It was during one of those times that Richey had his first visitor.
“All right, Richey?”
Richey turned and was surprised to see Parker standing awkwardly at the side of the bed. “Parker? What are you doing here?”
Parker pulled up a plastic chair.
“Nate and Alik asked me to come. How are you?”
Richey shrugged as he shifted himself into a sitting position. The t-shirt he wore hung off his torso, too big for him. “Every bone in my body hurts, and I want to be able to take a piss in peace without someone watching my every move,” he said.
Parker looked down at his shoes. “Yeah, I can imagine.”
“Can you? Can you really imagine what it’s like to think that your girlfriend is about to be raped because of something you’ve done? What it’s like to be kicked in the stomach until you can’t breathe? What it’s like to be tied up and have the crap beaten out of you until you pass out? And those are the bits I can remember.” Richey sank back against the pillows when he finished speaking.
Richey knew that Parker wouldn’t be so stupid as to put Poppy in that position. Parker wasn’t an addict like he was. Richey had spoken to the police a couple of times but maintained he couldn’t remember a lot of what had happened to him, which wasn’t a total lie. After everything that had happened following Billy’s accident, the band wouldn’t want that kind of negative publicity surrounding them again.
“I’ve been speaking to Alik and Nate about what this could do to the band,” said Parker. “They wanted me to talk to you about it.”
“I guess you don’t exactly get four weeks’ notice when you get kicked out of a band.”
Parker shook his head. “No, Richey, I’m sorry, that’s not it.” He paused as Richey looked quizzically at him. “They still want you to be part of the band. But after Billy, there’s no way they want to take the risk again.”
Richey exhaled in relief, however he was pretty sure that Parker hadn’t got to the crux of the matter yet.
“Part of the deal of you staying with the band is that they want you to go into rehab. Get some proper help for whatever addiction you have and whatever you’ve dealt with in the past.” He paused. “Poppy told me about Kim.”
Richey lowered his head. He suspected something like this was bound to happen. But if it meant he got to stay in the band, then he couldn’t very well refuse.
“What do you say?”
Richey looked his manager squarely in the eye. “I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever it takes.” He held out his hand. “Thank you.”
Parker took it gently. “It’s not me you need to thank, it’s the others. I’ll speak to the clinic and sort out the details of your stay. I imagine we’ll be able to get you in pretty quickly. I’ll be in touch again as soon as I’ve confirmed everything.” He stood up and nodded at Richey. “Take care.”
Richey watched Parker walk away. A weird mixture of apprehension and reprieve fizzed through his body. He still had a place in Blood Stone Riot, even after everything that had happened. He turned and stared out of the window, watching the cloud formations swirling around in the sky. It felt like the contents of his head.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned.
The cheery, plump nurse who was always friendly with him refilled his water jug and straightened the blankets on his bed. “Visitor for you. I think it’s your lady friend.”
Eva walked onto the ward and Richey noticed the other patients visibly cheer up as she strode down the centre of the room. She was dressed in a pair of dark grey skinny jeans, spike-heeled boots, and an oversized top that slipped off one shoulder, exposing her bra strap. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders, and it took all of his willpower not to pull the curtains around his bed and drag her in with him. She bent down to kiss him. He pulled her towards him and wound his left hand into her hair, his fingers caressing the back of her neck. He kissed her hard; he wanted to kiss her until her lips were as bruised as he felt. Finally, he pulled back.
“Wow,” she said. “How are you?” She settled into the chair that Parker had vacated and dropped her bag on the floor.
“Oh, you know, bored out of my mind and horny as hell.”
“Not much of a change there. You must be feeling better.”
Richey looked down at the blanket, unable to meet Eva’s gaze. He picked at a non-existent thread. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
A look of concern flitted across Eva’s face.
“I saw Parker just now,” he said. “He offered me a deal.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can stay in the band, but I have to go away for a bit, get myself straight.”
“Go away? Where?”
“A clinic. Somewhere that specialises in the kind of help I need.”
Eva reached for his hand. “I can help you.”
Richey pulled his hand away. “You can’t. And I can’t be around you while this is going on.” He made sure his tone was firm.
“You want to break up with me now? After everything we’ve just been through together—Kim, Leo, your addiction?”
“That’s exactly why we need to be apart. You don’t need all this shit. You’re starting to make a go of things with Caro and Nic, Poppy and India love you, you have a future. God only knows what I’ve got.”
Eva was silent. A single tear escaped. He wanted to tell her that he did need her, that he wanted her to be there with him, but he couldn’t. He needed to do this on his own. He squeezed his eyes shut. He heard the chair scraping against the floor and the sound of heels clacking on the floor getting more and more distant. For a few moments, he concentrated on steadying his breathing, not wanting to open his eyes and cement Eva’s departure. When he did, the only female bustling around the ward was the nurse.
“She said she wasn’t feeling well,” she said. “Told me to tell you she was sorry.”
Richey sank back against the pillows. His whole body ached, even his fingernails hurt. The queasy feeling returned, partly to do with the after effects of the comedown he was still experiencing, but mostly to do with having to push Eva away. He didn’t want things to end with her like they had with Kim. He didn’t want to run away this time, but he also couldn’t let Eva see him go through rehab. Sometimes second chances sucked.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Instinct took Eva to The Indigo Lounge. It provided a haven of normality, something she could understand.
She sat at one end of the bar, away from the other customers, and gestured to Gavin. “Tequila,” she said. “And make it a double.”
Gavin looked at his watch. “You sure? Have you seen the time?”
Eva glared at him. “I don’t care what the time is, just get me a drink.”
He shrugged and did as she asked. Eva winced as the liquid burned a path down her chest, then created a warm glow in her body. She asked for a refill, which was supplied without any further question.
As the afternoon became evening, more people started coming into the bar. There wasn’t a band playing that night, so it was just drinkers and groups on a night out.
Eva sat there, her thoughts becoming more and more confused as she went over what Richey had told her and what he appeared to have decided for their relationship without giving her a chance to provide her opinion. She didn’t know what to do.
She tried to catch Gavin’s eye to get more tequila. If nothing else, it would help to dull the pain. Instead of getting the barman’s attention, a blonde-haired guy in a checked shirt entered her eyeline. He was good looking, in a preppy kind of way, with a floppy fringe and brown eyes. He locked eyes with her and grinned. He made his way to her end of the bar, two shot glasses in his hand.
“Thought you looked as if you needed this,” he said.
Eva took it and drank. “You thought right. Any chance of another?”
The guy smiled at her. “You got it.”
Eva noticed Gavin frowning at her. She raised her glass to him
and grinned. “What does it take to get another round?”
The blonde guy leant over to her. “I’m Max, by the way.”
“Eva.”
Max nodded. “I’ve seen you in here before. Aren’t you usually behind the bar?”
“It’s my night off.”
“And you decided to come to the place you work for a night out?”
Eva gave a half smile. “Wasn’t exactly planning on a night out, just needed a few drinks.”
“Then it’s a good job you chose to come in here.” Max moved closer and put his hand on Eva’s thigh. “Did you want to make a night of it? We could always go somewhere else.”
The tequila was definitely clouding Eva’s rational brain. Max’s suggestion seemed like a good one. She needed to relax, let go, and let off some steam. Maybe this was the way to do it.
Max leaned forward and tried to kiss her. She caught a strong whiff of his aftershave. It caught the back of her throat and made her retch, bringing the taste of stale tequila into her mouth. He tried to move closer as she pulled back, and she nearly toppled off the stool. The commotion was enough to bring Gavin to the end of the bar.
“Eva? You okay?” he asked.
Tears filled her eyes as she looked at Max and then at Gavin. “No, I don’t think I am.”
“Mate, I think you need to leave now,” said Gavin.
Max held his hands up. “But I haven’t done anything! Ask her.”
Gavin came around and squared up to him. “I asked you to leave. You can go quietly, or I can get one of the bouncers to help me.”
Max looked between Eva and Gavin. “I can’t believe you’re throwing me out because of this.”
“Just go or I’ll get you barred.”
Max shook his head and stalked off.
Eva looked at the floor. Her head was spinning. “Thanks, Gavin.”
“I’ll get you a cab. I think you need to go home.”
Eva managed to hold it together until she got back to Poppy’s. She shoved a twenty pound note at the taxi driver and stumbled out of the car. She tried to find her keys in her bag but couldn’t and ended up hammering on the door instead.
Poppy answered within seconds. “Jesus, Eva, can you make some more noise? I think India might have missed your arrival.”
“Sorry,” she said, slurring.
“Where the hell have you been to be this drunk by eight in the evening?”
Eva sank down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and rested her head on the surface.
Poppy followed her. “I thought you were going to see Richey.”
“I did.”
“Is he okay?”
“I’m sure he will be. If Parker has anything to do with it.” Eva’s body snapped to attention. “Is he here?”
Poppy nodded and gestured towards the lounge. Eva jumped up and headed into the other room. Parker was sitting on the sofa, the TV playing in the background as he read emails on his tablet.
“Who’s idea was it?”
Parker looked up at her. “What do you mean?”
“For Richey to break up with me while he’s in rehab.”
Parker sighed. “That’s nothing to do with me. Alik and the others thought that he needed to sort himself out because they didn’t want him to end up like Billy. I’m arranging the stay in rehab, but I didn’t tell Richey to do anything else.”
“Then why doesn’t he want anything to do with me?”
Poppy came to Eva’s side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”
Eva shook her off. “He said it would be best if we spent some time away from each other, to give him some space. That sounds like something that would have come from his manager.”
“Eva, I swear I didn’t tell him to break up with you. Why would I? You’ve been the one who’s been there for him this whole time. He needed that level of stability.”
“He doesn’t want me.” The tears that had threatened to spill over since she had walked away from the hospital started to flow. She sank to her knees on the floor and sobbed.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Richey looked around the room and wondered how the hell he’d got there.
He was secretly glad that Parker and the record company had, at least, paid for private rehab. It was focused towards abstinence from all drugs and alcohol and was pretty intense. He had a personalised plan that focused on his issues. When Parker had taken him from the hospital to Beech Hill House, they had a very frank and open conversation about the future. It had been made abundantly clear that Blood Stone Riot and Numb Records didn’t want to go through another experience like they had with Billy, and Richey would be out on his arse if he ever touched anything stronger than alcohol in future. The initial detox and withdrawal had been hard, but what was harder was not being able to contact Eva. Despite it being his decision to break things off, his fingers itched to be able to text or call her. He also missed playing. Unsurprisingly, the facility wasn’t blessed with a music room, although there was a piano in one of the common rooms. His fingers were improving, and the physio had suggested that he use that as rehabilitation and strengthening. He had tried, unsuccessfully, to play a tune. Without a guitar, he was writing more and more. If nothing else, he’d leave with about a hundred new songs to present to Alik.
The small group session he sat in consisted of an eclectic mix of people: a businesswoman with a drink problem brought on by the stress of mounting debt; a middle-aged man with a gambling problem; a guy in his early twenties who was dealing with a heroin addiction; and another girl of a similar age to Richey who was battling an eating disorder. The session was led by Tony, one of the addiction therapists. They were currently sharing their experiences of when they felt the need to drink, take drugs, or purge, and what behaviours they needed to challenge.
“It’s a confidence thing,” said Richey. He explained what he did, feeling nervous about telling virtual strangers that he was sort of famous. “When I first got the gig, I couldn’t believe that a band as big as that were prepared to take a punt on me, some guy from nowhere who was going to step into the shoes of an amazing musician. I remembered the feeling that I used to get from taking cocaine—I felt invincible, I could conquer the world and everyone loved me.”
“Ha!” Molly, the girl with the eating disorder glared at him. “You shouldn’t even be here then, you should be in The Priory with all of the other fucked-up rock stars.”
“Maybe if I’d had that opportunity the first time, I wouldn’t be here now.”
Tony gave Molly a warning look. “Carry on, Richey, don’t let her bother you. Why do you think you need outside help to give you that confidence?”
“If I knew that, I probably wouldn’t be here,” said Richey. He was already tired of being asked that same question in a million different ways. Why do you take drugs? Why do you like the way they make you feel? Why can’t you stop? “Isn’t it someone else’s turn now?” He sank back into the chair and crossed his arms.
For once, Tony let him off and moved back to Molly. Richey listened to her story of how she’d started eating less and less because her mother’s new partner teased her for being overweight, although apparently not so fat to stop him abusing her. He hated being forced to listen sometimes. He was grateful when the session was over.
Molly followed him out of the room. “Fancy a smoke?” she asked.
“I guess that’s something we’re allowed to do.”
They went into the garden and sat down at the picnic bench on the patio. Despite it being a warm day, Richey shivered and wished he had worn more clothing.
“I didn’t mean what I said in there,” said Molly. She blew a stream of smoke up into the air and watched it float off. “You’re cool.”
Richey studied her. It was the first time they had been alone. She had shoulder-length straight hair that had probably once been blonde but was currently a washed-out blue colour. Her clothes were all black—jeans and a bulky ju
mper that did its best to hide her body—and she wore a pair of purple Converse. She looked exactly the type of person that he used to hang out with before he ended up in hospital the first time. The irony wasn’t lost on him.
“Thanks,” he replied.
“You miss your girlfriend, don’t you?” asked Molly.
Richey’s mouth fell open. He hadn’t mentioned Eva at all in any of the group sessions, but he had discussed her at length in the one-to-one sessions with Tony. “How did you know?”
Molly laughed. “I didn’t. Lucky guess!” She paused. “I guess I was taking a chance that you might be single. Like I said, you’re cool.”
It was Richey’s turn to laugh, something he hadn’t done much of recently. He smiled. “You’re pretty cool too.”
“Tell me about your girlfriend. I bet she’s some high flier who enjoys her bit of rough.”
Richey immediately thought of Kim. That was certainly the way anyone would have described their relationship at the time. He realised that he hadn’t yet spoken about her in any of the sessions, that she had been a trigger for his drug taking, with her own addictions and ways of dealing with her work pressures. The more he thought about it, the more he was able to pinpoint that chapter of his life as where it had all begun. How she hadn’t ended up in hospital and instead became pregnant was a mystery. Then a flurry of thoughts crept into his head. What if it had been drugs that made Kim miscarry? Had she continued taking them when he had been clean, not knowing that she was expecting? She had blamed him for what had happened, citing the stress of working and looking after him.
“You okay?” asked Molly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it harder for you.”
“I actually think you’ve just made something a bit easier to understand.” He gave her a weak smile. “I was just thinking about my ex.” He stood up and dropped his cigarette on the floor. “I need to speak to Tony.”
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