Broken Rock

by K. A. Finn

If he’s really being honest, deep down he doesn’t want to go back to his place. That’s where he’d made the fucked-up decision that brought him to the facility. That’s probably why his folks don’t want him to go back.

  They were the lucky ones who had found him. His house was trashed, and he was lying unconscious on his couch with a fucking needle sticking out of his arm.

  The overdose wasn’t intentional. That wasn’t what he was doing. He doesn’t know how many times he said that to Gregg, to his parents, to the endless hospital staff who wouldn’t give him a second to himself after he eventually woke up after six days in a coma. No one believed him and who can blame them. He hadn’t given them any reason to.

  ‘Hey? You with me?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You zoned out on me. You good?’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry.’

  Gregg nods towards his arm. ‘You going to lay off that?’

  Confused, Tate looks down at his hand scratching away at the inside of his left arm like crazy. He stops and rests his arm on the door. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Can you stop doing that too?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Apologising. You’ve apologised enough.’

  ‘I’ve got a load to apologise for. I’ve fucked everything up.’

  ‘You made a mistake and you dealt with it. You’ve got to move on.’

  ‘It’s gone public, hasn’t it?’

  Gregg makes a face which is all the answer Tate needs.

  He scrubs his hand over his face. ‘Fuck. How the hell did that happen? I thought the plan was to keep it under wraps?’

  ‘Hey, don’t you go looking at me that way. We didn’t say anything. The story just got out a few days ago. Ellen and her team haven’t got a clue where it came from, but it’s...’

  ‘It’s what?’

  ‘Well, it’s accurate.’

  ‘How much is out?’

  ‘All of it. I know it’s not ideal, but—’

  ‘Not fucking ideal. Are you serious? We’re done. You know that, right?’

  ‘The most important thing is getting you sorted. We can figure out the band stuff later. Tate seriously don’t stress about it. Nothing’s been officially confirmed from our side. It’s all speculation at the moment. All you need to do is concentrate on getting through this. You can make a statement in a few weeks. There’s no rush.’

  ‘You got my phone?’

  ‘Tat—’

  ‘Just give me my phone.’

  Gregg sighs and pulls it out of his pocket. Tate powers it up and types his name into the search engine. He scrolls down the screen and his stomach drops. ‘Fuck. Oh this is just perfect.’

  ‘Ignore the headlines. Most of it’s crap anyway.’

  ‘Junkie rock star sent to rehab. Broken Chords frontman, Tate Archer, destroyed his two million Euro Blackrock house when he held a three day party which ended with the singer overdosing on heroine.’ He scrolls further down the screen. ‘Friends of Mr. Archer reported that he’d been struggling with both drugs and alcohol for years. Perfect. Oh and apparently said friends had tried to get me help but I denied I had a problem.’ He looks over at Gregg. ‘Friends?’

  Gregg shakes his head. ‘You know how these things grow arms and legs. Friends could be someone you met at a bar ten years ago and had a drink with. Who the fuck knows? Stop reading that stuff. It won’t do any good.’

  Tate grunts and frowns at the screen. He laughs harshly and curses again. ‘Fucking Astrid.’

  ‘What? Your ex-Astrid?’

  ‘Should have guessed she’d jump on the bandwagon. Listen to this. ‘I caught Tate using drugs a few times while we were together. I tried to convince him to get help, but he wouldn’t stop. I hated that he could only go on stage if he’d had a drink or took something beforehand’. Bullshit. I was always stone cold sober when I went on stage. Every fucking time. And I never used while I was with her.’

  ‘Kinda hoped you were using. Might have explained why you were with her in the first place.’

  Tate glares up at Gregg, but his friend just grins at him.

  ‘What? You know full well she was absolutely not the right person to be with. You were thinking with your dick when you got with Astrid.’

  ‘Cheers. And don’t mention my dick in the same sentence as Astrid.’ He slumps back in the seat and looks out the window. Gregg is right though. Astrid had been another of his mistakes. They’d used each other. He got sex and she moved up the social ladder she desperately wanted to climb.

  He took her to all the star-studded exclusive parties she wanted to go to. Paid for anything she wanted. She wasn’t happy when he ended things after a month. Hell of a way to get back at him. ‘Has any of this come back on you, Dillon, or Luke? Me using I mean.’ It’s one thing him being called a junkie. He didn’t want the rest of the band being tarred with the same brush.

  ‘Ellen’s been contacted about us, but she’s doing her manager thing and shutting them down. It’s all good.’

  ‘Yeah, well I don’t think she’s going to be able to shut all this down,’ he says, holding up his phone. ‘I’m sorry, Gregg.’

  ‘Don’t even go there, Tate.’

  ‘I’ve fucked things up for you guys too.’

  ‘Hey, we’re all okay. It’s not like the three of us are going to end up on the street if you take some time to get sorted – and all this will be sorted. People will forget and move on to the next celebrity scandal. It’ll pass. To be honest, a bit of time off isn’t going to do any of use any harm.’

  He nods but doesn’t feel put at ease. The band may not be on the breadline but that didn’t mean he could take his time getting back to work. And it wasn’t just the guys he had to think about. A lot of livelihoods depended on him getting his shit together.

  ∞

  Tate just about manages to restrain his groan as they pull into his parents’ driveway. His welcoming committee is out in force. ‘Is it too late to go back?’

  Gregg snorts and slaps him on the shoulder. ‘Stop being a wuss and get your ass out of my car.’

  Keeping his head down and eyes away from his parents’ faces he climbs out and walks around the front of the car. He stuffs his hands into the back pockets of his jeans to stop himself from scratching his arm again. It’s a fucking irritating habit he picked up and it’s refusing to let up.

  Even when his mum hugs him, he keeps his eyes away from hers. ‘I’m so glad you agreed to stay with us.’

  Like he had a choice. ‘Thanks for letting me stay.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I’ve got lunch ready. I hope you’re hungry.’

  The thought of sitting through an awkward family meal kills whatever appetite he may have had, but he’s not going to rock the boat so soon by refusing. ‘Thanks.’ He follows his mum back to the house and accepts the hug and pat on the back from his father.

  Tate faces his sister and knows she won’t be welcoming him back with open arms. She barely looks up from her phone. He’s surprised she’s even here. The three painful counselling sessions she attended in the centre with him had been a complete disaster. He’d killed their relationship and hasn’t got a fucking clue how to fix it. His mother must have pulled an emotional blackmail card from her supply. There’s no way Bria would be here otherwise.

  ‘Hey Bria.’

  ‘Hi Tate,’ She glances up from her phone to look at their mother instead of at him. ‘I’ve said hi to him. I’ve gotta go now.’

  ‘Bria—’

  ‘Mum, I told you I’ve got some designs I need to get finished for tomorrow. I really can’t stay.’

  ‘Just stay for lunch, please.’

  Tate puts a stop to this before it gets more uncomfortable. ‘It’s fine, Mum.’ The last thing he wants is what’s already going to be an awkward lunch made so much worse by forcing Bria to stay. It’s glaringly obvious she’d prefer to be anywhere else but here.

  Their mum smiles and nods at Bria. ‘Drive carefully. I’ll call you later.’


  Bria glances over at him before getting into her car and driving away. Becca links arms with Tate and guides him towards the house. ‘She’s really busy at work.’

  Tate nods but isn’t fooled for a second. Bria is pissed off with him, or angry at him, or disappointed in him, or embarrassed by him. She can take her pick, there’s enough to choose from.

  Gregg grabs his bag from his hand before he can stop him and disappears into the annex while Tate is directed to sit on the couch. He parents sit opposite him and look about as uncomfortable as he feels. If this is the shape of things to come, he’ll last till the morning before he does a runner.

  ‘Do you want anything to drink?’

  ‘Mum, I’m grand really.’

  She smiles and clasps her hands together. ‘I’ll check on lunch.’

  His dad waits until she’s out of earshot before he speaks. ‘Thanks for agreeing to stay here for a bit. I’m sure it’s not what you want.’

  ‘It’s grand.’

  Rick snorts and shakes his head. ‘Of course it is. Your mum is just worried about you. Give her a week or two to see you’re doing okay, then you can make your escape.’

  ‘Right. How is she?’

  Rick pauses and blows out a long breath. ‘She’s better than she was. Having you here will help.’

  ‘She can’t keep an eye on me forever.’

  ‘Just give her a few weeks, Tate. That’s all I’m asking.’

  He nods but isn’t fully on board with staying here for a few weeks. ‘How’s Jove?’

  His dad laughs loudly. ‘That horse and you are too similar. He’s a stubborn git too.’

  Tate has to laugh at that. Jove was definitely temperamental at the best of times. ‘I might take him out later.’

  ‘He’d appreciate that. Dara’s been riding him once or twice a week, but he could do with a good run.’

  ‘Dara?’

  ‘Yeah. Himself and Eric have been spending a fair bit of time here. Helped to distract your mum from worrying about you. Dara offered to take Jove around the paddock. He wouldn’t risk setting him lose on the beach but at least he got some exercise. He helped out a little around the farm too when he was free. I was missing those muscles of yours around the place, but don’t worry. There’s still plenty of jobs for you to get stuck into when you’re up to it.’

  Tate nods, but isn’t overly thrilled to know his cousin had been anywhere near his horse. Then again, it’s not like he was in a position to do anything about it. Why should Jove suffer because of his stupidity?

  With the growing pressure of his fuck-up weighing down on him he stands up and points to the annex door. ‘I’ll go unpack before lunch.’ He makes his escape and closes the door behind him.

  Gregg steps out of the bathroom and wipes his wet hands on his jeans. ‘Hey. You needed to escape already?’

  Tate shrugs out of his leather jacket and flops onto the bed. ‘I feel like I’m under a fucking spotlight.’

  Gregg lies down beside him and crosses his arms. ‘Give it a few hours and everything will be back to normal.’

  ‘Our albums are gone.’

  ‘What?’

  Tate turns his head to glare at Gregg. ‘Don’t what me. The collage thing Mum made of our album covers is gone. It was on the living room wall.’

  ‘Oh, right. Well maybe your folks thought seeing that would... I don’t know... stress you out?’

  ‘Acting like they don’t know me is stressing me out. Why the hell would seeing our albums— Oh I get it. Seeing what I’ve fucked up would push me over the edge again and I’d relapse.’ He looks back at the ceiling and scrubs his hands over his face. ‘Fuck!’ He drops his hands to his sides as he continues to glare at the ceiling. ‘For the last fucking time, it had nothing to do with singing or touring or working non-stop.’

  ‘What was it then? We’ve been mates for going on two decades. I’m not going to pretend we’re a bunch of fucking saints by any means, but you took it to a whole new level this time.’

  Tate clenches his jaw to stop himself from telling Gregg to drop it and move on. He knows by now it won’t work.

  ‘So you’ve got to understand why the people who know you the most have a hard time accepting you went from an occasional user to a heroin overdose in a few weeks for no reason.’

  ‘We went through all this in counselling. You want another apology?’

  ‘This isn’t about an apology, Tate. This is about why.’

  ‘I made a mistake.’

  Gregg snorts. ‘You made a mistake? We know you made a mistake. That doesn’t explain why you made the mistake. You’ve had a hell of a lot thrown at you over the last few years and you’ve always picked yourself up and got back to it. What the fuck happened this time?’

  ‘It was just a stupid spur of the moment mistake.’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said fuck off. This was so much more than a spur of the moment decision.’

  ‘I just want to forget about it and get on with my life. And that includes getting back in the studio in a few weeks.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s such a good idea?’

  Tate just looks at him.

  ‘Fine. Whatever. You’re the boss. We’ll be there when you’re ready.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘So what are you going to say?’

  ‘To who?’

  ‘Your adoring public of course.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Where you’ve been? You can’t just pop back like nothing’s happened. The truth is already out. You need to get on top of it. What did Ellen say about it?’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to her yet.’

  Gregg shoves him in the shoulder. ‘Why the hell not? It’s her job to figure out these sorts of things for you.’

  ‘I’d prefer not to say anything about it.’

  ‘Ah come on, mate. You know that’s not going to work. Surely, it’s best to bite the bullet and get it over with in your words. Knock all these exaggerated headlines on the head, including Astrid and her nonsense. Just think about it, okay?’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘So you want to do something this afternoon?’

  ‘I was thinking of taking Jove out. He probably thinks I’ve abandoned him. You can borrow Mum’s horse if you fancy joining me.’

  Gregg snorts. ‘No thank you. There is not chance in hell you’ll get me on the back of one of those things. They’re lethal.’

  ‘But a motorbike is fine?’

  ‘A motorbike can’t think for itself. Big difference, buddy.’

  ‘You’re a strange one, you know that?’ Tate looks over at the door as his mum shouts that lunch is ready. ‘Presume you’re staying?’

  ‘When have you ever known me to turn down your mother’s cooking? And don’t go thinking for one second this is over. You know me, Tate. I will get the truth out of you sooner or later.’

  5

  Chloe pulls into the driveway and smiles as she looks at the bright red door on the cottage. Her gran should be boarding her flight by now and Chloe’s got the place to herself for a month at least. If she knows her gran, she’ll be convinced to stay longer, but a month is a good start. After living with her uncle for the last year, a month to herself is heaven.

  She climbs out of the car and strolls up the gravel path to the door. She stands in the hall and smiles when only silence greets her. After making a cup of tea she wanders outside. At least the overpowering smell is fish is gone. Her gran’s neighbour had finally moved the boat back to the harbour after too many fights. In the end he gave up for the sake of peace.

  She leans on the railing and takes a long inhale of the fresh sea air. With absolutely no plans for the month she intends on doing a lot of drawing, a lot of sleeping, and a lot of nothing else. As soon as school starts she’ll be busy so she has no qualms being as lazy as humanly possible until then.

  She frowns as she spots something moving along the beach towards her so goes
back inside to get the binoculars from the kitchen. She focuses on the far end of the beach and sees a stunning black horse galloping along the water’s edge. It’s difficult to make out details from here, but the rider is male. As the horse approaches he comes into focus and she smiles to herself.

  ‘Well, hello there.’

  Even from this distance he’s one good-looking guy. As the horse and rider near the end of the beach just below her gran’s house, he says something to the horse and straightens his legs so he’s standing tall in the saddle. The horse slows then comes to a stop, snorting loudly as it catches its breath. The rider pats it on the side of the neck then swings his leg over the saddle and drops to the sand.

  Chloe climbs onto the bottom railing and leans over to get a better view. He’s even better up close... well, closer. His dark hair is cut short at the back and slightly longer at the front, so it trails over his forehead. He runs a hand over his short beard, and she frowns.

  ‘Oh dear. Really?’ she mutters to herself. Both hands are tattooed. That probably means he has more. She doubts he’d start with his hands.

  Ignoring his hands she moves back to his face. Yet more tattoos cover the side of his neck and the ear she can see is pierced. Not necessarily a bad thing but not something she’d usually be attracted to.

  He takes off his boots and socks and Chloe utters a silent prayer of thanks as he pulls his shirt off. He drops it on the sand and places his phone on top. The black tank top follows next giving her a more than adequate view of his heavily tattooed impressive chest. Chloe’s mouth drops open as he unfastens his belt and pushes his jeans down his toned legs. He leaves his black boxers on, much to her disappointment, then walks into the sea and dives under a wave. ‘Dear God, what are you doing to me?’

  He surfaces further out and flicks his wet hair off his face. The horse patiently follows along the shore as he spends the next ten minutes swimming back and forth in front of her.

  When he’s done with his swim, he stands up and pushes through the water back to the shore. Watching his body emerge from the sea a little at a time leaves her mouth dry and her cheeks flushed. Chloe has no doubts that image will be the highlight of her summer holiday. After getting dressed again, he takes hold of the reins and pulls himself into the saddle. He says something to the horse and it takes off up the beach at an impressive speed.