And numb.
And, let’s be honest, fucking selfish too.
So fucking selfish.
I realized it but couldn’t drum up the energy to do anything about it.
I was just so fucking tired.
“Sure. Whatever. I gotta go meet Caden. We’re going to a meeting, then I’m getting coffee or whatever with him at his trailer at Paramount. I might not be back in time for dinner.”
“It’s only eleven,” Mom pointed out with raised eyebrows, clearly unimpressed with me.
I shrugged. “I might need to go to another meeting tonight. Look, I’m just trying to look after myself and not use again. Excuse me if my addiction is getting in the way of your mourning ritual or whatever. Sorry I’m such a fucking disappointment.”
Mom pursed her lips and gave me the same glare that had made me get out of bed every morning and finish high school.
But I was an adult now, and this was my fucking house.
“Later.”
So I left with my tail tucked between my legs, trying to look like my shit didn’t stink when we all knew better.
I was an ass.
I pulled my black Benz into the strip mall and parked next to the metallic blue Porsche Panamera. Only one person would drive a car like that to a neighborhood like this.
I got out of my car and strolled over to Caden’s. Scents from the Lebanese Grill warred with the gas pumps at the far end. I pulled open his passenger door before the disparate scents really got to me.
“Thanks for coming out, Cade.”
Hollywood’s go-to action actor gave me his trademark smirk. “It’s what I get paid the big bucks for.”
I laughed. Since it was an unpaid act of service, that wasn’t true at all. But sponsoring other addicts made it easier to keep the demons at bay—most times. I’d had a few sponsees myselfover the years, and helping them stay sober usually helped me stay sober too. But then these weren’t usual circumstances. “Right, right.”
“So tell me what’s going on.”
I let my head fall back against the headrest and closed my eyes. “You know what’s going on. Gio ODed Saturday night.”
“Yeah, man. I’m sorry. That’s fucked.” He sighed heavily. “Sorry to say that some addicts never break the cycle. When did he relapse?”
“I don’t know. I pulled away from everyone at the end of the tour. They were partying pretty hard and the women…” I swallowed heavily. “I couldn’t be around it. Gio said it wasn’t like that—that he wasn’t using—and I chose to believe him. Because it made it easier to distance myself from the whole scene.”
“Okay, number one, I understand you’re feeling guilt, but his actions are not on you. He knew that you were there for him if he ever reached out. He knew the program. He knew the steps. He had a sponsor to reach out to, too. But he didn’t. And that’s on him; it’s not on you.”
“Ryker said he tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“See.”
“But Ryker’s not in the program. He doesn’t know what to say that would make the difference. He hasn’t been here.” I waved at the shitty strip mall we were parked in front of. Literally the bottom of the barrel—rock bottom.
“So what would’ve you said to him?”
“What?”
“To Gio. What were you going to tell him that would keep him from using again?”
“I, uh, I haven’t really thought about it.”
