But he wasn’t just another guy. He was Ethan Fucking Richards, one of the best guitarists on the planet.
Hell, yes, she was a little intimidated. He wasn’t the average junkie.
Yeah…Ethan Richards. She was having a hell of a time chilling out.
No, it was okay. She could do it. And she wouldn’t go all fangirl on him. She knew he’d appreciate that. He needed now, more than ever, for people to treat him like just another guy. For all she knew, he’d relapse if they put the pressure on. No way was she gonna do that. And she hoped none of her other clients would call him out either. A few of them were safe, that much she knew from some of their previous conversations, but others—guys like Jay who listened to hard music—might recognize him. It was hard to tell. She was sure Ethan would look a little different in person. In fact, the last pictures she’d seen of him hadn’t been flattering at all. He’d been a little overweight and unkempt…scruffy. He’d looked bloated and puffy, like he just didn’t give a shit anymore, and maybe that had been true. But that had been well over a year ago, maybe longer. She knew he’d been back in rehab since. Maybe he was trying to let go of the shit once and for all.
She was flattered that Dr. Thomas had thought of her in this instance. She knew he sent her his tougher cases, ones who didn’t respond to more traditional counselors.
Her anxiety waned, though, when ten minutes into the group session, he hadn’t shown up. Either he was coming the next week or had forgotten about it…or he might have even been blowing off his psychiatrist’s suggestion and was instead at the bar, drinking his life away.
Oh, that wasn’t nice, and—just like last week—Jenna noticed she wasn’t paying proper attention to the folks she should have been helping. So she tried to focus on Olivia, the fifty-something blonde who intended to shake the whiskey habit once and for all.
And that was when he walked in.
Jenna didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry. Ethan Richards stomped into the room in the basement, obviously wanting all eyes on him. At least he wasn’t drunk.
Once he had everyone’s attention (and it wasn’t hard, considering he walked to the center of the circle), he asked, “Is this Soaring Free?” Jenna started to stand, ready to introduce herself. She wanted to get his ass sat down so Olivia would feel comfortable continuing with her story.
“Yes. And you’re Mr. Richards, is that correct?” Before he could even answer, she said, “Please, have a seat.”
He sneered. “You know who I am, don’t you?”
Jenna’s arm was still outstretched, pointing to the empty chair next to Jay. “Should I?” He raised his eyebrows. “Here, you are one of us, and we welcome you.” She clipped her words. “But you’re late, Mr. Richards, and Olivia was sharing with us, so if you don’t mind…” She again pointed to a chair, hoping he’d take the hint and sit.
His nostrils started to flare and one of his eyebrows was still raised, but Jenna thought she could see the hint of a smile on his lips. He turned and sat in the empty chair next to Jay. Jenna saw the look on Jay’s face and could tell. He knew who Ethan Richards was. He might have been trying to make sure, but he knew.
And, while Olivia began talking again, Jenna was completely lost. Ethan Richards might have been a real dick, but he had a charisma about him and his charms hadn’t gone completely unnoticed. That, and in spite of the fact that the guy looked tired, he was hotter than hell. This was going to be rough…but not impossible. She only hoped she was able to hide her emotions as well as she was trying to.
* * *
Ethan was smitten in less than sixty seconds. Yeah, he was up to his usual self-sabotage. He’d arrived late to the group session Thursday night, and while he tried to tell himself it wasn’t his fault, he knew better in the back of his head. If he’d known what to expect, he might have tried to make a better impression.
But, before he’d walked in that church basement, he’d been imagining an older woman. Sure, the name Jenna sounded younger, but he pictured someone not unlike Dr. Thomas—someone who was middle aged and who looked like she belonged in a college library. Instead, this woman looked like one of the many groupies who would surround him every night on tour. She wore black and her hair was long, flowing, and a deep auburn. Her eyes were a darker green than his, and they took him in with a coolness he hadn’t felt in a long time. That was intriguing. And even though her clothes looked neat, clean, and professional, they had a metal edge to them. Add to that, if he wasn’t mistaken, there was at least one tattoo under that sleeve.
But it sucked, because—even though Ethan enjoyed the company of women and wouldn’t mind fucking this particular one—he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to experience a real relationship. No matter how hot he thought this woman was (and what a fucking turn on that she was running the show—in just two minutes, he’d been able to assess that she was sharp and in control), a relationship was out of the question. Not only did Ethan believe he’d never be able to treat any woman right, he knew he’d be better off not starting up anything with someone who was going to try to help him.
Yeah…he’d loved Valerie more than he’d ever loved any other woman. That alone told him he’d never be able to treat any woman the way she deserved to be treated. Val had been his rock—she’d always been there, had never stopped believing in him, and it hadn’t mattered how much he’d cheated on her, risked his life, or made her feel like shit. She hadn’t left him until she’d felt like her life had been in danger. And, really, it was better that way, because he was never going to be able to stop hurting her (even if it was just mental anguish). Yeah, he was pissed that she was with Brad now, but he knew deep down that Brad was the better man. Ethan didn’t deserve Val and he knew it, but he wasn’t ready to let go yet.
He knew too that he should avoid relationships altogether from this point forward, but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d still need sex, no question about it, but there were always groupies willing to help him out. He was going to try his damnedest to avoid relationships with women who would expect more, though, because he just couldn’t be the man any woman would want. He knew that. He’d tried—more than once—and failed miserably.
Still, it’d be nice to have a gorgeous redhead asking him questions and talking sweetly to him for a couple of hours every week. There were a couple of other women in the room he wouldn’t mind banging either, but they were off limits. They were junkies, probably barely holding on like he was too, and all he needed to do was get involved with someone else ready to help him start chasing the dragon again. That had happened right before his last stint in rehab. He’d moved in with a whore who’d kept him supplied with everything he’d asked for. He’d lost complete track of all time and any motivation he should have had. It was a miracle he’d gotten out alive. The only reason he had was because the whore and her girlfriend had spent all the cash he’d had stashed in the apartment and the landlord came looking to collect rent. Both the girl and the smack were gone…along with the thousands of dollars he’d had…a couple of months before that? He didn’t remember. It was all a blur.
He could fantasize, though. In the meantime, none of these people even acted like they recognized him, and that kind of pissed him off. He’d gotten used to red carpet treatment, even in rehab, and these people were just staring him down like he was a lowly worm. The counselor repeated what she’d said seconds earlier: “Please, have a seat.” Ethan followed the line of sight to where her arm pointed and eyed the chair—it was between a middle-aged woman and a skinny guy who looked to be in his thirties. He shrugged, still feeling a little miffed that no one was fawning all over him, and sat down.
“So, Olivia, if you don’t mind just giving me a moment.” The middle-aged woman beside Ethan smiled and nodded, and the hot rocker-type chick at the head of the circle continued. “Ethan, welcome to Soaring Free. I’m assuming you know that we are all about addiction recovery. More than that, though, our focus is on quality of life. I’m Jenna McCormick, and I am a
licensed counselor. If everyone would just take a moment, let’s please go around the room and have you all introduce yourselves to Ethan. First names only.” First names only? Hadn’t she called him Mr. Richards just moments earlier?
But he didn’t have a chance to say anything as everyone who was seated went around the room introducing themselves. The woman named Olivia had started it, and it ended with the man to Ethan’s right. The guy stuck out his hand and said, “I’m Jay, but everyone here calls me Jay Bird. It’s a real pleasure, man. Fully Automatic kicks ass.”
Ethan couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. That’s what I’m talking about. He shook Jay’s hand. “Thanks. I appreciate that.” Ethan also couldn’t help giving the counselor a little smirk. So, whether she really knew him or not, someone else did and had no problem showering him with the affection and attention he was used to getting.
He noticed a couple of the younger women sit up straighter out of the corner of his eye, but the counselor still seemed thoroughly unimpressed. He didn’t get that. Even before he’d hit it big, he’d had no problems getting women’s attention. Hmm. Maybe she was a lesbian. That would explain it. He didn’t get that vibe from her, though. Still, he couldn’t help but look over at her and give her a look, one that let her know he felt like he’d bested her.
She didn’t even smile, but her expression at least seemed to soften somewhat. She thanked everyone and then looked at the woman Olivia beside him…and oh, fuck. Yeah…his charms had worked on her as well. He couldn’t help the cocky smirk that spread over his face anyway. God, it would be so tempting to just fuck every single woman in here. That’d show her. He had no doubt in his mind he could do that.
But then, as he heard Jenna begin to speak again, asking Olivia if she’d be able to pick up where she’d left off before Ethan had disrupted the session (she didn’t use those words, however), he felt a prick of something. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, and—instead of listening to Olivia talk—he dove inside himself. He hadn’t been in there in too long, and it was a dark and scary place. That smidgen of something felt a little like regret. It felt like a conscience. He’d been avoiding going there…all through rehab and even his first visit with Dr. Thomas. All his life, he’d learned to lock it all out, because it was easier to deal with life that way, and when that box inside started to overflow with shit it could no longer contain…that’s when the booze and other things came in handy. He was going to allow himself to open up again, though, or at least that’s what he’d told himself, but goddamn. Just that little bitter slice of regret for being an unmitigated asshole tasted like shit, and he didn’t think he could do it. Maybe he could just make the effort to change, to not consume anymore. It could work. He’d done it before.
Yeah, right. Just not successfully. He closed his eyes as he heard Olivia continuing to talk. This was gonna be the hardest thing he’d ever done, and he wondered if he’d have the strength to do it.
* * *
Olivia was a sweet soul, one who’d just let the world consume her. She was a lot like the branches of an aspen tree. She’d sway whatever way the wind blew, quaking and shivering but all the while obedient, bending wherever she had to so she could survive. The woman had a history of latching on to the nearest tough guy and becoming a victim in short order. With or without a man in the picture, Olivia had struggled with alcohol since she’d been a teenager.
Jenna saw a spark, though, something inside the woman that screamed independence, that dreamed of more than just surviving. Jenna did a lot of one-on-one counseling with the woman but also knew she’d do well in a group setting. She’d seemed to feel like no one could ever fully understand her struggles and she’d felt like she was alone on an island (her counselor, after all, had never been addicted that she knew of), so Jenna asked her to attend the group and find out for herself that, while everyone had her own path, they were all just as rocky and many were fraught with the same obstacles. It was here—at Soaring Free—that she’d seen the woman spread her wings and open up like never before. Here she saw Olivia find hope and latch on, and every session made the woman stronger. It was these moments that made her feel fulfilled as a counselor.
So when Mr. Rock Star looked over at the woman with a sly grin, Jenna felt her hackles rise. She felt protective of Olivia, even though the woman was probably fifteen or twenty years her senior, and she didn’t want anyone—especially a guy very much the older woman’s type—wrecking the progress she’d made. Jenna realized, though, that perhaps this moment could be a good learning experience for Olivia. They could talk about it in their next session...as long as she could keep Olivia away from him until then.
She had a duty to the cocky rock star too, though. She hadn’t been counseling for decades, but she’d been doing it enough (along with a solid education) to know that he had that attitude as a way of protecting himself. It was a classic case of wearing a mask. She knew that part of it was probably due to his success. She’d seen it happen before in a young woman from a rich family clueless about how the rest of the world lived. In Ethan’s case, his band was recognized by the world as not only viable but insanely popular, and it would be easy to fall prey to the press and believe you were the best thing since sliced bread. But just in the few minutes she’d been watching him, she was certain it was more than that. She was convinced that Mr. Ethan Richards, guitar god extraordinaire, was covering up a lot of things with that cocky rock star mask—insecurity, feelings of despair, desperation, loneliness, and who knew what else. Jenna might not be a psychologist, but she was sure she had an idea of what was plaguing Ethan. Her only fear was that he might have come to her too late.
Chapter Four
BY THE END of the session, Jenna had asked Ethan to share a little bit about why he was there and what he hoped to get out of it. She’d seen a slight shift in his demeanor—a good start—and so she shouldn’t have been surprised by his response. His answer seemed genuine. “Hi, everyone. I guess you all already know who I am. My name’s Ethan. I…uh…I’ve had some issues with alcohol and a whole lotta drugs, and…uh…I’m just trying to get some help so I don’t go back to them again.” He got quiet for a moment and looked down at his hands that he’d folded into one big fist. “They have always been there for me, but they haven’t been good for me. I want to find a way to break off that relationship.”
Wow. Jenna was impressed. He’d started out with a huge shield around himself but, while she was sure he had a long journey ahead of him, it was something a lot more mature and far more revealing than she’d expected from a guy like him this early in the game.
Coming from someone who’d thought she was as nonjudgmental as they came, Jenna felt a little ashamed for having thought that. Still, it was her job to observe and coach, and she had to try to lead these folks down the right path. It was refreshing that a guy like Ethan was already making strides.
But she’d been doing this enough to know that false starts weren’t unusual either.
She’d keep that to herself. “Well, everyone,” she said as she stood, “nicely done tonight. Is your fight over?” A few of them murmured a negative response while she thundered, “Hell, no.” She lowered her voice again. “Is it going to get easier?” She leaned forward, taking in a couple of people, and softened her voice further. “Yes, day by day. Will you still be tempted? Yes…but even those temptations will ease off.” She stood and turned to take in some of her other clients in the circle. “Will you grow stronger?” She raised her voice again. “Hell, yes. You can beat this. You will beat this. I know you can. If you’re here, that tells me you’re strong. You’ve suffered. You’ve put in your time. And now it’s time to soar free.
“So, this week, I would like you to spend a lot of time thinking actively about a life without want…and by want, I mean temptation. I know right now it’s hard to imagine yourself not thinking about the hold those things have on you. Those things have been a part of your life for a long time—but no mo
re.” She looked at Ethan. “Ethan, you’re new to our group, but I have to say I really appreciate your metaphor; you said you have had a relationship with your addictions. How many of you feel the same way?” As she looked around the room, one person at a time raised a hand. They were acknowledging that something like crack had at one time felt like a spouse. “But you all know what an unhealthy relationship it’s been. Your addiction might have seemed to hold you up when you felt low, but it also dragged you into depths you never would have gone on your own. It was a jealous lover. It consumed you, kept you from your friends, from the things you loved to do. It was killing you, smothering you, and now that you’ve realized it was unhealthy, it’s still calling to you, asking you to come back. You’re strong. Fight it.
“After you’ve thought about your life with and without this darkness, I want you to think of your resources. It used to be if you’d had a bad day, you’d drink or inhale or shoot up till you felt better, right?” A few nods. “Well, now I want you to think of alternatives. I know you’ve already done that, and one of your survival tools is your sponsor. But I want you to make a list of things you can do other than give in to that addiction. Decide what will work best for you. Maybe it will be reading a good book in the park or taking a bubble bath. Yeah, I know. A lot of those old suggestions seem lame, but sometimes they work. You need to find what’s right for you.
“Anyway, enough. We’re out of time. Be healthy and stay safe, guys. Keep your eye on the prize.”
In unison, everyone in the room except Ethan, said, “Call your sponsor if you need someone to talk to so you can make it through.”
She smiled. “Yeah. Now get the hell out of here and live. See you next week. Oh, except…Ethan and Sam, could you stay just a few minutes, please?”
Jenna saw the look on Jay’s face. He was feeling a little sad that Jenna wasn’t going to ask him to be Ethan’s sponsor. Jay didn’t have the opportunity to see the forest for the trees, though. Jenna had the ability to see that Jay and Ethan would be a crappy match. Ethan was a newbie—from what Dr. Thomas’s office had indicated, he’d never been in part of an addiction recovery group. He was still fragile. Jay was seasoned, yes, but Jenna already knew he was enamored of Ethan. How easy would it be for the two of them to party together. Ethan would call for support, and Jay could suggest a cup of coffee. They’d start talking music and, before you knew it, Jay would be enabling Ethan and they’d go on a spree.
Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8 Page 49
