     
    “So,” she says, she being Dr. Patrick with her jet-black hair wrapped tightly in a bun perched high on top of her head. She greeted me the moment I walked in, like she had a nanny cam in the hallway; either that or she has no other head cases lining up to see her. She likes black. Her black pencil skirt goes with her black stilettos and black jacket only accented by a red cami to match her red lips, all while I’m sitting on a black couch. Maybe she needs someone to talk to.
    “So,” I reply back. I keep my hands folded and rested on my knees. I really don’t know what I’m doing here. Am I supposed to give her my life story or wait for her to ask me what’s wrong?
    “Sometimes people come in here and just sit and others spill. I’m not saying you have to do either, just remember that no one judges what you say here. This is an open forum. I only take notes when there’s something I want to ask you again or remember for our next session. You don’t have to worry about the press or your manager finding out