Page 46 of Broken Instrument

“I want in.”

Jerking the phone away from my ear, I look at the screen, convinced I’ve heard him wrong.

“In?” I ask. “On what?”

“The contract. I want to sign as your manager.”

I scoff. “You’re joking, right?”

“Listen, I have photos of you high as a kite. Video footage of you fucking––”

“I don’t care.”

“The press would eat this shit up. It would ruin you––”

“Let it ruin me,” I spit, my upper lip curling. “I’m sick of my addiction holding me back from what I want. I’m clean. I’m going to stay clean. And I’m not about to make another deal with a snake just because I have a shitty past. Sonny was right about you. You’re bad news, Marty. And you need help. Lots of it. If you decide you need a good shrink or rehab center, let me know. I stayed at a great one in Utah. Talk to you later.”

I click the end button, toss my phone in the cupholder, and dig out a fun-sized packet of M&M’s from my pocket. The warm chocolate melts on my tongue but doesn’t ground me the way I hope.

Breathe, I remind myself.

Sensing my trepidation, Pixie puts her paws on the center console and nuzzles me with her giant, scrunched nose. I lean into her, soaking up whatever comfort she’s willing to give a sorry ass like me. Because I know I don’t deserve it. Or at least, the past me didn’t. But the new me? The one who told Marty to fuck off? He isn’t a coward. Is he? I go over our conversation again, committing it to memory.

The moment I broke free from the asshole who’s controlled me for years.

And it feels good.

Even when I know Marty’s right.

He has a shit-ton of blackmail on me. Most of it, I can’t even remember doing. From orgies with random women to falling and hitting my head, waking up in a pool of my own blood because I was too high out of my mind. Yeah, the blackmail he has is real classy shit that makes me look like an irresponsible asshole.

Because I was an irresponsible asshole.

I pinch the bridge of my nose as Pix licks the side of my hand, anxious to take away my pain or frustration. If only it were so easy. If any of Marty’s blackmail gets out, it could ruin me. But I’ve already walked that path with him. I’m not about to sign my own death certificate by doing it again. I can’t. Not because of my career, but because of my life. Literally. I know my triggers. What could make me spiral. And being close to Marty again? It’s a one-way ticket to Hell, and I’ve already spent enough time clawing my way out of it.

But losing everything again? Because of shit from my past? Even when I’m determined to stay clean this time?

Fucking sucks.

Pix scoots closer until almost all of her massive body is in my lap, and only her hind legs are in the back row of seats. Like she knows I need something to hold onto. To keep me from losing my damn mind. As if she can feel my frustration. My fear. My desperation to keep everything from spiraling. Like she wants to prove I’m not alone. Like I was never alone.

I scratch behind her ear again. “I’m gonna stay clean, Pix. Not just for me. But for you.”

I swear her big brown eyes are zeroing in on my soul as she looks up at me and cocks her head to one side. Then she shifts her gaze to Hadley’s apartment.

“Yeah. I know. I’ll be strong for her too. No matter what. Promise.”

Another wave of determination floods my system, so I shove my car into drive and make my way home.

When I get there, I head to the bathroom, the damn little bag of pills burning a hole in my pocket. I need to get rid of them as soon as possible. While I’m still strong enough. While I can still hear Marty’s voice in my head. While I can still see Mia’s distraught face and Hadley’s beautiful one.

But as I pull out the bag and open the tiny ziplock top, my hands shake, and my breathing turns shallow, the faces of everyone I care about fading into the background.

I should flush them.

I should flush them down the fucking toilet so it’s not my own life swirling down the drain.

But I can’t.

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