I sighed loudly, “Fine. This time. Rehab is a waste of time when I’m on tour. I need to be in one place with no distractions or temptations if I’m going to remain sober. Once my tour is over, I’ll stop. Promise.”
“Then once your tour is over, I’ll tell you about Jamaica. You can’t step to her after fifteen years, loaded on pills and alcohol. She doesn’t deserve that.”
Trying to convince my brother to talk when he’d already made a condition was useless. I clicked off my cell and called him back using FaceTime.
His warm, brown, handsome face, with big, expressive eyes that resembled our father's, appeared on my screen. He immediately frowned. “You look like shit.”
“Feel like it too.” My eyes were swollen and bloodshot, and my beard needed trimming. I picked up my almost-empty bottle of Tequila and grabbed three pills from my bedside table. “This is my last drink.”
His eyes grew wide. “Free, what the hell are you doing? Are you trying to kill yourself? That’s way too many pills.”
“This is Tylenol, and I do have a hangover. I took the Oxy last night to sleep.” I chased the over-the-counter pain relievers with alcohol. “See, I’m done. Now tell me.”
“Seriously, you’re risking your life every time you mix pain meds with alcohol. It slows down your heart, fool.” He dragged his hand down his face. “Every star who died of an overdose, fucking took too many pills with alcohol.” Peace’s jaw tightened, and his eyes glistened. “Why can’t you understand how seeing you like this makes me feel? Mama died when I was seven years old, and Daddy beat me like I stole something for most of my youth. Probably would’ve killed me if you weren’t there, ready to take my licks. Why fight for me when we were kids, to give it all up when we’re adults? We should be enjoying life together. Instead, you live in Nashville and barely answer the phone when I call. You damn sure don’t visit like you should. I don’t want to lose you. You and Granny are all I have.”
Guilt added another layer of pain to my pounding temples. Years in this ruthless entertainment game hardened my already battered heart. I didn’t trust anyone except Maurice and Sammie, whom I met when I was sent to the Job Corps after my arrest for home invasion when I was eighteen. Never had a girlfriend after Jamaica or had deep feelings, though some of them desperately tried. They were all just women I fucked because I needed sexual release. Used alcohol and drugs to ease the migraines and to hide the void inside of me. A void that I could only now describe as loneliness at the mention of Jamaica Bennett’s name.
Oh, the happiness and hope she used to evoke with a shy smile. I believed I could conquer the world, more importantly, my demons, with Jamaica by my side. I fucked that up, and she’d been long gone from my life. Now, my brother teased her like apiece of cheese, and I was the mouse ready to be trapped just for a bite. Ignoring the pain in my temples, I propped one arm under my head and stared into my brother’s eyes. “You’re right, I’ve been wilding out too long—time for me to settle down and come home to live. We can be the brothers we’ve always been and want to still be. You won’t lose me because I’m done with all the drugs and alcohol. I used them as a crutch. I don’t need them to function.”
“On Mama’s grave?”
We’ve never used our mother’s death in vain, and I understood why he used it now.
I picked up the liquor bottle. “On her grave. I’ll get help this time if I can’t do it on my own. I’m serious, and I hear you.”
Peace shook his head slowly. “If I’d known Jamaica would make you own your shit, I would’ve brought her up a long time ago.”
“Well, it worked, okay? I can admit I’m still a punk for her. Willing to risk it all.” I tapped my chest. “When I love, I love hard.”
“Facts,” he acknowledged solemnly. “I’m only telling you this because I know that once upon a time, you were in love with her. From what I hear, she’s still that good girl, willing to help others and do for others.”
Settling back against my satin pillows, I placed the bottle on my bedside table. “Is she married or does she have any children?” We’d ended disastrously, and the primary reason I decided to make Nashville my permanent home after leaving Dallas was to avoid seeing her with someone else.
“Yes.”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “Why are you playing games with me? If she’s as good a woman as she was a girl, she’s not going to cheat or leave her husband. Is this your way of gettingme to stop drinking and doing drugs, promise me something you can’t deliver?”
“And I thought you were sincere about stopping? Maybe you’re the one playing me.”
Closing my eyes, I conceded, “No. I’m serious. You called at the right time. Tired of how I’ve been feeling for a while now. I need to get my life together, whether Jamaica is in the picture or not.”
“Good,” Peace said with finality.
I refocused on my brother’s now smug face. “Is that it? Because I could use a little more sleep.”
He moved his phone closer to his face. “She’s married to Kody. I thought you should know that.”
“The fuck?” Blinding pain reattacked my head, the room started spinning, and I automatically reached for the pills and the bottle before I stopped myself. I bit out, “When?”
“They married about eight years ago. Been together much longer.” His observant gaze swept over my face. “You good?”
“Are you trying to hurt me? Getting me back because of the shit I put you through? I don’t need all this noise this morning. I’m sorry for whatever I did to make you want to hurt me like this. I’m sorry because what you’re saying to me is so fucking foul.” I closed my eyes and tried to settle the rage that threatened to inhabit every cell in my body.
“Calm down, Free. On the contrary, I’m trying to help you get her back if you still want her. I found out they were married a few weeks back. The other day, I saw Kody leaving a hotel with another woman. He didn’t see me, but they were hugged up and giggling as they got on the elevator. From what I know, this isn’t his first time stepping out. Seems that he has trouble staying faithful. Perfect time to swoop in.”
My hands balled into fists at hearing my former best friend’s name, who, it seems, betrayed me in more ways than one.And I was a fucking idiot to help that low-life motherfucker with his business simply because he asked. Still, I commented, “Husbands cheat on their wives all the time. If Jamaica is the same woman I knew as a girl, she’s the type that only death would separate her from her husband.”
“Not if she remembers that she loves you, too.”
