by Lane Hart
“A little,” he replies as he shivers.
“Here, let’s get you covered up,” I say, as I reach for the covers and pull them up to his shoulders.
Even when I cover him, he keeps shivering.
“I don’t know…if I can…do this,” he says, teeth chattering while he blinks his sad chocolate eyes open to look at me. I swear he looks more pitiful than a puppy that’s been run over. I don’t know whether to hug him or put him out of his misery. “Let me have a sip…just a little bit…of…of something…anything.”
“You know I can’t do that,” I tell him as I brush the brown strands of wet hair from his forehead with my fingers. “If you drink something now, tomorrow you’ll be right back here, starting the cycle all over again.”
“I just want it…to stop,” he says.
“You can get through this,” I promise him. “I know it’s not going to be easy, but in a few days, you’re gonna feel so much better.”
“Or…I’ll be dead.”
“You’re not going to be dead,” I say. “I won’t let that happen.”
Although, I really need to do some research on alcohol withdrawal to see the warning signs for when a doctor is needed. Maybe Ford can do that while I stay with Ben.
“I’m gonna empty the trash, and then I’ll be right back,” I tell him as I pick up the smelly can and hold it out away from me as far as my arms can reach.
Downstairs, I find Ford sitting on the sofa with a video game controller in his hands.
“I need your help,” I tell him.
“Yeah, what’s up?” he asks as he sets the controller on the empty sofa cushion beside him.
“Ben is pretty sick. Could you take this can out and put a new bag in it?” I ask, since I don’t yet know where the garbage cans are, or anything else in the house, for that matter.
“Oh-kay,” he drawls. When he stands up and takes a step closer, he reels back and slaps his hand over his face to cover his nose. “What the fuck?” he asks, voice muffled.
“He got sick. You may want to hurry before he does it again on the bedroom floor,” I point out.
“Jesus,” Ford grumbles, but takes the can from me and jogs off with it outside through the kitchen.
I wait for him in the living room, listening to see if I hear Ben. So far, so good.
Ford makes it back in record time; not just an amazing singer but apparently, a sprinter. “Here,” he says, handing me the can back with a new clean liner in it.
“Great, thanks,” I say. “Now, could you do some research on withdrawal? See if he’s okay to stay here or if we should take him to the hospital?”
“We shouldn’t take him to the hospital unless it’s an emergency,” Ford declares. “The media would be all over it, and that would be bad for us when things are already on the brink of disaster, right?”
“That’s true,” I agree. “But I don’t want to take any chances with Ben’s health either.”
“I know,” Ford says. Going over to the table next to the sofa, he picks up his cell phone. “And we won’t let it get that far. I’ll call our band’s doctor we keep on retainer and see what he says.”
“That would be good,” I tell him. “Let me know what he says. I’ll be upstairs.”
My foot is on the first step when Ford says, “Do you think he’s gonna make it through this?”
“Yeah,” I tell him. “He’s gonna need you and the other guys to help him, though.”
“We will,” Ford assures me before he returns his attention to his phone.
Back in Ben’s room, I set the can down as close to the bed as I can get it and reach out to feel his forehead. He’s burning up, so hot my hand feels like it’s been scalded.
Going into the hallway so that I can lean over the banister to talk to Ford, I say, “Ask the doctor if we can give him anything for the nausea or fever!”
“Okay,” Ford agrees when he glances up at me, then continues talking to the person on the call.
Until Ford can figure out what the doctor suggests we do, I grab another cold washcloth and take it back to start wiping Ben down, starting from his head, and then lowering to his chest, arms, and stomach, returning to the sink to cool the cloth down every few minutes when his skin heats it up.
“It’s…too cold,” Ben says to me, still shivering.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but you’re burning up. I’m just trying to cool your body down a little,” I explain.
Eventually, he nods and lets me go back to work, now on his legs.
When I agreed to join the band to try and help them produce another record-breaking album, I had no idea that I would end up here, taking care of one of the sick members. But I don’t mind. It doesn’t feel like just part of my job. Ben needs someone to be there for him, and since two of his bandmates are taking time apart, it’s up to Ford and me to help him get through the detox. It’s only for a few days, and then he’ll be back to himself, ready to play his bass, and do it without being drunk or hungover.
Ford appears in the doorway a few minutes later. “The doctor’s sending one of his discreet associates over to check on him. He says he needs to be monitored, but we should be able to keep him here if the doctor thinks he’s doing okay.”
“Good.” I exhale, relieved, as I take a seat at the foot of the bed.
“He’s in bad shape,” Ford says as he stands there and stares at his friend, his brows furrowed in concern.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Thanks for finding him a doctor.”
“No problem,” he replies, before he comes over and takes a seat next to me. Lowering his voice so as to not bother Ben, he says, “I’ll wait up here with you.”
“Okay,” I whisper back.
“It’s nice of you to help him,” he says softly. “I know you could’ve just put the responsibility on me.”
“I don’t mind,” I tell him honestly, as I glance over and see Ford’s hands shaking where they’re resting on top of his thighs. “He seems like a nice guy who just needs to get past an addiction. Same as you.”
“Yeah, my head is killing me, and it’s all I can do not to walk out the door in search of a smoke. Hell, at this point, I think I could even pick up a half-smoked butt and be happy to finish it off.”
“It’ll get easier,” I tell him as I reach over and squeeze his shaking hand. “And just think, it could be worse.”
“You’re a pretty nice distraction,” he says, hitting me with those lethal baby blues.
Clearing my throat as I let his hand go, I tell him, “In a few days, all of you are going to be feeling so much better, and then you can focus on your music.”
“If I can write any new songs.”
“You can,” I assure him. “Creativity like yours doesn’t dry up and disappear. It’s endless. You just have to figure out how to tap into it again.”
“I dunno,” he mutters. “Doesn’t seem that easy. I’ve been searching for it for years.”
“We will find it,” I tell him. “Be patient and try not to get frustrated if it doesn’t happen right away.”
“I’m working on my patience,” Ford replies. “Good things take time.”
“Exactly,” I say with a smile. “That’s why I’m not letting myself get too stressed out about the four of you making this work, even though my career is on the line if you don’t.”
“Great,” Ford mutters. “Even more pressure on my shoulders.”
“It’s not just on your shoulders,” I explain. “It’s on mine too. Along with three other men. We’re gonna make this happen,” I say.
I can only hope that’s actually the truth and not just an enthusiastic delusion.
Chapter 12
Ben
I’ve never felt so damn bad.
I swear my body is hurting like I have the flu and I got run over by our tour bus at the same time.
After a really rough night where I ended up praying to the porcelain gods, throwing up every few minutes, with Tessa and Ford’s help,
I was finally able to crawl back into bed and pass out for a few hours.
I remember waking up several times in the darkness, unable to remember where I was or what was going on. Each time, Tessa was there with her comforting voice and hand on me, telling me I was with her and Ford, and that everything was going to be okay.
Now, as I blink my eyes open, I can see the sun shining through the curtains of the bedroom. While there’s an awful stabbing pain in my head from the light, my stomach has finally stopped churning. My thoughts are clearer too, like I actually know what’s going on. I’m staying at Ford’s family’s house since our tour was canceled, so that we can work on a new album.
It feels pretty good to be coherent again.
Rolling to my back in bed, I stretch my arms over my head and from the corner of my eye see not one but two other heads on the pillows beside mine.
Tessa is under the sheets, facing me; her lips parted, eyes shut as she sleeps soundly with her hands fisted under her cheek. Ford is spooning her from behind…without any clothes on?
I lift the sheets and see that while he’s shirtless, he at least has a pair of jogging pants on, thank goodness.
His hand rests lightly on Tessa’s hip on top of the covers, as if even in his sleep he’s afraid to touch her more than that. Which is a little surprising. Women don’t ever turn down Ford. I can’t imagine Tessa would be much different. I mean, yeah, she may be from the record label, but he’s apparently irresistible. Or so the groupies say.
When the band first started touring, I was pulling groupies like crazy too. Then, as our popularity declined, so did the women. I could see the arenas becoming less crowded, more empty seats over the last two years, and knew what was coming. I didn’t want our success to end, but there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it, so I tried to drink away the concern. Before long, I was drinking so much that I couldn’t fool around with the groupies even if I wanted to. I was so wasted, most of the time my dick wouldn’t work.
That doesn’t seem to be a problem this morning based on the tenting of the sheets caused by my half-hard cock.
“Hey, you’re awake,” Tessa says groggily from beside me.
“Yeah, sorry about last night…” I start, and subtly reach under the covers to adjust my wood.
“Last night?” she asks, her forehead creased in confusion.
“Yeah, I was sick, throwing up all night.”
Tessa blinks at me for several silent seconds before she says, “Ben, that was three nights ago.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Yeah. The last two days and nights, you were having hallucinations. You didn’t know who Ford and I were; you thought we kidnapped you. In between the delusions, you had three really bad seizures,” she explains.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I rub my hands over my face. “I don’t remember any of that.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Tessa agrees. “Do you remember seeing the doctor? He’s been here at least five times to help us get you under control by giving you shots to make you sleep.”
“Wow, no,” I answer as I close my eyes and try to recall. “All I can remember are strange, hazy dreams.”
“Well,” Tessa says before she yawns, “since you’re talking to me without trying to choke me out, it looks like the worst is over.”
“I did that?” I ask, rolling over to face her as my jaw drops in disbelief. “I-I choked you?”
“Just a little,” she replies with a wince. “Ford pulled you off and held you down while I got the doctor.”
“Fuck, Tessa. I’m so sorry. I would never do that to a woman…”
“It’s okay,” she says, reaching up to squeeze my bare shoulder. “I may not know you very well, but I get that it was the withdrawals taking over and not the guy you normally are.”
“Good,” I say with a sigh. “I can’t believe I did that shit.”
“All forgotten. Just glad you’re better. You scared us,” Tessa tells me. “We didn’t tell Clarke or Davis. Ford thought it would be better if they didn’t see you that way. He was really worried about you.”
“Ah, yeah. I can see,” I reply, as I lift my head to look over at where he’s still sleeping.
“Oh, right,” Tessa says, her gold-green eyes widening when she realizes he’s sleeping behind her. “We were both exhausted but wanted to stay close…”
“Yeah, I get it,” I tell her.
Removing Ford’s hand from her hip, she sits up in bed, letting the covers fall to the waist of her cotton shorts. “I really need to, um, run a few errands. Do you think you’ll be okay for a couple of hours with Ford?”
“Of course,” I assure her. I appreciate her concern, but I’m not a child.
“I’ll let him sleep while I get my shower, then wake him,” she says before crawling off the end of the bed and getting to her feet. “Do you want me to fix you something to eat first?” she asks.
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry,” I say, unable to forget the nausea, even if it was apparently several days ago.
“Okay. Be right back,” she tells me, and I watch her leave the room, my dick giving a happy twitch watching her ass sway in her shorts.
Never gonna happen, I tell my cock.
That poor beautiful woman just witnessed me at rock bottom. And while it was sweet of her, I’m certain that she won’t ever have any romantic feeling for me, after seeing me vomit my guts out and trying to choke her.
Ford grumbles from beside me and when I glance over, his left hand is smacking the empty mattress, like he’s looking for something. Or someone. Eventually, his eyes open and he freezes when he sees me.
“What are you doing in my bed?” he mumbles.
“Dude, you’re in my bed,” I explain. “Although, technically, I guess it’s your bed since we’re in your house, but this is the room you’re letting me crash in, remember?”
“Oh, right,” he agrees. “And that’s the most coherent thing you’ve said in, like, four days, man.”
“So I’ve heard,” I reply. “Sorry about that shit.”
Running his fingers through the front of his black hair to get it out of his face, Ford says, “I’m just glad you’re you again, and not the angry guy who was trying to kill me because I wouldn’t give you a shot of booze.”
“Damn. Who knew I could get so violent? I sure as hell didn’t.”
“Me either. It was scary as fuck,” he tells me. “All of it, but especially the seizures. I thought we were gonna lose you, man. But the doctor said it’s common with detox.”
“I had no idea it would be that bad. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have let the drinking get so out of hand,” I admit.
“After seeing that shit, I may never have another drink again,” he replies. “Where’s Tessa? I thought I fell asleep with her.”
“She just got up to go get a shower, said she has some errands to run,” I inform him.
“She’s leaving?” he asks.
“Yeah, for a couple of hours.”
“Hmm,” he mutters. “Don’t blame her. We’ve been cooped up in this house with you for-fucking-ever.”
“She turned you down, didn’t she?” I ask with a grin.
“How the hell did you know?” he huffs.
“Just an observation, based on the fact that she wasn’t naked, and you were barely touching her in your sleep.”
“I touched her? Fuck. I’m surprised she didn’t knee me in my balls,” he grumbles as he rolls to his back.
“So, did Tessa say no to the all-powerful Ford Donohue? Was that the first time it’s ever happened or what?” I joke with him.
“Yes, it was, and it was fucking brutal. I don’t know how the three of you deal with the constant rejection of women,” he mutters, with a small smile on his face.
“When you don’t try, you don’t get rejected,” I explain. “But you’re not gonna give up, are you?”
“Hell no,” he says with a bigger grin. “I got her to stay with us and sleep in
the same bed with me. It’s only a matter of time before we’re banging.”
“Use that line on her; I’m sure it’ll work.” I let out a chuckle that makes my head hurt even worse. Reaching up to rub the throbbing, I say, “Goddamn, there are tiny miners in my skull taking pickaxes to my brain.”
“Tell me about it,” Ford says. “I’ve had a fucking migraine since my last smoke.”
“You haven’t had any since we were on the bus?” I ask.
“Nope. Not a one. Even though I would gladly give my left nut for one right now.”
“I feel the same about the booze,” I tell him, as I force a swallow down my dry throat. “But I’d probably give both nuts for it. That’s how desperate I am.”
Holding out his fist for me to hit, Ford says, “We’ll have to rely on each other to make sure neither of us lose any nuts for smokes or booze. Deal?”
Hitting his fist, I tell him, “Deal.”
“Now if only I could get some pussy, I’d be happy,” he says.
“Some pussy, or one in particular?”
“Dammit. Unlike usual, it’s one in particular. And it’s a lost cause, isn’t it?” Ford grumbles while covering his head with the pillow.
“If I were to guess, then I would say not a chance in hell.”
“Great. Thanks for keeping it real,” he mutters from underneath the pillow.
“That’s what friends are for,” I say with a chuckle, happy to be back here in our hometown with my old friend, taking some time off from the crazy roller coaster we’ve been on for the last few years.
Chapter 13
Davis
Fuck, I’m bored out of my mind.
And I’m angry as hell.
I should’ve known Tessa wouldn’t come back here the day after we kissed and came together with all our clothes on.
The last three days, I’ve been asking myself if the reason she blew me off was because of her job or because she doesn’t want me. It’s probably a little of both. The not knowing for sure has been driving me fucking crazy. I’ve run at least ten miles in the last few days, and lost count of how many pushups and crunches I’ve done, all trying to blow off some of my frustration. There’s nothing that can be done for my sexual frustration, however, after waiting all goddamn day for her to show, then the next day, and the next. I could jerk my cock raw and it wouldn’t do any good because I want to be inside Tessa. Nothing else will suffice.