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I look behind me to find Ty, Apollo’s band manager, standing there.
“What do you mean by that?”
He doesn’t wait for an invitation and just sits down next to me.
“A father for that kid of yours.” He leans up, copying the way I’m sitting. “Too bad it won’t last, because soon, we’ll be out of this godforsaken town, and you’ll be just another memory.”
The nerve of this guy. “You’ve had him for four years.”
“We are not done with him yet. We need more years.”
Not understanding what he’s saying, I sit up and give him my full attention. “I’m sure you will have many, many years with him.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. But I’m not talking about that.”
“Then what are you talking about?” My skin begins to burn uncomfortably at his attitude.
“You’ve made my lead singer useless. You changed him into what you wanted him to be.”
“And how do you figure that?” I wipe my hands in my pants.
Pursing his lips as he looks up at the ceiling. “You told him to stop drinking, and he did it. I mean, he did it completely.”
“I’m glad he did that. Not for me, but for his health. He’s told me what the doctor said. And about all the times he’s ended up in the hospital because of drinking too much. And how he’s woken up, not remembering what he did the day before or even longer than that. How he’s fallen off stage because he was too drunk. How he’s slept with women he never intended to sleep with, all because of the alcohol. He’s much better off not drinking at all. He knows that.”
“Because he listened to you, Lucy. He won’t even drink a beer because of you.” Ty says it like it’s a bad thing. Which I don’t think it is.
“He can’t drink just one beer,” I point out.
“Who can?” He laughs, like it’s a joke. “Beer was made to be drinkable. That means drinking more than one is the intention. But Lo won’t even have one measly beer. Because you told him not to drink.”
Is he serious right now?
“Ty, he can’t have just one beer because one beer is all it takes for him to go right back to what he was. One beer might be just what he needs to get him to drink himself to death next time. Can’t you see that?”
“You’re being a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
Dramatic? He has no idea how deeply involved with alcohol Apollo was. How addicted.
But he just keeps going, “He’s got people to get him where he needs to be if he gets drunk.”
His blasé attitude makes my blood boil.
“This is your lead singer we’re talking about. You don’t want him to die, do you?”
“Hey, we all die,” he says it like it’s a joke. “And he’s a big boy, Lucy. He can handle his alcohol.”
“No, he can’t. He’s said time and time again that he can’t handle it. It takes him under and keeps him there. It makes him do things he wouldn’t do sober. He hates the way it makes him feel, yet you still want to force him to do it against his will?”
Fisting my hands in my lap, I fight my temper, trying to keep it under wraps. Yelling during a parent-child fingerpainting class is not something a good parent does.
Ty smiles, leans back, and puts his hands behind his head, looking a bit too peaceful, given the subject matter. “Sometimes he needs to do things that he wouldn’t normally do. That he doesn’t want to do. Things like rocking out hard. Things like making the women scream for him. Things like kissing women he wouldn’t otherwise kiss.”
“Is that what you want him to do? Drink himself to death and kiss random women?”
I’m going to be sick.
“They’re his fans, Lucy. Kissing them means nothing to him.” With a light chuckle, he adds, “But he won’t do it because you told him not to. If he wants to see his daughter, he does as you say. Get it now? You’re controlling him the same way alcohol does.”
