“Hold on a minute,” I yell as I throw on a hotel robe. I came back to the room last night and took a quick shower and went to sleep naked. I was exhausted from those three perfect orgasms.
I peek out the hole at my door. Son of a bitch!
“What do you want, Johnathan?” I ask through the closed door.
“I need to talk to you,” he begs.
“At eight in the morning? Couldn’t it wait until later or maybe never?” I ask, frustrated.
“Let me in please,” he begs again.
“Johnathan, Stacy is in here sleeping. I can’t wake him with our bickering.”
“I don’t care. I need in now and I need to talk to you and find James please.” He’s resorted to whining now.
“Fine.” I tug the door open and pull my robe tighter around me.
“Thanks,” he says, coming in. He’s breathing heavy and his face has lost all its color.
“Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” he points to his face, he’s almost hyperventilating again. The second time in two days.
“Sit down on the couch and tell me what’s up.” I gesture to the couch in the living room area. He sits down and places his elbows on his knees, his fingers in his hair. He breaks down and starts to cry. Tears are pouring down his face.
“Johnathan, what’s wrong?” I suck back a sniffle. I can’t do crying. I cry almost every time. Suck it up, Bronwyn! You can do this!
“Everything,” he sobs, fisting his hair to the point his knuckles are white.
“Do you want me to call James? What do you need him for?” I ask calmly. Two mornings in a row he’s been crazy. Maybe he had another nightmare. Poor man.
“Yes, tell him there are three woman crashed out in my room and I need them gone asap,” he says and his crying worsens just as my heart sinks and drops out of my chest and falls onto the floor. I never thought getting confirmation that he fucked a bunch of chicks would hurt this bad but it does. I resist the urge to rub my heart. It’s so painful. I fear if I rub it the pain might get worse.
“Okay.” I mutter on a deep exhale and I go into my bedroom retrieve my phone off the nightstand and call James tell him what’s up and he says it’ll be taken care of right away. I also make sure to tell him to stay close because something is wrong with Johnathan.
“Did you call him?” He asks, wiping his nose when I come back into the room.
“Yes, he said he’ll have them removed,” I reply calmly even though I am anything but.
“So would you like to tell me what’s really wrong?” I sit on the floor in front of him my legs tucked under me. His eyes are puffy, bloodshot, his skin is clammy and he’s shaking. Oh no! “Johnathan.” My tone is warning. I think I know what this is! Fuck!
“I’m so fucked up in the head, Short Stack.” He smacks his messy hair on his head hard.
“What happened? What do you need me to do to help?” I ask calm and softly. I am trying to be a caring friend even though he ripped my heart out.
“I fucked up!” He yells fisting his hair.
“What did you do Johnathan?” I press firmly and hard, but not mean.
“I’ve been having nightmares for the past two almost three weeks. Bad ones. They’re back. You saw one yesterday. Well, about a week ago just after you left to go to Indiana to see your mom and dad I got drunk at a bar in North Carolina and I met up with this dude. He offered me some coke and I took it. Then I went back to the bus that night and slept the high off and my nightmare the next morning wasn’t as bad. Or I didn’t think it was because when I woke up I was still messed up but I couldn’t remember most of it,” he clarifies, almost choking out every word. My heart breaks for him. But I can’t believe he did drugs!
“I stayed on the bus the whole vacation and found more coke and I’ve been bingeing on it for the past week. It’s helping keep the nightmare memories away. Then last night I saw you humping that lesbian chick and I saw you orgasm. My heart broke. I mean fucking shattered. So when I saw you and her dip into the back I knew you two were about to do something else. So I took those three chicks you saw me with and brought them back here. We all doped up on coke and drank beer and whiskey. I fucked the brunette and threw up afterwards. I didn’t come but Jesus I was so drunk and hopped up I wasn’t fucking thinking.” He smacks his head again.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have touched her. I’m so sorry,” he whines, fisting his hair again his knuckles are white. Still crying.
“I’m so stupid baby. I’m so fucking stupid. I shouldn’t have touched her with my dick. It’s yours, all yours. It’s not hers. She tainted it now. I fucking tainted my dick with her pussy. Oh god! What have I done?!” he screams.
A tear escapes down my cheek. I feel so bad for him. This is terrible! I did part of this to him. I feel like horseshit! I should have known not to mess with someone else in front of him I hate when he does it to me. It fucking hurts so bad! I’m so horrible.
He looks at me through watery eyes. “Oh no baby don’t cry! No! Fuck! Don’t cry Short Stack,” he pleads.
I can’t help but cry. I feel terrible. Oh shit I think I am going to be sick. I cover my mouth and run as fast as I can into the bathroom and throw up bile into the toilet. I heave and I heave until there is nothing left. I wipe my mouth with a washcloth and he’s standing the doorway of the bath. His eyes are puffy and dark circles are encasing them. He looks like hell.
“We need to get you help,” I say, walking towards him. I grab his hand and escort him back into the living room and push him to sit back down.
“I don’t need help baby, I just need you. I can’t do this anymore. I am dying without you.” He says sadness penetrating his voice.
“You’re having nightmares Johnathan you need help and now you’re doing drugs. Have you done them before? And why didn’t you go see your family during break. That might have helped with all of this.”
“Yes, I’ve done drugs before. From thirteen until I was twenty-two. I always stay on the bus when we have a break. Stacy stays with me sometimes because he feels sorry for me. I don’t have a family to go see,” he pouts.
“No mom or dad?” I ask softly kneeling on the floor in front of him. Not touching.
“My parents are dead, have been for some time now and my sister is busy living her life with her kids and husband and I can’t be raining on their lives. I’m too fucked up for that. I haven’t spoken to her since I got out of rehab five years ago.”
I can’t help but think back to the nightmare yesterday. He was yelling at his dad about killing something. Or was it someone? I don’t know. But he was crying for his mom. Wow this poor man. I just want to hold him and take care of him. He needs that.
“I’m so sorry you were alone. I wish I would have known. We wouldn’t have stayed as long. How long were you in rehab for?”
“I was in for nearly a year. That’s where I met the guys. We were all in rehab together. Formed a band there. Got out and decided to try to do something about it. And here we are.” He shrugs.
“Wow that’s inspirational, Johnathan. Really.” I give him a sweet smile. I want to lighten the load on his heart any way I can. Even if mine is torn to pieces.
“Yeah a real fucking Laura Ingles story,” he snaps.
“Hey, don’t be like that. So do you think you can stop the drugs again? Or do we need to put you through detox?” I pat his leg reassuringly.
“It’s getting bad already. I can feel the itch right now to snort and I just did like two hours ago.” He wipes his nose.
“How much have you been doing?”
“A line or two every time I get the itch. It’s bad. Yesterday after I got up into the hotel room I did it like six times before the concert last night and twice after and then again this morning with those chicks.” He covers his face with his hands.
“I’m going to wake Stacy. We are going to call the best drug rehab in LA and we are going to take you there to get be
tter,” I state, matter-of-fact.
“I can’t do that. What about the shows? We haven’t even gotten through half of them yet. I don’t want the fans to hate us.”
“You have no choice,” I blurt, and I want to rub my belly but I can’t. I want to tell him he has to get clean for his babies but in truth he has to get clean for himself so maybe someday if we get past the hating and fighting, he can be a dad. If he wants to, that is. I would never force him to be. Some men are just not cut out for it.
I get up, “You stay,” I say to him and go into Stacy’s bedroom. He’s out cold in a pair of hideous plaid boxers with a hole on the bottom. See, he talks shit about my panties and look at what he’s wearing. Dammit, I don’t have time to worry about that right now I have to cancel this tour. I have to help Johnathan get clean.
“Stacy, wake up.” I jiggle the end of the bed. He turns over and rubs his eyes. Wow, that was easier than I thought.
“What? Is everything okay, Em? Or could you not wait to talk to tell me about your hot lesbo experience last night?” he asks, raising his eyebrow and shooting me a stupid sleepy wink. Only he could make that look hot as fuck so early in the morning. God love him!
I roll my eyes. “Johnathan is in the living room having a mental break down and he’s back on drugs. We have to cancel part if not all of the tour and get him back into rehab right away,” I state firmly.
That does it for him. He shoots out of bed throws on a pair of pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Snatching his cell from his nightstand and his laptop from the floor. And into the living room we go. Johnathan is sitting solemnly against the back of the couch, dazed.
“What are you on now?” he asks, standing in front of Johnathan.
“Coke and a lot of it.” He frowns and rubs his nose.
“You want more now don’t you?” Stacy asks.
“Yes. You should know; you’ve been there. It’s not easy to kick the shit. I’ve been having those nightmares again. Cokes been helping me forget them when I wake,”
Whoa! Back the fucking truck up. Stacy knows how it is? Since when? I didn’t think he’s ever done a damn drug in his life.
“Stacy?” I raise my voice staring right at him. He knows what I’m talking about. He knows me well enough to know that I don’t know about his little secret.
Stacy eyes me and looks at Johnathan, then back at me again.
“How do you think I met Johnathan and the others? I was in the rehab with them for sixty days. I was dealing with Kyle and I got addicted to coke and pot for a while. But I had to kick it. So I did the sobering up shit and met up with Johnathan in the support group. We have a few things in common other than that. So we got to talkin’ that shit out when we were in there. Became friends that way,” explains says. The only other thing would be the parent shit, they’d have in common. Stacy can definitely relate on that front. His mom was a bitch his whole life until recently.
“Oh, ok. Well what are we going to do about him?” I nod toward Johnathan.
“Jesus, woman, are you going to sainthood? I tell you about all this stuff with Kyle and my feelings, you know. And about the drugs and you still love me, huh?”
“Yes, idiot. Even though I’m pissed in some ways that you never told me those things before. I’m glad to know them now. And of course I still love you. You’re my best friend. Who is getting on my last fucking nerve because I want to know what we are going to do about him. I’m very concerned.” I tap my foot on the floor barefoot. So it doesn’t carry the effect I’d like.
“I will call and cancel up until San Fran. I think he can do the last four shows that’ll give him a good month to clean himself up. If he’s not ready to leave then we can just take him out for those days in between and have him go back afterward. We can’t disappoint Cali folks we have to live there.”
“Okay sounds good. I will call the rehab clinics with the best security and you take care of the other. And Johnathan, I want you to go take a shower, take off those gross clothes—they smell like alcohol, and then climb into my bed. You need some rest,” I instruct decisively.
Man, I am on the ball today. Worried and heartbroken and scared out of my ever lovin’ mind but I can pull my shit together with the best of them. Yay me!
Chapter Twenty Four
I find a luxury rehab clinic in the outskirts of LA, open and ready to receive Johnathan. We won’t know how long he’ll have to stay but the woman on the phone was inviting and sweet. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact they will have the hottest rocker on the damn planet at their facility. I sign him up to sign in the following day. Which is today. I spent all yesterday working hand-in-hand with Stacy cleaning up the tour mess. Which of course means we are going to have to give a press release. So I write one up and have James drop it with the local paper to clean up this growing cluster fuck.
We’re back on the bus now driving toward the airport. We decide to go with one a little further away from DC’s main hub because let’s face it the paps and fan mess would be hard to handle. And apparently the band owns a small jet that I had no clue about. Not that it matters. So we are now flying out of a small airport about forty miles from DC where the jet is taxiing on the runway for us to get there and hop aboard.
When Stacy and I informed the rest of the band yesterday about the cancelation, it went over smoother than I intended. All three of them knew something had been going on with Johnathan for weeks now and surprisingly they were relieved that he is so quick to ask for help. Apparently, after a short talk with Stacy admitting you are addicted to a substance is the hardest thing. So Johnathan coming forward and putting it on the line so early in his relapse is commendable from a former junkie’s perspective anyhow. I’ve never done any drugs in my life, not even tried pot. So I can’t understand the point of view of a former druggy and to be honest that’s one point of view I can do without. I would hate to spend a year in a facility getting clean like they all had to do one time or another.
For the past hour, the men have been jamming with their guitars on the red leather bus couch and in-between songs talking about the good ol’ times when they were high on coke or other drugs of choice. Or maybe not so good times. All of them have been clean for the past four years except for a minor slip up Keith had two years ago when he did some X. Which I guess is short for ecstasy. Hey, give me a break, I’m new to this shit. Now all they do is smoke cigs and drink like fishes. But to be honest, I’ve seen them drink. They can get down with the best of them but it’s not an everyday thing. Mostly after gigs and occasionally at night they shoot back a beer or two playing halo on the Xbox. I wouldn’t call them alcoholics by a long shot. Now Stacy’s mom growing up? She was an alcoholic to the tenfold. And as mean as a Doberman when her veins ran brown with liquor. Who would have thought being diagnosed with an aggressive form of dementia would bring her down to earth again to heal all those gaping wounds she inflicted on her son at such a young age? We’ve only been back on tour going on four days and he’s already called to checkup on her once. What a sweet man!
“Hey guys, pack up were about ten minutes out,” Stacy says coming out of the bathroom with a bag of his toiletries in hand.
A bunch of groans erupt and the larger than life rockers slide their guitars back into their cases and zip up their suitcases. Johnathan’s been back in his room forcing himself into solitary confinement. I know he feels terrible for doing this to his friends and I’m sure he’s having a hard time coming down from coke. Stacy said he checked on him this morning and he was sweaty and fidgety all the signs of a junky needing a fix. But since yesterday when he handed Stacy the last of his coke which we all watched it being flushed down the toilet. He’s been clean.
“Do you want me to get him or do you?” I ask Stacy eyeing Johnathan’s closed door.
“I can, but I think he’d rather see you. He came to talk to you yesterday about his problems, not me. And that’s not like him,” he explains.
I think Stacy might have felt a li
ttle twinge of sadness when he found out Johnathan came to talk to me about his drug relapse and sex with that one woman. Over the weeks, what I’ve come to notice is Stacy and Johnathan are rather close. I think closer than any of the other men on the bus. Maybe it’s because they can relate to one another more? I have no idea but they both respect each other and Stacy is straight with Johnathan.
I walk around Stacy and knock once on Johnathan’s door before opening it.
Inside he’s lying on his bed on his side in the fetal position, his body is pouring with sweat and he’s trembling like he’s cold. My heart instantly sinks. I can’t believe he’s been in here the past few hours enduring this alone. I would have come in. All he had to do was ask. Why didn’t he? Oh yeah I’m a fucking bitch that’s why. Who shoves the fact that I just fucked around with another woman in his face. God I am so horrible!
“Hi,” he mumbles, his teeth chattering, his body clinching harder into a big ball.
“Oh my god, big man, are you going to be okay?” I ask softly and come to the edge of the bed reach out and push his hair off his forehead. It’s gotten really long the past few weeks.
“It’s part of detox, baby,” he adds with a shiver.
“We’re almost to the airport. Stacy said to come get you ready to leave.” I caress his sweat soaked cheek.
“Ok. Thanks.”
“Do you want me to lay with you?” I ask sweetly.
His eyes widen happily and he smiles through clinched teeth.
“Okay, I’ll be right back. I’ll tell Stacy to come get us when we pull in,” I add and leave the room and find Stacy digging clothes out of his drawer beside our bunks.
“Stacy, Johnathan is shaking and detoxing badly. Is this normal?” I ask, worried.
“Yeah. It’s normal for him. He didn’t buy pure coke. Everything he seemed to order is laced with other mixes of drugs. We can’t be sure what else he’s addicted to. Coke doesn’t usually have that affect when you come down so that tells me it’s something else in that drug he’s been snorting up his nose the past week,” he explains. Way calmer than I would have. I’m crawling in my skin over here.
Stricken Rock Series: Complete Box Set Page 22
