by Marion Myles
Holy cow. She’d thought the trailer on the film set was something, but compared to a plane like this, it hardly rated at all. No wonder rich people didn’t mind traveling. You could literally arrive at your destination better rested and fed than when you left. She wished the flight was longer. Two and a half hours didn’t seem enough time to fully enjoy the private plane experience.
You’re not supposed to be enjoying it, she reminded herself, walking back out to the main body of the plane. And as if that very thought had summoned him, Liam stepped into the plane.
She hadn’t seen him or spoken with him since she’d left his hospital room the day of the overdose. He’d been moved to a detox center for several days and then sent home where Cindy and Isabella had taken care of him for the remaining time before he was due to fly out.
Cindy had called Rebecca several times…worried that Liam was darker than dark and constantly asking for whiskey or pills. On a couple of occasions, he’d ordered a taxi and had alcohol delivered to the house, which Cindy or Isabella immediately confiscated. This resulted in tantrums of epic proportions. He’d broken furniture, smashed mirrors, and wrecked two of his guitars.
Eventually, Liam stopped asking for drugs and alcohol. He stopped talking entirely, in fact. When he wasn’t lying in bed, he sat on a chair in his room—which he’d turned toward the wall. He even refused to acknowledge the psychiatrist Jack had somehow strong-armed into making a house call.
The psychiatrist expressed concern that Liam was a threat to himself and needed to be supervised at all times. Better yet, he should be involuntarily committed to the psych ward and held for seventy-two hours. At that point, Jack stepped in, assuring the man Liam was days away from entering full treatment.
When Rebecca had been given the latest Liam update yesterday morning, she’d immediately called Jack.
“I don’t think we’re doing the right thing here,” she’d told him. “Liam would be much better off in a proper addiction center. What if he kills himself?”
“Remember we covered that in the contract? Siobhan, who is his power of attorney, is aware of the risk and already signed off on it. You will not be held liable,” Jack had said.
“It’s not only my liability I’m worried about. I’m trying to think of what’s best for Liam.”
“We’ve been over this. He’s undergone conventional treatment so many times and yet, here we are again. Not only has it not worked, but Liam is steadily getting worse. He’s in the fortunate position of being able to afford this alternative way. It’s the only thing he’ll agree to, and I think we have to give it a chance. Just do your best, okay?”
The Liam who stood before her now was much thinner than she remembered. He had a full beard, and his hair was longer than she’d ever seen. It curled around his ears and at the base of his neck. He stood swaying just inside the doorway of the plane, clutching a bag over his right shoulder.
“Hey, Rebecca,” he said, waving expansively, his right hand hitting the wall. “Are you all ready for Liam Goes to Rehab, the Cabin in the Woods Installment? I, myself, can’t wait to get started. Bring it on, baby.”
Rebecca rushed toward him. “You’re not…are you drunk?”
“I might have had a little something on the drive over.” He smiled, and when he tried to brush by her, accidentally bumped against her side. “Whoops. Sorry.”
“Where’s Jack? Didn’t he come with you?”
“Nope. Jack was a busy boy. Got held up in a meeting, so I decided to leave on my own.”
“You just…I can’t believe this.”
Rebecca shook her head and continued out of the plane and down the steps. The limo was already driving out the gate of the airfield. She pulled out her phone, only then realizing she’d accidentally turned it off at some point on the drive over.
When it powered up, she saw four missed calls and five texts. They were from Cindy and Jack. She didn’t bother reading them, instead called straight through to Jack.
“What the hell?” she exploded. “Liam just got here, and he’s drunk as a skunk.”
“Shit,” Jack said. “I was late, and he apparently called another car. When it got there, he sent Cindy back into the house to get something. By the time she came down, he was gone. She didn’t notice what limo company he’d used. I tried calling a bunch, but it was a waste of time.” He paused, and she heard him exhale wearily. “I really thought he was gone.”
“Well, he’s here. I guess they made a stop on the way.”
“That’s great. Not the stopping for booze part but that he went to the airport at all. I told you, deep down, he must actually want to get better.”
Rebecca rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
“Okay. The important thing is he’s there, and you’re going to a safe place to take care of him. Remember, a driver will meet you on the other side and get you to the pier. I’m just a phone call away. Hope you have a good flight.”
Back inside the plane, Liam was lounging on a couch and eating pretzels from a silver bowl. A forty-ounce bottle of Jack Daniels nestled in between his hip and the arm of the couch.
“Where’d you go?” he asked, taking another handful of pretzels and chewing vigorously. “Come on. Strap in. Let’s get this show on the road, baby. I’m so ready to turn my life around, can’t you tell? Let the healing begin.”
He lifted the bottle to his lips and gulped down more whiskey while Rebecca weighed her options. Could she wrestle the alcohol away from him?
“Liam,” she said, patting his arm. “Can I please have the bottle? You know you shouldn’t be drinking after everything your body’s been through.”
“My body is fine,” he said. He turned his head and studied her face. “You look so worried. Poor little Becks. You need to relax. You should have a drink. I promise it’ll make everything a thousand million times better.”
He wasn’t exactly slurring yet, but his S’s were getting soft, and his smile was dreamy. In her peripheral vision, she saw Holly hovering. Rebecca tipped her head toward Liam and motioned with her eyes to come closer.
“You know, you’re right. I am feeling pretty uptight,” Rebecca said. “Maybe a drink would be a good idea. I’ll only have a little. Do you mind if I drink straight from the bottle?”
“Course not. Here.” Reaching down, he pried the Jack Daniels out from beside his hip and taking another hearty drink, handed it to her. “Go big or go home, right?”
“Yeah, right. Totally.” She brought the bottle to her lips, and Holly stepped over to stand beside the couch.
“We’ve been cleared for takeoff. Can I get either of you anything else? More pretzels, sir?”
“Do you have any Cheetos? I could really go for some of those right now.” He grabbed another handful of pretzels.
“Of course. Miss Diaz, anything for you?”
Rebecca handed the bottle to Holly. “I think we’re all done with this for now.”
Turning, Holly stepped into the kitchen and immediately upended the bottle in the sink. Liam watched, smiling and nodding his head.
“I figured someone would try and take it away from me. You’re a bad girl, Rebecca. No more whiskey for you.” He leaned over and unzipped the duffel bag which had been tucked away beside the edge of the couch. “That’s why I bought four more,” he said, pulling out another bottle, twisting off the top and immediately taking a drink.
“How about we go back to me giving you a drink every hour or so?” Rebecca asked, reaching over to pat his thigh. “That worked really well, remember?”
He shook his head. “No way, Jose. You’ll just take it away. I decide how much and when. You’re not the boss of me. This is my life, and I can do what I want with it. And right now, I wanna drink.”
She collapsed back against the cushion in defeat. “Okay. Fine. You’re the boss. Can you at least tell me if you took anything else? It’s important.”
“Whiskey is all I need.” He slumped down
and leaned his head back. “You and whiskey make me crazy,” he sang.
“I thought the song was You and Tequila?”
He sang the next few lines, took another swig, and shrugged. “Kenny Chesney might like Tequila, but nothing beats my Jack Daniels.”
She blew out a breath. “Okay, well, you and Jack have a good time. I’ll check in with you in a bit.”
Getting up from the couch, she joined Holly in the kitchen area. “I guess we might as well get airborne,” she said. “You and I could maybe wrestle the bottles away, but it seems icky having to get into a physical thing with him. Maybe he’ll pass out and then we can dump them. I’m sorry about this.”
Holly nodded. “Don’t worry about it. I see all kinds of things in my line of work. I’ll let the captain know we’re ready. You should go ahead and strap yourself in.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were in the air, and Captain James came on the speaker.
“Okay, folks. We’re almost at our cruising altitude of fifty-five thousand feet. I’m estimating we’ll land in Seattle in two hours and twenty-two minutes. Unfortunately, the weather in Washington isn’t looking great. There’s a storm blowing in from the Pacific, but thankfully, we’ll be touching down before it’s fully underway. In the meantime, sit back and enjoy the flight and please let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.”
By now, Liam had his feet up on the couch, and he continued humming to himself, with bits of singing mixed in. From time to time, his head lolled to the side and his eyes closed. Because of the way the label covered the bottle, it was hard to tell, but Rebecca estimated he’d drunk maybe a third of it. Plus, a substantial amount of the bottle they’d managed to get away from him. Shouldn’t be much longer before he was completely out of it.
Sure enough, in less than half an hour, he was gone, arm dangling to the floor and the bottle of whiskey resting against his face. Rebecca sprang up, snatching it before it fell. She quickly opened the duffle bag and pulled out three more. Holly helped her empty them down the drain.
“And whiskey shall rain from the sky,” Rebecca muttered.
“Will he be okay on the couch?” Holly asked.
When she glanced over, Rebecca saw he was lying quietly. “If things get bad later, I may need help moving him to the bathroom, but I think he’s fine for now.”
She walked over and lifting his dangling arm, carefully folded it over his stomach. His right hand was jammed between his body and the couch at what looked to be a painful angle. She pried it free and rested it on top of the other one. He moaned, and his eyes opened, blank as a doll’s, before he turned his head and drifted away again. Rebecca checked his pulse and counted his breaths. All steady and within the normal range.
Rebecca stood a moment and gazed down at him. Whatever demons he possessed sure had a stranglehold, and it seemed impossible he’d ever have the strength to claw his way out. This whole rehab idea was beyond stupid—drunks and addicts never changed. And yet she’d gone ahead and agreed to lock herself away in the wilderness with one. What the hell was she thinking?
One million dollars, that’s what. She could survive anything for six months. She could even survive Liam Connors.
When it seemed Liam wasn’t likely to move any time soon, Rebecca decided she might as well fuel up. She dug into lobster bisque followed by roast beef with a selection of vegetables and topped it all off with a slice of chocolate cherry cheesecake which was about the best thing she’d ever tasted.
By the time the plane crossed into Washington, she was mentally geared up to disappear into the wilderness. Just her and Liam. And lots and lots of chocolate.
“All right, folks,” Captain James’s voice sounded through the speakers. “We’ll be landing at Sea-Tac in ten minutes. As I said, things are a little stormy down there, but we’re not anticipating any problems.”
The plane bumped down gently onto the ground, and when Rebecca looked out the window, the rain blew across in sheets.
“Liam, wake up.” She gently shook his shoulder. “We’re here. Can you get up?”
He blinked, his eyes showing confusion, then swung his legs toward the floor until he was once again upright. “What’s going on?” he croaked, rubbing his forehead.
“We’ve just landed at Sea-Tac. We still have to hitch a lift to the cabin. Are you well enough to continue traveling?”
“Of course.” He shook himself and ran a hand through his hair. Then, his mind obviously beginning to click back into gear, he grabbed his duffle back from the floor and yanked the zipper open. “Where are they? You had no right to go through my stuff. I want my whiskey back right now.”
“It’s gone,” Rebecca said gently. “We emptied it all down the drain. Come on. We should get going.”
He stood, somewhat unsteadily, and after tossing the empty bag to the side, followed Rebecca to the front of the plane. “I need to get some more,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere until I have a bottle in my hands.”
“Okay, sure,” she agreed. “Let’s just get out and find the car. I’m sure we can arrange to get more alcohol.”
Holly smiled at them. “Your driver just pulled up. It looks pretty wet out there. You’ll be wanting one of these. Here.” She passed Rebecca an umbrella.
Pushing the umbrella out of the plane first, she opened it and lifted it high enough to cover herself and Liam. He tripped on the top step of the plane, but Rebecca, who had been watching over her shoulder, turned and blocked him from crashing into her and sending both of them tumbling down the stairs. After that, he clung onto her shoulder until they reached the ground.
A black Lincoln Navigator sat idling a few steps away. The driver hopped out, also carrying an umbrella.
“Good afternoon,” he said while the wind whipped between them. “Though good might be an overstatement.”
He opened the door to the back seat and ushered them in, then set about getting the luggage loaded into the trunk. It was blessedly warm inside the SUV, and it helped thaw some of the chill from Rebecca’s skin. All of a sudden, she wondered why they weren’t going to somewhere tropical. That would have been so much better.
When he got back in the vehicle, the driver glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “I’m Patrick. We’ll have you across to the pier in a couple of minutes.” He turned his head to face forward and put the vehicle in gear.
“I need to buy some alcohol,” Liam said. “Whiskey.”
“Well, there aren’t any liquor stores on the way. Would you like me to make a detour?”
“No,” Rebecca said.
“Yes,” Liam countered. “I’m not going anywhere until I get a drink.”
Patrick’s eyes met Rebecca’s in the rearview mirror. His eyebrow lifted.
“No,” Rebecca said again.
“Listen, Patrick.” Liam leaned forward in his seat, putting a hand on the driver’s shoulder. “You can drop me off at the departure lounge. I’ll get a drink there.”
“You don’t think people will notice Liam Connors, drunk off his ass, wandering around the airport?” Rebecca asked. “You’ll be front page of all the gossip magazines. I’ll bet someone sells footage to TMZ.”
“I don’t care,” Liam said.
Patrick cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt, but I can get you to a liquor store that’s only three miles out of our way.”
“Absolutely not,” Rebecca said. “You’re supposed to be getting sober. That’s the whole reason we flew all the way out here. Plus, we’re going to miss our seaplane.”
“How can you miss a chartered plane?” Liam scoffed. “I’ll pay extra if I have to. Let’s go, Patrick.”
“This is stupid, short-term thinking,” Rebecca said. “Once we get to the cabin there’ll be no way to get more alcohol so why not start now?”
“Because I’m already drunk, and I don’t want to lose the buzz,” Liam said. “You agree with me, right?” He nodded toward Patrick.
“Um…” Patrick cleared his throat.
“Have we made a decision?”
“If you buy alcohol right now, I can only conclude you’re not committed to becoming sober,” Rebecca said.
“Blah, blah, blah,” Liam said. “Drive, my good man, drive.”
Rebecca turned her head and stared out the window. The car eased forward. They exited the airfield and made several turns along small feeder roads until they reached a strip mall. Liam clapped his hands and smiled when Patrick pulled up in front of Sam’s Spirits Liquor Store. He was out of the car even before it came to a full stop.
Rebecca pulled out her phone and dialed Jack.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“We’re at a liquor store,” she said.
“Take it easy,” Jack said. “It’s only the first day.”
“Yeah, but two weeks ago his girlfriend died and, he almost did too. Apparently, that’s not enough to make him stop. When someone almost dies and still doesn’t want to get sober, there’s no hope. I really thought I could do this, but it turns out I can’t. You’re going to have to find someone else. I’ll take Liam to the cabin, but you or Cindy or Siobhan better get out here pronto because I’ll be arranging with the seaplane people to pick me up tomorrow afternoon.”
“You do understand you won’t get the money. The contract stated plainly that you have to stay with Liam for six months.”
“Yeah, I understand. And to quote Liam, ‘I don’t care.’”
“How about this? Get to the cabin—which, by the way—is misnamed because the place is almost as big as Liam’s house in the Hills. Anyway, get settled in, give it a few days, and then we’ll talk, okay?”
“Jack, you’re not listening to me,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’m quitting, resigning, giving my one-day notice. I’m not doing it.”
He sighed. “I can’t talk right now. Call me tomorrow, and we’ll sort this out.”
“Fine. I’ll call you, but you’d better figure out who’s going to babysit Liam.”
Chapter Sixteen