Page 143 of Down Beat

My phone screen switches to Toby’s incoming call.

“He needs more than me,” I answer.

Toby sighs. “He refuses it. I’m at my wits end, Tabby. I’ve never seen him this low.”

God. Why do they do this to me?

“You understand why I left, don’t you?”

He hums. “I guess.”

“If I come back now, then he uses me like a kid uses a damn cuddly toy, Toby. He’ll cling to me until he feels better, and then he’ll justify that this time it wasn’t so bad, that me being there helps. But it doesn’t.”

“It does,” he argues.

“Not how it needs to,” I bite back. “I give him a distraction, and yeah, maybe that helps him get through this low point. But he needs to find proper help, somebody who can motivate Rey to help himself.”

He sighs, a rustle cutting the line. “Are you sure you won’t come back? Just for a day? Maybe you could convince him to do rehab, seek counseling, because fuck knows he won’t listen to any of us.”

“I’m sure.” I duck my head, resting my coffee between my feet. “Don’t misunderstand why I say no, okay? I care about Rey, so damn much.” My words are thick with emotion. “But I can’t live with myself if I enable his condition. You know as well as I do that this cycle he’s stuck in, it’s not sustainable. He needs change. All I do is give him an excuse not to.”

“Fuck.” He huffs. “I don’t know what to do, Tabitha.”

“He wants to stop touring,” I say softly. “Can he get a break?”

“Not this close to the end of the tour.” Toby groans, the muffled sound making me think he scrubs a hand over his face as he does. “We’ve got six shows to go. Two weeks.”

“Surely your label know they need to address this if they want him to continue.”

“Our label,” he says scathingly, “believe that it’s all a bunch of Hollywood antics and that he’s fine. That a break after this tour is all he needs.”

“So fucking record him and send it to them,” I say. “Jesus, Toby. You would have seen him when he bottoms out; it’s scary.”

“Terrifying,” he agrees. “Today is the first time I’ve let him out of my sight, and that’s only because he’s with Kris and Rick.” He drags a deep breath. “I’ve hardly slept, Tabby. That’s how goddamn worried I am he’s planning something stupid.”

Fuck. My heart.

“I want to help him, I really do, but I honestly believe that being there will only makes things worse.”

“Please,” Toby whispers. “Just to level him out until the end of the tour. Then you can go your way, we’ll take him ours and get this sorted.” He sighs, seeming to toss up whether to say more. “I just want my brother to stay alive, Tab, and you can help with that.”

“Don’t.” I can barely push the word. “I know you mean well, but honestly, dumping this on me isn’t fair either.”

“Is that how you see it?” he snaps. “We’re ‘dumping’ Rey on you?”

“Not Rey,” I say, exacerbated. “Whether he lives or dies.” I glance up at the people who walk past, suddenly aware I’m having such a personal conversation in such a public space. “Don’t put that burden on me.”

“If not you, then who?” he asks. “Because, Tab? I’ve about had all I can take of carrying it.”

“Talk to… what’s his name? Your boss guy.”

“Wallace?”

“Yeah. Surely if you tell him what you’ve told me, he’ll bring in help. Can’t they hire somebody to do a house call?”

“Got to be able to get to him, first.”

“What do you mean?” I pick up my coffee and start walking again.

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