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.
She was just pissing me off more and more. Suddenly, she wanted some kind of credit for being a fucking martyr and taking in the homeless addict off the street. I wondered if she’d like me to tell the doctor how much she likes fucking the homeless addict, or maybe how she was the one who came to see me in that bar and fucked me in the bathroom that first night. I was tempted.
“Why would we need to talk about it, Elly? So I could feel like shit about it? Was talking about it going to change the situation? If we had talked about it, were you going to not let me live with you? I don’t like being called a liar. I have no problems telling it like it is—if there’s a reason for it. Was there a reason for me telling you I got evicted other than you feeling fucking superior because you had an apartment and a job? Fuck no!”
“Tristan….” the doctor tried again.
“No!” I said, standing up. “Fuck this!” I walked out. I heard the doctor calling out to me, but I wasn’t going back. I couldn’t believe that Elly, of all people, had just thrown me underneath the fucking bus like that. I didn’t even think about him signing off on the fucking tour either. If I showed up without the papers, what were they going to do? I already won in front of hundreds of millions of people. The tour was already sold out. Fuck him and the papers—and Elly, too!
I pushed open the outside doors and let them slam hard on my way out. I got to my bike just as I heard them push open again. I knew it was Elly, so I didn’t look back. I got on my bike and as I drove away, I saw her standing there with her arms folded as if she was the one who had a right to be pissed. She could have talked to me about it the other night…or that morning….but no, she fucking puts it out there in front of the doctor like a little fucking kid who is tattling to the teacher. She had no right! I was actually glad I didn’t go in there and tell her the night before like I was tempted to. She didn’t deserve my honestly if she was going to be a sneak and a traitor.