PART FOUR

Check-in went off without a hitch. It felt good to know I wasn't blackballed for life. I hadn't spoken to Damian, the exclusive El Diablo Hotel's owner, for more than a year. He sent a short note during my stay at Foundations, a posh rehab for rich celebrities. That note gave me enough courage to walk past the imposing doorman and request a suite.

The well-trained petite blonde behind the check-in counter didn't lift an eyebrow when I handed her my identification. My ...