Swiped: A Romance Thriller

Chapter 2

The room amassed a thick smell of antiseptic and aged carpet. Angelica knew it well. She'd been in here enough times to know if the windows had been cleaned since the last visit or not. They were not. Matter of fact, they hadn't been cleaned in three years.

It was a constant temperature. That was why Angelica prepared herself with a long sleeve shirt. The room featured a central desk, the psychologist's chair, the psychologist's[Am I using the incorrect term. What is the major difference between a psychologist and a psychiatrist?] secondary chair, the patients sofa or the choice of a leather recliner.

No more than a year ago, Angelica rested on the floor, spread out, facing the ceiling. That time the psychologist was Jim Marret. Man, she missed that guy. He was a true goof. Jim actually understood her. She could lay there and just talk peacefully. Then again she was younger. But she liked to think he'd still be great company.

Jim didn't act all professional and definitely never had a notebook stuck to him. Jim showed up to listen. And that's what he did.

But not Sthara. If Angelica dropped to the floor and tried to relax Sthara wouldn't miss a beat to call security, like what the fuck is she doing, Angelica presumed that would be something Sthara would think. She always found a way to make things dramatic. And she always had that notebook stuck to her chest. Flowers decorated the front, but Angelica always imagined that dragons of demonic origin flew over the pages inside.

With that notebook came questions. Always with the questions. Not that Angelica expected anything different, but a casual conversation wouldn't hurt any.

Angelica could answer those questions... or not—it's a free space, at least that is what Sthara said. Sometimes she would be gently pushed to answer, other times motes of light floated between them with silence in the air. But it wasn't all bad, most occasions left her with a golden nugget about life. Sthara wasn't all bad. Answering questions came with insight from Sthara. She was smart, that much Angelica could say. With the stress at work and everything else, it all just kind of catches up after a while. The sessions were expensive now that she surpassed her teen years, but is wasn't anything that would affect Angelica. Not with how business was flowing. Thanks to Stevie. He made that happen for her. She was given that second chance. So many people look for it, but it was given to her. Stevie was her savior, and she owed him a life of servitude.

"So how's business," Sthara asked.

"Not bad. It's steady, but also picking up track. Special promotions are doing a good job of that. Apparently people like free foot massages, or free hair cuts. Who would've thought. If you'd like, you should definitely stop sometime?" Angelica didn't want to ask, first because Sthara would probably say 'no' and second, because it wouldn't be professional. Sthara was a pro. If she was out night-clubbing that would be the day Angelica would meet with a good throbbing heart attack.

"That's good. You've done well for yourself." Sthara looked at her notes avoiding her question.

Sthara had facial features that pointedly said she didn't study her patients at all. That was the notebook's purpose. Jim was different though. Angelica knew that Jim would take at least 10 minutes before entering the room. In that time Jim would study the last session and walk in with a clear goal. Like visiting a family doctor that cares. But they all had their differences.

Sthara flipped a page, held it half through, glanced at the bottom and turned it over one final time, planting her hand firmly over the page.

Angelica was tired of seeing that notebook. She was tired of the sessions. It'd been years now. When would it all end? One purposeful mistake led her to this. What the hell else was she to do. She had to get out of poverty.