I was embarrassed and ashamed and mad as hell… at myself. All those names my old man used to call me filtered through my head. Worthless. Stupid. Disgusting. Lazy. I closed my eyes, wishing I could block out the noise, the taunts… the truth.
“Mav,” Trey said, leaning forward. “I know what it’s like to be at rock bottom, buddy. To feel like there’s no way out. But there is, trust me.”
I shook my head. He didn’t get it. He hadn’t lived my life. “I know you had a rough time after you and Sierra split, but my problem isn’t like that. It’s not because of a woman.” I thought about all the girls I’d hurt. Ones who tried to love me, but I pushed them away. One, in particular, whose pretty blue eyes still haunted me.
“It doesn’t matter the cause. The solution is the same.”
“I’m not seeing a shrink, Trey.” He wouldn’t be the first person to suggest it, but I refused to pick my scabs and bleed all over some therapist’s couch.
“That’s not what I’m suggesting. You need a meeting.”
“A meeting?” When understanding dawned, I shook my head. “No way.” My mother claimed she went to A.A. when I was a kid. It didn’t help her and it wouldn’t help me. “I’m not airing my shit in front of a roomful of strangers.”
“You have a family history?” Trey twirled his wedding band around his finger. “Either of your folks alcoholics or—”
“My mother is.” No sense trying to pretend my family was perfect. They’d never tried pretending I was. “And my old man’s a rage-aholic.” I wasn’t even sure that was a word, but if it wasn’t, it should be. He was as addicted to rage as my mama was to the brown bottle.
Trey nodded. “Sorry to hear that. Maybe think about going to an Al-Anon meeting first. Understanding how your parents’ issues are still affecting you might make it easier to deal with your own problem.”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Yes, you do. And you’re making your problem my problem, and I can’t have that.”
He was giving me an ultimatum. Go to a meeting or I wouldn’t be taking the stage with him again. “So, you’re saying I get out of your sight if I won’t agree to do this, huh?”
“Think about all the people you’ve hurt. All the people who are depending on you. Your band.” He hesitated. “You may not be close with your family, but you’ve got friends, people who believe in you.” He flattened his hand against his chest. “I believed in you. Luc believed in you. Are you really gonna let him down?”
Luc Spencer, the owner of our record label, was Trey’s best friend, and a serious badass. I had no doubt Luc would be Trey’s first call when he stepped off this bus if I refused to go to a meeting.
“Fine, I’ll go.” I clenched my teeth. “When we get to the next city, I’ll find a meeting.”
“No, you’ll go with me first thing in the morning, right here in Nashville.”
“What?” I wasn’t ready for this. I needed more time… to get hammered? Alcohol had been my crutch for so long. How the hell was I supposed to get through life without it?
“You heard me.” He walked over to the kitchen sink and started rummaging through cupboards. “We’re going to a meeting in the morning, you and me. And we’re going to go to a meeting every day, in every city, as we make our way across this country. You’re going to stay sober, my friend. And I’m going to help you.”
I watched in stunned silence as he emptied every bottle I had. What was he doing? How could I stop him? There was no way I could make it to the liquor store before it closed and if I sent someone else Trey would hear about it. I couldn’t drink in public, even if I’d have time to hit up a bar after the show. I hadn’t gone to bed without a few drinks under my belt since I was fourteen. That was twenty years ago.
* * *
The next morning, I was standing in the doorway of a small meeting room with Trey by my side. My palms were sweating, my throat was dry, and my mind was tormenting me, calling me every vile name I’d ever heard my old man say to me.
Standing up in a roomful of strangers, admitting I was an alcoholic would be like owning it. Admitting that everything he’d ever said to me and about me was true. I couldn’t do it. I had to get the hell out of here.
“Man,” I said to Trey. “I need to step outside for a minute.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll be right back.”
Trey grabbed my arm, staring me down. “You think I’m stupid, Mav? You think I don’t know you’re trying to bail?”
I hadn’t had a panic attack since I was fifteen, but I hadn’t forgotten what it felt like. The walls were closing in. My world was going black. And I couldn’t let that happen here.
I rushed outside, sucking in air like I’d been on the verge of suffocating as I braced my hands on my knees and cursed the gods who put me here. In this place. In this body. Living this life.
“It’s okay, man,” Trey said, gripping my shoulder. “The first meeting, the first day without a drink, the first time you admit you’re an alcoholic, that’s the scariest. But it gets a little easier, I promise.”
