Serge

Two weeks didn’t sound like such a long time when we were dropping Tori off, but a whole week goes by without me being able to see her or talk to her or anything and it makes me a little crazy. I’m surprised at how much I miss her. Surprised that she’s still this present in my mind, filling my every waking thought, popping up in my mind at the most random of times.

But really, I’m not surprised at all. Because I know the truth. I know I’m falling for Tori and I’m falling hard.

The fact that she’s actually in rehab, actually trying to get her shit together only makes me want her more. It takes a big person to admit they have a problem that they can’t face alone, and it wasn’t easy for Tori, but she’s doing it. She’s making the effort. I just hope she’s doing what she said she would.

Because I haven’t talked to her in a week. A lot can happen in a week. She could be totally working the program and be a different person, or she could be resisting everything and be worse than she was when she went in. She could decide that being with another person in recovery is dangerous to her sobriety — I know they’ll tell her it is — and she could decide she doesn’t want me anymore.

But even if she does that, I tell myself it’s worth it because she won’t be waking up in the hospital after nearly dying.

Or not waking up at all if she isn’t as lucky as Ian and I were.

So as I’m making the drive to Malibu for our first visiting day, I’m nervous as hell. My hands are damp on the steering wheel, my foot’s shaking anxiously the whole way, traffic’s annoying me more than normal, and I’m just trying to envision the look on Tori’s face when she sees me again.

I pull through the front gate and I’m hit with a wave of memories of my own months spent here. Months and months and months. And after that, I did it again, just to make sure it really stuck. It wasn’t cheap, that’s for sure. Most of my fortune went to rehab bills and lawsuits from broken contracts. These days, I’ve got enough money to get by, but not much else. That’s why I’ve had to call Ian a few times for help at the center. I don’t know what I’d do at this point if I did need a ‘tune-up.’ Find another rehab, I guess.

It’s way busier inside than it was a week ago, but that’s because it’s family day. There are moms and dads and husbands and wives and even kids all bustling around, catching up with their loved ones, some having tense talks, others laughing and joking. It’s a different process for everyone, for every family. I wonder what it’ll be for me and Tori.

“Serge?” I hear her voice and spin on my heel, finding her on a plush couch, sitting by herself with a glass of lemon-water in hand.

“Hey,” I say, not sure if she’s happy to see me or not.

But then she puts her glass down and stands to give me a long embrace. “I didn’t know if you were coming,” she says, the relief evident in her voice.

“I told you I would.”

She holds on tight, clinging for a long time.

“How are things?” I finally ask.

“Good,” she says.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She releases me and we both sit back on the couch, facing each other. “Yeah, it’s actually been really good. I’ve had a lot of time to think about things, about things I’ve done, things that have been done to me, things I want to do…”

“This place is good for that kind of stuff.”

She smiles, and it’s a warm genuine smile that goes all the way to her eyes. “You’re not wrong.”

I take her hand. I don’t want to sit here just to say I told you so. I want to support her. I want to know what she’s struggling with to see if I can help.

“I think losing the label might have been the best thing to ever happen to me,” she says.

I chuckle. It’s pretty common in rehab for the thing that landed you there to later become ‘the best thing that ever happened.’

“Part of what we’re doing here is making amends. So I need to apologize to you. I lied to you to get you to play with us. Our drummer was never a no-show, I just didn’t hire one because I wanted you.”

“You minx,” I grin.

She smiles, but shakes her head. “It was manipulative and I have to learn to recognize that and stop it.” I nod. I know how it goes. It’s not like the rules here have changed in the last few years.

“And I’m sorry for ruining the kids’ day. All that shit at the competition was ridiculous and they deserved better.”

I nod, squeezing her hand. She sighs.

“And I’m sorry for blowing up at you when you suggested I come here. I was in denial and lashing out.”

“I know a little something about that,” I say, having already forgiven her. It’s not like I can really be mad at her. Addicts aren’t themselves when they’re using, and right now, she’s desperately trying to be a person that doesn’t use. So I have to give her the benefit of the doubt. I have to give her another shot. She’s done everything I’ve asked of her.

“So what’s your plan when you get out of here?” I ask, my throat tightening with anticipation. I rehearsed this a bunch of times on the drive over, but I’m still sure I’m not going to get it right.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m supposed to take it one day at a time, and that’s seven days away,” she says with a grin.

“I see,” I say.

“Why?” she asks, brow arched.

I shrug. “No reason. I was just thinking that maybe you’d want to come stay with me. I remember when I first got out of rehab how hard going home to an empty place was, no one around to keep me honest.”

“You’re asking me to come stay with you?” she asks, her voice light and teasing. This is a different Tori. Still sharp and funny, still clever and quick, but calmer, more focused. She seems more at peace with herself, and it’s amazing what a difference a week of top-tier intensive therapy can do.

“Well, not if it’s too much for you to plan that far in advance,” I tease back.

“No, I’d love to. It’ll give me something to look forward to.” She leans forward and gives me a soft, chaste kiss. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

I grin, pulling her close. “You make it awful hard to.”

She laughs at that, shaking her head. I know she doesn’t see it the way I do, but it’s the truth. There’s something about Tori. Something about her that calls to me and won’t stop. Something about her that pulls me toward her and won’t let go. So what’s the point in fighting it? I’m crazy about the girl, her problems and everything included. I don’t care. I just want her.

“I was doing some thinking about what I’d do when I get out of here,” she says softly.

“You rule-breaker!” I gasp.

She chuckles softly and shakes her head again. “My therapist wanted me to. He wanted me to make an action plan for what I want to do. It’s so that when I get out I’m not open to bad suggestions, because I’ll have a plan.”

“Sounds smart.”

“Did you do something like that?”

I nod, my fingers tracing lazy circles on her upper arm. It’s so damn good to be able to hold her again. Even if I’d rather be able to yank her pants down and lick her pussy until she forgets her own name. Seeing this new side of Tori does something for me. More than even the bad girl side of her, which is surprising as hell.

“Yeah. I decided I wanted to do something that helped people.”

“Me too,” she says, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. “So I was thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think it would be cool if I put in more hours at the community center? Like… a lot more.”

“I think that would be awesome.” The kids love Tori and she’s better with them than she gives herself credit for. And there are so many other programs at the center, so many other kids that don’t come to choir that she hasn’t had the chance to meet and fall in love with yet.

“Yeah? You don’t think you’ll get sick of looking at me having me at the center and your place?”

I glance her way, taking in her sultry eyes, her pouty lips, the intricate tattoos on her smooth skin that make me want to trace every line with my tongue. No, I don’t think I’m going to get sick of looking at her.

“If I do, there’s always doggy style… Or a paper bag over your head,” I joke.

She smacks me on the arm, hard, but she’s grinning. “You asshole.”

“Like you don’t love it.”

The smile she gives me goes straight to my cock. I just used a word I had no intention of using and even though it wasn’t quite as bad as it could be, it still leaves me open to rejection. But she doesn’t deny anything, just smiles.

We sit like that for a couple more hours while Tori tells me about what she’s been doing on a daily basis and I catch her up on some of the latest news with the kids.

“How are things ramping up for State?” she asks, and I sigh.

“I’m trying not to say too much about it.”

“Why not?” she asks, brow furrowed.

“We could barely afford the bus and stuff for regionals and that was only with Ian’s generous donation. I can’t ask him to donate again and there’s no money left to pay for the trip. We always knew it might come to this.”

“I still owe you a donation,” she says. “For that show you played with us.”

“Tori, you know I just played that show because I can’t say no to you, right?”

“It’s nice to have confirmation,” she says with a sly grin. “But I’ll still make the donation. The kids deserve it.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have contracts or anything anymore. Maybe you should save that money?”

She shrugs. “It’s not like I’d do anything better with it. I want to help. Please?”

I nod, refusing to argue any more when I so badly want this to happen. “Okay. Thank you. Really.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Visiting hours will end in fifteen minutes,” the receptionist says, and we both deflate at the announcement.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Tori says, her big eyes looking into mine, tugging at my heartstrings.

“I know, but three days will go by before you know it and I’ll be here for the next visit.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

“And you’ll be here when Onyx picks me up at the end of next week.”

“Yep, if you want me to be.”

“Well, you’re supposed to be taking me home with you,” she says, her voice warming up with those words.

My cock twitches and I force back a growl. “Believe me, I am.”

She bites her lip and kisses me, hard this time, and long enough that the receptionist clears her throat pointedly with a look at us.

“PDA is frowned upon at these types of things,” I mutter under my breath.

“Fuck them,” says Tori, kissing me again.

I indulge in it for a few seconds longer before pulling back. “You’ve been doing such a good job following the rules. No need to end the streak now.”

“You’re no fun,” she pouts.

I glance around, making sure no one’s looking. Everyone’s consumed with their own goodbyes, so I kiss her again, hard, making her gasp.

“I’m plenty of fun when it’s appropriate,” I say, pulling back without anyone else noticing a thing.

Tori’s red, gaping at me, her eyes wide. “You are such a jerk.”

“Just something to think about at night when you’re all alone,” I growl in her ear.

“I have a roommate, asshole,” she growls, but it turns into a laugh.

The receptionist announces that our time is over and I stand with a sigh, giving Tori one last hug. “I’ll see you soon. Stay out of trouble.”

“I’m actually trying for once,” she answers.

I leave Malibu feeling way better than I did when I came.

The next day at work, I head into Joey’s office to tell her that Tori wants to take on more hours. Even after everything that happened, I never told Joey that I wanted Tori taken out of my program. She knows that Tori is unavailable for the next week or so, and if she pays attention to entertainment news at all, she’ll know why, but it doesn’t really matter. Tori’s a volunteer, not an employee.

“Do you have a minute?” I ask, knocking on Joey’s propped-open door.

She looks up from her computer screen and takes off her reading glasses, thin lines forming around her mouth with a frown.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you anyway. What’s up?”

“Tori’s going to be back soon and she was saying she’d like to put in a lot more hours, maybe try out different programs. Made it sound like she’ll take all the hours you can throw at her.”

Joey nods. “That’s very generous of her. She’s welcome to volunteer as much as she wants. But that kind of brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about.”

The grim lines in her face make my stomach drop, and I clutch the arm of the chair. She’s about to drop a bombshell on me, even if I don’t know what it is.

“I’m not going to waste time beating around the bush. We’ve lost our federal funding.”

“What?” I shout, jumping to my feet. The measly funding from the feds is all that keeps this place running besides the occasional donations from famous friends of the arts like Ian.

“That’s the long and short of it. Feds are cutting funding to a ton of programs they’re deeming ‘unnecessary’ and guess who’s included in that.”

“That’s bullshit! We’re not unnecessary. Juvenile incarceration rates are the lowest they’ve been since the ’nineties in this neighborhood.”

“Serge,” Joey says, breathing a sigh, her fingers steepled in front of her face. “They’re cutting programs like Meals on Wheels. If they think elderly people eating is unnecessary, how do you think they feel about a bunch of inner city kids singing?”

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, raking my fingers through my hair. “How long do we have?”

“Probably a year, maybe less? I’d start looking at alternatives ASAP, though.”

I blow out a heavy breath, pacing around the room. They can’t do this! This is everything to me. This center, these kids, they can’t take it all away. I won’t let them!

But how can I stop them? I’m just a broke junkie with nothing to offer. I’ve spent the last half a decade hiding out in this place, using it as a buffer between me and the rest of the world, trying to protect myself from the things I think I’m too weak to deal with. But maybe it’s time for me to finally leave the safety of this nest. Because the nest needs me.

Maybe Tori has a point when she says I need to be back out there. Maybe it’s not the craziest idea to want to put on benefit shows to support the center. Maybe I can do it without giving into the stress this time.

It’s a lot of maybes, but what else do I have right now? What choice do I have but to indulge in maybes and fantasies?

“Serge?” Joey says gently, and I realize I’m still in her cramped office pacing and muttering to myself.

“Sorry, just thinking. I’ll get out of here.”

“Yeah. I’m really sorry,” she says. “I know you’ve really poured your heart and soul into this place.”

I frown. She’s underselling herself. Joey does way more here than I’ve ever done. “I’m not the only one,” I say meaningfully. “I’m not giving up on this and you shouldn’t either. I’ll figure something out.”

She looks like she’s going to protest, but then she presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Good luck,” she says.

I hear her silent ‘you’re going to need it,’ but I don’t acknowledge it. I’m going to work something out. I’m going to find a way to make this right. Even if it means I have to face some demons I thought I was through with.