“I’m not going to some circle-jerking rehab.”
“No shit, asshole. Last thing I need is you sittin’ around crying to a bunch of druggies about how your mean old dad didn’t love you enough as a boy.”
He lets out a deep belly laugh as I shake my head.
“Seriously, I’ll set you two up.” He pauses and stares at the phone for a beat. “If you can’t do it on your own, we’ll find someone we can trust—”
“I can do it.” I can’t imagine anything worse than talking this out with a stranger. “Thanks, though. Appreciate it.”
“Focus on getting clear-headed. You’re too smart to end up with a limp dick and swiss cheese for brains.”
The irony of his statement is a punch to the balls.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chaser
Vivid nightmares of little shadowy monsters chasing me down glowing red hallways startles me awake. The panicky need-to-escape feeling clings to me even after I shoot up and out of bed.
No walls of fire. No monsters.
Mallory’s sigh anchors me in the moment. I’m at the clubhouse. Not hell.
No matter how strong you think you are, there’s no magic bullet cure for addiction. Back in L.A., coming home seemed to be my perfect remedy. I naively assumed removing myself from all the readily available coke would do the trick. Home would provide a refuge for me to re-center and recharge.
Reality is a bitch-slap to the face.
Unpleasant doesn’t begin to describe the sensations crawling through my body.
My teeth click together, and a chill radiates through my chest, even though I’m still sweating from the nightmare.
Careful not to wake Mallory, I search through my bag for some clean clothes. Keeping my eyes on her, I dress slowly.
She whimpers, and I freeze.
After a few seconds, she turns over.
Maybe I’m not the only one having nightmares.
I watch her for awhile, but she seems peaceful now.
Sunlight’s barely peeking through the blankets nailed up over the window. Yesterday was a long, rough journey. She should be out for a couple more hours.
Enough time for me to get myself sorted.
The lock snicks into place behind me as I step into the hallway. I pause, listening for signs the noise woke Mallory.
Nothing.
All clear.
Most of the doors I pass in the hallway are shut. Snores and… other sounds filter past the aging hard wood.
“Where you headed?” My father’s gravelly voice cuts through the mostly silent clubhouse.
Peering through the hazy glow cast by the neon signs over the bar, I make out his form, lounging on one of the couches against the far wall. A girl’s stretched out on the lumpy cushions with her head in his lap. She seems familiar, but I can’t place her.
Did I go to high school with her?
Doesn’t matter.
“Out,” I answer.
“Where?”
“To clear my head.”
He curls two fingers, motioning me closer.
Fuck, just what I don’t need. The way I’m feeling right now, I won’t stand up to an interrogation.
I’m about two feet away when he asks, “Where?”
“Don’t know.”
“You walking?”
Good point.
“Keys for the truck are in my office.”
“Thanks.”
The weight of his stare follows me, but I keep moving. One foot in front of the other.
I grab the keys off his desk and force myself to take a breath.
Need some fresh air to cure my restlessness. I’ll take a drive. Doesn’t have to be anything more than that.
“Shouldn’t you get some sleep, old man?” I ask when I return to the common area.
“I slept.”
“And now you’re sitting here in the dark like a fuckin’ owl?”
He grumbles and waves off the question. “Mallory okay?”
“She’s asleep.”
“I’m gonna look for a car for her to use while you’re here. Know what she’d like?”
That’s a shift in conversation I didn’t expect. “Why?”
He nods to the keys in my hands. “She can’t drive that beat up thing.”
“No, I mean where does she need to go?”
He tilts his head and levels one of his penetrating ‘are you stupid’’ stares at me. “No need to make her feel like a hostage. Here, she’s got plenty of people to give her a ride, but once you settle into the house, what’s she supposed to do?”
“We’re not settling into the house. We need to be back in L.A.”
He continues staring a hole through me.
I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. My father’s gonna do whatever the fuck he wants.
And I really need to get out of here.
“I don’t think she’s picky.” I try to adopt a more humble tone. “Thanks for thinking of that, Dad.”
His suspicious father stare doesn’t relent. “Jay said something came into the garage that might work. You want to come down and look at it with me?”
“Yeah, sure. Later, though.”
He narrows his eyes.
I blink.
He doesn’t.
A bead of sweat rolls down the side of my face.
“Well, I’ll be back.” I turn and hustle away.
“Stay out of trouble,” he calls after me.
I wave at him over my shoulder and push through the front door, relieved to escape into the chilly first flush of morning.