Bottleneck

by Henry, Max

  “What now?” I look at Alice and then Mom. “Did he tell you anything?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m sure he’ll be back later.”

  Fuck’s sake. I’m a project in a goddamn bed, not a person to give at least a little decency. Wouldn’t think it’s too much to ask for to be told what they want to do with me now—or even what got me here.

  “What happened?”

  “You overdosed,” Mom states as though I should already know.

  “On what?” I croak, voice straining at its limit. “I didn’t take anything.”

  “They found traces of Valium, Ketamine, and Endone in your system along with the high levels of alcohol,” Alice explains, avoiding eye contact. “You’re lucky that your mom found you when she did.”

  “I didn’t take anything,” I repeat, hoisting myself up the bed to sit higher.

  “Maybe you don’t remember—” Mom starts.

  “I didn’t take it.” My voice disappears on the last word, throat at capacity.

  “Then how do you explain it being in your blood work?” Alice asks. “You have no memory of taking anything, Emery, but it was in your system, and not only that…” She hesitates to take a deep breath and calm herself. “It almost killed you.”

  “I don’t know.” I rack my brain to find any clue on how I would have ingested three damn drugs in one night, two of which I haven’t had in years. There wouldn’t even be a chance of any leftovers lying around.

  I have no explanation for it other than, “I got this feeling yesterday that somebody had been in my place.”

  Mom lifts her head, brow firm.

  “It was yesterday, right?” I haven’t been out that long, have I?

  Alice nods.

  “The bourbon I drank… I don’t remember buying it or even having it before I flew out to record with the guys.”

  “It’s possible you forgot, right?”

  I meet Alice’s concerned gaze. “I don’t think so.” The next bit is hard to discuss with her. “The last weeks before I broke it off with Deanna, she would come over most days to keep me supplied; I didn’t have a lot in the apartment.”

  “I never saw her car,” Mom states. “I can ask your father when I call him again, but Mosaic usually lets us know if he hears her car.”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug, suddenly ready to sleep again. “But the feeling was there. It doesn’t matter anyway; I know I didn’t take a fucking thing, and there’s no way to prove how I did.”

  “This is messed up.” Alice shakes her head. “Right now, you need to rest, though.” She reaches out and gently runs her hand across my brow, sweeping my hair out of my eyes. “First, you have a visitor who’ll be happy to see you awake.”

  She leaves, far earlier than I’m ready for her to, and returns a moment later with Kris.

  “Hey, man.” He hovers at the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets as though unsure what he should do. “You scared the fuck outta us.”

  “Imagine how I felt waking up here strapped to the fucking bed with no idea why.” I try to laugh, yet the sound sticks in my throat, making me cough.

  Alice offers more water. I close my eyes to the comforting feel of Mom massaging my ankle from her spot in the chair.

  “I spoke with Rick,” Kris says. “He’s pushed the next session out a month, but he ain’t happy. I think Rey used up all his patience before you got any.”

  “I’ll be out of here in a day,” I say, hoping the more I voice it out loud, the more real it is. “I’ll be back on my feet soon.”

  “I need to take this.” Alice lifts her singing phone. “I’ll just be in the corridor.”

  “That’s fine, love,” Mom assures her.

  I watch the woman leave, eyes on her back as she nudges out the door. I was so caught up in her being here for me that I didn’t pay a lick of attention to her damn face. I can’t even recall how bad the bruising still is, just that she goddamn smiled when she saw I’d opened my eyes.

  “What’s the story, then, man?” Kris takes her spot on my right.

  “I didn’t do this to myself,” I assure him.

  He rests his hip against the bedside cabinet, arms folded.

  “I drank the bourbon, but I didn’t take a single thing.” I rest my head back, sliding down the bed a little. “Not intentionally.”

  “How did it all get in there, then?”

  Mom rises from her chair. “I’m going to pop out and call your father.” She nods toward Kris. “You can have the chair if you like.”

  “I’m good. Thanks, Mrs. Morgan.” He turns his head to watch Mom leave and then fixes those dark eyes back on me with a frown. “Three drugs, Em? Why didn’t you tell me things were bad when we went out?”

  “Because they’re not.” I wince, lifting my palm to massage my throat, tugging the cannula in the back of my hand. “Not that kind of bad, anyway.” I roll my head to watch his reaction. “Deanna wants to sue me for half my earnings in the time we were together under the guise of common-law marriage.”

  Kris smirks. “What? How crazy is that woman?”

  “A complete fucking nutter.” I smile, letting my eyes close.

  Kris pushes off the furniture to tug his cigarettes free. He pulls the lighter from inside the pack, tucking everything else back in his pocket. “What do we need to do to counter her?” He flicks the flint, leaving the flame unlit.

  It’s a habit I noticed he picked up about the same time Henley came on the scene. He wants to quit smoking, and the action of rolling the lighter calms the craving.

  “Dad is talking with someone about it, I think. Actually.” I reach over the edge of the bed to smack him on the leg with the back of my hand. “Get Mom to look in the drawer beneath my TV. Tell her to find the business card she pulled out of my laundry.”

  “Why?”

  “I met a lawyer at this thing Deanna dragged me to a few weeks ago. If Dad doesn’t have any luck, this chick might be able to help.”

  “Anything else you need?” His thumb keeps rolling the flint, making a gentle scrape.

  “Clothes, I guess. Mom probably has that under control.”

  “Get some rest.” He lifts his chin. “I’ll catch up tomorrow. It’s good to see you awake, man.”

  “It’s good to be awake,” I agree. “Could have kicked the bucket, dude, without trying. That would have sucked.”

  He quietly chuckles, heading for the door as Alice pushes back in.

  Her eyes blaze, the heat squarely directed at me as she says into the phone still held to her ear, “No. He didn’t tell me that.”

  Kris hesitates, glancing from her to me.

  “Really? He did, did he?” Alice’s words falter, betrayal glazing her eyes with unshed tears. “Thanks for the explanation, Mickey.” Her head shakes as she ends her call, chin dimpled.

  “What’s the matter, babe?” I use what’s left of my energy to push up the bed again.

  “You.” She fends off Kris’ approach. “How could you, Emery?”

  “What?” I have an inkling what this is about, but it’s always best to play dumb rather than throw a foot in it prematurely.

  “You denied my band a spot opening for yours.” She swallows—hard. “You did meet Mary-Anne. And you fucking ruined my life because of it.”

  She turns and bursts out the door, fleeing the truth.

  Fleeing me.

  “Alice!” My throat must bleed. “Wait!”

  “What was that about?” Kris asks, rushing back to the bedside when I swing my legs toward the floor.

  “I’ll tell you later,” I grumble. “For now, just help get this fucking shit out of me.”

  FORTY-THREE

  Alice

  “All My Life” – Ozzy Osbourne

  “Alice!’

  I take two more steps before my conscience gets the better of me. Turning, I find Emery in pursuit, decked out in a most unflattering hospital gown that falls short of covering the red marks left from the restraints. Leat
her binds that held him down while his body fought back against the toxins inside, thrashing and curling on the narrow hospital bed.

  I never want to see somebody in that state ever again.

  “Hear me out,” he croaks in raspy, dry tones. “Please.”

  A nurse jogs in from behind him, reaching to restrain her AWOL patient.

  He sweeps his thick arm out, brushing her aside. “No.” I get a glimpse of his bare ass as he turns to confront her. “I am not going back in there until I‘ve spoken to my girl.”

  His girl. I’ve never been his, and if what Mickey had to tell me is true, he never wanted me to be, either.

  “Sir, you need to rest. Your blood pressure needs to recover; your sugars have to stabilize.”

  “It’s okay.” I move back toward the spectacle in the halls, noting Kris watching from Emery’s doorway. “I’ll help him back.”

  The nurse frowns, thick eyebrows displaying her disapproval as she backs away to watch from a safe distance.

  “You have nothing that could excuse what you did,” I hiss, reaching for his arm.

  He allows me to “guide” him back to the room to complete the friendly façade. “We hadn’t spoken in years when she asked me that.” Emery reaches in front of me, stopping our progress with a forearm to my stomach. “If I had known the truth…”

  I have nothing. I can’t argue what he says. If I had known the truth too, I wouldn’t have accepted what we had as being nothing more than a cute anecdote in my life story. I would have reached out.

  I would have fought for him.

  “When I woke up in there and saw you walk in…” Hands to my waist, he screws his eyes shut briefly, licking his dry lips. “My life would have been so different if we’d never had that fallout. And as much as I can blame Deanna for what she did, hiding your letters from me, keeping you away.” His gaze searches my own, looking for what appears to be reassurance. “I did this, Alice.”

  I exhale slowly, tucking my hands beneath his elbows to guide him to the bank of seats along the wall. The nurse still watches, as does Kris.

  “I was the idiot who fucked everything up the second I couldn’t drop the bottle for you.”

  “To be fair, we both drank heavily back then.”

  “Yeah, but you stopped.” He ducks his head and peers up at me as though to check I understand. “I didn’t. And look what I did.” Emery’s hands shake as he reaches out to touch the side of my face. “I forgot what should have been the most precious night of my fucking life.”

  As angry as I am at him for denying us that support gig, I can’t stand to see him in pain like this. Not when it’s the kind that a person inflicts upon themselves. When it’s done with such self-hate.

  “You want to know something funny?” I lean my shoulder against the wall, allowing him to continue cupping my face as I rest my head against his hand. “I can hardly remember it now, either.”

  “Oh, now that stings,” he teases.

  “I didn’t mean it was bad. I mean, Em, get real. We were both drunk, you more than me. It wasn’t pretty.”

  His eyes darken; a strange current thickens the air between us. “It was you and me, though. It was us, and I’ll regret that I didn’t give the moment the respect it deserved for the rest of my damn life, babe.” He laughs a bitter huff. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  My nostrils flare, throat thick as I stare at this vulnerable kid before me. He might be in a man’s body, but he’s still the same insecure kid I knew a decade ago.

  He still has a heart too large to understand and nobody to appreciate it.

  “I thought we’d lose you, seeing you trying to hurt yourself like that.”

  He glances down at his bare arms, frowning at the red pressure marks and scratches from his blunt nails. “I’m so fucking grateful that I don’t remember any of it.” He shakes his head, messy hair falling to cover his downturned eyes. “But I hate that you always will.”

  “I needed to see it.” Taking his face in my hands, I sit straight and urge him to look at me.

  The whites of his eyes are still a little bloodshot, the dark skin beneath highlighting how drained his body is of life.

  “The fear of losing you revealed the truth I wanted to push aside. It made that damn decision for me that I kept avoiding in case the answer would hurt.”

  “About us?” His eyes widen, back straightening.

  I nod, sliding my hands down to take one of his between my palms. Emery’s chest quickens, each rise and fall mimicking my racing heart.

  “For eight long years, I stayed angry at you. So damn angry.”

  His chin falls.

  I coax it back up again, keeping my finger in place, so he has to look in my eyes when I explain why.

  “I could only stay angry at you so long as I loved you, Emery. If I had stopped loving you, then I would have stopped caring what you had done. It would have been lost in the past. But I didn’t.”

  His lips pull into a shy smile.

  “I have always loved you, and I probably would have still, even if fate hadn’t made us cross paths again.”

  “Fuck, Alice.” His eyebrows peak, and for a brief moment, I expect him to cry.

  In true Emery style, he passes out instead.

  “Shit!” Arms beneath his, I hold the man who has kept my heart captive since he first stamped his name on the tender flesh, and save him from hitting the floor. “I’ve got you, babe.”

  The same as he has me.

  EPILOGUE

  Emery

  “Still of the Night” - Whitesnake

  Head turned to the side, I watch the football on TV while Alice sits between my legs. Fingers massaging her upper back, I stall briefly, waiting to see if our team will score a touchdown.

  “Hey,” she teases. “Why did you stop?”

  “That had to be foul,” I holler at the broadcast. “Sorry, babe. How’s it going?”

  “Five done. Twenty to go.”

  “And each one takes you how long?”

  She shrugs beneath my touch. “I think about fifteen minutes.”

  I glance over her shoulder at the custom necklaces laid out across the coffee table. “You don’t charge enough for them.”

  “At sixty dollars each, I’m lucky I have these many orders.”

  “Pfft.” I relax back into my game position, restarting the circles I make with my thumbs either side of her spine. “You could charge eighty easy.”

  “Let me build a brand first.”

  She’s done well these past months; I’m damn proud of her. Shanae went home the week after I was discharged from the hospital to provide palliative care for her sister. Latest news is the girl still doesn’t have a donor lined up, which I know weighs heavy on red.

  It’s amazing what you can decipher through a brief text.

  At first, Fria lost her shit and blamed Alice for the dissolution of the band. But after several weeks so damn wasted that she can’t recall how many states she traveled through with Lords of London as their fill-in drummer, the girl came around. It wasn’t any one person’s fault. The end of Letters from Alice came about through an unfortunate slew of incidents, all coming to fruition within the same short timeframe.

  Partially the reason why Alice has almost reached the point of forgiving me for denying her that support tour in the early years.

  “Anything I can do?”

  She huffs. “Maybe. But I can’t see your thick fingers making light work of these fidgety clasps. I have enough trouble myself.”

  I sweep the waves of blonde from beside her ear and lean in close, eyes still on the offense as they make another charge up the field. “I could help with stress relief later.”

  She leans her head against mine briefly. “All depends on if you continue stopping with the massage or not.”

  I get my thumbs back to work. She has a point: back pain means groin pain for me.

  “Did you hear back from Kris?”

  “Mmm.” I watch the play a
second before answering. “He said he’d come if Rey does.”

  “Seriously?” Alice sets her tools down, which Mosaic takes as his cue for a pat. “What’s he afraid of?”

  “Being the subject of your line of questioning.”

  The furry troublemaker ambles over before flopping dramatically at her side. She pats him without a second thought, turning to look up at me.

  “What about Toby? He can’t have any excuses.”

  “You’re trying to get the three of them together before they have to be, babe. They’re going to push back.”

  “I suppose he’s still doing the whole cloak and dagger thing, sneaking around without telling anyone why.”

  “Mm-hmm.” I break from the conversation to holler at the damn players that keep dropping the ball. “Rey said he’d figure it out, but my money is on Kris getting to the bottom of it all first; that shit is sneaky when he wants to be.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Her idea to have the guys meet us at a cabin the month before we go on tour again is sweet, but it’s not the same with guys as it is girls. Chicks probably jump at the chance to hang out in each other’s shadow as much as they can, but dudes—we like our space.

  Plus, three of us have a significant other now. Me being the most recent to join the club.

  I move my hands from Alice’s back while she picks up her crafting again, playing with the lengths of her hair instead. I love doing simple sappy shit like this; it reminds me that she’s here.

  Mine.

  And she stomachs all the fucking baggage that comes with me: the journey to sobriety, our epic fucking misunderstanding, and of course, Deanna.

  Fucking, Deanna.

  I still don’t know how I overdosed. I mean, it’s no mystery how it happens, but the only conclusion I can come to is that vindictive cow. Mom and Dad installed security cameras out front of the house, and I paid for the locks to be changed on the studio apartment.

  Kris suggested I fork out for a private investigator to trail her around, wait for the idiot to slip up. I’m not wasting that kind of cash on her. She’s had enough from me over the years—everything else is for Alice.

  The goddamn angel before me deserves a lifetime of a mug like me groveling at her feet for forgiveness. I took what I had for granted, and I made her life harder than it needed to be out of nothing but spite.