“We can’t have you with us while you’re using,” Noel chimes in. “I know more than anyone how easy it is to get out of control. If it weren’t for you guys being by my side while I went to rehab—”
“Jesus Christ, are you fucking serious? Rehab? I don’t need fucking rehab.” Just where in the fuck do they get off? I’ve never been as bad as Noel was. Okay, so maybe I missed a few shows where he never did when he was using, but it was only a few times.
I scrub my hands down my face. This is so fucking stupid, but I know they won’t let me get out of rehab if they’ve made up their minds that I need treatment, so I might as well give in and get this over with.
“Fine. You want me to go to rehab? I’ll go as soon as we wrap up the tour.”
Trip takes a step toward me and starts to put his hand on my shoulder but hesitates, then shoves it back into his pocket. “You can’t wait until after the tour, Tyke.”
“Of course I can.”
He shakes his head. “No, you can’t. You can’t resist Gabby, and she’s on the rest of the tour with us. We think it’s best if you went now.”
“Now?” I question. “But, who will—” I stop myself because I don’t even need to ask the question. I’ve already figured out the answer. “You assholes already replaced me? Before I get a fucking say? Sergio Alvarez? You’ve got to kidding me. He couldn’t hold a fucking candle to me on his best day.”
“Come on, man. Don’t be a dick,” Riff says. “Sergio’s a good dude.”
I lick the corner of my mouth. “A good dude, huh?”
Just because someone’s a nice person, it doesn’t mean they’ll work in the band. These assholes will find out soon enough that I’m not replaceable. Hell, I’m going to teach them a lesson. Leave them high and dry, not giving them the satisfaction of kicking me out.
“You know what? You don’t have to worry about me anymore because I fucking quit. Have fun keeping this piece of shit band together without me because none of you will put in the work like I do.”
I turn and head away from them, listening for them to call my name and beg me to stay and work things out, but it never comes. I sigh and shake my head. Before long, they’ll be begging for me to come back. It’s only a matter of time.
The rest of the night is a hazy blur…
Going to a bar downtown with Lou…
Music…
Women…
Lots of women…
An assortment of pills…
A bottle of Jim Beam…
Getting behind the wheel of the Escalade I borrowed from Kyle. Driving down the road, drinking straight from the bottle, wondering how my life got so fucked up. Feeling lost. Unwanted, and unloved.
Seeing a concrete wall blocking a housing development and thinking it would be better if I weren’t around anymore. After all, who would fucking miss me?
The last thing I remember is mashing the gas pedal to the floor.
Unlatching my seatbelt...
Then...nothing.
“Mad World” – Gary Jules
People say there can be no light without darkness. It’s a nice quote and all, but I’m convinced it’s just a load of shit people love to hang onto so they feel better. There’s been more darkness in my life than I care to admit, but light? There’s been no trace of that in a long time.
I watch silently as fat raindrops pound against the window of the train. This—starting over—is a good thing, and has been my main goal since I started my journey to straighten myself up. I’ve already completed the first two phases of my plan: admitting I had a problem, and taking a stand to overcome it while getting my degree in psychology. Now I’m moving on to the third stage: helping others conquer their personal struggles, too.
It’s my new mission.
“Excuse me?”
My eyes drift away from the window to the man standing in the aisle next to me, wearing what I assume to be a very expensive tailored suit. He’s clean-shaven; his dark hair is neatly styled. Stunning blue eyes and a perfectly white smile complete this alluring package before me.
If I were still the old me, I would give him my best flirty smile and, despite the gold band on his left hand, I would’ve invited him to sit down. But I’m trying hard to forget that woman. Absurdly handsome men who never really gave a damn about me are my biggest weakness—a weakness I’m desperate to break away from. Messing around with unavailable men with no hint of remorse was how I knew I had problems: hurting people in order to get my fix is something I did for years. The thought alone is shaming. It got to the point where sex was no longer just a physical escape, but an addiction, too. Like I would die if I didn’t have it.
I blink a couple of times, bringing myself out of my thoughts while I do my best to repress my inner flirt. I notice the man’s still standing there wearing a mischievous grin. “Yes?”
The stranger’s grin widens. “Is this seat taken?”
I lick my lips and swallow hard as the temptation to invite him to snuggle now and fuck later in the bathroom crosses my mind. But as I’ve learned through my own psychological studies on resisting temptation, no matter how hard it may seem at the time, it’s far better than dealing with the fallout of giving in.
I set my purse in the seat. “It is.”
The man frowns and takes one last look at my long legs and voluptuous chest before he nods and continues down the aisle to find a seat.