Page 14 of Rock Bottom

I cringed. Shit. “He insisted.”

“So he’s the informal type. No surprise there. Just don’t let your guard down. I’m told he has a history of getting chummy with his staff.”

No wonder. If he had people controlling every aspect of his public life, I could only imagine how little control he had over his private life. “About the nudes, Boone.”

Boone chuckled. “Tell me you don’t follow the music scene without telling me you don’t follow the music scene, Church. The media made a big deal out of that about a year ago. Kid leaked his own nudes to the press. Apparently, someone thought they’d try to blackmail him with them, so he just did it himself. People print them out and bring him to his concerts to sign like t-shirts. Boy ain’t shy, that’s for sure.”

Tell me about it. I thought back to seeing him the night before coming out of the bathroom naked and hard. I knew I shouldn’t have looked, but I couldn’t help it. For all Dante’s imperfections, his body wasn’t among them. He wasn’t fit like an athlete, but lithe as if he spent a lot of time in the water. I could see why people went wild over him. He was attractive. The problem was, he knew it, and it made him cocky.

Not that I was attracted to him. Not in the least.

And if I kept repeating that, it’d be true. Eventually.

I cleared my throat, then remembered I had a water bottle in my hands. “The manager didn’t mention any obsessive fans or threats or anything, did he?” I chugged half the bottle in one go.

“He’s famous. Of course he has those.”

“I meant recently. People I should be watching out for.”

Boone sighed. “I’ll ask, but even if he does have some crazy stalker fan, they wouldn’t know where to find him. You’re totally off the grid there except for basic utilities.”

“And for his phone,” I pointed out.

“He’s been told not to post to his socials.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure they also told him to lay off the bottle a few times.”

Boone agreed with another grunt. “Keep an eye on his socials just in case and I’ll ask his team. If there’s anything, I’ll have the manager forward it to your secure email, but I’m sure they would’ve mentioned it if it were a concern. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I know, it’s just… He really can be insufferable.”

“Well, you can be too,” Boone said. “What is it you Brits say? Keep calm and carry on or whatever.”

“With all due respect, sir, fuck you.”

Boone chuckled. “Start a shopping list. Your first supply drop is in five days. I’ll check in then, but call me if you need anything before then. Don’t work too hard, Church.”

“And you don’t forget to make Bowie work. Tell him I expect the place to be running top notch when I get back.” There was a loud crash in the kitchen, and I winced as Dante’s cursing came through the walls. If Dante isn’t the death of me, that is.

Aside from the occasional run-in, Church and I mostly avoided each other for three whole days. He always seemed to be lurking around the next corner, or just out of sight, keeping an eye on me. Whenever I caught him watching me, I’d blow him a kiss or try to get him to flex for me, anything to make him blush, which he did easily before sliding back out of sight.

When I wasn’t deliberately trying to embarrass my bodyguard, I spent most of my time up in the loft, alternating between restless sleep and agitated pacing. I’d been through detox enough times to know the random surge of frustration was because of that, but it didn’t make it any easier. My body was in active rebellion. My stomach churned, my head ached, and I had no fucking idea what to do with my hands half the time. It was like I was all limbs and none of them worked properly. I tried to play my guitar, but nothing felt right.

In the end, I always wound up in the same place: on my back, staring at the ceiling, with my phone pressed to my ear and Jake on the other end.

“Are they feeding you well?” he asked. “I can’t imagine they’ve got a lot of good burgers out there.”

“I haven’t had a burger since I left.” I said, kicking out my feet. “But I don’t mind. Trust me, Church can cook. Last night, he made these sausages…From scratch, Jake. From. Scratch. Who does that? This guy is like a beefy Martha Stewart. But sexy.”

Jake snickered. “Sounds like heaven to me.”

I sighed and rolled over onto my stomach, staring at the ladder coming up to the loft. “More like hell. I’m going stir crazy here.”

“I know, man, but it’s for the best. Just a couple more weeks, and you’ll be in the clear. For good this time, right?”

I closed my eyes and tipped my head to the side, wishing I could say yes. The truth was, even as close as I’d come to losing everything, I couldn’t shake the craving. I knew that if someone put a bottle or a pill in front of me, I’d swallow both in an instant. I was through the worst of the withdrawals, so I couldn’t even use that as an excuse. It wasn’t the booze or the drugs I was craving anymore, but the familiar punishment. I knew I’d let everyone down, and that I’d just do it again. The drugs and the drink took the edge off that sting, like numbing a toothache. If I could just have one more, I wouldn’t have to think about how disappointed Jake would be when he realized I was still jonesing for another drink, another hit, another escape.

So, with a tight voice, I told him what he wanted to hear, what everyone wanted to hear. “Yeah, for good this time.”

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