Chapter 24: Drummer Boys Face The Music

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So if you are interested in seeing the house I used as inspiration for Bodies new place, see the comment I will make here, with the link to the article about the house, with pictures...

Bodie Atlanta, Three Days Later

I'm on my feet, but barely. I feel like I'm walking around with the flu. I can't decide what hurts worse.

My gut, my head, or the general ache of my muscles.

Oh wait, I know.

My pride.

Marley puts the car into park and unlatches her seatbelt. I make no move. My feet stay planted on the floorboard of the passenger seat of her small sedan. My hands stay gripped on my knees.

"Are you ready?" she asks, gesturing to large tan brick home with immaculate landscaping.

I give a resentful snort. "Why do you even ask? It's not like I have a choice at this point. In anything."

The last choice I made was knocking on Marley's hotel door three days ago, shivering, already deep in withdrawal, determined not to take any more drugs.

All I wanted in that moment was to crawl into her bed and listen to the story of Darius' first birthday party.

I was choosing sobriety. I was choosing her. I was choosing Darius.

She and Riley took all those options away.

Swiftly.

Riley worked a deal with the label to cut me some slack on the drug test that was definitely coming back positive for heroin. The deal? They would look the other way on my breech of personal conduct contract if I went into MAT—medication assisted treatment with a round-the-clock live-in treatment specialist. As long as I stayed out of rehab. Because the press tracks celebrities to rehab like bloodhounds track criminals.

And Marley? She took much more away from me than my choice of a cold turkey detox.

She killed everything that was blossoming between us, by signing a contract with Riley to be my enforcer.

It doesn't matter that she hasn't left my side in the three days I've been struggling to even out on methadone. It doesn't matter that she responds to all my frustration with calm and reason. It doesn't matter that she offers compassionate care, trying to ease my physical discomfort.

She played me. She reeled me in with that picture of Darius and then, a tornado of things happened around me that I couldn't control. Just like all those years ago, when she drew me in with her love and then set me lose into Daemon's storm.

Marley takes the keys out of the ignition. "I'm sure your mother will understand if you aren't ready to see her. Family can be stressful, and you have enough stress right now."

"You think she can say anything worse than what just happened in Nashville?" I scoff. "My band just voted to kick me out."

"No, they voted to enforce a treatment plan for you. Actually, only Adam and Mac wanted to suspend your involvement in the band, until you're functionally sober. Trace and Leed did not. Every one of them responded to your problems in a way they thought best to help you, Bodie. There was a lot of love in that room."

"There was a lot of bullshit in that room," I snap back.

"Ok. So how do reconcile your reaction to their vote with the fact that a couple of days before, you wanted to cut out to Switzerland indefinitely, without even discussing it with them?"

"That Switzerland idea was bullshit, too," I snarl. "I was high, Marley."

She traces her fingertips on the steering wheel, nodding. "Okay. I can see how that is probably true."

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