I couldn’t prevent the blush. “Um, yeah. I guess so.”
“Name?”
“Jonquinette Pierce.”
“Jonquinette Pierce. Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”
Another blush. “Thanks, but I really have to go.”
I started up the steps.
“Jonquinette?”
I turned and saw his head over the railing.
“Yes?”
“Maybe you can help me get settled in. Aren’t neighbors supposed to greet newbies with a pound cake, or a pecan pie, or something?”
I giggled. “I’m not a baker. I can’t even make toast without burning it.”
He frowned and then laughed. “There’s always store-bought.”
“Now that’s a thought.”
I hurried the rest of the way to my apartment. My headache really was tormenting me and I just wanted to take something for it and lie down.
jude
Mason Copeland, huh? I didn’t even think so. I just knew that Jon would haul ass the way she always did whenever a man said something to her. How dare she actually flirt with him? I wouldn’t have that nonsense. No way.
Granted, the man looked good. Damn good. If I saw a brotha with honey-almond skin, hazel eyes, and dreads, someplace inconspicuous, it would definitely be on. But this Mason, hunk or not, lived right below us and that shit was out of the question. No serious relationships. Just sex and I was the only one entitled to that. Jon was really tripping lately. First calling up that shrink bitch’s office. Now she was holding actual conversations with men. Something had to be done. Something would be done. I’d worked too hard for control and I’d do whatever it took to keep things just the way they were.
8
jonquinette
I circled the office building five times in my car, debating about keeping my appointment. I yearned to let go of all the emotions that were balled up inside of me, but talking to a complete stranger about my problems didn’t sit quite right with me. No matter what accolades Dr. Marcella Spencer had received, I didn’t know her from a hole in the wall and I had a serious enough problem talking to people I actually knew.
I finally parked and got up enough nerve to get out of the car and walk into the building. I caught the elevator up to her floor and located the correct office. There were two other people waiting in front of me. Great. I’d have to sit there and let the anticipation build.
I gave my name to the secretary and she gave me some forms to fill out. That took all of five minutes, leaving me with what turned out to be only a short wait because the two people were waiting on a third to come out of the inner office. He was the “authentic patient” and I stared at him while he exited, wondering how a person that appeared so normal could need a psychiatrist.
> Five minutes later, I found myself sitting across an expensive desk from a strikingly beautiful woman. My first thought was why would she go into her chosen profession when she could have been a high-end fashion model or something.
“Jonquinette. Lovely name.”
“Thank you.”
“What brings you to see me today?”
That was one hell of a good question.
“Dr. Spencer, what’s the definition of insanity?” I asked her, unable to meet her eyes with my own. “I know what I’ve heard.”
“What have you heard?”
“That insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.”