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Holly tilts her head. “Sounds like he’s there for when you need him, though?”
“With money? Sure. But those loans always come with a smug ‘I told you so’ attached. Which I think makes it almost worthwhile for him. Besides, I’ve made a fortune for him and the others since I took over the family business five years ago.”
“If he’s such a chauvinist, then why let a woman take over?”
“Because he didn’t have a son. And at eighty-four, he was too frail to keep running the company himself. Trust me, it kills him to have a woman in charge.”
Holly can’t resist a smile. “Not yet, apparently.”
Baljit laughs. “Hey, that’s my line.”
“You’re an only child, right?”
“Yup. And I didn’t come easily. Dad was fifty and Mom almost forty when they met. They had to go through the whole fertility rigamarole. Back then, it was harder. And Mom had to have a hysterectomy soon after I was born. Dad never forgave me for being born without a Y chromosome. The one thing life never gave him. A son.”
“Do you think all of those emotions played into your gambling addiction?”
“You figure, Dr. Freud?” Baljit shoots up a hand in apology. “Sorry. Look. You’re the one who’s paid to do the analyzing. But as I see it, money has always been a surrogate for love for me. No wonder I got addicted to chasing it.”
Holly nods, pleased Baljit has made the connection for herself. “Have you stayed away from the casino since I last saw you?”
Baljit grins. “Not so much as a scratch-and-win ticket in over four weeks.”
“Are you still being triggered by your father?”
“Constantly. But I’m taking out my rage at the gym. On the spin bike, the elliptical, and especially any dipshit who looks at me twice while I’m working out.”
“Good.” Holly smiles. “And the cravings to gamble?”
“Honestly? Since that last session with ketamine and MDMA, there’s been nothing. It’s the weirdest thing. It’s as if I haven’t eaten in days, but I’m still not hungry.”
This is music to Holly’s ears. She makes a mental note to document Baljit’s quote verbatim in the meticulous file she’s keeping on the group. But she saves the most delicate conversation for last. “I’d like to talk about what happened with Elaine.”
Baljit shrugs. “What more is there to say?”
“A lot, for some.”
“Not me.”
“Under the circumstances, I’m not sure we’ll be able to continue with our group therapy.”
Baljit’s head snaps back in surprise. “Why not?”
“The whole point of the group was to help support one another through your struggles with addiction.”
“How has that changed? If anything, we need even more support now.”
Holly resists the urge to tell her that group therapy failed Elaine in the worst way imaginable. That she, personally, failed Elaine. All she says is “Ours is innovative therapy. Unproven, some would argue. Certainly not mainstream. And there’s a lot more scrutiny. On me, at least. Ever since the media learned about us—”
“Simon! That foolish lech should have never outed our group like that.” Baljit wags a finger. “But this isn’t really about the media. It’s about Elaine, isn’t it?”
Not only her. Holly thinks of Katy Armstrong and how the reporter would pounce were she to learn of Elaine and her association with the ketamine group. But Baljit is essentially right. And she’s far too smart to be misdirected. Still, Holly isn’t willing to share her guilt with another client. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Instead, she says, “Regardless, I think we have to take a break. At a minimum, from using psychedelics in our therapy.”
“No!” Baljit cries. She smooths her skirt before speaking in a calmer tone. “What happened to Elaine was unfortunate. But when you think about it, kind of inevitable.”
“Inevitable?”
“A lifelong opioid addict who just found out she’d been sexually abused as a kid?” Baljit shakes her head. “Might as well have locked a pyromaniac in a room full of rags, gasoline, and matches.”
