Setting: My LA Therapy, West Brentwood, California
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But you're perfect A poorly wired circuit
Punching someone in the face during a cocaine induced fit apparently counts as assault and can result in jail time if you don't have the money to hire the right defense team. Thankfully, Demi Lovato was a household name by the time her cocaine use had gotten so bad to the point that she was snorting lines every thirty minutes and without the magic little bag of powder she wouldn't be able to function. So, when said drug induced fit happened and one of her backup dancers – who was also an avid cocaine abuser – got caught in the fire, Demi had the money to stay out of jail. Instead of a 4x4 cell and an orange jumpsuit, she was sentenced to 108 sessions of therapy. Technically, she had served her sentence and the incident was nothing more than a laughing matter now, but she decided to keep going to therapy. Because let's be honest, if you're subjected to the strange and sometimes mentally exhausting world of Hollywood and you don't have a therapist, there's probably something wrong with you.
The name of said therapist was Arnold. He was tall, he was skinny, and he had scruffy facial hair that he couldn't decide if he wanted or not. Sometimes he would come into the office with a shaved face and a halfhearted declaration of the facial hair being gone for good because his wife wasn't that fond of the look on him. But a few short weeks later the facial hair would be back with a muttered comment about him sleeping on the couch. Arnold obviously didn't have it all together, and for some other people that would've been an unappealing trait in their therapist, but Demi honestly didn't mind. They were all human after all, and she couldn't sit across from someone who pretended to be perfect and tell them all of her problems. So, she liked Arnold. They got along well and after about two years, he really did understand her.
"You got a new one," Demi commented as she picked up the small golden apple that was placed on his shelf. Arnold also had a knack for collecting "apple things." He had a shelf full of them. Demi would hate to think what his house looked like. If he had as much apple stuff there as he did here, Demi would make him sleep on the couch too.
"Yes, I did. How was your weekend?" Arnold questioned, watching the young popstar examine the various shapes and sizes of his apple collection. Unless she was in a terrific mood, Demi never sat in front of him for their sessions. She always had to be moving around, keeping herself busy by looking at everything in his office and finding different things to entertain herself.
"Fine," she shrugged, which meant that it hadn't been fine at all. Sometimes Demi would open right up to him and detail everything about her drama filled life, but most of the time he had to pull it out of her. It was her job, but she didn't make things any easier for him.
"What would've made your weekend better than fine?"
"If my boyfriend wasn't such an asshole." The tone of her voice changed, and he watched as she slammed down one of his more delicate apple sculptures. He didn't scold her though. Anger was better than no emotion at all.
