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“Shit, I wasn’t even the one who bought the drugs.”
Graham nods his head before standing to walk around the counter to where I’m sitting. His big hands land on my shoulders then he squeezes. The pressure is just enough to get me feeling something other than the residual guilt from that incident a while back and the more recent one. The one I don’t remember from a couple days ago.
“Yeah, I know. That incident was more than enough to get you scared straight.”
“Not straight enough I’m guessing.”
“You saw the recordings. You can judge that for yourself.” He opens the fridge then pulls out a couple containers with fruit and nuts in them. “You had another visitor. Officer Kimball came by as well.”
“Officer Kimball? Why was she here?”
“She was here to return your things. Some female was picked up and had them on her. The woman confessed to slipping something into the drinks y’all had that night. She said something about her friend, whose plan it was, ending up in the hospital. She didn’t know what else to do.”
I turn to face him, and he nods his head as if he knows what I’m thinking.
“What the fuck, man? How the hell is this my life? I didn’t even know anything was missing.”
“You mean in the time you were drugged, being a jackass to your family and friends, or when you were unconscious again from a drugging?”
I snort while running my hands over my hair. I’ve allowed it to grow longer than I normally would. It’s helping me keep my anger and frustration in check right now.
“This is insane.”
“Here comes the tough question. It’s the one you don’t really want to face. You don’t have a choice anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have to come with me today. I think it’s beyond time for you to deal with all of this before something really bad happens.”
Standing up, I begin pacing the tiled kitchen floor.
“You mean like having my shit stolen or losing time? Bad things like that?”
“Yeah. You ready to finally do something about it?”
“It sounds like I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Not that I plan on fighting you or anyone else on it.”
Twenty minutes later, I see I’ve been driven to a vanilla ... more French vanilla mansion with Italian Renaissance architecture. The gate in front opens to cemented steps. The towering glass doors to the right are made of mahogany wood. Tiled flooring on the porch leads to the massive door.
If I didn’t know any better, then I’d believe we were going to someone’s home. Having lived in Georgia my entire life, it’s the norm to have a business run out of one of the many houses in the city. The nuance of such a thing isn’t something new and would be lost on me. It’s a regular thing here in Savannah.
Stepping out of Graham’s silver Mercedes-Benz, I am met with a crowd of people. In past TV and radio interviews, I’ve been asked if I’m used to this kind of recognition. I’m not. I don’t tell them as much. I usually respond with something like “It comes with the territory” or “It’s an adjustment”. They laugh then we move on to something else. No matter what I do or where I go, I tend to attract attention. How they found me here, I don’t know. Turning to my left, I lean into Graham so he is the only one who can hear me.
“I’m thinking we need to talk to the security team. Someone has to be leaking my locations if all these people are here today.”
Graham nods then lifts his phone to his ear. It’s not his job to handle that type of thing. Usually, it’s my manager, GiGi’s, job to take care of things like this. She’s not here so my pit crew chief and closest friend is making the call on my behalf. Serves him right for taking my damn phone. I direct my next statement to the crowd.
“Hey everyone. I’ll sign whatever, just don’t trample each other to get an autograph.”
The women squeal and dance in place as I begin signing whatever they put in front of me. Being a race car driver can be exciting. The thrill, the rush of danger, the speed are all the things that made me want to do this. Having people scream my name, adoring fans, and fan clubs who support me are bonuses.
Didn’t think my reentry into therapy would start like this.
