by Jaye Cox
“No, unfortunately we’re not. I broke a very special promise to her. That I wouldn't ever let them down and I did. I guess I always knew I would, but having them believe in me felt so good. Today is the first time we’ve spoken to one another since Amelia's funeral.” I pause and glance at Sasha.
“Do you think you’ll be friends again now?” she asks.
“All I know for sure right now, is she doesn't hate me. That thought has haunted me for a long time.” I smile.
“One last question before we wrap up for the night. How do you feel about someone close to you stabbing you in the back? Selling your story to the media and painting you as the bad guy?”
“Honestly, today’s happened so fast that I have to catch up. What do I think? Well, if I ever find out who it was, they’ll wish they’d never been born. However, painting me to be the bad guy? All I can say is that it's the truth. That's me and I'm not sorry for it. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll baby, and all that shit.”
“We have a possible source who’s given us a name.” That piques my curiosity.
“Who?”
“This guy,” she says, holding out her phone to me.
As I look at the photo, I go from calm to murderous in a split second. I hate the fucking weasel, but I never thought he’d sell us out. I rip the mics from my body and look directly into the camera. “Avery, you’d better run before I get downstairs.”
I hear Oliver making them cut the camera and then Mickki comes flying around the corner, trapping me in his arms. It might not make sense to anyone else, but growing up how we did, it was the way we coped.
“Please don't, for me. It's taken care of, I promise,” he whispers in my ear.
“Is he dead?” I snarl.
“Of course not,” he says.
“Then it's not taken care of. We trusted that prick with everything.”
“Yeah, I know. Let's go find some seedy little bar in the middle of nowhere and get shit-faced. We can do whatever you want to do and we'll deal with this mess tomorrow.”
“I'm so angry, Mickki.” I'm so angry my whole body is shaking.
“I know, but he isn't worth a jail sentence.”
“Let's go. But can we bring Sasha, please? I need to apologise again for fucking things up.”
I go over and thank Lacey for the interview. I'm an asshole and have no doubt her boss wanted to see me lose my shit, it sells. I leave some security here to help her pack up and organise to get her back to Sydney. I’ll deal with the weasel in my life tomorrow. As for tonight, fuck everything and everyone. It's time to get shit-faced with my friends, to forget the demons I live with every damn day, because if I get fucked up enough I don't feel like I'm a pathetic excuse for a man. Tonight, I'm Eddie Diamond and I'm a fucking rock star, baby.
Chapter Four
Callie
Gripped with fear, I open my eyes, and as they adjust to the darkness I feel my arms and my clothes. It’s then I realise I’m not covered in his blood. The nightmares don’t come as often as they used to. I practice some deep breathing exercises I was shown, but I can’t seem to calm down this time.
Sitting up, I switch on my lamp and get out of bed. I quietly tiptoe down the hallway, making sure to not wake everyone in the house. My sister is the sweetest woman you will ever meet, but just not until after nine in the morning. If you happen to wake her from her beauty sleep it’s easier to just hide or run. Turning on the light in the bathroom, I pull the door shut behind myself. I take a long look at my reflection in the mirror, my face is now fuller than it has been in a long time, but the bags under my eyes make me look tired and I blame the wrinkles on years of smoking, a nasty addiction I managed to kick a few years ago. I almost want to cry because I wasted so many years, the one’s I should be able to look back on and think how good I looked or how hot I was. Instead, for me they’ll be remembered as the worst years of my life.
My doctor thinks my drug addiction, that started with over-the-counter pain medication, stemmed from post-partum depression that was left untreated. Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t, I just know that I should have been stronger. I used to justify it as me being a sixteen-year-old girl who had a baby and had to grow up overnight. My ex-husband was only seventeen when we had Beau. Our parents decided he should drop out of his senior year of high school and get a job to support us, and we got married before the baby came. We never truly loved each other, we were just kids having fun which lead to bills and real life. We stayed together for a couple of years, until the constant fighting pushed us to breaking point and we went our separate ways. That was when I started smoking dope. I couldn’t sleep when Beau was with his dad and, having just turned eighteen, I would go to the pub with Billy, who was two years older than me. That’s when I met the first of the many drop kicks who helped feed my addictions. Once again, I justified my drug use. Beau was with his dad, so what harm would it be doing it when he wasn’t around?
Over the years, I was out of control. I barely had Beau around he spent most of his time with his dad, who would say he’s a boy and wanted to be with him. I was so high or drunk I didn’t care. I never worked a day in my life, instead relying on my next pay from the government. Now that I look back on it, the whole situation makes me sick, the old me makes me sick. My sister, Jules, and I were close as young children, and just thinking how easily I cut her from my life when she called me out over my drug use really hurts. Especially when, after treating her like that, what happened with Billy, and every other fuck up I managed to make over the years, she took me in, helped me get sober, and has supported me for the last five years.
Today is just not going to be my day. I had a nightmare after months of not having one, I have a headache from hell and a dose of self-pity —I might as well wash it all down with a coffee. Waking up at four in the morning is never a good way to start a day, but I managed to get in a run as soon as the sun came up, and now the house is spotless. I see Jules sleepily walking into the kitchen, she works from home and sets her own hours. She sells a new type of makeup and does vlogs about it. The product is quite amazing and can cover my scar and make it look like it isn’t even there. Sometimes it’s good to not see the constant reminder of one of my lowest days.
“Callie, can we talk?” Jules asks. Instantly I’m worried that she knows I want to move out. Panic washes over me that she thinks I don’t appreciate what she’s done for me because I do, more than she could ever imagine.
“Sure,” I say shakily. Why am I so nervous? The last time I was this nervous was my first drug test after I’d decided to get sober and asked to see Beau again. His dad would only agree if I underwent random drug testing, which was fair.
“Are you taking drugs again? Before you say anything, you’ve been acting weird around me, almost avoiding me, always sitting in your room, and now the house is so clean we could eat off the floor.”
I laugh. I’ve been avoiding her but not because I’m using again, because I’m too chicken-shit to actually talk to her about moving out, and now I pretty much have to explain myself.
“I’m glad you think this is funny,” she says, pulling her pissed off face and crossing her arms over her chest.
“No, I’m not using again. We do need to talk though. I’ve decided I think it’s time I move out. I’m ready.” I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. “I’m sure you and Mike would like to have the house back, especially now.”
“That’s what you’ve been hiding from me? You could’ve told me. I love having you here, but I think you’re ready too. I was just scared for a minute.”
“Could be the pregnancy brain kicking in,” I say with a smile. She doesn’t know that I know, but it’s been obvious for a few weeks. The look on her face now is priceless.
“You know?” Is all she says.
“I’ve had my suspicions for a few weeks.”
“I’m almost past my first trimester, we were waiting until at least twelve weeks to say anything,” she says, rubbing her
hand over her stomach. If anyone will make an amazing mother it’s her. Jules had a stillborn baby before Billy died and she hasn’t been ready to have another baby until now. I think the reason she’s spent so much time helping me was to keep herself busy.
“I’m so happy for you,” I say, making her give me a hug. My phone starts ringing and I reach in my pocket to retrieve it. I take a look at the screen and when I see the name, I panic and throw it across the room. Luckily it lands on the carpet in the living room. Jules looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. She walks over to my phone, that’s still ringing, and I see her face drop when she looks at the screen. I don’t need to say anything, she knows why I reacted that way. My brother’s wife is calling and she hasn’t spoken to me in almost ten years. I saw her five years ago at a funeral, but she barely even looked at me. I know her and Jules still talk, but she blamed me for Billy’s death.
“Maybe you should call her back,” she says, handing me my phone that’s now stopped ringing.
“I don’t know if I can,” I say, taking the phone. “Can we talk later, I need to call Olivia.”
Jules knows when I’m having a moment of weakness I call Olivia. As much as she helps me here at home, she doesn’t understand addiction; some days are so much harder than others. Today is proving to be one of those hard days.
Back in my room, I stare at my phone with the missed call message on my screen and I’m taken back to the last day we spoke. It’s a day I remember like it was yesterday, a day I will never forget. The events that unfolded are forever etched it my mind.
September 25th 2009
Today is the day I die. I’ve written my goodbye letter to Beau. The first copies are next to me in a pile of ash, still smouldering. Excuses…They were full of FUCKING EXCUSES. That's the thing about being an addict, somewhere between coming down and getting high again you see yourself for what you really are and it's not pretty. Reality is harsh when you’ve done terrible things. It’s dark down here. It’s my fault my brother is gone and won’t be around for his family.
I wash down a handful of pills with some vodka. I'm better off dead. Every time I close my eyes I see the bullet, the blood - lots of blood. I sit in the bath in my favourite dress, the letter I have written is by the sink. I hope one day my family can understand I couldn't face the guilt. I saw the way everyone looked at me yesterday at Billy’s funeral - the chain of events that unfolded because of me has lead me here. As I place the razor on my skin, it cuts just enough that I can watch one single drop of blood hit the water. This is it - this is how I die. My whole life boils down to a junkie sitting in a bathtub in her best dress. Pressing the razor harder, I watch as the blade slices through my skin. I feel the separation as blood rushes from my veins and the bath begins to change colour. I hope once I'm gone everyone will stop worrying about me, I hate that they worry. Closing my eyes, I lay back and wait for the darkness to take over.
Barely lucid, I hear screams and feel my body being pulled from the water, the feeling of floating turns into a thump on the ground. I open my eyes and the room is spinning. The tiles are cold, I can feel them pressing against my skin. "Let me go, please," I cry out. “I can't be here anymore, I can't live with this eating at me."
"No! You don't get to leave me here to pick up the pieces of your death as well as his. I won't forgive you for what you’ve taken from me. It should’ve been you, but for some reason God took him from us. You don't get out of it this easy."
"I WANT TO DIE!" I scream.
"Well, you don't get too," she says simply before my eyes flutter shut for what I hope is the last time.
Even that day wasn’t enough for me to want to stay clean. I spent a month in the hospital and made a half-assed attempt to stop using, but as soon as I walked out into freedom and my sister turned her back I was straight back to my loser boyfriend and high.
A text message pulls me from that time and back to the present. Reading the text. I see that she wants to meet me at a small café close to where Billy’s grave is. He and his daughter were both cremated and have plaques in a special garden at the cemetery. I spend the next half an hour typing and retyping a long message telling her I can’t meet her, and each time I read it back it’s excuse after excuse. It’s time I face her, and if she’s trying to extend an olive branch, maybe I shouldn’t ignore it. I simply send back an okay.
I’m so nervous about seeing her after so long, I’m sweating like a teenage girl going through puberty. With shaky hands, I push the café door open. A quick scan of the room provides some relief when I realise she isn’t here yet. I order a cappuccino and find an empty seat in the corner of the room. I fiddle nervously with the bracelets I wear to cover my wrist. The doorbell chimes and my heart starts racing, I know it’s her even before I look up. She still looks as beautiful as ever, her skin is naturally tan and her jet-black hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. Her whole look almost feels like this is going to be a business transaction. A small smile tugs at her lips when we make eye contact, that makes me feel a little better and the feeling of unease starts to wash away.
“Hi,” she says in a timid voice, as if she’s just as nervous about being here as I am.
“How have you been?” I ask, trying to my make small talk.
“I’m doing great. I’m finally in a good place mentally and that’s kind of why I’m here.” Straight to the point, I see. I know she’ll always blame me for Billy’s death, I’ll always have that burden. I’ve learnt to accept that I can’t change it, as much as I wish I could, so now I have to try and make peace with that.
“Okay,” I say sceptically as a young girl approaches with my cappuccino and places it in front of me. She looks at Sasha, who shakes her head.
“I’m not sure how much Jules has filled you in,” she says, turning to look back in my direction. “Or how much you remember from when Amelia died. At the time, I had a friend called Eddie, the guitarist from Black Diamond.” She pauses as I scoff and roll my eyes, I knew that she was friends with some rock star before my niece died but didn’t realise it was him. “From your reaction, I take it you’ve seen the newspapers. I’ve been talking with his brother, Mickki, and well, he’s told me about Eddie’s drug use.”
“So, what, you think because I was a user that I can give you advice?” I snap. I don’t know where my sudden outburst comes from, but something about that guy rubs me the wrong way and just hearing his name sets off a rage inside me.
“No, not at all. Please, let me finish.” I signal with my hand for her to continue. “Eddie’s doing an interview tonight. Mickki knows that Eddie talking about Amelia and me is going to set him back, and I don’t even know if I can face him yet, but the point is, I always told Eddie I would somehow pay him back for all his financial help. He still deposits money into my account every month for the last five years. I haven’t touched it besides the portion I agreed would go to Amelia’s charity, but now I know a way I can pay him back”
“What does all that have to do with me?” I never knew I could feel so many emotions at once. Blood boiling rage, remorse, heartbreak —it’s all so overwhelming.
“I hate to have to call in a favour, or ask anything of you, after the way we left things all those years ago. I wish I’d been strong enough back then to see that Billy was just being the amazing person he was, he would have gone to the end of the earth for you and your sister. I just wanted to blame you because it had to be someone's fault.”
“Please,” I sob. “I can’t go back and think about it anymore today. It’s still so real for me.” I feel the backlog of tears that have been building up roll down my cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she says, placing her hand on mine. “To cut a long story short, Eddie needs someone to kick his ass and help him get sober, before he loses everything and everyone in his life. I think you’d be perfect especially after Jules told me you were looking for a new job.”
That sneaky little so and so knew I was looking for a new job, there really isn’t
much you can hide from her.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “There’s no way could I help that arrogant, narcissistic asshole.”
“Deep down he really is a good guy, he just doesn’t know how to control his lifestyle.”
“Because being rich and famous is so bloody hard. I can barely hold myself together at the best of times,” I snap.
“Please, just think about it, you might be surprised. He could help you face some of your demons head on, too,” she says, looking at her watch as if this conversation is keeping her from something.
“I can’t do it. You’ll have to find someone else,” I say, pushing my chair out. I’ve had enough of this conversation. I had a crazy thought that maybe we could have, I don’t really know what I thought, but it definitely wasn’t this. Sasha stands and holds out an envelope.
“Inside is what Mickki and I decided is a fair wage and a USB, please watch it all before making up your mind.” I take the envelope purely out of curiosity to see how much babysitting a rock star is worth. “Mickki would like an answer within twenty-four hours. I’ve included his contact details and you already have mine.” I nod my head, I’m not exactly sure what to say after that. “I have to go sort out some stuff, but let us know either way.” I’m glad I ordered a to go cup now, we both walk out together. “It was nice seeing you again,” she says before getting into a car which is parked in front of the coffee shop. “We should meet up for coffee again when I’m not so busy.”
“Sounds good,” I say, watching her close the door and drive away. As soon as she’s out of sight I tear the envelope open. I put the USB in my pocket before unfolding the paper. I have to read it twice to make sure my eyes aren’t lying to me, there are way too many zeros. That kind of money could set me up for a long time. I should go and speak to Olivia and see what she thinks I should do. I open the paper a third time and yep, the number is right. I shoot a text to Olivia and hope she’s up for a chat. Before I’d opened the letter I was so sure I didn’t want to help him just because, well frankly, I don’t like him, I don’t know why, there’s just something about him. But I guess I wouldn’t have to be his friend, it would just be a job, not everyone has to like their boss or clients. I’ll talk with Olivia first, then I’ll call this Mickki guy and see what the job would entail.
