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He laughs but it’s forced. ‘Yeah, there’s some interesting theories going around. My fault for not setting the record straight yet.’ He takes a deep breath and looks away for a moment. Chloe doesn’t want to interrupt him. Whatever he’s trying to tell her, it’s far from easy or comfortable for him.
‘What the press is saying about me... about drinking and partying too much. It’s true to a certain extent. We got sucked into the lifestyle for a bit. Endless parties, too much drinking, and after a while, drugs too.
‘I’m not going to give you blow-by-blow of what I did, but I will say quite a bit has been exaggerated by certain individuals with an axe to grind.’
‘You’re referring to Astrid?’
He frowns as he looks up at her. ‘Yeah. Sorry, forgot my life is an open fucking book. That absolutely wasn’t a dig at you, trust me. More a dig at myself for letting her get to me. I’m not saying I didn’t have a problem – far from it, but every single time I stepped on stage I was stone cold sober. She knew full well how that comment would get under my skin.
‘I take what I do seriously. Bit too much sometimes. Whatever I was doing in my down time was left behind when I was performing. I wouldn’t do that to the people who spent their money to come and see us. I’ve messed up but I can swear to that fact.’
He shrugs and looks at his clasped hands. ‘Anyway, the three of us only calmed down when Gregg joined the band. We still drank and used from time to time, but it was nothing like what we were doing.’ He smiles and looks down at the floor for a moment. ‘He probably saved us when he joined.’ He looks back at her again. ‘I know it’s clichéd and all, but it is what it is. No point denying what I’ve done.’
Chloe forces what she knows is a pathetic smile on her face. Deep down she knew most of the stories she’d read about him online must have had at least a grain of truth to them, but hearing it from him is a different thing. The entire situation is strange to listen to. She doesn’t drink often and has never considered drugs for even a second. The idea of not being in control of her own body terrified her enough to steer her away from anything like that.
Another unsettling thought crosses her mind. If those stories about him are true, does that also mean the stories of his long and varied love life are also true? She shakes her head. She’s not so sure she needs or wants to know about that.
‘What?’ he asks.
‘Sorry?’
‘You just shook your head.’
‘Nothing. Go on.’
He nods but she can tell he’s far from convinced by her response. ‘Okay, do you know I’m adopted?’
‘Yes. My gran told me.’
‘Rick and Becca adopted me when I was seven.’ He pulls the pendent out from under his t-shirt. ‘The griffin was my welcome to the family present. Sort of like a good luck charm. It was the first present I ever got, and I mean ever. I don’t remember much about my life before they took me home.’ He pauses and looks out the window for a few seconds before he continues again.
‘My Dad... well I don’t want to say real Dad cause that’s what Rick is. The man I share a minuscule amount of DNA with wasn’t a nice guy. Far from it. He used to hit me. A lot.’
Chloe stares over at him for a minute or two as the words sink in. ‘Oh God...’
‘I don’t remember any of it. Well, didn’t remember. I guess I blocked it out over the years. Or I had until Christmas. Then the memories started coming back. I had pretty vivid nightmares. The damn things wouldn’t let up.
‘Long story short, I fucked up big time. I locked myself away in the house and lived off drinking for a few days. When that didn’t work I added drugs to the drink, then stronger drugs when that didn’t work. Anything to help block it all out. I opened my house up to complete fucking strangers. The parties would go on for days, but I was past caring. I didn’t want to be alone with whatever was going on in my head.’
He stops and scrubs his hand over his face. ‘I... I tried heroin when nothing else worked. I honestly can’t remember a lot of what happened after that. I don’t know how long I was using it for. There was always another fix ready and waiting for me when I came to. It was the only thing I cared about. The only thing I wanted.
‘I cut off everyone close to me. Stopped answering the phone. Wouldn’t let them in the house. My parents got worried and broke the kitchen window to get inside. They found me unconscious on the couch with a syringe... still in my arm. I was in a coma for six days. I scared myself so much I checked into rehab as soon as I was released from hospital.
‘I’m clean, in counselling, and I’m done with drinking too. The whole sorry fucking situation was a beyond stupid mistake and I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life. I’m trying to put the last few crap months behind me, but I’m not always on top of it.’
Tate pushes up the sleeve of his t-shirt and holds his arm out to her. Chloe instantly sees the raw scratch marks covering the inside of his elbow. ‘That was where I...’ he takes a deep breath and starts again. ‘It’s where I injected myself. My shrink thinks the scratching is related to it. I don’t even know I’m doing it. It’s some subconscious thing I do when I think too much or get stressed or I don’t know... I still get nightmares too but I’m not going to use again to deal with them.’
Tate smiles briefly and shrugs. ‘So, that’s everything. All my shit. I know it’s not great and that I should have told you sooner, but it’s not something I’m proud of. I totally understand if you want to leave and think about it for a while, or leave and never see me again.’
Chloe is struck dumb as some of what he said sinks in. She has no doubts whatsoever that he hasn’t told her everything about his early childhood, just enough to explain the reason behind his addiction, but it’s enough. He was telling her about the drugs and rehab, not his past. That might come at a later stage. Perhaps not at all and Chloe could accept that. The fact he opened up to her at all means more to her than she can put into words.
It can’t have been easy to tell her what he just did. She’s knows it’s just her imagination, but Tate appears so much smaller than he did a few minutes before. His head is down and his shoulders hunched as he waits for her to respond. Or for her to reject him. Or maybe judge him. But that’s the last thing she wants to do.
‘What if I want to stay?’
His head shoots up. ‘Stay? Really?’
‘Yes, really.’
