Worth More Than Money (Worth It 3)

“No,” he said, with a chuckle. “No, I’m not.”

“It’s good to hear you laughing. Means you might not have shitty news for me,” I said.

“I was actually wondering if your offer for rehab was still on the table.”

Surprised at the unexpected news, I sat back in my chair as the distributor showed up at my door. But this was more important than some due date for my wine. I ushered him into my office and pointed him to a chair, then raised my finger to my lips to shut him up.

“Only if you’re serious about it,” I said.

“I am. I cleaned out my house. Got rid of all the booze and beer and empty cans.”

“Did you clean up the vomit in the corner as well?”

The distributor sitting in the chair wrinkled his nose at me.

“I did. This place looks a lot better than it did. The withdrawals are rough, but I’ve gotten to the point where only my hands are shaking a little bit.”

“And you haven’t had a drop,” I said.

“No. I haven’t even been in town to the bar. I had to cancel some gigs I had coming up in some bars, so I’m not sure how I’m going to salvage my music or whatever. But I figure it’s a small price to pay for not being like your old man.”

So he had been listening.

“The offer still stands if you’re serious,” I said. “But the second you’re not, I’ll have the facility kick you out and stick you with the bill.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll make the arrangements and have you picked up. You won’t be doing rehab anywhere near Stillsville. The best facilities are scattered all across California. I’ll make sure you’re in one of the best.”

“Any one will do,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be all that.”

“If you want to put your best foot forward, it will be. These places don’t simply get you sober. They help you piece your life together. Teach you how to eat well and exercise and meditate. Shit like that to keep you on the right path.”

“Do you do any of that shit?” he asked.

“Why don’t you go to the rehab facility and when you’re out, you can find out with me?” I asked.

The pause on the phone was deafening.

“I appreciate it, Gray. Really.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said.

“Can I just—tell you one more thing?”

My eyes whipped over to my distributor before I nodded my head.

“Sure,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Despite all those shitty rumors, I never slept with Michelle after she moved out. I wanted to. I tried to get her to. But we weren’t together. She wouldn’t have anything to do with me, and rightfully so.”

I clenched my jaw as I closed my eyes.

“Michelle isn’t the kind of woman this town painted her to be. They don’t like outsiders, you know that. Michelle’s a one-man woman. Always had been. Even when I treated her like shit, she never stepped out and she always stuck around. She doesn’t cheat or lie. She’s one of the good ones, and I hate that I fucked up my chances with her.”

“That why you’re getting sober?” I asked.

“No. I’m getting sober because I heard what you said. And because I almost killed myself a few nights ago choking on my own puke.”