My Rock #4 (The Rock Star Romance Series - Book #4) (5 page)

“How’s your relationship with your mother?” He
leaned forward, trying to convince me he cared.

“Fine.”

“What about your father?”

“Fine.”

“Do you have a girlfriend…or boyfriend?” That made
me laugh a little…so politically correct.

“No,” I said, “Neither.”

“What’s your drug of choice?” he asked me for the
ten thousandth time.

“You name it, I’ll take it. I’ll smoke it, snort it,
drink it…I just won’t inject it; I do have my principles.”

He sighed. “Tristan, this is serious business. I
don’t think you’re taking it very seriously.”

I motioned to the room around me. “I’m here. If I
didn’t think it was serious, I’d be home puffing on a joint.”

“I don’t know what to do to get you to open up to
me. None of what we’re doing here is going to help you if you aren’t willing to
let us inside so we can help you.”

“I’m just not sure what you want from me,” I told
him. “You want me to cry and tell you what a miserable life I’ve had?”

“If that’s what you feel like doing,” he said.

I laughed and said, “That’s not going to happen.”

“Okay, that’s okay,” he said. “I think maybe what we
need is some family group time.”

That got my attention. “No!”

“It’s part of the program, Tristan…”

“I said no! I’m not a child. I have the right to
refuse.”

“True, but if you do, you’ll be asked to leave. You
have to go along with the program or it won’t be successful.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” I told him.
Fuck! I should never have told him they were even still alive.

“Why’s that, Tristan? You told me that your
relationship with them was—and I quote—‘fine’.”

Fucking great, a smart-ass therapist. “Okay, I
lied.” I told him. “I’m not fine with them. They’re not fine. They’re junkies
and I don’t want anything to do with them.”

“Then maybe it will help you all for them to be
here.”

“I don’t want to help them!” I said, jumping up off
the couch. “They’re the fucking reason I’m here. They made this!” I said,
slamming my hand into my chest.

“Then maybe you need a safe place to tell them how
you feel.” I wanted to rip his fucking head off.

“They know how I feel. I don’t hold anything back
with them.”

“Good, then it will help to have them here. I think
I’ll try and arrange it for this afternoon.”

“Fuck!” I stormed out of his office, slamming the
door on my way out. He didn’t have any idea what he was doing. I couldn’t be
trapped in a room with those freaks. I slammed my way back into my room and sat
down on the bed. Suddenly I realized what I needed. I got up and went out to
the nurse’s station.

The unit secretary said, “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, can I use the phone?” I felt breathless as I
said it.
 
The stress was really piling
on.

“Have you used it yet today?”

“No,” I told her. We got one call a day. They’d
taken my cell phone when I checked in. She had me sign the clipboard so they’d
know if I tried to sneak another one in and then handed me the phone.

I dialed
Elly’s
number and
willed her to answer. She did, and without thinking about it, I said, “Thank god.”

“Tristan? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…everything. This fucking therapist is going
to bring my fucking parents in here for a group. I can’t do it. I won’t do it.
Come in to see me,
Elly
. They’ll let you in because
you’re from the show. Please….”

“Tristan, it sounds like the therapist thinks this
is important. My parents attended a few groups, too.”

“Fuck!
Elly
, it’s not the
same thing. Is your mother a crack whore? Is your father a heroin addict?” She
was really quiet so I took that as a no.

“I’m sorry, Tristan,” she said at last. “I can
understand why you don’t want to see them. It’s important though that you do
what the facility asks you. They’re professionals. They know what they’re
doing….”

I balled my free hand into a fist. “I’m not doing
this!”

“Listen to me, please. I’ll come…I’ll be there with
you if you promise to go to group. I’ll go with you.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s better. Then, I have two
witnesses to my fucked up family dynamic.”

“Maybe afterwards we could find a way to be alone
for a while….”

Damn it. She was offering herself to me if I agreed
to do it. I was craving her. It had been too long; maybe it would alleviate
some of my anxiety.

“Okay, but you make sure we find time to be alone.
None of that maybe shit,” I told her.

“Okay, I will. I’ll be there soon,” she said.

I handed the phone back to the secretary and went
back in to my therapist’s office.

“Did you call my parents?” I asked him.

“Yes, they’ll be here at one p.m. I’m hoping you’ll
join us.”

“I’ll be here, but I’m bringing my own back-up,” I
told him.

“I’m not sure that’s….”

“Do you want me here?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll accept me and my friend, who also
happens to work for
Fresh Voices
, the
show that is paying for me to be in this expensive place.”

“Okay, Tristan. One o’clock.”

*****

Elly
had shown up not long after I talked to her and when we went down to the group
room just before one, I saw my parents sitting just inside the door. They both
had cleaned up some, trying to look like normal people. My mother was bone thin
and her thrift store clothes hung off her body. My father’s stomach looked
swollen; his liver must have been close to exploding. They both looked so
damned old. Every time I wanted to walk out and use again, I needed to call up
an image of those two and remember that it was the drugs that did that to them.

“You ready?”
Elly
asked
me. She took my hand in hers and squeezed it. It didn’t make me want to go in;
it made me want to take her back to my room and fuck her. I knew she wasn’t going
for that unless I did the session first though, so I sucked down my hatred for
those two people and went inside.

“Hi baby!” My mother got up as if she thought I was
going to hug her or something. I shot her a look, so she sat back down. My
father knew better. He only nodded in my direction. He couldn’t seem to take
his eyes off
Elly
, though, and for that, I wanted to
knock him out of his chair.

I introduced
Elly
to my
therapist and he repeated who she was to my parents since I’d left them out.
The way he was going out of his way to be so polite to them was making me sick.

“Let’s get this over with,” I told my therapist.

“Okay, would you like to start, Tristan?”

“No. Just consider me a hostile observer,” I told
him. I could feel
Elly’s
eyes on me, but I didn’t
look at her. She really didn’t understand.

“I’ll start,” my mother said. I couldn’t wait for
this. “Tristan was the most beautiful baby,” she said. I rolled my eyes. I felt
like I was on a fucking episode of
This
is Your Life
.

“I don’t think he cares about my tender years,” I
told her. She looked embarrassed and that made me happy. I wanted her to know
that I thought she was an idiot.

“I was just saying…he was a beautiful kid. When he
was about three or four, we discovered he loved to sing, and he was good. We
started putting him in singing competitions--”

“Cha
ching
!” I said.

“Tristan, do you have something to say?” the
therapist asked.

“No, I said it,” I told him.

Mother went on, unfortunately. “He started singing
professionally when he was ten and then the band formed when he was twelve. They
were all boys he’d met in his competitions. They were all so talented.”

My decided to cut in. “Tristan’s just pissed that
the band broke up. Bottom line, that’s what his problem is.” God it would feel
good to slam my fist into his face. I’d never done it. I never hit either one
of them. I really wasn’t a violent person, but they brought out everything bad
and evil in me.

“Fuck you!” I said.

“Tristan, that’s not productive. No name-calling, no
profanity. Tell him how you feel.”

“I don’t think that’s possible without profanity,” I
said. My fucking mother actually started crying.

Dad put his arm around her like he gave a shit and
my therapist asked her, “Mrs. Rogers, why are you crying?”

“It breaks my heart that he hates us so much. I try
to stay in contact with him and he turns me away. It hurts so much. I don’t
know what we ever did--”

“Oh, dear god! Are you two fucking kidding here?
Tell him the only reason you’re even here is because you’re still hoping I’ll
win
Fresh Voices
and get that money.
You’re hoping I’ll be stupid enough to give you some of it.”

“You think they only want your money, Tristan?” the
therapist asked.

“Yes, that’s exactly what they want. They took it
all the first time around.”

“Bullshit!” My father said. “You had the best house,
the best toys and clothes; you went to the best schools--”

“And you were able to buy the best whores and the
best drugs.”

“You took plenty of drugs yourself!” he snapped back
at me.

I could feel my limbs starting to shake in anger. “I
was a kid. I not only learned by example, you two fucking gave them to me.
Uppers for the shows, downers for bedtime. It’s no wonder I’m a drug addict!”

“You started the street drugs all on your own,” he
said. “It was after that band broke up—you couldn’t deal with not being famous
anymore.”

“You’re right, I was fucked up after it broke up and
all that went away. You want to know why? Because those people—the band, the
media the fans—they were all I ever had. I felt like someone gave a shit about
me when I was famous. It was the only kind of love I ever knew.”

“We loved you, Tristan,” my mother said. “You pushed
us away.”

“You were sleeping with my agent, my producer, and
my friend’s parents…both male and female!” Pointing at my dad I said, “He was
spending his days at the casino and his nights at the
titty
bars or with high priced hookers. I was alone and I took the pills you left me
so I could fucking sleep through it until I was old enough to go out. Then, I
partied because I didn't have anyone at home to tell me that I shouldn't. The
only time I was happy was onstage, and you may as well have taken that away
too!”

“You blame us for your band breaking up?” the old
man said with a smirk.

“I blame you for making me what I am. My drug abuse
broke it up and I was abusing drugs because of you!” My mother started to open
her mouth again, but I was done. It was a big fucking waste of time, just like
I knew it would be. All it had served to do was piss me off even more. I got up
and walked out. I could hear my mother babbling and the therapist calling after
me. I didn’t give a fuck about any of them. I just needed out of there so I
could breathe.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

ELLY

I looked at Tristan’s parents and wondered what
could possibly be wrong with two people that could bring a beautiful child into
the world and then proceed to destroy him. It made me sick, and I didn’t blame
him for walking out. I looked at his therapist and said, “Can I go make sure
he’s okay?”

The therapist looked a little sick himself. That was
good; I would have had no faith in him at all if all of that didn’t affect him.
His stupid parents were still talking. I got up and went after him. I turned
the corner just in time to see him slam in his room. I followed him and
knocked.

“Get the fuck out of here!” he said, “I don’t want
to see anybody.” I turned and started to leave when I heard the door open. I
turned back around and he was standing in the doorway. “Except you,” he said.

I smiled at him and stepped inside. “Are you okay?”
He stepped forward and covered my mouth so I couldn’t speak.

After a nice, long, hot kiss he pulled back and
said, “I am now.”

“Do you want to talk?” I asked.

He put his finger across my lips and said, “Lock the
door.”

I turned around to lock it and I felt his body press
up against mine. I could feel his cock already rock hard in his jeans. I turned
the lock as I felt his lips next to my ear. He ran his tongue along the outside
of it and then down along the side of my neck. I felt his hands slide up from
my waist to my breasts. He grabbed one in each hand and kneaded them through my
blouse and bra while he sucked on my neck. I was pressed so tightly against the
wall I could barely breathe, but at that moment, I would have gladly
suffocated. His hands felt so good, and I loved the feel of his lips and tongue
on the sensitive flesh of my neck.