And then there was Maxx Demelo. I knew Kristie thought he walked on water. You know the saying; if you want to look pretty, hang out with ugly people. And Maxx was doing his damnedest to be the belle of the druggie ball.
He was the only one who made a point of answering questions when they were asked. He volunteered personal information—though whether it was factual might be another story—and he seemed just oh-so-engaged each and every time he came to a meeting.
And while Kristie and I were barely tolerated when we spoke, Maxx Demelo reigned supreme. People listened when he opened his pretty little mouth, no matter what drivel fell out of it.
He was so full of shit.
He was one big ol’ pile of fake, and the way he played it up drove me nuts. I had tried to bring up my concerns about Maxx’s sincerity to Kristie several weeks ago, and she had blown me off.
“Aubrey, I can tell that Maxx is one hundred percent dedicated to his recovery. He is an example for every single person in the group. I’m so thankful to have someone like him to show the others that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, I’m thinking about talking to him about providing peer support to some of the more troubled members. I just know he’d help them so much,” Kristie gushed, and I had stopped bothering to discuss it. It was useless.
But even while I was regularly overcome with the urge to call Maxx out, I couldn’t help but be fascinated by him all the same. It was like watching an actor on stage slip into a character. And honestly, it made me determined to see what really lay beneath his cool and confident exterior.
I had seen how he was with his brother in the commons. I had seen him embarrassed and angry. And some sadistic part of me wanted to see that side of him again.
I attempted to observe him clinically. I had myself almost convinced that he suffered from some sort of personality disorder.
Or maybe I was completely delusional and projecting my own issues onto this poor guy in the group I was supposed to be facilitating.
“God, could they look any more miserable?” Brooks whispered, eyeballing the group members as they made their entrance, taking seats after grabbing their free cup of coffee. Their routines were the same each and every week. Eat a cookie. Drink some coffee. Mumble monosyllabically when asked a question.
This was supposed to be a voluntary group, aside from Evan, April, Kyle, and Maxx, who were court-ordered to attend. Yet the attendance of the others felt forced. In recovery groups, there were usually the one or two who took to their sobriety with the ferocity of a newfound religion.
Not in this group. And I felt like a failure for not figuring out a way to snap everyone out of it. It irked me even more that Maxx alone was the only one to arouse any sort of response from people. In fact, it often felt like he had taken over the group and was the one running it. And Kristie let him.
But the thing about Maxx was that he was a hard man to refuse, and I was learning that there were times when even I didn’t want to refuse him. That worried me. A lot.
I turned to Brooks and nodded. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but this group is a hard sell. I thought it would be . . .”
“Easy?” Brooks laughed, and I smacked his arm.
“Not easy, just not so difficult,” I complained, realizing how silly I sounded. Therapy wasn’t supposed to be easy. Groups were going to be a struggle for everyone involved. I had read the case studies, I had devoured the textbooks. I should know this stuff. But I had dreams of walking in and saving the world on my first try. I was an idealistic moron.
Kristie started handing out packets to people as they made their way to their seats. She gave me a pointed look, and I knew that was my cue.
“Okay, you’ve got to go.” I turned Brooks around and pushed him toward the door. Out in the hallway, Brooks chanced a quick hug.
“Knock ’em dead, tiger. I’ll come by later with soup and a movie,” he promised, making me smile. He really was such a great guy.
“Twilight?” I joked, knowing the answer. Brooks tapped my nose with his finger.
“You’d have to be at death’s door for me to agree to that one,” he stated.
I laughed. He laughed. And then a pointed cough had us both quieting down.
“Has group been canceled or something?” I looked over Brooks’s shoulder to see Maxx standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, disheveled blond curls falling over his forehead, and a cold and stony expression on his face.
“Uh, no. Go on in and grab a seat.” I indicated for him to walk around me, but he continued to stand there, making no move to head inside the classroom. Brooks looked at me questioningly. It was hard to miss the feral testosterone rolling off Maxx as he stood there and regarded the two of us angrily.
What was his problem?
The three of us stood there, a triangle of silent awkwardness. I couldn’t place the emotion that flashed in Maxx’s eyes, because everything that came to mind made absolutely no sense. Desire. Longing. Possessiveness. And most strangely, sadness. Maxx looked at me like a man who had lost something.
Oh, come on, Aubrey. This cold is screwing with your brain.
“Call me when you want me to come over. Feel better,” Brooks said finally. His suddenly narrowed eyes flitted between Maxx and me as though trying to read the uncomfortable situation we found ourselves in.
“Okay, thanks, Brooks,” I said, hoping my friend would get the hint.
Brooks stared at Maxx for a moment longer, and when he looked back at me, his face was a varied mix of emotions. It made me nervous.
But before I could say anything to allay my concerns and Brooks’s apparent unease, he mumbled a quick good-bye and walked down the corridor.
I tried to settle the knot that had formed in the pit of my stomach during the difficult exchange, but it was proving tough under the strength of Maxx’s gaze.
I eyed Maxx apprehensively. “You can go in, you know,” I muttered, not bothering to disguise my irritation.
Maxx ran a hand through his curls and then scrubbed his face. His expression neutralized, and he gave me his trademark careless smile. “After you,” he said, sweeping his hand forward, indicating for me to walk ahead of him.
I arched my eyebrow but didn’t comment, hurrying inside. I sat down and looked around at the other group members. I attempted to make eye contact and give a smile in greeting to a few of them, but was shut down each time.
My eyes eventually found Maxx’s, and I wasn’t surprised to receive a blinding grin. I didn’t reciprocate and instead turned my attention to Kristie, who was explaining tonight’s discussion.