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Authors: Mandi Beck

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STONED (Wrecked Book 1) (10 page)

BOOK: STONED (Wrecked Book 1)
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I love you.

Love,

Stone

 

Day eighty-four of rehab and I almost can’t remember what the hell it’s like to not be here. I only have six more days to go and I’m out. The thought leaves me excited as hell but also so fucking nervous. What if I fuck up? I can’t do this shit again. I won’t. Rehab is no fucking joke. They talk about taking shit one day at a time because statistics show that fifty to ninety percent of people relapse and have to come back to rehab. That’s a huge fucking number. I refuse to be a statistic.

Jogging down the little stretch of private beach, my workout partner slash sobriety coach, Koa, right along with me, I let the sound of the surf and the bright sun wash over me and warm my shoulders. I spend a lot of time alone here as do many of the others. It’s a rehab facility for the rich and famous—nobody is making any lasting friendships in here. Just walking around with their big damn sunglasses, hats, and wigs trying to get clean. I’m kinda hard to disguise, so I don’t bother. Just keep to myself. Koa is the only person I’m friendly with, and that’s because we’ve hired him to come with me when I leave. It was either a sobriety coach or a clean living facility, and I’m done with being a prisoner. He can live with me for the rest of my life if need be. If that’s what it fucking takes. Big Hawaiian fucker. He doesn’t care who I am. Thinks my music is shit. Just wants me to stay clean. He’s perfect.

“Yo,
haole,
slow down. You’re too fast for me, brah.”

I slow because he really isn’t made for speed. He’s all muscle. That shit’s gotta be heavy to carry around. “Sorry, man, I was in my head. Let’s go back. I want to get Willow’s letter out with today’s mail.” He nods and we turn back the way we came. Koa is the only person I talk to about Wills for the most part. Him and my counselor, because with them it’s full disclosure. As soon as we’re in front of the sprawling facility, he dives into the water to cool down.

“Hey, shark bait! I’m going to take a shower in my room.” He waves, acknowledging that he heard me, and I hit the outside showers and rinse off before going inside. From the outside, anyone who saw us would think that we were on vacation. Soaking up the rays, catching some waves. Couldn’t be further from the truth.

Fresh out of the shower, towel slung low on my hips, I go out to the lanai to write Willow’s letter. It’s the only place I smoke, so I practically live out here. Collapsing onto the chair, I light a cigarette and hunch over my notebook.

 

Birdie,

It feels like forever since I’ve called you that. I never used to call you by anything else, so I’m not sure when it stopped, just that it did. You always were my little birdie though. Singing so pretty just for me. I’m ready to be out of here so I can hear you sing to me again. Climb me like a tree and whisper songs in my ear like you used to. Speaking of songs, I told you I’ve been writing a lot in here. I’ve been working on one called Willow’s Song. I think it’s going to be the first single to drop. I can’t wait to work on this album. I miss being in the studio so fucking bad. Add it to the list of things I miss, right? None of them compares to how much I miss you though, Birdie. I know I tell you all the time, but I need you to know that it’s true. Come home so I can show you how much.

I love you.

Yours,

Stone

 

Day motherfucking ninety. This is it. I’m getting the fuck out of Paradise and I’m never coming back. It doesn’t take me long to pack. You’re not allowed a whole lot. Tucking my notebooks into my duffel, I sling it over my shoulder, pop a lolli in my mouth, then grab my guitar case and go downstairs. I have one final meeting with my counselor, Dan, and Koa, and I’m sprung. My feet hit the marble floors of the foyer where people are milling around doing their thing, and I have to laugh. If this were a movie there would be some kind of farewell party happening for me. Hugs and well wishes and shit but not here. Thank fuck.

The door to Dan’s office is open, the two of them sitting on his lanai. I’m telling you, that’s where life happens in this place. I drop my duffel and join them.

“Aloha, Stone,” Dan greets cheerfully. “Sit down, let’s have a talk before you bust ass out of here.” Dan doesn’t talk to me like some uptight asshole. He’s real and that’s why I don’t hate him anymore. When I first got here I would’ve gladly beat the hell out of him at every meeting just because, but now that I’m clean and not nearly as angry, I like him.

“Howzit, bruddah?” Koa asks with his pidgin bullshit that’s like another fucking language.

“I’m good,” I tell them after I’ve removed the sucker and tossed the stick. I take the chair next to Koa. Dan’s lanai is a shit ton bigger than mine.

“You’re all packed and ready to go then?” Dan asks.

“Yup.”

“Koa said you guys are going to stay on the island for a week or two before you head back to Austin. That right?”

“Yeah. I think the label is worried I’m gonna get out of here and go balls to the wall the minute I get some freedom so they want to keep me close. No faith but they gotta protect their investment, ya know?” I say sardonically.

“Do you feel like that’s what you’re going to do?” he asks patiently. Him and Koa both watching me.

“No. I honestly don’t. I think if I did I wouldn’t leave. I mean, I would love to be high right now. But the fallout isn’t worth it.” I shrug. “Is an addict ever really not an addict? I’ll probably always crave the shit, but I want to be strong enough to say no to it.” I look over at Koa and then back at Dan “I feel that I am. And I have insurance. This big fucker won’t let me fail.” We all laugh at that.

“Well then, you’re free to get the hell out of here.” He stands and offers his hand. I stand and take it. “I hope to never see you again but know that you can always call me.” We shake and the moment is a little more emotional than I thought it would be. He’s proud of me, and there haven’t been many people in my life who have been. I’ve not given them a reason to be. Before it gets awkward, I drop his hand.

“Let’s go, big kahuna, before he wants me to hug it out or some shit.” They fist bump and we’re out of there.

At the door, I place the last letter I’ll ever write to Willow from this place in the box.

Willow

“HEY WILLOW, YOU MIGHT WANT
to come and see this,” Perry calls from the family room, the TV blaring in the background. She’s here for the next week while they remodel her kitchen. She’s watching Lyric for me so I don’t have to wake her.

“What is it?” I ask, shuffling into the room, trying to get my long hair tamed as I do. “I’m running late.” I come to an abrupt halt when I see him. The gray eyes staring back at me, reaching into my soul and snatching my breath with only a look. His lips are moving, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. He looks good. Healthy. Not like the last time I saw him. It pains me a little to think that my leaving was good for him, when being there and supporting him, dealing with his constant shit wasn’t. It’s selfish, but I can’t help it. Not after all I went through.

“OH. MY. GOD. Willow. Did you hear that?” my friend asks, rewinding it without waiting for me to answer and then turning the volume up so there’s no chance I can miss it.

“Stone, there was some talk about a stint in rehab,” the interviewer says. “Sex addiction?” He chuckles at his own attempt at humor. I snort indelicately, not far from the truth. You name it and Stone had been addicted. Drugs, women, alcohol. If he could get high off it, he would.

“Nope, drugs and alcohol. Took my girl walking out on me to clean up my act. I’ve been clean for a few months now though and I’ve never felt better.” Stone smiles, not embarrassed by the line of questioning. It always did take a lot to fluster him.

“So you’re off the hard stuff, the band is gearing up for another tour, a new album, and you’re single? Does life get any better?” He’s asked in admiration and envy.

“My life? None of it matters at the moment.” Stone shrugs and gives a sheepish smile, the first I’ve ever seen. “It’s all a little . . . unimportant without someone to share it with.”

The reporter smirks, “So are you taking applications to fill the ‘someone to share with’ position?”

“Not even close. I’m on a mission to find the one who got away.” Confidence, determination lacing every word. Every syllable of every word, actually, making me nervous.

Rubbing my temples, I startle when Perry says, “Holy fuck, Wills. What are you gonna do?”

“Don’t call me that,” I murmur distracted, still swirling my hand over my suddenly aching head, pulling some calm from the motion. A calm I am far from feeling. Closing my eyes, I can see him, standing there where I left him. Even through the haze of everything that has happened since that day, the picture is vivid in my mind. The sunken eyes, the dark hair plastered to his face, that stormy gray gaze. He looked like a stranger, yet not. The man I had loved so much, so blindly, had slowly slipped away, replaced with this shell of him. A shadow of the guy who stole my heart with a song, more concerned now with his next high than he was about me.

“Did you hear what he’s calling the next album?” Her face is scrunched up in worry, though I can see that she’s dying to tell me. Perry may be my best friend, but she isn’t aware of the whole story. As far as she’s concerned, as far as
anyone
other than Cora and Bear is concerned, I had enough and just left and didn’t want to be found. Partly true. “Willow. The new album is called Willow,” she says in quiet reverence. “The hottest rock star walking the planet right now names his album after you, and here you stand, with his baby, hiding from him.” Eyes wide and incredulous she shakes her head. “What the fuckity fuck is the world coming to?”

I just shake my head at her and turn back to the TV, almost as if in a trance. Stone sits with his legs spread wide, tee shirt stretched across his chest, his hair falling into his face and covering his eye, teasing the corner of his mouth. He has on the leather cuff I gave him for our one-year anniversary. The band is worn now, but if you look, you'll still see our names etched there. I watch as his hands run up and down the denim covering his legs, at his lips wrapped around a lollipop stick. Always the damn lollies.

“Stone, there's a lot of talk about your personal life and the battles you've been fighting lately. You’ve lost some fans over it, probably gained some too. Can we talk about that some more?” the interviewer asks hopefully.

“Sure. I've got nothing to hide anymore. No image I'm trying to uphold.” He chuckles a bit. “The thing about people is they want to hear these tragic songs. These sad fu—damn songs,” he corrects. “But they don’t want the man singing them to have faced any of the hell he’s singing about. They don’t want the cheating and drugs to be a real thing. They just want us to show them a little bit of that wild side. Let them touch it without it ever touching them.” Stone pauses, twisting the stick of the sucker around and around between his thumb and index finger, watching the little pink ball turn this way and that. “Truth is though, if we don’t live some of these things we’re singing about, they wouldn’t love the song so damn much. I pour my heart into every one of those songs because it’s a release for me, an escape, an apology, a love letter. I can’t change that. Because then I change my music.”

My hand resting against my throat, I try to look away . . . but I can’t. This is the Stone I always loved. The Stone who made music with me, not only with his mouth but with his entire being. We lived and breathed music for so long and then even that changed. Pretty soon it was just me writing the songs and giving them to Lawson to sort through and bring to the rest of the band to decide on. The day Stone stopped making music with me was the day I died a little inside. I knew it was over then, but still I hung on. Tearing my eyes away from the TV, I scoop up my keys and jacket.

“I’m gonna be late for class. I’ll see you later, Perry,” I call as I walk to the front door, pushing through it before she can reply. She can’t understand my need to stay hidden from him and I can’t bring myself to admit the truth. He’s not the only thing I’m hiding from.

BOOK: STONED (Wrecked Book 1)
9.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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