I woke up with a low pounding in my head, a familiar one. Not quite a hangover, but close. I shifted and realized I must have passed out in my clothes, on top of the covers. I rolled onto my back, cracked open my eyes and looked down at myself before wincing.

All at once, arriving at the retreat came back to me. The second I made it into my room, I refused to go out, only opening the door for my luggage and for the sake of meals. I had, thankfully, been allowed to pack for myself, and I’d packed plenty to keep me busy along with my clothes.

I was still in the tank top and jeans from two days ago, and I grimaced. I could have done with a shower, but instead, I slid off the bed and squinted my eyes around the room until I found what I was looking for, which was a half empty open bottle of whiskey on the floor a few steps away. If I drank it before the hangover set in, I wouldn’t have to deal with it. I’d gotten pretty good at avoiding hangovers in the past several months, though the binge drinking was probably hell on my liver.

A knock on the door brought a scowl to my face. The staff had come before to try and get me to come out, and every time I gave the same answer, but they kept coming back.

“Excuse me, sir, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave,” a voice called, making me roll my eyes.

“You’ve missed your sessions the past two days already; you can't miss the third day.”

“I’m busy,” I shouted back. “So just piss off and leave me alone! I paid for it, so what’s your problem?”

It was the staff’s job to check in on me, I knew that. No matter how much I insulted them, someone was always back to get me. But no one told me about these ‘sessions’ or that they were mandatory. After all, this had been the compromise to locking me up in a rehab center, because I didn’t need rehab, no way. I just had a bit of a problem. I wasn’t an alcoholic or anything, so I was fed up of everyone treating me as if I were one.

Instead, the label and Tom thought I needed to relax. I could have told them it was pointless.

I expected to be left alone. They hadn't tried too hard before, but another round of knocking came, this time louder, faster and decidedly annoying.

“Sir,” the voice came again, sounding stern. “I’m going to have to ask you to open the door, please. You are required at today’s session. If you would only attend even for a few minutes, you would see it’s not that bad.”

I snorted and thought I heard a touch of desperation in his voice. So I ignored it.

Just because I was stuck here, didn’t mean I was going to do what they all wanted me to do. Tom, the label, all the people that worked at the retreat, they could go fuck themselves and leave me alone. It was really all I needed.

Bastards!

I might not want my career to be over, but it wasn’t like I would be out on the streets if it did. I knew I got out of control sometimes; I couldn’t help it. But so what? It was my life to live as I pleased. No other label might sign me, but I knew if I hired the right people, I could go solo if I wanted.

Only, I didn’t want to. It was too much like work. So I was stuck.

I moved back to the bed and sat down heavily, taking another heavy gulp of alcohol.

“If you don’t come out of this room today and join the session, I’m afraid I will have to contact your agent.”

That made me freeze. And really, I should have known.

Quickly, I set the bottle down and got up, walking straight for the door. I hadn't drunk enough to start up a buzz yet, though my head didn’t hurt at all anymore. Speed walking across the room made me feel a little nauseous, but I ignored it as I yanked the door open and glared at the worker that stood there.

He looked startled when I abruptly opened the door, his eyes widening and lips parting before he tried to look nonchalant, a feat he wasn’t really managing.

“What did you just say?” I said slowly and saw the man gulp.

“It was a requirement of you staying here, set by your agent and your… employer.”

I smiled, and the guy swallowed again, looking almost afraid. I wondered if everyone knew who I was and who I worked for, and the reason why I was there in the first place. Obviously, both Tom and the label would have tried to keep some things under wraps, but there were leaks and rumors got around.

“I didn’t know about this,” I said. “Why wasn’t I informed that you’re all supposed to be keeping tabs on me?”

“Um, I only know what I was told. That you’re supposed to attend the sessions, and if you miss too many, he is to be called immediately.”

I wanted to curse but held myself back. Really, I should have expected it. Like it would all be so easy; they leave me alone and I do whatever I want.

Right.

“You don’t need to call anyone. Just point me to where I’m supposed to go and I’ll get ready now.”

He cleared his throat. “Actually, I’ll wait for you here and just take you.”

I sighed heavily, but yeah, that wasn’t a surprise either. I glowered at the man and he flinched again, but he had better control of his expression this time.

“Fine,” I muttered and closed the door in his face, then turned back to the room.

My nose wrinkled in more disgust as I took it in, even though it was my fault.

Gross.

Bottles and cans of beer were left on almost every flat, horizontal surface in the room. I’d gone through that stash before I started on the whiskey. I still had two more bottles, though at the rate I was going, I wondered how long it would all last. Probably not that long. Along with that, ashes and cigarette butts, some barely burned, others burned to the butt, littered the table. Some were left in the empty bottles, probably some of the cans too. I didn’t remember making all that mess, but I’d been too preoccupied with drinking and smoking to pay much attention.

I should probably clean the place up, but this wasn’t my fucking problem. They were paid to clean up. I didn’t even want to know the price tag on the room, but there was no doubt that it was a lot more than a hotel suite.

I didn’t know if the retreat worked like a regular hotel, but then again I didn’t care. I ignored the mess and headed into the bathroom. I went to take a quick shower and to change into something different, a tight, short-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of cotton pants.

Ten minutes later, I was back at the door and opening it. As much as I didn’t like following orders and getting pushed around, I didn’t want to get myself into any more trouble either. The guy was still there waiting for me, and he led me silently.

“Can I ask just what this session is?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.

He started, then turned a confused look my way. “Uh, sir. This is a yoga retreat. You’ll be going to a yoga class session,” he said matter-of-factly.

I cursed under my breath, changing my mind and wanting to turn back. But before I could turn to leave, the guy stopped and sent me a polite smile. He was probably cursing at me behind that look though.

“The practitioner overseeing your session will be here soon. Please wait for them.”

He was gone before I could voice a word of protest, and I looked around with a growl. The room was large and sparsely furnished, the walls in a dark cream color with wood flooring. There were two sets of large windows that let plenty of sunlight into the room. A few stools set around the room held potted flowers and statues, some mats were rolled up and set against the wall, but that was it.

“Damn,” I growled to myself.

Why was I attending a yoga session of all things? I mean, apparently it was a yoga retreat, but still, I didn’t do yoga. All that finding your inner peace shit didn’t appeal to me or I would have tried that shit on my own. But then, if I didn’t try, I was pretty sure I’d get hell for it from Tom, and I was sick of him nagging me.

I looked around when no one followed me immediately, tempted to just leave and hide back in my room. So what if they told on me to Tom and my ‘employer’?

But then my thoughts stalled when I saw someone walk in the room. It was Sharon, and suddenly, this didn’t feel all that bad. She was technically part of the staff, but I wondered if they attended classes too.

“Fancy seeing you here!”

Her eyebrows shot up as she slowly walked over to me. “Shouldn’t that be my line? You know classes are daily, right? Though I think your schedule is a little different. You have a few off days.”

I scowled. “I haven’t seen anything like a schedule, so I don’t know what you mean.”

She waved a dismissive hand at me. “Your agent must have given it to you, because he was pretty particular about you meeting your schedule. I met him after I left you when he dropped off your bags, and he told me about it.”

Well, I couldn’t say it was impossible. I did a lot of not listening when it came to Tom and I just couldn’t be bothered.

“I don’t want to be here,” I said bluntly. “I think this is all a waste of time I could have used for something else, like writing more songs.”

The look she sent me was one full of sympathy, and I felt my own expression turn to stone. I had the sudden urge to run, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t let me.

“Sharon—” I said urgently, only for her to cut me off, raising a hand to stop the flow of words that wanted to come out.

“I don’t need any explanation from you, Jerrik. You've been a terror to the staff the past couple of days, you know that? And when they finally got you out, the poor people that had the job of looking after your room were practically in despair.”

I pursed my lips, feeling a little guilty. I could have picked up after myself. But then I pushed it away and leveled a frown at Sharon. It was their job, wasn’t it? They were getting paid for it.

“Did you want something, Sharon?” I asked, wondering why she chose today to search me out. Because she heard I finally left my room? Of all the people that had been sent to try and draw me out, I hadn't heard her once. She had wanted to avoid me, after all.

So just what was she doing?

But the next words to come out of her mouth had me feeling cold.

“You may not realize it, but just trust me, Jerrik. The pain you’re feeling? I understand. Not entirely, but I know you’re not okay and we’re here to help you, all of us. But if that's too much for you, I’ll do it. That’s my job.”