Tell Me Why It's Wrong

by B. Celeste

  Blood drains from my face. “It’s not—”

  “You need to go,” he informs me, his tone full of venom and not offering any room for explanation.

  Despite feeling the icy tone penetrating my skin, I still try. “But I’m n—”

  “Just stop. Jesus. I don’t allow that shit here anymore. I’m sure you know my past with things like that, but I’m clean now. I’ll call you a ride to take you to the shop where your car is, but that’s it. Nothing fucking more.”

  His eyes snap between me and what I’m holding before he shakes his head and walks out, slamming the door behind him while cursing. My palm shakes as I lower the shirt and syringe and try calming my racing heart. I can hear him mumbling until it’s distant enough that I know he’s downstairs. Only then do I take a few slow breaths before doing what needs to be done, blowing out a breath before inserting the needle.

  I channel my thoughts, so I don’t focus on the slight pain of the injection or the shake to my hands or the angry host waiting for me to leave.

  One—I have medicine that controls my autoimmune disease and will make me feel better.

  Two—I had a comfortable bed to sleep in last night, even if it was short lived.

  Three—my car is fixed.

  What Garrick thinks of me doesn’t matter, but I’m still shaken when I gather my things and climb out of bed. I’ve never been one for walks of shame, and this feels like one I’ll never come back from. Me a drug user? I’ve never even smoked pot in my lifetime much less anything else. The only thing that comes close is the cigarette I tried once that Moffie’s brother gave me, but I hacked up a lung so bad it turned me off from them completely. He’d laughed, I’d blushed, and I swore I wouldn’t try anything like that again just to get a guy’s attention.

  Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I avoid any possible interaction with the two men I know are home as I slip out the front door. It doesn’t stop me from feeling the burning gaze plastered to the back of my head as I walk down the driveway.

  Ten minutes later, a car pulls up outside the gate, and I find myself looking over my shoulder at the house one last time. A curtain is drawn back in the living room, but I know from the dark hair that it’s not Garrick watching me, it’s Chase.

  I don’t offer him a wave. A smile. Anything. Instead, I drop my head, grip my bag, and depart for the car garage where my temporary home is parked.

  Do not cry, Rylee.

  I suck in a breath and hear the driver ask if I’m all right. Grandpa Al used to say that it’s okay to not be okay, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell everyone I encounter.

  So, I give him the default answer that I feed everybody because it’s easier than explaining the truth. “Yeah,” I croak, clearing my throat. “I’m fine.”

  I’m sure he can tell it’s a lie, but he’s not paid to care. That can be the fourth thing I’m grateful for today.

  5

  Garrick

  The guys all cuss me out after I tell them to take ten before we start again. I grab a bottle of water and drop down onto the leather couch behind all the instruments, scrubbing my face before letting out a heavy sigh of frustration.

  Before I left the house this morning, Chase asked what happened with Rylee. It’s rare I bring anyone home and even rarer I lose my shit and kick them out the next morning. Even the women that tend to piss me off get better treatment than Rylee did. But what else was I supposed to do? I know my strengths and weaknesses and being around any type of substance could make me spiral.

  I can’t afford to take time off for another trip to rehab, and neither can the band.

  “What’s got you in such a shit mood?” Zayne asks, plopping down beside me and nudging my leg with his knee. “The guys are all whipped from last night and you’re riding them hard over one song. Maybe you should have stayed longer and gotten laid so you’d be less tense today.”

  In my defense, Jax keeps messing up the bridge. He came in hungover after only a few hours of sleep, so it’s not completely on my poor mood alone that we’re having to keep replaying the same song. “If we can’t get it right next time, we’ll move on to a new one,” I offer, not addressing his other comment.

  My friend studies me for a long moment while I down half my water to relieve my sore throat. I don’t say anything as he shakes his head and settles an arm on the back of the couch. “You’ve always been a good liar unless something’s bothering you. But I’m not going to beg you to tell me. I’m sure it has to do with that chick you helped last night.”

  Eyeing him, he grins knowingly. “Taz called me this morning. You know he’s a gossip.”

  What a shithead. “That man gossips more than Jax does, and that asshole is practically a middle school girl. Did Eddie tell him?”

  Zayne snorts over the accurate comparison. “That’s a good way to describe Jax. Yeah, Eddie told him. Taz told me he thought it was cool you helped the girl out in her situation. Ed, too, since he decided to blabber on about what an upstanding citizen you are compared to some people he’s encountered during tows. Must be because the Aussie in you.”

  “Situation,” I spit, the word tasting sour in my mouth as I glare at the floor. Reaching into my pocket for a wild cherry-flavored Lifesavers, I glower at the candy and rip it out of its wrapper with more aggression than necessary. “Her situation is that she’s wasting her money on the wrong type of shit instead of supporting herself. I get that addiction is a struggle, but that doesn’t make it suck any less when you’re taken advantage of.” When I see him gape at me with those unblinking whiskey eyes women go fucking nuts over, I let my irritation out. “What?”

  Sitting forward, he rests his elbows on his knees and turns his head toward me. “What exactly happened? You normally brush this sort of shit off. People use us all the time.”

  He’s right. I’ve learned to handle the users that come and go. It’s part of the lifestyle since I made a name for myself. But when you’re the giver, you need to set limits because the takers never will.

  “She brought drugs into my house, mate. You know I can’t have that around me. Last time it happened I nearly relapsed.”

  “But you didn’t,” he reminds me firmly, knowing the low moment I’m referring to. It was at his party, so I should have known what I was walking into—drugs, alcohol, and live porn. His get-togethers are notorious for stunts like that, even if he doesn’t always engage in the activities himself. And I know it’s because of me.

  All the guys vowed not to have anything that could trigger me on the tour bus, but I knew that the stops we’d made at hotels were when they’d use whatever drug was given to them in their respective rooms. Coke was their go-to like mine was and it’s because I got them hooked in the first place.

  I promised Mum and Chase that any time I came close to using again, I’d tell them first. And the night of the party in question, I was shaking so bad from watching the powder disappear as partygoers snorted it that I had to excuse myself and call home at almost 4a.m. before I did something stupid.

  Mum was sleeping but answered in full alarm, talking me down from relapse, and Chase picked me up because I was in no mindset to drive. Family means everything to me, and I know putting myself in the position of near death to get bombed isn’t worth risking their sanity. Hearing Mum’s tear-stricken plea to get clean before she had to see paramedics rush me to the hospital, or worse, was more than enough for me to say I’m done.

  “Bro.” Zayne punches my arm, brows drawn as he sees me come back from the train of thought that I wandered in. “Are you sure it was what you thought it was? Because Taz—”

  “Don’t you think I know what I saw? I’ve been there before, Zayne.”

  He raises his hands at my harsh tone. “I know. Shit. I’m just saying. Taz’s younger brother, you know the mechanic at the garage, says he felt for this chick because he knows what it’s like to have health issues. I mean the girl is basically living in her car because she can’t afford anything right no
w on top of her medicine. That’s got to suck for her.”

  I blink in confusion, having no clue what he’s talking about.

  Zayne senses the need to explain. “You know my mom has rheumatoid arthritis, right?” I nod slowly, unsure of where this is heading since he’s not that close to his mother. He’d been put in temporary foster care when his parents went through some shit and ended up going from home to home for a lot longer than expected before his family got him back. Not that he’ll admit it, but he still holds onto that despite helping his family out with whatever they need, his mother’s medicine and treatment plans included. “Well, she’s gone through the ringer trying to figure out the best kind of medicine to take. The pills she took didn’t work, so they put her on injections.”

  “I thought you said your mum had to go into a clinic and get some sort of treatment?”

  He sighs. “She does now. But they don’t put people on that right away. They work up to it. Just shut up for a second and hear me out. Taz’s brother, Mikey, and this girl—don’t worry, they wouldn’t give me her name because Taz has some confidentiality for his business—have to deal with treatment that cost a shit ton of money. One time I remember Mikey saying the medicine he needs can cost over $10,000 or some shit without insurance and he needs that to live. I mean, his brother makes sure he’s covered since his diagnosis, but people like your girl don’t always have it that easy if no one is up to bat for them. I had to watch my mom go through it too and it’s rough.”

  My hand goes to my chin, scratching along the slight stubble growing on my jawline until I can gather my thoughts. A small amount of guilt builds in the bottom of my stomach over the possibility of what he’s saying. “Why exactly are you telling me this?”

  He gives me the same look that he shoots Jax when he says something stupid. “The guys at the garage found where your girl was storing her used needles and whatnot. Taz and Mikey recognized what they were right away because they have a needle collection just like it that they drop off at medical centers for waste. Experience, you know? And when she came in to collect her car Taz straight up asked if she’d been sleeping in it. Guess she wouldn’t say much, but enough for them to give her some shelter pamphlets they keep around.”

  My shoulders straighten. If what he’s saying is true, I kicked a homeless girl out of my house for using medicine she needs.

  Nice going, asshole.

  “Fuck.” I drop my face into my open palms and grumble to myself.

  Zayne pats the back of my shoulder. “You didn’t know.”

  “She didn’t look sick,” I tell him.

  “Does my mom?”

  Well… “Not really.”

  He gives me a pointed look. “Did she look like a user? You’d know the signs. We both would.”

  I curse again after thinking about it, standing and gripping the back of my neck. The guys all look at me with curiosity as I head toward the door. “Let’s stop for the day. We can figure out another time to come back.”

  There’s a distant, “Thank fuck,” from Jax followed by a relieved sound escaping Manning who was starting to get red-faced when I’d cut us off to redo the end.

  It’s Zayne who asks, “You going to be good? I could come with. Emotional support.”

  I shake my head, feeling like scum of the earth as I pull the door open. “I need to fix this mess myself, but cheers.”

  They all wave me off as I snatch my keys from my pocket and head toward my car.

  Rylee tried to explain this morning, but I wouldn’t give her the time of day. Guilt crashes into me even though my reaction is semi justifiable. I’ve been burned by people who try getting away with things because I show them even the slightest attention.

  That’s an excuse, my conscience says. And I refuse to think about why I have the urge to make it up to her.

  I pull around the back of Eastside Garage where I’ll most likely be left alone. There’s an employee-only entrance Zayne told me to use so any customers up front waiting for their cars to be finished won’t see me enter.

  Taz’s office is in the furthest corner in the shop area, right where my first mate told me he’d be going over paperwork. I don’t know the man well, but I know he’s a workaholic with the determination to expand his business. Zayne used to tinker on a few junkers they kept here before his schedule became packed with Violet Wonders business. Sometimes I even wonder if he regrets agreeing to get back together with us to tour again. I knew he was content being behind the scenes, which is another reason I think the public will be disappointed when they hear he won’t be going solo—something I asked when we were alone the other day point blank.

  His exact words were, “Don’t be a fucking idiot.”

  “Hey, Garrick.” Taz takes my hand, grip tight as we shake before he gestures toward a stained green upholstered chair across from his desk. It looks like his guys have come in here after working on a few cars to sit down and chat with him, but I couldn’t care less.

  Taking a seat, I drape an ankle over my opposite knee. “Rylee already took her car,” I state, needing confirmation anyway.

  He nods. “Bright and early. Looked a little off, but we all have those days.”

  “Off?”

  Taz leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “You know the situation. Most people who have to take residence in their vehicles have a reason to. But if there’s anyone who can manage to pull their self together, it’s her. Headstrong. I can tell. It’s in her eyes.”

  Nodding slowly, I sit back in the chair. I guess it isn’t just me she’s mesmerized with one look. “I need to know where she went. I might have made a mistake.”

  His brows raise. “What kind of mistake? She do something she wouldn’t have?”

  “No, nothing like that.” I glance around the room. There’s a corkboard with a few different business cards, advertisements, and pamphlets hanging on it. “You told Zayne you gave her information on a homeless shelter, right? Do you think she’ll go there?”

  There’s hesitation on his face that doesn’t make me feel confident. “Can’t be sure. She seems stubborn, so I suppose it’ll depend how desperate she gets.”

  I don’t like the sound of that. “How many times have you come across situations like this?”

  “Here? A lot. California isn’t a cheap place to live, especially not where the celebrities are. People think they can move here for a shot at stardom, and then learn real quick it doesn’t always work out right away, if ever.”

  California has the biggest homeless population in this country, a fact I never thought of much until I brought Rylee home and Googled it out of curiosity.

  Squeezing my eyes closed, I thumb my lids. “How dangerous is it to be sleeping in your car? Anything can happen out there.”

  “Can I ask why you want to know? I mean, anyone Zayne vouches for must be a decent person, but I can’t help but wonder why you’re so invested in this girl. I didn’t think you knew her.”

  His curiosity isn’t surprising, but not even I can explain it properly. “Guilt mostly,” I admit, clearing my throat. “There was a misunderstanding. Or I think there was. I’d like a chance to apologize if I can.”

  “You’re already paying for her car repairs and the towing,” he points out. “That’s more than most people would do, especially in your position. What more do you want to do for her?”

  A small smile curls up my lips. “You have a girlfriend? Wife? Significant other?”

  He gives me a slow nod, curiosity laced in the motion. “Wife.”

  “Do you do the bare minimum when you fuck up instead of finding ways to apologize to her?”

  Taz winces. “She’d have my balls if I didn’t make an effort.”

  I snort. “Exactly. I mean, Rylee and I aren’t anything special. But that doesn’t mean I don’t owe her an apology for being an asshole. At least I can own up to that.”

  He considers that for a moment, watching me carefully. There’s something about hi
s pointed gaze that I force myself to acknowledge. I don’t look away or break contact, and that seems to gain his respect. Dad taught me the power of eye contact when I was younger, saying that people will see your true motives if you let them look into your eyes for even a second.

  Whatever Taz sees must be worth giving me what I ask for. “If she winds up at a shelter, it’ll be the woman’s one over on Weller Ave by the old strip mall. Won’t promise you that she’ll pop up, but it’s a start.”

  I stand. “Thank you.”

  “Garrick?” he calls out. Stopping at the door, I turn to him. “Who do I contact about the bill?”

  Smirking, I pull out my phone and give him the number to my manager, Michael, before heading out of his office. A few mechanics notice me and stop what they’re doing. One waves, others gape. It never ceases to amaze people when I show up places. I’m not the most personable or best liked guy like Zayne is. I tell it how it is, even if my bluntness gets me into trouble, and I have a reputation that I can’t seem to change no matter how hard I try.

  Some people will always see me as the stuck-up rich rocker who always gets his way.

  But something tells me Rylee is going to give me a run for my money.

  6

  Rylee

  I’ve worked inside worse places than the rundown McDonalds currently offering me spotty Wi-Fi. I ordered one of their sad, wilting salads and a water despite the judgmental look I received from the teen behind the counter because I felt guilty for taking up a seat without ordering much. Though it doesn’t look like many other people mind doing the same without handing over cash for crappy food.

  Perched at a table in the farthest corner from the customers coming in and out, I set up my sluggish laptop that my parents bought for me as a high school graduation present and search through the latest tabloids online. One of my biggest competitors posted pictures of Garrick rushing out of the recording studio where Violet Wonders is working on their next studio album. It was from days ago—the same day I was sent packing from the subject’s house.