He laughed. “Not even close.” Then he told them about his family, his parents’ broken marriage, his rebellious teen years, and how God finally got hold of him when he was seventeen. “It’s like I couldn’t keep running and hiding.”
“You don’t look like the type of guy who would run and hide,” observed Taylor.
“Maybe not so that you would notice. But I hid behind things like sports and popularity and hot chicks and cool cars and stuff like that. It was like this big mask I was wearing — a way to keep people at a safe distance.”
DJ turned to Taylor. “Hmmm . . . that sounds familiar.” Just then, DJ’s cell rang. She checked to see who it was and said, “I better take this.” So she moved away from the table and answered. “Hey, Case, what’s up?”
“Besides living in a battle zone?”
“Your parents still fighting?”
“Well, they’re pretending not to. You know, for the younger sibs. But the looks they give each other . . . the little jabs. Not pretty.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So how’s it going with Taylor?”
DJ wasn’t sure how much to say. More than anything she wanted to respect Taylor’s confidence right now. She didn’t want to do anything that made her feel betrayed. “She’s okay.”
“Meaning she’s right next to you and you don’t want to sound catty?”
“No, actually she’s talking to this cute guy.”
“Probably getting ready to go clubbing?”
“No. He’s a nice Christian guy.”
“Whoa, that sounds all wrong.”
“Or all right.”
“Okay. I was just curious. Now I’m even more curious.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll hear all about it eventually.” DJ watched as Taylor and Terrence continued to talk, and she could tell by Taylor’s expression that she was really listening — and maybe she was actually getting it.
“I better go,” said Casey. “Don’t have too much fun without me, okay?”
“Fun is not how I would describe my day.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Merry Christmas!”
“You too.”
But as soon as Casey hung up, DJ called Rhiannon. She knew it was probably getting late back east, but she also knew Rhiannon needed to hear this. Plus it gave DJ a good excuse to let Taylor and Terrence speak freely. “Rhiannon,” she said quickly, “you’re not going to believe this!” Then she poured out part of the story — not so much about Taylor’s past, but more about how she was talking to Terrence now.
“See,” said Rhiannon happily. “God is at work!”
“Keep praying!”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
“How’s your mom?”
“A little down. But okay.”
“Well, I’ll keep praying for her.”
“Thanks, DJ. And I’ll be praying really hard for Taylor tonight. It sounds like God is up to something.”
“I’ll keep you posted.”
As DJ hung up, she hoped Rhiannon was right. It did seem like God was doing some kind of miracle in Taylor. Yet, at the same time, it seemed so totally impossible. Then again, wasn’t he supposed to be the God of the impossible?
19
“YOU’RE GOING WHERE?” demanded DJ after she rejoined Terrence and Taylor at Starbucks. Taylor had just made a declaration that nearly knocked DJ off her chair.
“LA,” said Taylor coolly. “As in Los Angeles. You know that rather large city in California? My family has a house down there. I think you used to live not too far — ”
“Yeah, yeah.” DJ held up her hands to stop her, then turned and frowned at Terrence. “What is going on here? Can you please shed some light on this or translate for me?”
He made an uncomfortable expression, then sort of smiled. “I was just telling Taylor about this place that a friend of mine runs . . . a place where people with problems can go to get well.”
Suddenly, and for no explainable reason, DJ was imagining a cult. She’d grown up in the Bay Area and was well aware of some of the craziness that went on in certain areas of their state, including Southern California. Also, she questioned what she really knew about this Terrence fellow, except that he was good-looking and had been reading his Bible in public. What if he was out recruiting beautiful young women for some crazy cult where everyone was forced to wear purple?
“Don’t look so worried,” said Taylor.
“But I don’t get it.” DJ peered at Taylor. “What brought this on so suddenly?”
“Terrence and I were talking . . . and I’m trying to get real about my life. I’d think that would make you happy, DJ.”
“But where are you going exactly? And when? And why? And — ”
“Too many questions,” said Taylor.
“I want some answers.”
“Okay. I’d like to go ASAP.”
“ASAP? As in when ASAP?”
“Tomorrow?” Taylor glanced at Terrence with brows raised hopefully.
He shrugged. “I’ll see what we can do.”
“Tomorrow?” shrieked DJ. “Are you nuts?”
“Well, according to you, I am,” said Taylor. “I mean you’ve mentioned it a time or two as I recall.”
“But I so do not get this.” DJ looked from Taylor to Terrence then back to Taylor again. “Seriously, Taylor. What has brought this on?”
Taylor looked evenly back at DJ, but now DJ noticed that Taylor’s hands were shaking a little. Was she nervous? Was she under some kind of spell? What?
“I admitted to Terrence that I have a serious drinking problem.”
DJ nodded slowly. “A serious drinking problem . . .”
“Meaning I may be addicted.”
“I thought you just drank occasionally,” said DJ. “Kind of a binge drinker.”
Taylor looked uncomfortably at Terrence, and he seemed to understand, so he kind of took over. “Look, DJ,” he began gently. “I told Taylor about how I was pretty much an alcoholic before I gave my life to God.”
“I thought you were a teenager,” said DJ.
“Teens can be alcoholics,” he said calmly.
DJ nodded. “Well, yeah, I guess I know that.”
“What you don’t know is how much I’ve been drinking,” said Taylor. “Or how often.”
“How much? How often?”
“A lot. And daily. Morning, noon, night.”
DJ blinked. “How is that possible? I’m your roommate. Wouldn’t I know if you were drinking that much?”
“Most of the time I am quite adept at hiding it.”
“Except when you go on a binge — like a party?”
“Exactly.”
“Oh.” DJ was trying to wrap her head around this.
“Terrence told me about a rehab place, and it hit me . . . I need to go there.”
“Just like that?”
“What?” demanded Taylor. “Do you think I should wait?”
“No, no. Of course, not. I think the sooner the better.” DJ glanced at Terrence. “But, no offence, Terrence, what do we know about this place?”
“I gave Taylor the name of the website. It’s the place I went when I needed help. Their focus is on young adults . . . mostly teens. I think the cutoff is twenty-two.”
“But is it possible to get in immediately?” asked DJ.
“I’m not positive, but I spoke to Marlin — that’s my friend — shortly before Christmas, and he mentioned that things were going slow there now. That’s typical this time of year. Then around New Year’s it gets busy, and the waiting list starts filling up.”
“Oh.”
“So, I think . . . why not beat the rush?” said Taylor. “You know me — I always like to be ahead of the crowd — trendsetter, cutting edge.”
DJ rolled her eyes.
“I thought you’d be glad.” Taylor looked slightly hurt now, and DJ knew she’d better get herself together over this. What if this was legit? What if this was God’s way of
intervening in Taylor’s life?
“I am glad,” DJ said slowly. “Just kind of shocked.”
“If you want, I can call Marlin,” offered Terrence. “Just to make sure that there’s still space available.”
“Sure,” said Taylor eagerly. So Terrence stepped away from the table and made his call.
“This is just so sudden.” DJ looked into Taylor’s eyes. “Are you certain you’re ready for this?”
“Remember what I looked like this morning?”
DJ nodded.
“And yet I was dying to get a drink just hours later.”
DJ nodded again.
“Does that strike you as a bit odd?”
DJ pressed her lips together, replaying the things that Taylor had told her up in the suite. As strange as this all was, it also made sense. “How long have you been drinking like this?”
“Since the rape.”
“But we still don’t know much about this place,” said DJ quietly. “Or Terrence. I mean, he seems nice. But I only met him this morning. What if — ”
“We’re in luck,” said Terrence as he rejoined them.
“Room at the inn?” asked Taylor.
“Yep. Marlin said to go to the website and fill out the forms as soon as you can.”
“No time like now.” Taylor stood. “My mom has a laptop upstairs.” She stuck out her hand to shake Terrence’s. “Thanks for your help.”
Terrence smiled as he grasped her hand. “DJ’s got my number. Maybe we can stay in touch. I’d like to hear how this goes for you.”
“Well, you’ll know where to find me.”
“That’s right.” He let go of her hand, then turned to DJ. “Sorry if this caught you off guard. That’s usually the way stuff like this goes down. Unexpectedly.”
“Yeah . . . I guess.”
“Come on,” urged Taylor, grabbing DJ’s arm. “I need to get to work on this.”
So they hurried back to the suite, and Taylor disappeared into her mom’s room while DJ paced and prayed. Finally, she called Rhiannon. “Sorry, I’m calling so late,” she apologized.
“What’s up?”
DJ quickly filled in Rhiannon and, to her relief, Rhiannon didn’t seem too alarmed. “That’s great.”
“But we don’t know anything about this place.”
“Taylor’s not stupid,” said Rhiannon. “I mean, she does some pretty dumb stuff, but I can’t imagine she’ll go someplace that’s messed up. And won’t her mom check it out too?”
“Actually, they’ve had some experience with rehab places,” admitted DJ. “Her dad goes to Betty Ford pretty regularly.”
“So you don’t need to worry.”
“I guess.”
“Be thankful, DJ. It sounds like this is exactly what Taylor needs. See, God was at work. He is at work.”
So DJ thanked Rhiannon and hung up. Surely, she was right. Besides, it’s not like Taylor was DJ’s personal responsibility. But for some reason DJ felt like she was. It’s like DJ had invested herself in Taylor. She obviously cared about what happened to her. Besides Eva, DJ probably cared more than anyone.
DJ flopped down on the sectional and threw herself into a desperate prayer for Taylor. She asked God to take control, and — if this was a good thing, the right thing — she asked God to open the door to the rehab place. “But if it’s wrong,” prayed DJ, “please, please, please, close that door, lock it, and throw away the key!”
“I filled in the forms,” announced Taylor when she finally emerged from her mom’s room. “I hit Send.” She gave DJ a nervous smile. “Now I just need to talk to my mom.”
“You’re sure about this place?” asked DJ. “I mean, I totally agree that you need rehab — I mean, after what you said. But you’re sure this is the right place?”
Taylor’s brow creased slightly. “It’s hard to explain . . . but it sort of feels right. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah . . . I guess.”
But suddenly Taylor was pacing, as if she wasn’t so sure. DJ noticed her hands were shaking.
“Taylor . . . are you okay?”
Taylor turned and looked at DJ. “You mean besides craving a drink right now?”
“Is that what’s troubling you?”
Taylor closed her eyes and clenched her fists, then nodded.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Could we just go down and get — ”
Just then the door opened, and Eva came in. “Oh, you girls aren’t out tonight?” she asked as she tossed her bag into a chair, kicked off her shoes, and then collapsed next to DJ on the sectional. “Anyone hungry?”
“We were just about to go down for something.” Taylor grabbed up her bag and looked at DJ. “You coming?”
DJ didn’t know what to do, but taking Taylor out to drink seemed like a bad idea. “Don’t you want to tell your mom something,” said DJ quickly.
“What’s going on?” asked Eva.
“Nothing.” Taylor was making her way to the door now.
“Taylor,” said DJ in a firm voice. “Tell your mom what’s going on.”
Taylor looked angry now, and DJ knew this could easily go sideways. She shot up a quick prayer.
“What is it, sweetie?” asked Eva in a kind voice. “Is something wrong?”
Taylor came back over and dropped her bag on the floor, then slumped into a chair directly across from them. “I don’t know.”
“What?” persisted Eva.
Taylor leaned her head back and closed her eyes, emitting a long, weary sigh. “DJ?” she muttered. “Can you tell her?”
Eva turned to stare at DJ now. “What’s going on?”
“Well . . .” DJ tried to think of where to begin. “I think you know that Taylor drinks.”
“Yes?” Eva glanced nervously at Taylor, who was still slumped back with eyes closed. “Did she get into trouble?”
“No.” DJ shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Oh.” Eva looked relieved.
“But she will get into trouble,” continued DJ, “if she doesn’t get help.”
“But she doesn’t want help,” said Eva.
“Maybe she didn’t before . . . but she does now.”
Taylor sat up and stared at her mom. “Let’s cut to the chase. I registered myself to go into rehab. It’s an inpatient treatment center outside of LA. They have an opening now, and if you give permission, I can enter tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Eva blinked, then turned to DJ. “Did you set this up?”
“No.”
“I set it up, Mom. I met a guy — through DJ — and he told me about this place, and it just clicked. I knew that I needed help.”
“Really?” Eva looked stunned and not entirely pleased. Or maybe she simply was reacting the same way DJ had done.
“Or, if everyone thinks this is a bad idea,” said Taylor in an aggravated tone. “I could just go downstairs and get drunk!” She stood and picked up her bag.
“No!” Eva stood. “Stop, Taylor!”
“Because it sounds a lot easier to me.” Taylor was twisting the strap of her bag in her hands now. “And maybe I’m not as messed up as some people think. Maybe I’m just fine. I mean I was functioning. I get good grades. I’m — ”
“No!” declared DJ. “I saw you sick as a dog this morning, wrapped around the toilet, barfing your brains out. And it’s not the first time. Taylor, you told me that you drink daily — morning, noon, and night!”
Eva looked stunned. “Really?”
“Tell your mother the truth, Taylor.”
“It’s true. What DJ said.”
“Oh . . . my!” Eva grabbed hold of the armchair as if to support her from falling.
“And it sounds like this is the best time to get into rehab,” pointed out DJ. “Before New Year’s.”
Eva nodded. “That’s true. I know this for a fact because of Taylor’s father.”
“You’re right,” said Taylor. “You’re both right. But I need a drink so bad
right now that I can’t even see straight. I’m leaving!”
“No!” insisted Eva.
Now DJ stood. She went over to stand by Taylor. “Don’t go,” she pleaded.
“I need a drink,” seethed Taylor.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” said Eva suddenly. “I’ll order room service. And I’ll order you a drink or two, but you have to stay here.”
Taylor seemed to be considering this.
“I’ll call my manager, and he can arrange for your travel tomorrow. I’ll do whatever I need to do to get you into the rehab place.”
“But can I, please, have something to drink?” Taylor looked pitiful, like a child begging for candy.
“Yes, if you stay.”
“And,” added DJ, “if you hand over your fake ID.”
Taylor looked alarmed now.
“That’s right,” said Eva. “If you want a drink, you need to show me your ID.”
Taylor quickly produced the card and reluctantly handed it to her mom. Then DJ talked her into putting on sweats while Eva ordered up food and drinks.
It was a long night, but by the time it was over, it seemed all was in place for Taylor to travel to LA the next day. Because flights were booked, Eva’s manager had arranged for Eva’s tour bus to take Taylor. Then Taylor begged for DJ to go with her and return to Las Vegas on the same bus. She said she couldn’t do it alone. And DJ was actually eager to go. She wanted to make sure that the rehab place was legit and not some weird cult.
But when the wake-up call came at five a.m., DJ wasn’t so sure. Getting Taylor up and ready to travel was no easy task. By six they were packed and loaded onto the bus, which was actually very nice. The bus was barely on the road when both girls tumbled into the king-size bed and slept for several more hours.
By midafternoon, the bus pulled through a set of locking gates in front of what looked like an old hotel, positioned pleasantly by the ocean.
“Not bad,” said DJ as they went inside.
“I guess.” Taylor’s hands were really shaking now. DJ suspected that Taylor wanted to make a run for it. Well, there was nothing DJ could do if she did. And for all DJ knew, she might make a run for it before the day ended.
DJ handed over the paperwork that Eva had given her, then she hugged Taylor and told her she loved her. After that Taylor was escorted down a corridor and DJ exited the building. Without saying a word to the driver, DJ got back on the bus, and before it was even back through the gates, DJ was sobbing. She wasn’t even sure why. Maybe she was just tired or emotionally drained. Or maybe she just really cared about Taylor. DJ went back to the bedroom in the rear of the bus and closed the door. She knew that all she could do now was pray. And so she did.
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