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4
Three months later...
Tate rolls over and stares at the clock on the bedside table. Five am. He rubs his eyes and flops onto his back. A few more hours of sleep would be nice but he’s done tossing and turning in bed. With a long sigh he turns and looks at the calendar hanging on the wall beside him. He slides the pen from the holder and draws a large line though the date.
Eighty-two days. Eighty-two lousy days clean. No alcohol. No drugs. And in a few hours, no more rehab.
Time to face the world again.
Not something he’s looking forward to. In truth, he’s fucking dreading it. At least in here everyone had fucked up in one way or another. Out there he’s going to be another failed rock star who took things too far.
He dresses quickly and walks through the corridors to the gym and breathes a sigh of relief when he finds he’s got the place to himself. The last thing he wants to do is have another forced polite conversation. He’s had his fill of them since he checked himself into the facility. It’s part of the deal, but he came here to sort out his problems, not make friends.
After an hour, another resident appears so he makes his escape back to his room to pack his things. Three hours later, with the reams of paperwork completed and follow up appointments booked, he slips on his sunglasses and steps into the early May sunshine. He walks through the lush gardens towards the visitor’s car park beyond.
He wipes his hand on the leg of his jeans. It’s strange being back in his own clothes. The facility preferred them to wear these god awful pale grey tracksuits and matching t-shirts. Something about no one standing out. Everyone being on an equal footing. It was a battle they wouldn’t win. With the price tag for the place far beyond most people’s reach, it was clear exactly what footing everyone was on.
In his scuffed biker boots, jeans, and t-shirt, you’d be hard pressed to see how he could afford to check himself into this place. But that’s the thing with being a celebrity. It didn’t matter what you wore or where you grew up or how you looked. It only matters how many people know who you are.
In his case it’s quite a few. Which doesn’t make checking himself into a rehab facility something he could keep quiet for long. It was only a matter of time before the world knew how much he’d screwed up. Hell, they probably already knew. Then his career would take a nosedive. Something to look forward to.
He pulls himself out of his thoughts as he nears the car park and spots Gregg sitting on the bonnet of his beat-up Defender. Gregg wolf-whistles and waves.
‘Hey gorgeous.’
Tate can’t help but laugh. He’s never known how Gregg manages it, but he could always be counted on to cheer him up. Which is something he desperately needs right now. He honestly doesn’t know how he would have survived the last few months if not for his friend.
He fully expected never to see Gregg again after he hit him, but he wasn’t so easily pushed away. And that’s something Tate is unbelievably grateful for. His friend had been with him every step of his recovery, visiting regularly and going to as many family counselling sessions as he could.
Gregg pulls him into a bear hug and slaps him on the back a few times.
‘Fuck me, mate. You’ve bulked up a little.’
‘Not much else to do in there.’
He squeezes Tate’s bicep. ‘You’re just making me look bad now. You ready to get out of here?’
‘More than ready.’ He throws his bag on the back seat and climbs in beside Gregg. ‘Thanks for coming to get me.’
‘Not a problem. Right, so before we head off, I may have a slight confession.’
Tate raises his eyebrow as he looks sideways at his friend. ‘What?’
‘I may not be taking you back to your place.’
‘Gregg—’
‘No, hear me out for a sec. Your folks are worried about you. They want you to stay with them for a few weeks. Just until you’re ready to set off by yourself again.’
‘I’m a big boy, Gregg. I don’t need a babysitter. I need to get back to normal. How the fuck am I going to do that if I’m living with my parents?’
‘Don’t be like that. They’re all worried about you. And I got to say I agree. I don’t think you should be by yourself just yet.’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘Nope. Afraid not. I’ve already taken some of your stuff over. They’re putting you in the annex, so you’ll have your own space. They want to make sure you’re okay.’
