The Mighty Storm (57 page)

Here we go again. He
’
s up and down like a goddamn yoyo, and I am so absolutely done with his crap.

“
Are you fucking kidding me?! Don
’
t you dare, Jake, don
’
t you bloody dare,” I point an angry finger at him.

“
What? I
’
ve never lied to you.”

“
Um no? Sorry, just when exactly was it you told me that you
’
d started using drugs again?”

He stares evenly at me. “I
’
m not using.” He frowns. Then he rubs his nose.

“
Sure you
’
re not. So let me get this straight.” I press my fingertips to my forehead. “It
’
s not okay for me to hold something back
–
like having a coffee with Will, to try and spare your feelings at a terrible point in your life, but it is okay for you to break promises and lie to me about using drugs. Good to know how we roll Jake,” I add sarcastically.

“
I
’
m not using drugs.” He frowns again, and little crease forms between his brows.

I lean back against the table and fold my arms across my chest. “Please don
’
t insult me. I know.”

“
You don
’
t know anything because I
’
m not using.”

“
Don
’
t lie to me!” I cry, staring him down, as I straighten up. “I want to know when it started and exactly what it is you
’
re using?”

“
I
’
m not
–”

“
Don
’
t fucking lie to me!” I yell. “I
’
m not stupid!”

“
Yeah like I
’
m not stupid about what
’
s been going on behind my back with you and Will.”

I laugh. I actually laugh at his audacity. “Don
’
t try turning this back on me because it
’
s not going to wash. Tell me what you
’
re using? If you don
’
t, I
’
m walking out that door and I
’
m never coming back.” I ensure to keep my voice steady to let him know I mean it.

He lets out a light sigh. Stepping back, he leans up against the wall and pushes his hands through his hair.

“
Just a bit of coke,” he says evenly, shrugging.

Even though I knew, it still pains me to hear. And I feel a corner of my heart chip away.

“
Oh no, Jake,” I shake my head despairing. “What were you thinking?”

“
I
’
ve got it under control.”

“
You know for smart successful guy
–
you are a complete bloody idiot at times!”

“
Tru…”

“
No, Jake, seriously this isn
’
t right. Where are they?” My eyes are scanning the room.

“
What?”

“
The drugs, Jake! Where are they?”

“
There isn
’
t any here.”

“
Don
’
t lie to me!”

I start moving around the room, tossing cushions, pulling drawers out, searching the room like a woman possessed.

Where would an addict keep their drugs? Think, Tru. Think.

Then I remember him being in the bathroom this morning, and it clicks with something I saw in a film once.

I rush into the bedroom and head straight toward the ensuite bathroom. Jake is fast on his feet behind me, and that
’
s when I know I
’
m heading to the right place.

I beat him there, and pull the lid off the cistern. And there it is, sitting on top of a pipe.

A small bag of white powder.

Cocaine, I
’
m guessing.

Picking it up, holding it between my fingers, I turn to him.

His face is ashen.

My whole body is shaking with anger and fear. Fear mostly.

I hold the bag of cocaine up in front of me. “How long?”

He looks down, away from me.

“
How long have you been back using? Or did you never stop? Have you been on this crap the whole time we
’
ve been back in each other
’
s lives?”

His eyes snap up to mine. “No. When I said I was clean I was telling you the truth.”

“
So when?”

“
I took my first hit in Chicago.”

I gasp. “The first show of the tour?” My words come out tinny and small.

Even though I had thought this to be the case, it
’
s still just so hard to hear.

“
Why?” my voice wobbles. My throat is thick with tears.

He shakes his head, shrugging. “I was just on edge and … I needed something to take it off to get me through the show. It
’
s not a big deal, Tru.”

“
Not a big deal?! Are you being bloody serious?!” I expostulate.

“
I
’
m not addicted,” he shakes his head

“
How many times have you used since Chicago?”

He shifts on his feet. Not meeting my eyes, he says, “Once, twice
–
max.”

He
’
s lying. Fear starts to spread through me like weaving spider webs.

“
How. Many. Times?”

He sighs and leans back against the tiled wall. “Does it matter?”

“
I
’
ll take that to be every day then.”

He doesn
’
t argue the fact, so I get my answer. And my blood runs cold.

He
’
s been high for the last two weeks straight. High when we
’
ve eaten dinner together. Watched TV together. Every time he
’
s kissed me. Made love to me. He
’
s had this crap in his body.

It tarnishes it all.

I feel lied to and cheated, and so very angry and it just all suddenly bursts right out of me.

“
I can
’
t believe this, Jake! You promised me you would never get back on this crap! Back at Lumb Falls you promised!”

“
Yeah, well things change.” His voice is low and cold, and he doesn
’
t sound like the Jake I know.

The Jake I love.

Tears are squeezing at my eyes. Feeling suddenly lost and adrift, I lower my hand which is still holding the little bag of cocaine.

I see Jake
’
s eyes follow it down like his life depends on it.

Disappointment, and an ache so raw, courses through me and I fear it will tear me right open.

I
’
m losing the man I love to this trash in my hand, and I have no clue how to stop it from happening.

“
Look it
’
s not a big deal,” he says. His voice has changed again, it’s gentle, his expression softened. “I just take a little bit to get me through the day that
’
s all. It
’
s nothing for you to worry about, baby.”

“
You shouldn
’
t need this crap to get you through the day at all,” I whisper, my voice breaking over the words. “It
’
s not right, Jake. You know this. You
’
ve been here before.”

“
I
’
m not addicted. I
’
ve got it under control this time.”

“
And that
’
s exactly what an addict would say.” I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from bursting into tears. “Just like the addict who pissed on stage in front of thousands of people … like the addict who nearly drowned.”

His eyes narrow. His jaw is clenched, I can see it working under his skin.

I know he
’
s trying to hold his anger in. For now.

“
That was different.” His voice is measured, even. “I wasn
’
t in control then. I
’
m in control now
–
and I didn
’
t have you then, baby.” He tries to step near me, but I hold my hand up stopping him.

“
You have me now, but you
’
re still using this crap. That doesn
’
t stick, Jake. That
’
s not a well formed reason you have there. I don
’
t think this is different to the last time at all. I think you
’
ll end up right back where you were, floating face down in a goddamn swimming pool dead if you keep up with this!”

His gaze practically tears through me. I know that was harsh but I need to shock some sense into him.

“
I know things are hard for you at the moment. I know you
’
ve been struggling since your dad died, and the story getting out about that night
–
what he did to you, and I know you
’
re under pressure with the tour and
–”

“
Do you?!” he hollers at me. The level of his anger actually makes me jump out of my suddenly cold skin. “Because honestly I don
’
t think you have a fuckin
’
clue! What do you do Tru? You write a stupid little column in a crappy fuckin’ magazine! Me? I run a fuckin’ music label and a band, taking care of everyone else, while simultaneously touring, so you know what
–
I don
’
t think you know shit all about the kind of pressure I
’
m under!”

I feel winded. I know that
’
s not him talking, but it doesn
’
t make it hurt any less.

“
Thanks, Jake. It
’
s good to know how I sit in your eyes.”

I push past him, heading back into the living room.

He follows me.

Stopping, I turn around. I
’
ve only got my one card left to play.

“
I know you
’
re struggling, that
’
s clear, and I know your life is pressured at the moment, but I can
’
t put up with the drug taking.” I hold the bag of crap up again, for the last time. “It
’
s me or this?”

“
What?” His eyes widen with disbelief.

“
You heard. You either go back to rehab and get clean, or I
’
m gone. I won
’
t stick around and watch you screw your life up again.” My whole body is trembling under the weight of my words.

All emotion disappears from his face, and he takes a deep breath in through his nose. “Again? Sorry were you here the last time?”

I close my eyes tight shut, taking a deep breath in myself. Then I open them. “No. And why was that, Jake?” I stare hard at him. “It
’
s me or this?” I repeat, lifting the bag higher.

His jaw tenses, his eyes slip out of focus, then narrow back onto mine with a new determinedness in them. “I don
’
t do ultimatums.”

A pain hits me hard in the chest. He
’
s made his decision. He
’
s way more gone than I had realised.

As I blink through the agony, a tear runs from my eye. I wipe it away with my sleeve. Then I toss the bag of coke to him.

It hits his chest, and drops to the floor.

“
Have a wonderful life with your drugs, Jake.”

I swivel on my heel, feeling more tears coming, I make to leave.

Jake grabs me from behind, pulling me back to him. “Tru, no, I don
’
t want you to go.”

“
You can
’
t have both!” I cry in his face.

“
Stop acting like a child!” A sudden callous anger bleeds through his voice, and he leans his face close to mine, his fingers gripping my arm to the point of almost pain.

“
Me?! I
’
m not the one acting like a child!” I remonstrate. “I think you need to take a good long look in the mirror!”

His face contorts, and for a moment I don
’
t recognise him.

He releases me, pushing me away. “
Fuck you
. I can do what the fuck I want, and if I want to shovel coke up my nose all day long then I will
–
because it
’
s my life. I got by just fine before you turned back up, interfering with your holier than now attitude. I didn
’
t need you then, and I certainly don
’
t need you now.”