“Yeah.”
I blinked, my gut churning with worry. “So he’s been back on the pills for a few weeks now?”
“Yeah.”
“Doesn’t that concern you?”
“Why would it?”
I widened my eyes at him, letting my face call him an idiot so I didn’t have to vocalize it. “I assume we’re not talking about aspirin. So with his addictive personality, is it a good idea to load him with narcotics?”
“He’s in pain.”
“But…” I blanched. “I got him off the pain meds. He was off of them completely when he was four weeks post-op. You’re saying he stayed off of them for less than a month?”
“His hand is recovering well. We’re keeping an eye on it. But playing full shows is no easy thing, Libby. We knew this would be harder.”
“Did anyone consider having him not play?” Instead of undoing all my hard work?
“We wanted him to let Jimmy take over the guitar, but Sean insisted he do all the playing. Claims it messes up his rhythm if someone else is on guitar. I told him he should take the meds before he starts playing to manage it better, but he was worried it would slow his reflexes and frankly, I’m sure he was right. So, this was the compromise. Suffer for his art, but load up on pain meds right after.”
“Why didn’t you wait?”
“Wait for what?”
“For him to get better! Why didn’t you just not do the concert? You could have waited until he was more recovered.” I was spiraling into a panic.
“He missed three tour dates already. Do you know how much money that cost us?”
“Randy, come on! I have to physically remove him from bars on a regular basis. He is an alcoholic.”
“He drinks too much sometimes. That doesn’t make him an alcoholic.”
My eyes widened in horror.
“I’m not saying I agree with it, but he’s the one controlling what he does. It doesn’t control him. I know it’s scary for you. You see him taking pills. He’s a celebrity, so you assume that means he’s going to spiral into addiction and all the other hallmarks of stardom. I get it. But I think you should give him more credit. You don’t come around much, Libby. So all you see is when he’s at his worst.” Randy walked away.
I had always thought that I could count on Randy, that he saw things the way I did. I thought he would have my back when it came to looking out for Sean.
Apparently I’d been wrong.
Was he just seeing what he wanted to see? Excusing Sean’s actions because he wanted to keep the money flowing just like everyone else?
Or was he right? I didn’t see Sean much. It was so hard to see him drunk and stupid that I’d started avoiding him as much as possible. For the most part, I only saw the worst. That was true. I’d been there when he was on the pills because I felt like I had to manage the pills, but once I thought he was off of them, I had gone away. Was he really okay most of the time? Was I borrowing trouble? Making a mountain out of a molehill?
Honestly I hoped that I was. Being wrong about this would be fantastic.
But I wasn’t wrong. I knew deep down in my gut that I wasn’t.
Sean finished putting away his guitar and was toweling off his face and neck. He turned toward me and when he spotted me, his eyes lit up.
“Libby.” He jogged over, a huge grin on his face. “How are you? It’s been a while since I saw you backstage.”
I forced a smile. “First concert after your accident. I wanted to be here.”
“I want to hug you, but I don’t think you’d appreciate it.” He held out his arms, putting his sweat-soaked shirt on display.
“You are correct.” I took a step back to ensure he didn’t attack me.
“How did you get here?”
“Me and Randy were in cahoots.” And I’d been feeling a kinship with Randy up until about five minutes ago.
“Randy always has my back,” he said with a grin. Then he leaned down and kissed my cheek. “Thanks for coming. Yours is the face I always want to see.”
“I do have a good face.”
He grinned. “Let me do a five-minute greet with the backstage pass people, and then we’ll ride back to the hotel. I just took some pain meds and I’ll probably crash soon.”
The knot in my chest loosened. If he wasn’t hiding the fact he was taking pills, then maybe it really was okay. Or at least not as scary as my gut reaction led me to believe. “Sounds good.”
After his five-minute meet and greet, which actually took twenty, we got in the car.
“How’s your hand?” I asked.
He stretched and flexed it a couple times. “It aches.”
“Just aches?”
“Well, more like it’s on fire.” His grin was crooked.
“You could have had someone else play tonight.”
“You know the songs aren’t as good that way.”
Maybe, but the difference was marginal at best. Still, there was no point arguing about it now. The damage was done.
Back at the hotel, he showered and changed into a t-shirt and athletic shorts, then asked me to play for him. Every hotel room he’d ever stayed in had a baby grand in it. It must have been something that he insisted on, which was a little funny. Sean could play the piano, yes, but he was a guitar man through and through. I had sometimes wondered if he insisted on the piano just for me.
I only played a handful of songs before he passed out on the couch. My brow furrowed. He was usually pretty wired after concerts, so I had to wonder just how strong his pain meds were.
That wasn’t my responsibility, though, so I did my best to not let that worry get under my skin. He was on top of it. Randy was on top of it.
I threw a blanket over Sean and left the suite, making my way down seven floors until I got to my own room. I was flying out in the morning, back to Newburgh and my date with Jonas. And Sean would take a day to recover and then head out on his tour bus to the next stop.
♪♫♪
The next two weeks, Jonas started calling me more often. I felt him loosen up and let his guard down, wanting to get together every couple days.
Time with Jonas was exactly what I needed, and I immersed myself in it.
He was a breath of fresh air and a down comforter all in one. Even though he had history—deployed-in-a-war-zone history—he carried himself with a lightness that I envied. I couldn’t tell if he came by it naturally, or if it was home-grown among his stellar parents and big family. Either way, I craved the emotional reprieve that being with him gave me.
In contrast, Sean had always left me constantly on edge. He wallowed in his history. He kept it close, used it for inspiration, and thus carried it with him everywhere. And since much of his history was tied to mine, I found myself stuck in the past, living through the worst of it on a constant loop as I prayed that next week and next month wouldn’t bring a new worst into the mix.
So the name of the game was distraction, and boy was Jonas good at distracting me. He loved to go out and do things. Hikes, botanical gardens, rock climbing gyms, museums. It didn’t feel like he was trying to be impressive. It just felt like he wanted the experiences and was excited to share them with me.
And if those experiences happened to take me away from all the hype and excitement surrounding my best friend, then that was all the better. Otherwise, I would have been making myself crazy, thinking about those pills that he’d taken backstage, thinking about all the things he could be taking while I kept my distance, trying to maintain my sanity.