I got dressed and after drinking two of the water bottles in my refrigerator, I went out and got on the bike. I needed to see Elly later and persuade her to do this with me. She was my only hope of staying on the show. First, I drove towards the studio to see the band about the music I was going to need for my duet. After that, I’d go see Elly.
I realized as I was driving along thinking about it, that her first response was going to be that the producers weren’t going to like it. She was always so worried about us being caught and her losing her job. I personally didn’t give a fuck if they liked it or not, and it’s not like she couldn’t get another job if she had to. I really thought that if I won the contest, the press would have a field day if they took it from me because of Elly. They had, after all, said we could sing with whoever we wanted to. They didn’t say it couldn’t be someone working there, right?
I parked the bike and made my way down towards the music room. I thought about calling Elly, or at least sending her a text that I was coming when I finished. I decided against that. I needed to do it face to face. It would be easier for her to say no on the phone. I was sure she was pissed at me for not talking to her since the day I yelled at her. Maybe she had a right to be. Right then, my mind wasn’t working well enough to worry about it. Somehow, I needed to convince her to do it with me. I had no other choice.
Before I made it to the band room, one of the producers stopped me in the hall. I think it was the one named Tony who tried to act as if he had the skills to solve all the problems in the universe. He was just a little rich punk whose daddy got him a job in the industry because he had no other talents.
“Hey, Tristan, when you’re finished in there, Clint and I would like to talk with you. Can you come on over to our offices before you leave?”
Fuck! What the hell could they want? “Yeah, okay,” I told him. I’d rather pull out my own fucking teeth with a pair of pliers, but I doubted I had that choice. I went on in and talked to the band about my duet and one of the guys asked me who was singing with me. I thought about Elly again, but I didn’t want to look like an idiot if I said she was and then she refused.
“A friend of mine,” was all I said. That was kind of funny. It had been a long time since I’d had any real friends. I wondered if that was what Elly and I were.
I dragged my feet in the band room until one of the other contestants, Ethan, stuck his head in the door and said, “Oh, I’m sorry Tristan. I thought you were done.” Fucker didn’t think I was done; he was just trying to rush me.
“I’m done,” I said, brushing past him on the way out. He gave me a wide berth. They all acted like they were afraid of me or something, bunch of damned pussies. Feeling like one myself, I finally made my way down the hall to the producer’s office. I was stalling because I knew it was going to be about the meltdown. I didn’t know what I was going to tell them. There was nothing that would really explain it, except for the truth. I knocked on Clint’s door and found him and Tony waiting inside for me.
“Hello, Tristan,” Clint said, standing up and shaking my hand, “You know Tony?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding at the other fool.
“Have a seat,” Clint told me. I would have rather stood, but I was trying hard today not to be an asshole. I was pretty sure I was already on shaky ground. I sat down and he said,
“We have to talk about what happened on the show the other night.” He paused there, expecting me to say something, I think. I didn’t, I just waited him out. I wondered if they were disappointed America hadn’t voted me off. It would have saved them from having to confront me. He finally said, “We can’t present the image to America that we’ll tolerate that kind of behavior. You were rude and crude and the judges who have been so supportive of you didn’t deserve to be talked to that way. Most of what you said had to be bleeped out because of the profanity laced into it. It was bad, Tristan, real bad. Beyond that, I’ve gotten other complaints as well. You don’t show up for group rehearsals, you lip sync the songs with your peers….I have to tell you that if that happens again, any of it….you’ll be let go from the show.”
“Okay,” I said. My mouth was dry and my hands shaking, but most of that could still have been withdrawals.
“Tristan,” Clint said, leaning in towards me, “Is there something else going on with you? Is there anything we can do here to help you? You’re a very talented young man. I would so hate to see you blow this.”
Fuck! I hated talking about my shit to complete strangers. I think I might have felt better thinking they did want me to get kicked off. But this was my one chance…my golden opportunity to tell them I was going into rehab, and hopefully they would be willing to help me…..maybe even financially.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to act like a human. “I have a drug problem,” I blurted out. Clint didn’t look surprised at all. Tony shifted in his seat, but he wouldn’t look at me. Some people are more uncomfortable talking about drugs than they are sex. “I signed up for rehab; it’s a nice place in Orange County and comes highly recommended. I’m having a hard time coming up with enough money to start. I was also afraid that I wouldn’t be able to finish the show if I went in. I know that it’s hard for you to see it….because of my attitude…but I’ve put a lot of myself into this contest. I don’t want to blow it. I’ve been trying to kick the drugs on my own in the meantime….but as you have seen, it affects me in a lot of ways, none of them good so far.”
Clint looked at Tony and then he said, “I think I can arrange for you to go into rehab and still allow you to be on the show. I’ll have to get it approved through Jake of course, but he’s all for helping people out, so I don’t think he’ll object. We can talk to the directors at the facility and work something out for you to get to and from the studio for your band sessions and the live rounds. You need to start now, though. We can’t take a chance that something like the other night will happen again.”
“I, um…I don’t have the down payment that they want.” I hated feeling like a fucking charity case.
“We’ll pay for it…if you start right away. Again, assuming Jake approves it, I can have a check sent over by the end of the day. Your health is the most important thing here, Tristan…believe it or not.”
I was surprised. I had really expected them to be all talk. I wasn’t used to having people in my life that followed through.
“I-um-yeah, yeah, I’ll go today. Thank you.”
“Do you have the information about the place?” I had it in my phone and I wrote it all down for him. He looked at it and said, “Good, I know this place. They’re really good. I’m sure they’ll work with us.”
“Thank you,” I told him again before I left. He told me to give him an hour and he’d have it all arranged. I rode my bike back to my place telling myself this was a good thing. I had sworn I’d never do rehab again, but that was a long time ago, and I really couldn’t see any other way out of the hole I’d dug myself into. When I got home, I packed a few things…clothes, my music, my toothbrush. I didn’t bother taking anything that I knew they wouldn’t let me take in like a razor or anything in a glass bottle. I looked around the apartment and thought, “At least I won’t need the electricity and water when they get shut off.”
I rode my bike out to where the rehab was. It was kind of nestled in the foothills and it was actually a really pretty place. I pulled into the lot and saw that Elly was standing outside the door. Fucking great!
“What are you, my babysitter? My bodyguard?” I asked her as I walked up to the door. Maybe she didn’t deserve it, but the sight of her had really pissed me off. I was getting tired of her acting like she was my mother.
She raised an eyebrow and said, “Clint had me bring over the check. I wanted to wait and make sure you made it here and you hadn’t changed your mind. I’m sorry if that seems mother-ish to you. I thought that I was being a friend. I’m happy you talked to them and they worked this out for you.”
“They didn’t give me
a fucking choice,” I told her.
“You had a choice. You didn’t have to tell them what was going on and accept their help. I’m really glad you’re taking that step.”
“Whoop-di-do!” I said as I grabbed the door handle and started to go inside.
“What are you pissed at me about, Tristan?”
Shit! I’d had my fill of talking already today and I hadn’t even started the fucking rehab. Maybe she deserved some kind of explanation. I was pissed at her, obviously. I opened my mouth and was surprised to hear the truth spill out.
“I haven’t used anything…not even alcohol for four days now. My head fucking throbs all day long. I don’t have any energy. My brain is all foggy and jumping from one subject to the next and my stomach feels like there’s a fucking party going on in their twenty-four-seven. I went and bought drugs the night of the show when I made an ass out of myself on live television. I started to do a line and then I got your text and it reminded me that I didn’t want to live like that anymore. I flushed them again and then I broke the bathroom mirror with my fist. It hasn’t been my best week ever. I’m sorry that I’m angry all the time. I don’t know how to stop it. I wish I did. I look at you and I’m reminded that this was your idea…so I let my brain interpret that as it’s also your fault. True or not, that’s how I feel.”
She had that look on her face that women get when they suddenly decide that you’re not such a big asshole after all. That was probably good, because I still needed to ask her the big question. I’d been so busy being pissed at her, I’d almost forgotten.
“Thanks for explaining that,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah, I guess I am too. I’m going to hate this and I’m probably going to get a lot shittier before I get nicer, so consider yourself warned.”
She smiled and said, “Warning received, thanks. Anything I can do….”
“There is something,” I told her. She quietly listened as I said, “I need you to sing with me for the duet next week.”
She acted like maybe she’d heard me wrong. Tilting her head to one side she said, “You need me to do what?”
“Sing with me, Elly. Please.”
“I can’t do that, Tristan. First of all, I don’t sing in front of people….I never have. Most importantly, though, we would both get booted from the show if I did. They would know then that we had a personal relationship.”
“I’m not worried about that,” I told her. “I need someone to sing with. You’re my only hope, Elly, or I’m off the show now. If that’s the case then there’s no point in me even going in those doors right now. I’ll say fuck it all and go get high.”
“That’s not fair. You put the responsibility of you using or getting clean on me. I had sex with you. I kept up my end of the deal, remember?”
“I think I got the bum end of that one. You got sex out of it to…now I get rehab and you walk around free. Come on, Elly. I’m not asking you to sneak me in drugs or anything. I need you to do this for me.”
“Shit! Tristan this is a bad, bad, very bad idea. Everything you’ve done for the past seven weeks will be blown if we do this, and I’ll be out of a job.”
“That’s fine,” I told her, “I may as well give up now then. I’m out of here.” I know she was right. I was playing dirty pool by blaming her. It wasn’t her fault that I’d run everyone else out of my life. But I was using what I had; I was desperate.
“Shit! Okay, fine!” she yelled after me as I started walking away. “I’ll do it. Hopefully they’ll understand.” I grinned at her and she looked like she wanted to punch me. I thought it best at that moment not to press my luck, so I went inside.
CHAPTER SIX
ELLY
The next day after our meetings were over, I met up with Molly for lunch. The afternoon would be busy; we were starting to make arrangements for the top ten tour that would happen after the show. We walked across the street to the sandwich shop and found a table.
After we’d both ordered our lunch Molly said, “So, did you ever talk to Tristan?”
“Yeah, we’ve talked,” I said.
“Was he as blown away as everyone else was that he didn’t get voted off?”
“We didn’t really talk about that, but I would imagine that he was,” I said.
“Oh…no talking huh? Just some wild, passionate….”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I told her with a smile. “No, we didn’t do any of that. We haven’t done that for a while.”
“Probably a good thing. I heard Clint called him in the other day. Rumor has it that he was warned to be on his best behavior.”
“Hmm,” I said. “The rumor mill around this place is really something.”
Molly looked at me suspiciously and said, “You’re being almost as elusive as you’re always saying Tristan is.”
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “We’re just kind of friends…I guess. We’re not sleeping together and I’m really not privy to his private business or thoughts.” I didn’t want to tell her about rehab, that wasn’t my place.
“Well, like I said, it’s probably better that way.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I agreed with her. It was mostly to get her to stop talking about it and change the subject.
“I wonder who he’ll do his duet with?” another subject that I didn’t want to talk about. I couldn’t tell anyone that I agreed to sing with him. I trusted Molly, but she liked to gossip too much. If the producers found out before we did the duet…they’d really kick us both off before we even got to sing.
“I don’ know,” I lied. I couldn’t stop thinking about it if the truth be told. I kept trying to tell myself that it was a stupid rule and that once the producers really thought about it, they would think so, too. They wouldn’t fire me and disqualify Tristan. It was a stupid rule, but there was a good reason behind it. They were afraid that someone working for the show could be persuaded to rig the results. There was no way I could do that though. I didn’t get anywhere near the results, and even if I did, there was no way I could change them. Maybe they’d think about that, before they fired me. The problem would probably be more the public than the producers would. There would probably be an outcry if he won and someone found out we were anything more than co-workers….
“Elly?” Molly was talking to me and I’d been so wrapped in my own thoughts that I hadn’t been listening.
“Yeah? I’m sorry…what did you say?”
“I said, I’m sure that Tristan knows lots of people in the music business, wouldn’t you think?”
“You would think…” I said. “How’s your boyfriend?” I desperately wanted to change the subject and it worked. Molly started gushing again about her boyfriend and how perfect he was and I was off the hook.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TRISTAN
I kept telling myself that one day I’d look back on the rehab and think it was worth it. The problem was that in the moment, it felt like being in prison and I hated the fuck out of it. It was a start though. The first two times I’d gone to rehab, I’d gone in kicking and screaming. Maybe going in voluntarily would be different.
The first week was all one-on-one therapy, I was told. At least in a group setting I could either sit and listen or I could mimic what everyone else was saying. I hated sitting across from a therapist, trying to think of something to say. I guess some might argue that if I just told the truth that would satisfy him. The problem was that the truth made me sick—literally—and telling him about it wasn’t going to change anything. My therapist was relentless, though. I guess you have to be that way when you’re working with addicts. I’m sure one that’s willing to open right up with the truth is rare. For the third day in a row, I sat in his office while he asked the same questions over and over.
“How’s your relationship with your mother?” He leaned forward, trying to convince me he cared.
“Fine.”
“What about your father?”
“Fine.”
“Do you have a girlfriend…or boyfriend?” That made me laugh a little…so politically correct.
“No,” I said, “Neither.”
“What’s your drug of choice?” he asked me for the ten thousandth time.
“You name it, I’ll take it. I’ll smoke it, snort it, drink it…I just won’t inject it; I do have my principles.”
He sighed. “Tristan, this is serious business. I don’t think you’re taking it very seriously.”
I motioned to the room around me. “I’m here. If I didn’t think it was serious, I’d be home puffing on a joint.”
“I don’t know what to do to get you to open up to me. None of what we’re doing here is going to help you if you aren’t willing to let us inside so we can help you.”
“I’m just not sure what you want from me,” I told him. “You want me to cry and tell you what a miserable life I’ve had?”
“If that’s what you feel like doing,” he said.
I laughed and said, “That’s not going to happen.”
“Okay, that’s okay,” he said. “I think maybe what we need is some family group time.”
That got my attention. “No!”
“It’s part of the program, Tristan…”
“I said no! I’m not a child. I have the right to refuse.”
“True, but if you do, you’ll be asked to leave. You have to go along with the program or it won’t be successful.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” I told him. Fuck! I should never have told him they were even still alive.
“Why’s that, Tristan? You told me that your relationship with them was—and I quote—‘fine’.”
My Rock #4 (The Rock Star Romance Series - Book #4) Page 3