by L. A. Witt
Jesus. Jordan had looked like hell when I’d arrived this morning, and even a fuck and a shave hadn’t brought him all the way back. I didn’t need a mirror to tell me I was a hot mess too.
But Daniel looked pretty damned good.
Thin, but he always was. His face had some color, and though he hadn’t shaved in a day or two, he was brighter-eyed than I’d seen him in recent memory.
“Daniel,” the nurse said. “You have some visitors.”
Daniel looked up from his book, and wow, his eyes really were brighter now. He smiled and folded the corner over to mark his page as he stood up. “You came.”
“Of course I did.” Jordan hugged him tightly. Daniel returned the embrace, closing his eyes and just holding on for a moment.
As they separated, I touched Jordan’s arm and gestured at a cluster of chairs on the other side of the room. “I’ll be right over there.”
“You can stay.” Daniel’s voice turned both our heads. As he eased himself into the chair across from Jordan’s, he said, “I haven’t seen anyone I know in two weeks. Please. Stay.”
I hesitated, glancing at Jordan. He studied Daniel for a moment, but then nodded, and I sat down.
Daniel set the book in the fourth and still unoccupied chair, and leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped loosely together as if holding an invisible coffee cup.
“So, what’ve you been doing since…” He swallowed.
Jordan shifted in his chair. “Composing.”
It seemed like an oversimplified answer for what someone had been doing for damn near two weeks, but I suspected it wasn’t that far from the truth. He hadn’t been eating, sleeping, shaving, leaving the house—just composing.
“Any good stuff?” Daniel asked.
“Don’t know yet. Some of it seems good, and then…” Jordan shrugged. “Turns out it sucks.”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “You said that about Hardcore. Pretty sure it wouldn’t have sold two million copies if it was that bad.”
“Tell that to Justin Bieber.”
Daniel threw his head back and laughed, and to my surprise, Jordan laughed too. Genuinely.
“Okay, okay,” Daniel said, still chuckling. “Fair enough. But seriously, it was a damned good song, and you said the same thing.”
Jordan shrugged. “I won’t throw any of them away, then. You and the guys can decide which ones are crap.”
Daniel’s humor faded, and he regarded Jordan for a moment. “Me and the guys?”
Shifting a little, Jordan nodded. “Well, yeah. We’re not recording music you guys don’t like.”
“So that means…”
“I’m not kicking you out of the band, Daniel,” Jordan said softly. “I never was.”
“I know. We hashed that out. But then there’s…” He gestured around the room. “How many dates have we had to cancel now?”
“The tour’s on hold. For the duration of…” Jordan made the same gesture at our surroundings. “After that, we’ll see how we all are. As a group.”
“But will—”
“Don’t worry about the band,” Jordan said softly.
“You know I’m going to.” Daniel wasn’t defensive, just matter-of-fact. “The band is what we do.”
“It is.” Jordan’s chin dipped in the ghost of a nod. “But let me take care of the logistics. You focus on you.” He swallowed hard. “We’re not going anywhere without you, Daniel.”
They both fell silent for a moment. Jordan was the first to break eye contact. He chewed his thumbnail and stared at the floor between our chairs and Daniel’s.
“Whatever’s on your mind,” Daniel said gently, “just say it.”
Jordan sighed. “I don’t want to make all this worse for you.”
Daniel laughed halfheartedly. “This is rock bottom, J. It doesn’t get worse than this.”
Jordan kept his gaze down.
“Jordan.” When Jordan’s eyes flicked up, Daniel managed the most genuine smile I’d ever seen on him. “Just say it. I want to get through all of this, and it’s not going to happen unless everything’s on the table.”
For a full minute—might’ve even been two—Jordan didn’t say a word. He didn’t move. Didn’t look at me, at Daniel, at anything.
Daniel didn’t push. Neither did I. Whatever was on Jordan’s mind was going to come out on its own time.
As we waited for Jordan to figure out what he needed to say, Daniel and I exchanged a long look. There was no hostility in his expression. He didn’t seem uncomfortable with me being here—hell, he’d asked me to stay when I’d intended to bow out. What that meant, I wasn’t sure. Had he made his peace with what was going on between Jordan and me? I supposed the sober Daniel may have been better at keeping his cards close to the vest; without the chemicals in his blood, maybe he was just really good at looking me in the eye and not letting the resentment show.
The chair beside me creaked. Jordan leaned forward, mirroring Daniel’s position with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped loosely between them. After a long moment, he reached for Daniel’s hands, squeezed them gently, and met his longtime friend’s gaze. “I just need to know why.”
Daniel blinked. “Why?”
Nodding, Jordan said, “Yeah. Why… the drugs? This?” Another wave to indicate the room around us. “Why?”
Daniel watched himself turn his hands so he could lace his fingers between Jordan’s. His silence lingered almost as long as Jordan’s had a moment ago.
Finally, his shoulders slumped a little, and he shook his head as he met Jordan’s eyes. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.”
* * *
We weren’t even outside before Jordan had his cigarettes and lighter in his hands, and he clutched them in both hands like he was about to rub them together like defibrillator paddles. As soon as we stepped through the glass double doors, the cigarette was in his mouth, and by the time we were past that twenty-foot no-smoking zone around the building’s entrance, he’d already taken a long drag.
We walked in silence out to my car. It was only a hundred feet or so from the front of the clinic, but by the time we reached the parking space, Jordan had already finished his cigarette.
I pressed the button on the remote, and the locks popped open. Jordan stopped because the car, but he didn’t open the door.
Another cigarette.
He hadn’t been much of a chain-smoker since I’d known him. Barely even a habitual smoker—some days he didn’t smoke at all. But he wasn’t on tour now, so preserving his voice probably wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. And Daniel probably was at the forefront of his mind, so I couldn’t say I was surprised to see him suck down that second cigarette in a hurry too.
I stood beside him, watching him pull another shaky drag off the nearly spent cigarette. “You okay?”
Jordan nodded. His already gaunt cheeks hollowed as he sucked in the smoke, his brow furrowed like his life depended on focusing that hard on taking in the nicotine.
“Don’t lie to me.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Tell me the truth, Jordan.”
His eyes opened, and as they met mine, his shoulder seemed somehow softer beneath my palm. Like his whole body had gone pliant under the weight of my hand.
I swallowed, and when I spoke again, put just a bit more force behind it. “Tell me the truth. Are you okay?”
Jordan exhaled, releasing a little bit of smoke and a whole lot of tension. “Would you think less of me if I said no?”
Shaking my head, I pulled him into my arms. “No. Not at all.”
Apparently not caring any more than I did if someone saw us, Jordan sighed, resting his head against my shoulder. “I will say, he’s doing better than he did the last few times. I really, really want to believe it’s going to work this time.”
I closed my eyes and stroked his hair. “I know.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then, “When did you know your ex wasn’t going to get any better?”
&nbs
p; I winced. How the hell was I supposed to answer that?
Jordan drew back a little and looked up at me, blue eyes as desperate as they were exhausted. “Please, Jase. I know it can’t be easy to talk about him. I’m sorry. But I…” He exhaled. “Right now, I feel like he’ll be able to put this behind him. I need to know if I’m deluding myself by even going there.”
My throat tightened. It was debatable which was a worse flavor of hell: holding onto hope that an addict was going to get it together this time, or the realization that that hope is gone forever.
Avoiding his eyes, I cleared my throat. “The last Christmas we spent with his parents. That was when I knew.”
Jordan straightened a bit, as if he’d been expecting any answer but that one. “What happened?”
I hesitated. He was probably imagining me busting Eric getting high in his parents’ bathroom, or catching him going through his mother’s jewelry to find something to pawn. For a moment, I considered giving him one of those scenarios, but I couldn’t lie to him. Not even if the truth was more painful.
“He’d been out of rehab for a month or two by then.” I absently rubbed at some stiffness that tried to creep into my shoulder. “Been doing pretty good too, but he’d had a rough couple of days. Just, you know, stress. Traveling, the holidays, all of that. But he hadn’t been using. So then it’s Christmas Eve, and we were sitting around with his family after dinner, watching his nieces and nephews playing with their gifts. And he was just… quiet.”
Jordan cocked his head, but didn’t say anything.
My composure was still pretty steady, but I cleared my throat anyway, just in case. “He was looking around, sort of watching each person, one at a time. And he seemed real sad. And kind of, I don’t know, focused I guess. You know when you can tell someone’s psyching themselves up to drop some bad news?”
Jordan nodded.
“It was kind of like that, but he never said anything. So when we went to bed that night, I asked if he was okay.” This time clearing my throat wasn’t just a precaution, and my voice wavered a bit. “He usually either got defensive or extra cheerful and insisted everything was fine and it was all in my head. But that night…” Another cough, which took more effort than before.
Jordan touched my arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag this all up for you.”
Shaking my head, I said, “No, it’s okay.” I swallowed a few times to steady myself. “He said he was okay, but he didn’t even try to convince me. He didn’t care if I believed him, and to be honest, I think he was so far gone, he didn’t even know if he was lying or not.”
Jordan’s eyes widened. “He was high?”
“No. He hadn’t even had a drink that night. He was stone cold sober, but there was just nothing left of him. And deep down, I knew this was the beginning of the end. It was like he’d fought so hard and held himself together long enough to let the family see him clean and sober, and he flat didn’t have it in him to go on another day.” I blinked a couple of times and coughed again. “Looking back, I don’t think it was so much that he wanted them to see him. I think… I think he knew. And he wanted to see them one last time.”
“My God,” Jordan breathed.
It had been three years now, but the memory was still raw. Though the southern California sun was beating down on us, making my light jacket uncomfortably warm, the familiar chill under my skin almost had me shivering. I couldn’t remember that night—the one three days after New Year’s just after that last visit with Eric’s family—without being cold. Something told me even if it had been a hundred degrees that night instead of twelve below freezing, I still would’ve been cold after finding him.
“Jase?” Jordan’s voice nudged me back into the warm present.
I rolled my shoulders and pushed out a breath as the heat of the day slowly melted away the chill of the past. “Sorry. Listen, I know it seems hopeless right now.” And it might very well be.” “But Daniel’s a tough guy.” So was Eric. “Don’t give up on him.”
Jordan rubbed a hand over his face. “I could never give up on him. I’ll see this through to the end one way or another. I just hope…”
He didn’t have to finish the thought. My memories filled in the blanks, and I suspected his imagination filled in everything he hadn’t experienced firsthand.
“Whatever happens,” I said, “I’m here.”
He looked up at me, and a tired smile spread across his lips. “Thank you.”
I smiled too, and started to lean in, but hesitated. We were out in public after all. Not exactly the middle of Rodeo Drive at high noon, but not behind closed doors either.
Jordan took my face in both hands and closed the distance, kissing me gently. When he broke the kiss, he didn’t pull away.
I caressed his cheek, and then kissed his forehead. “What you need to do right now,” I whispered, “is take care of yourself. Let them”—I gestured over my shoulder at the clinic—“take care of him while you get yourself straightened out.”
Jordan held my gaze. “I told you, I don’t even know where to start with that.”
I started to speak, but as my fingers trailed along his jaw, he shivered, and that shiver transferred to me. Without really thinking about it, I let my hand run down to his neck, and he closed his eyes as the fleshy part between my thumb and forefinger stretched across his throat.
“You don’t know where to start,” I whispered, “but maybe I do.”
Jordan’s eyes flew open.
Neither of us breathed. His pulse pounded against my fingers as my own pounded against the inside of my ribcage. When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple pressed against my hand.
Barely whispering, he said, “What do you have in mind?”
So much, Jordan. So, so much…
I slid my hand around to the back of his neck and drew him in, and just before our lips met, I murmured, “Let’s go home.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jordan
Fucked out. Blissed out, with Jase lying beside me, but I still couldn’t get to sleep. The day kept replaying in my head, a cacophony of white noise I didn’t fucking need. Sex had blotted it out, let me forget for a few merciful hours, but now it all came roaring back.
“Why the drugs?” I’d asked Daniel.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.”
But I knew. It was the only way he could stomach being around me anymore. Seeing me with all those other guys was tearing him apart. It looked like he’d come to terms with me being with Jase, but how long would that last? Once we got back on tour, all bets were off. He’d start using again, like he always did, but this time there’d be no stopping him from sliding down the rabbit hole for good.
Yeah, I knew. The way I knew Jase’s ex was dead before he said so. The same way I knew what he was really trying to tell me.
You can’t save him. Nobody can.
Eyes stinging, I lifted Jase’s arm from around my waist and rolled out of bed. My breath hitched as he let out a moan before turning over.
Grabbing my robe, I padded into the kitchen. Nuked myself a mug of bitter joe and went back to the couch. Picked up my guitar and started strumming. How many nights had I spent here since I got back, just me and the six-string, wrestling with my demons? Half the songs I’d scratched out were too fucking depressing to ever see the light of day. I riffled through lyrics I’d scrawled on sheet after sheet of paper, one line at a time…
He’s either gonna save me or destroy me.
Who did I write that about—Jase? Daniel? Both? Did I have to choose?
If I wanted Daniel to make it, I couldn’t keep torturing him. Which meant no more whoring around. I needed to keep my perverted mitts off guys from the crew and focus on Daniel instead. Spend our time on the road bonding again, getting back to the way things used to be.
As for Jase, we’d come to an end eventually. If we were still together when Daniel got out of rehab, I’d simply pay Jase for whatever time was left on his contract an
d send him on his way. Sure, it’d hurt—hell, just thinking about it made my chest feel like it was about to cave in—but what else could I do? I couldn’t keep him around, not if his presence was poison for Daniel. How we felt about each other... well, that didn’t matter. I couldn’t let it.
I sipped my lukewarm coffee and kept strumming, picking out snatches of old songs. Through the open bedroom door I heard another door bump shut, followed by the sound of pissing. The toilet flushed, water ran in the sink, and a few seconds later out ambled Jase, rubbing his eyes.
“Insomnia?” He sank down next to me, an arm around my shoulders. “I thought I’d tired you out but good.”
“Oh, y’know my brain. It won’t shut up sometimes.” I started playing that new bridge from “Forth Into Light” that I’d played at the radio interview a few weeks ago. Shit. What made me dream up those new lyrics? Now I’d never be able to play that part again without thinking of Jase.
“You need to get out of here,” he said. “Unwind a bit.”
I glanced at the clock hanging over the fifty-inch flat screen. Closing in on midnight. Not too late to hit a club or two, except... “Millennium’s still breathing down my neck about postponing the tour. If they see paparazzi pics of me out partying…” I sighed. “Better not.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
I set down the guitar. “What, then?”
“Have you ever explored the local kink scene?”
Wow, that brought back memories, not all of them pleasant. “When I first moved to LA and nobody knew who the fuck I was, yeah. Might be a bit tricky navigating it with this face.”
“There are ways around that. Costumes, makeup…” He stroked my throat, letting his hand come to rest right where he’d slowly, masterfully squeezed off my air a couple of hours ago. “Ever worn a leather mask?”
“The kind with all the zippers? With the eyes, nose and mouth covered up?” I shuddered. Flesh and blood hands on my throat were one thing, but dead cow skin? It just seemed so cold and... dead. Sure, I wore leather clothing all the time. Didn’t mean I wanted it covering my face.