by Rye Hart
Until Drake.
Despite my parents’ many issues, I had been raised Catholic and taught that sex should be saved for marriage only. My mother had pounded it into my head over and over again in the hopes of me avoiding the same mistakes she’d made. She didn’t want to see me pregnant and married to a man who had only proposed out of obligation.
At this point, I couldn’t even see Drake doing that if the worst were to happen. No, I needed to be much smarter than I had been. No matter how attracted I was to him, no matter how much I craved his body, I had to be smarter. Not to mention, he was my boss and our escapade was highly unprofessional and could get me fired on the spot.
I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. Every time I went into the bathroom, I kept my eyes averted so I couldn’t see my reflection. Every time I opened up my laptop, I shut my eyes until the screen came on. I avoided anything that could possibly reflect my picture as we traveled into New Orleans but having Drake on the bus as a reminder didn’t help.
“I told you, it was two cinnamon rolls,” I said.
“Bear claws are similar,” the concert coordinator said. “Don’t worry. They’ll make due.”
“No. They won’t make due. I called you twice to confirm this. This isn’t on my shoulders, and when Landon comes stomping out here because he sees bear claws instead of cinnamon rolls, you’ll be the one making the run.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Your band is way too demanding for this kind of stage. This concert isn’t a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? Why don’t you turn around and say that to the man standing behind you?”
The concert coordinator turned around and came face to face with Drake. It had been hell trying to fix their blunders before the concert kicked off and Drake was pissed. His eyes were flaring with anger and his arms were crossed over his chest. He somehow seemed taller than normal, and the concert coordinator began trembling in his own boots.
“I believe the lady requested you fix some issues on your end,” Drake said.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Blackthorn. I’ll go see if I can track down some cinnamon rolls,” the man said.
“And while you’re at it, find your manners. If I’da talked to a woman that way, my momma would’ve slapped me stupid,” Drake said.
My eyes connected with Drake and I saw a shadow of a grin play on his cheeks. That was probably the worst part of all of this. Not the fact that I’d broken my promise to my mother or the fact that I had given my virginity to a man who didn’t give two shits about our encounter.
It was the fact that I wanted more. Damn it, I wanted so much more.
Once Landon got his cinnamon rolls, the concert was back on schedule. Hank and I were running around trying to put the last pieces in place and fix everything New Orleans was determined to screw up. I watched the show from the back this time instead of staying on the bus, and I was mesmerized by his stage presence. Drake really was a force to be reckoned with, and it made everything even more confusing.
He had hardly talked to me on the bus from Birmingham to New Orleans, which made me feel even worse. It pretty much solidified what I already figured; he had gotten what he wanted from me and that was it. I wasn’t going to be anything more than a one-night stand. And even though I knew it was for the best, it still hurt.
If he kept his distance, it would certainly make things easier. I had a job to get done, and I was only contracted to work with him through this tour. After that, I was on an on-call basis, whatever that was going to mean for me. And I hadn’t even started to try and help him get clean yet. I’d only tried to keep him away from his band buddies after the gigs, so he didn’t go get smashingly drunk.
I found myself tapping my foot to his music as I studied him on stage, his ass in those threadbare jeans and his arms twitching with excitement. He was a force to behold, just like he had been on the ranch, with sweat dripping down his brow and his shirt clinging to his chest.
I drew in a deep breath and tried to shake the memory of him from my mind.
“You ready to try and wrangle him?” Hank asked.
“The concert’s almost over, right?” I asked.
“Yep. Whatever you did last night to keep him at bay, it worked. See if you can try it again tonight to keep him sober.”
I clenched my jaw as I tried to keep the memories of his naked body at bay.
“What a fuckin’ show!” Landon, said as he came off stage
“I knew you’d nail it once you got those damn cinnamon rolls. How fucking hard is it to find cinnamon rolls?” Stone asked.
“Harder than you’d think when someone’s determined to be an ass,” Drake said.
“Hey, we’re goin’ to get a drink, then we’ll be back,” Landon said.
“Oh, hell yeah. A beer after that concert is just what I need,” Stone said.
“I’m right behind you guys,” Drake said.
“Actually, I need to talk with you for a second, Drake,” I said.
“Uh oh. Drake’s in trouble with his babysitter,” Landon said, with a grin.
“Come on. We’re headed to the French Quarter for a good damn time,” Stone said. “See ya there!”
“Right behind ya!” Drake said.
“We need to get you back to your room. The guys might be able to tolerate a night of drinking, but you’ve already had six beers on stage,” I said.
“So? I’ve drank twice that just to wake myself up,” he said.
“Well good for you. But you still have a tour to do and an interview to give tomorrow before we head out. You need to get some rest.”
“I think I’ll be just fine, Delia.”
“Drake, I’m trying to help you here, and do the job I was hired to do. Just get back on the bus. I’m headed there, too. So you won’t be alone. Just tell the guys you aren’t feeling it.”
“But I am,” he said, with a grin. “Unless you’re offerin’ me somethin’ better.”
“I’m not. I’m simply doing what’s best for your career. You need to be sober for this call-in interview with the radio station before we head out to the last tour date.”
“It’s just one drink. I’ll be fine.”
“One drink will lead to two, and two will dip into four, and soon you’re stumbling back onto the bus black-out drunk with some floozy on your hip.”
“That make you jealous?” he asked with a grin.
I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek. He was acting like a petulant toddler. All he wanted to do was get a rise out of me, and it wasn’t going to work. “If you insist on going, then I insist on following. I’ll be the biggest pain in the ass you’ve ever seen in your life. I’ll fuck up every drink order and block every hookup you try to make. Or you can come back to the bus and get a good night’s sleep. Your choice,” I said.
He stared at me for what seemed like an hour before giving me a curt nod. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”
With that, he turned on his heel and stalked off. I followed behind, trying hard not to pump my fist in victory.
CHAPTER 17
Drake
The sun was threatening to crest the whole of New Orleans when I finally made it back to the bus. I didn’t know where the fuck Landon and Stone were, but I wasn’t feeling well. I leaned against the door and somehow managed to get it open, then I crawled my way into the bus. I reached my foot out and stumbled trying to shut the door when a groan caught my attention.
I pulled myself upright and saw Delia asleep on the table right where I’d left her the night before. I’d let her think she’d won that round, but once she fell asleep, I was gone. I met up with the guys on Bourbon Street and partied my ass off like I’d wanted to in the first place.
I leaned against the kitchen counter and studied her angelic form. The sun that began to rise over the landscape of New Orleans cast a wondrous glow along her skin. I wanted to lean in and kiss her. To lick my tongue all the way up her arm and capture her lips once she tried to complain about it. Th
at woman was so damn cute when she was angry, with her red cheeks and her scrunched up nose. I’d piss her off just to watch it happen.
My head felt heavy and my stomach felt like it was on fire. I’d drank too much with the guys. Way too fucking much. Delia had been right. One drink wasn’t just ever one fucking drink.
Damn it. Why the hell was she right?
I stumbled back to my bedroom and passed out. I remembered kicking one of my boots off before sleep took me under. I dreamed of running around in the pasture with my father as Momma sat on the porch with Elsie. I dreamed about the times my father taught me how to repair the tractor Paul and I were now working on. I saw my mother, her face smiling as she cradled me in her arms. She always did that when I was sick.
She would probably do that now.
I saw Elsie learning to read for the first time. My father being patient with her while Momma cooked red beans and rice in the kitchen. I dreamed of the smell of homemade biscuits and gravy and the blackberry pies my sister and I used to eat until I was sick to my stomach. I blinked and found myself under a tree, my head in my Momma’s lap as she ran her fingers through my hair.
“You see those stars?” my mother asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I do.”
“They’re big giant burning balls of gas, baby. Billions and billions of miles away.”
“No they’re not,” I said, with a giggle. “They’re the eyes of angels winking at us.”
“You know what? I think I like that story better.”
“It’s not a story, Momma. It’s true. My Sunday School teacher taught me that.”
“Oh she did, did she?” she asked. “Well, I guess I’ll have to consult her on all things involving space from now on.”
“Billions and billions of miles, Momma?”
“And billions, Drake.”
“Drake.”
“Drake.”
“Drake!”
My momma’s voice morphed into Delia’s and it shocked me awake. There was a bright light shining down on me. One that hurt my eyes and did nothing to warm my skin. I heard Delia calling my name as I turned my head, trying to see where she was. There was a strange man sitting next to me. Dressed in something I couldn’t recognize because the fucking light was too damn bright.
“Can someone turn down the sun?” I asked.
“Drake! Drake, you’re awake. Can you hear me? It’s Delia.”
“What the fuck were you thinking, letting him go off like that?”
Hank.
That was Hank’s voice.
He sounded angry.
Why did he sound angry?
“I didn’t! He came back to the bus with me, but he must have snuck out after I fell asleep,” Delia said.
“Well then you shouldn’t have fallen asleep! I hired you for one fucking purpose, and look where he is now,” Hank said.
“Short of pumping myself full of caffeine that would have been nearly impossible. I thought he was really going to stay put. How was I to know he’d sneak off like a dumb teenager?”
“Has he proven to you so far that he is anything but a dumb teenager?” Hank replied.
“Look, Hank, I’m sorry –” she started to say before Hank cut her off.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it. Not now. Not standing here in the damn hospital because that asshole drank himself stupid”,” Hank said.
Hospital. I was in the hospital.
I felt my body being moved as my back landed on something strong. I heard echoes of Landon and Stone’s voices as my eyes fluttered shut. When I woke up again, the smell of disinfectant wafted up my nose. I was cold and my feet were exposed and I felt a needle piercing the top of my hand.
I tried to yank it away, but someone’s grasp was tight on my wrist.
“Hold still, Mr. Blackthorn. I’m almost done.”
Another voice I didn’t fucking recognize.
“Is he gonna be okay?”
It was Delia again.
I tried to reach out to her, but I couldn’t move my body.
Why the fuck could I not move my body?
“We gotta get him hydrated and do a full work up of what he’s got in his system. But we’re in the process of setting him up to have his stomach pumped.”
“Holy fucking shit,” I heard Hank say.
I passed out again as I was being rolled down a hallway. The passing lights were mesmerizing and they lulled me to sleep. I saw my mother’s face again, with her raven black hair and her dark brown eyes. She had a beautiful smile on her cheeks and a rosiness to her features I hadn’t seen in years. I lifted my hand to try and touch her. To try and feel the warmth and comfort only a mother could provide.
But the illusion was busted when someone else took my hand.
“Drake? Can you hear me? Please tell me you can hear me.”
I heard Delia sniffle as my eyes finally pried themselves open.
“Holy shit. Drake. Hi. Hello there. How are you feeling?” she asked.
Her hand cupped my cheek and I mindlessly nuzzled into it.
“What happened?” I asked.
I coughed when I tried to swallow. My throat fucking hurt.
“Here, drink some of this. It might help,” Delia said.
I felt a straw dancing around my lips as I parted them to drink the water she offered me.
“You um…”
My eyes cleared long enough to find Delia’s. They were puffy and red, swollen from all the tears she had cried. The hospital bed was uncomfortable, and I tried to shift, but all of a sudden, I felt someone’s arms underneath mine.
“Easy does it,” Hank said. “Let us help.”
“I’ll—deal with you in a second,” I said. “I heard how you were—talking to her.”
I cast my gaze back to Delia as she sat on the edge of my bed. Even though I’d done my fair share to get her to quit, I didn’t like hearing Hank talk down to her. It didn’t sit right in my gut. Especially when this one was all on me.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You gave yourself alcohol poisoning,” she said, looking at me with sad eyes.
“Doctors had to pump your stomach and fill you with fluids to get your body put back together again,” Hank said.
“It was just a few drinks,” I said.
“Your blood alcohol content was 0.41, Drake. That’s almost six times the legal limit,” Delia said.
“You almost killed yourself,” Hank said. “You’re lucky Delia woke up when she did. If she would’ve slept any longer, she would’ve found you dead.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to clear it. It felt muddled. Like I was moving through Jell-O with cotton swabs in my ears. I couldn’t focus on anything.
Not even Delia’s beautiful eyes as they gazed upon me.
“Where are Landon? And—uh—and Stone?” I asked.
“Heading home,” Delia said. “Your last concert’s been canceled.”
“No, no, no. We can’t cancel that one. My sister’s favorite city is Dallas. We gotta do this Texas show.”
“You can’t. You have to go to rehab. No one can deny you have an issue anymore. Not even you,” she said.
“I’m doing the fucking concert, Delia.”
“No, you’re not,” she said sternly. “You’re going to rehab, and I’m going back to being a regular remote personal assistant until I can get my degree completed.”
“So—you’re gonna quit on me. Just like that?” I said. But wasn’t that what I’d wanted all along?
“I was hired to do two things; keep you on schedule and help you start your journey to sobriety. I failed to do both of those things.”
“You didn’t fail shit. I heard you and Hank arguing, but I was the one who snuck out. It wasn’t your fault.”
Alcohol poisoning? Had I really drunk that much? I was usually so careful.
“I failed you, but I can do some good before I get out of here. I’ve already called a rehab facility in Nashville. They’re expecti
ng you. Landon and Stone are on comfortable flights to their hometowns to spend some time with their families. This thing with you has really done them in,” Delia said.
“And you’re just going to walk away? Just like that?” I asked.
Delia looked at me with genuine sadness in her eyes.
“Goodbye, Drake,” she said. “And please take rehab seriously. If you do, it’ll get you on a good path.”
I tried to keep her hand within mine, but she slid too easily from my grasp. My eyes hooked onto her as she picked up her things, and I watched her walk out of the room, leaving me alone and cold in this fucking hospital bed with some dumbass gown on and a needle in my hand.
The pain in my chest was heavier than I’d ever felt it before, and I found myself wanting to drown the sensation in bourbon, even now. How fucking sick was I?
CHAPTER 18
Delia
“Hey, Delia. It’s me. Drake. I just wanted to make sure you got home okay. The hospital's transferring me back to Nashville for the rest of my seventy-two-hour hold. Then I’m off to the rehab facility. Figured you’re probably right. Anyway, gimme a call if you can.”
“Delia, it’s Drake. My calls are being monitored, but I figured I’d try you again. Got one more day on my hold, then I’m out and off to rehab. Hank’s escorting me there, but I was wondering if you’d come along, too. Landon and Stone are enjoying their families, and I don’t want them to see me like this.”
“Delia, come on. I don’t even know if you got home okay. Would ya tell someone? Please?”
Phone call after phone call poured in from the hospitals as Drake bounced around. The seventy-two-hour hold was mandatory within these types of situations. The hospital would automatically assume it was a suicide attempt in order to have time to coordinate his drop off with the rehab facility here in Nashville. He called me when he left New Orleans, he called me when he got back to Nashville, and he called me during his last day in the hospital.
Then, he called again. But this time, it was different.
