My Rock #6 (3 page)

I looked at her and said, “Yeah, I knew he didn’t
have much. I wanted to help him, so I wasn’t worrying about it. But right now,
I guess I just feel kind of like he’s been lying to me all this time. I hate to
be lied to.”

“Yeah, an omission of that size is the same as a
lie…to us anyways. I tried telling that to my last married boyfriend. He never
said he wasn’t married, but still…men see the truth differently, I think.”

“I know, you hate men today. I’m starting to see
your point. The truth is the truth; there are no varying degrees of it.”

“And yesterday and probably tomorrow….” Susie was
still talking about hating men. She smiled sympathetically and said, “I agree
with you. The truth is the truth and he should have told you.”

“I guess I should look at this from the bright side.
In nine months, my boyfriend is going to be a millionaire. I’ve never been with
a millionaire before.”

“Yep, that’s definitely the bright side. You should get
him to propose before he gets it so when you divorce him, you’ll get half.”

I laughed and said, “Yeah, there’s a plan. Then I’ll
be a half a millionaire…as long as he doesn’t blow it.”

“Oh! There’s your solution! Don’t blow him no more
until he comes through with the cash,” Susie said. “Like I said before, they
all think with their dicks.”

That made me laugh, I could always count on Susie to
lighten the mood.

CHAPTER
THREE

TRISTAN

I was on my bike, on my way to the second to last
therapy appointment I had at the rehab. I was not going to miss one fucking
thing about it. If I’m being honest, I was surprised that I made it that far.
It was the furthest I’d ever made it sober—over a hundred days clean. Elly
deserved some of the credit for it, but I had to give a lot of it to myself. It
wasn’t easy getting clean, and it sure as hell wasn’t easy having to talk to
these strangers about all my shit. But right then, when it was so close to being
over, I was really glad I did it. The next day the tour bus would be leaving
and it would be all expenses paid for nine months—then I’d have a fucking
million dollars. Life was definitely looking up. I hoped that those nine months
would go by as fast as the previous nine months had. Actually, most of those
last few years were a blur. Sometimes I’d hardly known what month it was; I just
went from one altered state to the next.

I started thinking about the dinner with the other
contestants from the night before. We had Mexican food on the show’s dime and
it was good. Some of them aren’t bad to hang with either. I doubted I’d ever
work back up to having a real friendship with anyone; that just wasn’t in my
personality, but it was good to have acquaintances that weren’t dealers.
Overall, it was a fun night, but Brooke kept rubbing up against me every chance
she got and I had to keep avoiding being next to her. She’d worn a skirt that
barely covered her pussy and her big boobs were pushed up over the top of the
shirt she was wearing. I was okay with ignoring the stirrings she caused in my
pants from across the room but I got a little flustered when she pressed her
tits up against my arm.

Every time throughout the last three months that I
had to practice with the rest of them, she would be right up next to me, too. I
thought she got that I wasn’t interested back when she made the threats about
telling on Elly and me. Obviously not; you’d think she’d have a little more
self-esteem. I made a point to tell her again that I wasn’t interested, but she
acted like she was in heat. It really wasn’t attractive.

I had also decided on my way back from the
restaurant that when I got home I was going to talk to Elly about it. I didn’t
want her to see Brooke acting all familiar when we’re on tour and thinking
something is going on between us. I really wanted to keep things as drama free
as possible. But Elly was already asleep by the time I got there. She was
sleeping in one little corner of the bed and the rest of it was still covered
with clothes and crap. I thought about pushing it all off into the floor, but
she’d probably be pissed. Instead, I slept on the couch. When I got up in the
morning, she was already gone. I texted to see if she was coming to the
appointment and she texted back saying that she had to take some paperwork for
one of her online classes to a dean. When she finished with that, she’d be
there.

After I won the contest and told my therapist that
part of winning was going on tour, he got a little freaked out about it. I got
that he was afraid I’d fall back into the party life, but I had to learn how to
live my life without doing that. He still hadn’t signed off on me going and the
show was requiring it since they paid for my rehab. I would need to talk him
into it. I had all my argument points ready. I thought it was good that I was
easing back into show business touring with the show. They had their own
therapist that goes on tour just in case any of us freak out…and as another
deterrent, I’ll have Elly. Elly had fulfilled her promise and gone to every
single appointment with me since I was discharged from rehab. She was my rock
through all of it, and I hoped that someday I could pay her back for everything
she’d done for me—not just financially. I have to admit that I resented her a
little at first; I wasn’t used to feeling like I owed someone for something
nice they did for me. It was rare for that to happen.

When I drove into the parking lot, I saw her there
waiting for me. Damn, she was hot!

I parked and she walked over to meet me as I was
climbing off the bike. “Hey,” she said.

She looked like she was going to say something else
but then she didn’t, so I said, “Hey. You look hot. Let’s go home and fuck
after this…or better yet…”

Her face changed and she laughed; she already knew I
was going to suggest finding a fucking closet or something. She’d gotten to
know me pretty well in such a short time. I suppose that’s because there really
was not that much to know. It also had something to do with living in such
close quarters. It was hard to hide anything from anyone living in a
two-bedroom apartment.

“Now that we’re allowed to do it in the bed, let’s
stick with fucking at home,” she said, taking my hand and pulling me into the
building.

We waited for the therapist for fifteen minutes
before he finally wondered in, no apology or anything. If I was paying him out
of my pocket, I’d have docked him for that shit. Since I was not though, I couldn’t
really say anything.

“So, what’s new?” he asked when he sat down.

“We leave tomorrow,” I told him. “I still need you
to sign off on it.”

“Right…the tour. I’m still concerned about that,
Tristan. That whole atmosphere seems to be where the problems for you began. I
wonder what might happen if you’re put back into the middle of it so soon into
your recovery.”

“Come on, that’s bullshit,” I told him. “My career
didn’t have anything to do with me being an addict. You met my parents. You
know damned good and well where my problems stem from. I guarantee you that
they won’t be on tour with me or even on the periphery.” He still didn’t look
convinced so I said, “Come on, Doc, I can handle this. It won’t be the same as
a professional tour. I’ll be surrounded by people all the time that will be
worried about bad publicity and there won’t be as many pressures. They’ll make
damned sure I’m not screwing up. Elly will be there, too.”

He liked Elly. Sometimes I got the feeling he was
wondering what she was doing with me. That kind of pissed me off. It wasn’t any
of his fucking business what she saw in me. That was for me to wonder about. The
doctor looked at Elly and said,

“You will be there, the whole tour?”

“Yes, I’m actually working on the show. We also have
a therapist that will be touring with us. He’s there just for this sort of
thing. The producers are all aware of Tristan’s history and everyone will be
looking out for him.”

“Hmm, that makes me feel better about it. Do you
think I can have this therapist’s number?”

“Sure,” Elly said, “I can get that for you.”

“Good then; Tristan, I’ll need you sign a release of
information for him.”

“What kind of information are you going to give
him?” I already didn’t like the idea of the producers all knowing my shit. I
didn’t want to keep adding people in the mix.

“I need to communicate with him, Tristan. He needs
to know your background and what’s already been done for you and what you’ve
already accomplished. If something happened and you had to go to him for help…well,
it would be beneficial to you both for him to be well informed. I can’t share
with him without your permission, though, so I need you to sign for it. Otherwise,
I’m not going to feel comfortable enough to sign off on you going.”

Shit, fucking blackmailing piece of shit! “Okay,
fine,” I said, proving those anger management classes worked.

“Okay, then I’ll sign off on it. It’s a big deal for
you and you shouldn’t miss it. I don’t mean to downplay that part of it. I know
you’re proud of it and you should be. Just remember how easy it is to fall from
grace. If you have anxiety, doubts, the urge to use…call someone, reach out to
someone and above all, remember that the only place it got you before was rock
bottom. Alcohol and drugs are always a temporary fix.”

 
I nodded and
said, “I’ll remember. I really don’t want to go back to living like that.” They
weren’t only a temporary fix, they were like putting a Band-Aid on that was
going to pull the skin off underneath and make everything worse.

“Good,” he said, “I don’t believe that you do.
You’ve made a lot of progress here. How is everything else going?”

“Good; great, actually.”
 

“Um…there is something I think we should talk
about,” Elly interrupted.

What the hell? What is she doing? She never brought
stuff up when we met with my therapist. I was racking my brains wondering what
the hell it could be.

“What is it that we need to talk about, Elly?” the
doctor asked.

“Well, it’s actually something I need to talk to
Tristan about. I don’t feel like he’s been honest with me.”

Jesus! Fuck! What is she doing? If it was something
she needed to talk to me about, why was she doing it here. Was this about
Brooke? I was glaring at her trying to get her to stop, but she just kept
talking.

“Tristan, yesterday when you dropped your stuff in
the living room, I picked it up and I saw the papers on top.”

Motherfucker! What the hell was she doing telling me
this in front of the fucking doctor? She snooped through my shit and
twenty-four hours later, she suddenly wanted to talk about it.

I took a deep breath and tried to put myself in a
calmer place. If I went off on her right then in front of the doctor, he wasn’t
going to sign off on letting me go. She knew that. I got it right then; that’s
why she wanted to talk about it there. Jesus, it wasn’t like I was going to
backhand her or something.

“Okay,” I said. “You found them and obviously you
stepped all over some boundaries and read them,” It was sarcastic but not aggressive.
I learned the difference in one of my classes. I guess I wasn’t a complete
idiot.

She looked like I had backhanded her. Then she said,
“That’s not fair. You can’t turn this around on me. You lied to me.”

“Wait, let’s back up,” the doctor said. He was
completely lost. Good; it was none of his fucking business.

 
I was still shooting
her a warning look. There was still time for her to let this shit go. This
couldn’t go anywhere good. Jesus, why right then? She knew how important it was
he signed those papers. Fuck! I was hoping she got the meaning behind my look
just about the time she opened her mouth again and spilled the beans.

“You’ve been kicked out of your apartment since you
got out of rehab. You got evicted for not paying the rent for three months.”
She may as well have brought the fucking papers and read them aloud. She went
on to say, in an accusing voice, “You’ve been living with me for three months
and you lied that whole time.”

“Fine, now that we all know that I’m a broke loser
maybe you can explain where the fuck you get that I lied?” Fuck anger
management. I was pissed right then and I had a right to be. Who the fuck did
she think she was?

“Tristan,” the doctor said in his smooth therapist
voice that just served to piss me off more, “Calm down, okay? Let’s just talk
about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about except the fact that
she’s sitting here in front of you and calling me a liar. First of all, if she
had an issue with me, this should have been done at home, and second of all, I
never lied. She never asked me anything about my fucking apartment so I’d
really like to know how she thinks she has a right to call me a liar. It was my
business and I had no obligations to tell her. I’m sure there is plenty of shit
in her past that she hasn’t told me about. Is that all a lie?”

“You lied by omission, Tristan. It’s not the same as
just not talking about something in your past. This was something that involved
me, too. You were living with me…I was supporting you. That was something we
should have talked about,” she said.