“They say it takes twenty-one days to make or break a habit, so I’m already there.”
She couldn’t help herself. She’d held it in long enough. “Have you been clean for thirty days before?” And when he answered the inevitable, that he’d done it before, she would try not to sound snotty in her reply.
But his answer shocked her.
“Not even close. Seriously, Jen, there were times I’d walk straight out of rehab looking to score.”
“God. Why even go through rehab then?”
“Good question.” He was quiet for a few seconds before he added, “I think it’s because, even though I had a hell of a time quitting, I wanted to believe I could. Just because I failed didn’t mean I hadn’t wanted to do it. I just…wasn’t set up to succeed at staying quit, I guess.”
She was almost afraid to ask. She tried to distract her emotions by filling the coffee pot with water. “Are you this time? Set up to succeed?”
“That’s where the psychologist comes in, Jen. He’s the missing piece I’d never used before.”
She decided to try to keep her voice neutral. “That’s good.”
“Yeah. And…” He got quiet. It sounded like maybe he was struggling a little, so she didn’t want to push it. “I’m talking about things—thinking about things I just never did before.”
“That is good, right?”
“Yeah.” She turned the coffee pot on, having loaded it with fresh grounds, and turned around, leaning against the counter. When she spied Zoe on the floor, she realized she should probably get her a little juice to drink before breakfast, so she turned back around and fetched a sippy cup out of the cabinet. Zane acted like he wasn’t going to say more, and so she tried to think of what else they might want to talk about when he said, “I want to see you.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Why not? I’m making progress. And you didn’t say how long you wanted me working at it before we could, uh, resume.”
That was true. She’d merely told him he needed to clean up his act. It wouldn’t be fair to string him along forever. “What did you have in mind?”
“I think maybe…maybe we should take it slow this time. Don’t get me wrong, babe. I want you in the worst way. Always have. But I want to get to know your daughter too. If we’re going to try having a serious long-term relationship, she needs to get used to me, and I want to get to know her.”
Aw. That was so sweet, and no way was Jennifer going to say it, but he was thawing her heart. Maybe they did have a chance after all…and she thought maybe she should let him know the secret about her child. But she still needed a little time to prepare. “What day next week will work for you?”
* * *
“Dude! Dude, I got ‘em.”
“Hmm. Very nice.”
“I knew you’d like.”
“You definitely know my type, man. So, let’s see…”
“Who you thinkin’?”
“Hmm. How about…the chick second to the right? You know, the one wearing the black leather miniskirt and thigh-high boots? Yeah, I gotta try that on for size.”
“Got it. Okay, ladies—”
“Wait.”
“Yeah, boss?”
“The one in the middle? The cute one with dimples? Let her know I want to see her after the show.”
“Backstage passes for the rest?”
“Yeah. Why not? Uh—how much time we got before I gotta be on stage?”
“Oh, you got plenty of time, Zane.”
“You, my man, are the best roadie on the planet. I think we need to give you a raise. I’m starting to have a real hard time pickin’ out of the babes you bring me…”
“Yeah. First world problems.”
“First world problems…”
“Let’s talk about sex, Zane.”
Zane couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “What exactly do you want to discuss, doc?”
“You’d mentioned a few sessions ago that sex and drugs were part of your rock-and-roll routine. Am I summing that up fairly?”
It didn’t sound like Zane’s words exactly, but the sentiment was right on. When he was on the road with either band, sex and drugs were a huge part of the entire experience. It had been that way from the beginning. The trouble was he didn’t know how well he’d fare now on the road without sex or drugs. Or without sex and drugs.
In fact, he was beginning to wonder if he should quit.
But that…that was crazy. Playing bass in metal bands was the only real work he’d ever known. Well, aside from bagging groceries at one of the smaller grocery stores back home his senior year in high school. Add to it he was tatted all the fuck over his body, he didn’t know what kind of work he could get that he would actually like.
No, he had to find a way to survive—had to find a way to fucking stay clean once the going got tough. And he was tough. He knew he could do it. That didn’t change the fact that he was a little fearful—and, he suspected, that was what Dr. Harvey wanted to explore. So far, the guy had hit so many nails on the head with Zane, it wasn’t even funny, and he’d given great advice. More than that, though, he’d helped Zane dig deep to discover who he really was. There was a likeable guy down in there somewhere, someone Zane wanted to get to know better, to nourish and help grow. A respectable guy, a good guy.
The guy Jennifer had fallen in love with and kept hoping Zane would be.
The man he needed to be for her.
“Yeah. I’d say that’s pretty accurate.”
“I also know you told me about a typical day in terms of those three things, explaining the importance of them in your life while you were on tour. Out of the three, in order of priority, where would you say sex ranked?”
What an odd question. Zane had no clue how to answer it. “Well, doc, something you gotta understand is that the sex and drugs wouldn’t have happened if not for the rock and roll, so I guess the music was number one.”
Dr. Harvey leaned forward, and Zane almost started laughing, because for some reason, he half expected the shrink to start talking in a European accent, imitating Sigmund Freud. “You say that…but I don’t think that’s accurate. Out of your priorities, which of the three would be more important?”
“I guess I don’t know what you mean.”
“Your music—would it be fair to say that your agenda for the tour was already set?”
“Yeah.”
“So…you already knew where you’d be going, where you’d be playing.” Zane nodded. “And did you ever miss a show, drugs or not?”
“Well, no. If you’re talking about scoring pussy—which I think you are—you only have easy access because you’re in a band. If you don’t perform, half the motivation for chicks is gone. Chicks don’t wanna fuck washed-up has-beens.”
Dr. Harvey chuckled. “I suppose that’s correct.” He shifted in his chair and was twisting the pen in between his thumb and forefinger. After a couple of seconds, his eyes reconnected with Zane. “So tell me…how many partners would you say you had on any given tour?”
“Got a calculator?” Zane was being flippant, but it didn’t change the fact that there really was no way for him to give an answer to that question. “Doc, something you gotta understand…we went to all kinds of venues in hundreds of cities, lots of states—hell, lots of countries. I have no way of knowing how many girls I fucked.”
“No keeping track?”
“I know one of our roadies had some app on his phone where he kept some kind of record for me…but no way in hell am I gonna ask him for info, telling him my psychiatrist needs to know how many women I’ve slept with on the road.”
Dr. Harvey started laughing. “So he’s documented every single woman you’ve been with?”
“Ah…I don’t know for sure. He might have missed one or two.”
“That’s all right, Zane. I don’t need an accurate head count. I just need an estimate. Let’s make this easier. In a day, how many times—on average—would y
ou say you engaged in either sexual intercourse or something close?”
“On tour or—?”
“Yes. On tour.”
Zane thought about the last tour—the one with Ethan and their side project band Sinful Disobedience. Jenna had joined Ethan on tour, so Ethan was no longer Zane’s wingman (although copilot would probably be a more apt expression), but the new guys were young and horny, so Zane didn’t seem out of place or over the top in comparison. And he’d been lucky enough that Ronnie, his best and most trusted roadie from Fully Automatic, had been along for the tour. The guy knew his type—blonde, nice tits, small ass—and never failed to line them up. Zane always had his pick, so he got the finest metal-lovin’ pussy from coast to coast. “Uh…two or three times a day.”
“How many partners?”
“At a time or—?”
“Did you engage in sexual relations with multiple partners often?”
Zane shrugged. “Once in a while but no…that wasn’t my usual bag.” He sighed. Goddamn, he was going to sound like a whore. But it didn’t matter. He always left Dr. Harvey’s office not only feeling better but with food for thought. And the more he talked, the better he felt. He didn’t know if it was because the sessions were a lot like confession and he felt absolved of multiple crimes every time he walked out the door, but it worked, so he would keep talking. “Usually, it was just one chick.”
“For how long? I mean…did she stay with you for a day or a week or month or…?”
Zane blinked. Truth was hard sometimes. “One chick at a time.”
Dr. Harvey cleared his throat. “For each session?”
“Um…yeah. So if I had sex three times in a day, it was usually with three different girls.”
The gray-haired man nodded. “Seven days a week…while on tour?”
“Yeah.”
“So…by my estimation, no fewer than fourteen different partners per week, perhaps more. Does that sound right?” Zane swallowed and nodded. God, when he put it that way… “Have you ever heard of sex addiction, Zane?”
Chapter Twenty-three
ZANE DROVE DOWN the freeway, lost in thought. The doctor had once more given him plenty of food for thought. Zane had always found the idea of being addicted to sex comical—mainly because he’d truly been addicted to drugs and alcohol. Sex was nothing like that. Sure, he craved it…wanted it, needed it—but what normal, young human being on the planet didn’t? It was like saying people could be addicted to air.
And yet, as he watched the white lines on the road dart past the car, he knew that what Dr. Harvey had said earlier in the day rang true. Just like with a drug, there was a high to be sought after, something an orgasm (and other chemical reactions) would do to his brain to reward his behavior. At first, Zane argued with Dr. Harvey—well, arguing was a bit strong of a word…but countering might be accurate. He strongly disagreed that he was addicted to sex. His obsession, if it could even be called that, was nothing close to addiction. “Ah,” Dr. Harvey had said. “But how much energy and thought each day do you—or did you—give to sex?”
“I’m sure it wasn’t any more or less attention than any other healthy male in his twenties would give.”
“You might be surprised, Zane.” They’d talked about the effort Zane put into making sure he had a woman before the show, after the show, and overnight in the hotel room when they stayed wherever they’d played. There was never a time on tour when he didn’t have at least two women to fuck—and then, when he and Dr. Harvey talked about his habits when he was off the road—well, they were more subdued, but it was obvious that Zane sought out sex. A lot. And even though the number of girls and amount of times were nowhere near what he experienced on the road, Dr. Harvey assured him the number was “impressive.” He was abstaining from other women now…but he could admit that was unusual, and it was only because of Jennifer.
By the end of the session, though, Dr. Harvey had managed to convince Zane that he was, in fact, a sex addict…and accepting, he told him, was more than half the battle. His first task? He had to buy a pocket notebook and start recording information—writing down how often he thought about sex, what he was doing right before he had the thoughts, and also how often he engaged in sex each day.
Masturbation was not included, although Zane and Dr. Harvey had discussed that Zane would likely have to document that he was thinking about sex at the time. And, while masturbation could potentially be part of the compulsive behavior that made up sexual addiction, it was a safer, healthier way to deal with the need—unless, of course, Zane started jerking off in public.
He assured his shrink that wouldn’t happen.
And he thought it would be cool that he wouldn’t be recording any actual sex for a while. But, by the time he got home, he did have a hard time remembering all the different times he’d thought about sex on the drive home so he could write them down. No, he wasn’t including the times he was thinking about it in the abstract—but thinking instead about the actual physical act…taking a hot, busty blonde in his arms, smelling her neck and hair, running his tongue along her cleavage, squeezing her soft buns in his fists before flipping her around and plunging inside her, letting her hot warmth envelope him in bliss.
The doctor had also mentioned Cognitive Behavioral Therapy…and Zane said as long as it didn’t involve cutting his head open, he was all for it.
Yeah…bad enough they’d be delving deep inside his noggin anyway—but he’d find a way to deal with it. For Jennifer, he’d do it. Hell, for that woman, he’d do almost anything.
* * *
Friday night. Jennifer was actually really excited to see Zane. He almost sounded…different. Less cocky, more humble…more his old self. She was almost afraid of thinking it, of being aware of it—and no way in hell was she going to say it to him.
It didn’t matter. The truth was that everyone changed over time. Living life had a way of doing that to people. Yeah, sure, at the core, she was still the little girl who’d been shy and bullied, but over the years, she’d learned a lot. She’d become a little more vocal when the situation warranted it. She also knew what she wanted. And she could stick up for herself when she needed to. She knew that there was no way she could go back to being shy and quiet or overly introverted…nor would she want to. It had been almost painful to stay to herself that much. She loved the person she was now and felt pride in herself, and she hoped Zoe would look up to her and see her as a role model.
She hoped that Zane could become that too.
For now, though, she was cautiously optimistic. And now that Zane had discovered part of her secret—that she had a daughter—she was okay with him picking them up. She was happy that he’d had the idea of taking Zoe with them too. She’d learned to not worry about her daughter as much when she was away, but she wouldn’t worry one bit if Zoe was with them. Having onsite daycare at work had helped quite a bit with that, but sometimes leaving Zoe with a teenager had left Jennifer a little nervous. Fortunately, Kara was an okay kid.
Zane rang the doorbell a few minutes early. Jennifer scooped Zoe up in her arms after grabbing a purse and diaper bag and pulled the door open.
Holy crap.
Zane looked…healthy. Vibrant. Alive. He hadn’t looked this good in a long time. In fact, he looked younger than the last time she’d seen him. She smiled as he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Rehab looks good on you.”
He smirked. “Thanks.” Then he grinned at Zoe. “Can I kiss you on the cheek too?”
Her baby bounced against her hip, giggling—and Jennifer was surprised, because Zoe didn’t mind Zane pecking her on her cheek. The child wasn’t scared a bit, but usually men freaked her out. That was a great sign. What would it have meant if Zoe had been afraid of her own father?
“I think she likes you.”
“Don’t all women?” She was going to roll her eyes but could tell by the look on his face that he was joking. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah.”
&nb
sp; “Can I carry something?”
“Nope. Got it. Thanks, though.”
They started walking down the hallway when Zane said, “I was going to bring you some flowers but wasn’t sure what to get. I remembered you were allergic to something, but I couldn’t remember what.”
“It’s not as bad as it used to be.”
“Oh.”
“But daisies. You’re thinking of daisies. They used to make me sneeze nonstop, and my eyes wouldn’t stop watering.” They had just arrived at the stairs when Jennifer said, “Oh, crap.”
“What?”
“I forgot the car seat. We’ll have to swing by my car so we can put it in yours.”
“No problem.” Yeah…it was going to be hard getting used to dating Zane again—but she was looking forward to trying. He seemed to be so open and accepting of anything having to do with her daughter—their daughter—and she took that as a good sign.
Hell, at this rate? She might be telling him by the end of the week about his fatherhood status.
Chapter Twenty-four
THUS FAR, ZANE would consider the evening a success. Zoe had been a well-behaved kiddo all though dinner, and she had merely affirmed in his mind that she was cute as all get out. Jen—she was more beautiful than ever, and she smiled and laughed and seemed to enjoy the meal and the company.
Maybe it was true. Maybe he had been the cause of all their breakups, all their fights. If so, his cleaner lifestyle would correct the past.
With Zoe buckled in her car seat and both adults belted in the front, Zane revved the engine to his Charger and backed out of the parking place. He made sure the radio wasn’t too loud, considering there were baby ears inside, and started cruising down the highway. When he took an exit long before where he would to take them back home, Jen asked, “Where are we going?”
Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8 Page 172
