The Boy from the Band

Your Saving Grace

I'm tired, I don't want to do this—all I want to do is go to bed. I'm too exhausted to enjoy the drive to the studio, something I usually love no matter what the time of day. I hate Robbie for calling me, for not handling this himself, or enlisting the aid of someone at the studio.

Most of all, I hate the way I feel like an idiot for not realizing Rick had a heroin habit. I know a few people who use it but they're not friends. I stay away from it, it's one of the few drugs that I believe all the bad things I've been told.

Addictions are hard to shake. Alcoholics relapse, heroin addicts relapse then they have to fight to end their addiction all over again. Maybe I'm addicted to marijuana, but I look at cigarette smokers and realize they have it worse than I do. I don't like going without weed—I missed it in the hospital but didn't try to sneak any—I can go without weed a lot easier than people can go without tobacco.

When I get to the studio I sit in the car a few minutes before I go in. I'm sore and tired from my long day, and it's going to take a while to get back to my routine. I seriously consider turning around and leaving and letting Robbie take care of this mess, but I have the feeling he made the right call asking me to help—if I can.

He's waiting for me at the door. "Thank god you've come, Dacy, we can't get him to settle down. Whatever he got hold of, it's stronger than what he's used to. We managed to get his bass away from him and put it away, but he's insisting he's fine. I wouldn't have called but he started asking for you. See what you can do with him, please?"

"Fine, but don't you dare do this to me again. This was my first day back at work and I'm exhausted. All I wanted to do was smoke a joint and drink a glass of wine, then go to bed. I'm not up to this, I should be at home. Why didn't you call his girlfriend?"

"Because she's probably fucked up too. Heroin can be a shared addiction, or didn't you know?"

Heroin scares me, and now that I know he's an addict, he's scaring me a little too. Damn, why can't I fall in love with someone who doesn't have problems?

Robbie led me into the "live" room where Rick sat in the corner, his eyes barely half-open, and a goofy smile on his face.

"Look who's here," he mumbled, stumbling over the words, "What are you doing here?"

I take a deep breath, then exhale, mustering my courage and praying for patience. "You asked for me, or don't you remember? What are you on, anyway? I've never seen you this fucked up before."

"Some really good shit," he smiles and I don't like the look of that smile, "You wanna try some?"

"Fuck no," I answer, the words coming easily, "I don't touch that shit, ever, remember?"

He doesn't answer, but he knows. I realize the only reason he probably hasn't passed out is that they might have been doing speed while they were rehearsing. 'Fat girl pills' as Richard Manual calls them. He probably used the heroin to come down not realizing what he'd gotten hold of.

The problem with scoring drugs like heroin is you never know what you're getting. Occasionally a really strong batch will come around and just doing the amount you're used to can kill you. That's what happened to Janis Joplin. I think Rick's scored something stronger than he expected and he doesn't realize just how it's affecting him yet.

I'm guessing he's snorted it or smoked it. I know every damn inch of his body and I've never seen anything on him that even resembled a needle mark. Maybe he thinks if he doesn't use the needle he won't wind up with a habit, though he probably knows that's a bunch of crap.

"Hey sweetie," I tell him, "You're about to pass out, why don't you let me help you into one of the bedrooms so you can sleep it off?"

"No I'm not," his speech is getting worse and he tries to stand up and then drops back into his chair. "Oops," he says and smiles, but it's not a smile I've seen before.

"You know I'm smarter than that," I say, "If I tell you you need to go lay down you know I'm not bullshitting you, right?"

He doesn't answer for a moment, then says, "You'll come with me, right?"

Only until I know you're out and I can go home, I think, but I tell him, "Yes, I'll come with you, and stay with you. You sleep this off then you'll be fine to drive home in the morning. Will you do this for me, Ricky, please?" I never call him "Ricky", it just slipped out.

Two of the engineers have appeared and I whisper, "Careful," to them as they assist in getting him up and walk him to the nearest bedroom. I take off his boots and his belt and pull a blanket over him and start to leave but he pats the bed next to him.

I sigh and take off my shoes and crawl in next to him. I'm so tired I don't even resist when he starts to fondle my breasts but he's too out of it to try anything more.

I don't know which of us passed out first, but my watch read 6 a.m. when Robbie opened the door and asked me if I was all right. I looked over at Rick and he was still sleeping, so I got out of bed and grabbed my shoes.

"You want to get some breakfast?" Robbie asked, and I realized he was trying to be nice. I wasn't sure how nice I was feeling. Part of me wanted to go back home and go to bed, but food was sounding awfully good so I told him yes.

Not far from the studio is a little café that has good food. We walked in and seated ourselves and waited for the waitress. Robbie ordered breakfast for us, eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast, coffee, and two big glasses of orange juice. It wasn't until I started eating that I realized I was ravenously hungry and for a few minutes all we did was eat and consume the hot steaming coffee.

"I'm sorry I called you like I did," he said out of the blue, "But I think I did the right thing. I want you to know I love those guys, all of them, but Dacy, I'm tired. I feel like I've been carrying them for a long time and I'm no longer up to the burden. I know this sounds harsh, but my marriage is in shambles, and I'm worried about how this will affect my kids."

"Thank you for your honesty," I reply, "but I'm worried about Rick. I think this is going to affect him in a way it won't affect the others. I'm sounding disloyal, but I'm afraid that he needs direction from a stronger personality. And now that I know about the heroin..." I sighed and left the rest of the sentence hanging.

He looked me in the eyes as he took a swig of coffee. "I think you've been good for him, but he's not been good for you. He's one of the sweetest guys you'll ever meet, but he's an addict with all the baggage that goes along with it. It's been a year and he hasn't managed to embroil you in his habit, so that's good sign. Maybe you could resist, but his girlfriend couldn't."

"I knew someone that happened to. An ex-lover of mine. I stopped seeing him when I saw him shoot up in my roommate's bathroom. The girl he hooked up with eventually was a real sweetheart, I knew her brother from school. Anyway, she wound up getting hooked and they lost their kid for a while. I've never, ever, wanted something like that to happen to me."

"Well, don't let it. Don't get into it. Set some rules and boundaries for yourself and make him respect them. If I wasn't married, I'd like to see how it would work between us, but I can't. You take care of yourself and don't let taking care of him burn you out. He loves you, you know, a lot. He thinks you're one of the best things that ever happened to him. He only has felt that way about one other person, his girlfriend."

"Well, I don't want to be in her shoes. I like my relationship with him the way it is. I don't want the baggage that would go with him. We love each other, but we're two different people. And now that I know about the heroin, I don't mind letting her have responsibility for him. It's enough for me to just take care of me."

When we finished eating, Robbie paid the bill and drove back to the studio. He parked next to my car, looking at me for a moment, then took me in his arms.

I didn't resist, when he kissed me, I kissed him back. We stayed for a few minutes in each other's arms, then pulled back at the same time. There were tears in his eyes which I didn't expect and it made me want to cry—but I didn't.

He got out and opened my door. "Take care of yourself, Dacy," he said and walked back into the studio.