Chapter 3
THREE
DECLAN
Six months ago, Cole brought up the idea of the band moving. His girlfriend is from Las Vegas, and her mother has been sick, so she needed to go back home to care for her, and he didn’t want to be away from her. We’re all New York born and raised, and the city is where we formed Riot. It was a lot to process, but the idea of a new city and a fresh start felt needed for all of us, because we all have our own demons that haunt us in the city.
After months of working with our manager, Benny, we successfully transferred everything related to our band from New York to Nevada.
Adam, Cole, Damon, and Benny moved to Vegas first. They left right after our interview; it was the same day Camille came to town.
That was three weeks ago.
While they’ve been there, I’ve been here in New York, attending therapy three times a week and as many NA meetings as possible.
This time, I’ve been sober for three weeks, and I’m determined to stay that way. After Camille left, I’m embarrassed to admit that I threw myself a pity party and drank until I passed out.
The next morning, despite my hangover, all I wanted was another drink. I was in the kitchen, bottle in my hand, when I caught my reflection in the microwave. The sight of my disheveled appearance was enough to give me pause.
That moment I realized I was tired of relying on drugs and alcohol to make it through the day, and I’m tired of wallowing in self-pity day after day.
The day Camille left New York was the day I decided to be someone new. Be someone that I can be proud of, be someone that Luca could be proud of if he were still here.
I can no longer sit around waiting for someone to save me from myself. It’s time I save myself and grow the fuck up. I’m thirty-one years old, and I’m a fucking mess.
“My assistant will give you the information for the doctors I recommend in Nevada. Promise me you’ll continue therapy and NA meetings,” Dr. Chen says, tearing me away from my thoughts. I look into her hopeful brown eyes and nod, fully intending to stay on track.
Today is my last therapy session with her. In three hours, I’ll head to the airport and get on a plane to Las Vegas, where I’ll get a fresh start.
It’ll be good for me. It’s what I need. I only hope this time will be different.
“Thank you for everything, Dr. Chen. I will look at those recommendations and schedule an appointment with someone once I get settled in.” We both believe the lie on my tongue.
Immediately after leaving her office, I head to the airport, eager for what’ll await me.
The six-hour flight was smooth, thanks to the fact that I’d taken a sleeping pill to ensure I could sleep the entire time. The band took our private jet when they came out here, so I flew commercial.
Adam was there at the airport to pick me up the moment I landed. The fucker was wearing a blond wig and mustache. He held up a sign that said, Welcome home from prison!
Mother fucker.
Luckily, no one seemed to recognize us, or else I’m sure his stunt would cause a media frenzy, and rumors about me being in prison would be surfacing.
Now we’re at his and Damon’s rental house, and I’m kicked back on the large sectional in the living room, listening to Damon rave about the two girls he brought over last night that gave him the “best pussy of his life.”
He says that shit every night. He claims every new woman he fucks is the best he’s ever had.
“Alright, fuckers. I need a nap, so which room is mine?” I ask, just as the front door slams shut and Benny comes walking in. He’s dressed casually in a pair of khaki shorts and a blue button-down shirt.
My eyebrows jump to my hairline at the sight of him. The man always wears a suit, so this is new. Once, I knocked on his hotel room door in the middle of the night, needing a condom, and even at 3 a.m. he was still in a suit.
“Well, fuck. Looks like Vegas life is already changing you,” I tease, placing my hands behind my head.
He rolls his brown eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you little shit. Laugh it up. It’s too fucking hot out here.” Benny is in his mid-fifties, but with the way he cares for himself, you'd never tell. He’s been with us for so long that I can’t remember what it was like without him.
Before our band had a name, Adam, Damon, Cole, and I would play the songs I wrote and post them online. We’d used our fake ID's to perform at a local dive bar back in New York, and Benny was there in the crowd one night. He saw the potential in four moronic eighteen-year-old boys with chips on their shoulders and egos way too fucking big to handle.
No matter what we’ve been through—or what I’ve put them through—Benny has been here.
“Enough about my drip.” He attempts to pop his collar and fails.
Instantly, Adam and I burst out in laughter.
“Your what ?” Adam says at the same time I say, “Never say that again.”
“My drip. Isn’t that what the cool kids call it these days?” He scoffs. “Never mind. I’ve got a meeting, I just came by to make sure you made it okay.” He sits next to Damon.
“I’m assuming no one told you about your… arrangements?” he asks cautiously, his eyes bouncing between Adam and Damon.
Sitting up straight, I look at two of my best friends, but neither make eye contact.
“What are you talking about? My arrangements?”
I watch as Damon nervously chew his lip ring. His eyes on the rug in front of us rather than me.
With a sigh, Adam speaks up. “Look, Dec. We all thought it would be a good idea, so don’t get mad at Benny, but you’re not staying here with us.”
My palms begin to sweat. “What the fuck do you mean? Where am I going to live?”
Benny answers, “I booked you a hotel in Loganville. You're recently sober, and Vegas has too many temptations. For now, it's best to stay away. You'll have an on-call driver with you that'll bring you into the city as needed,” he explains, maintaining eye contact while my two pussy best friends look everywhere but at me. “Take the next two months to focus on sobriety and writing new songs.”
“Where the fuck is Loganville? I’ve never heard of it, and what, I’m supposed to be there for two fucking months?”
He nods, standing up. “There’s two months until Riot’s next performance. Use this time to work on yourself. Relax, go to a meeting, write.” He lifts his wrist, checking the time on his Rolex that we gifted him last year for Christmas.
“I’ve got to go. Your driver is already here, and we’ll talk more later.” Giving a nod toward the silent pussies next to me, he leaves.
Standing, I look at my friends, my dark eyes narrowing in a glare. “What the fuck, guys? No warning or anything?”
Damon put his hands up in defense. “Sorry, man. But if you knew beforehand, it wouldn’t have gone over well, and you know this.”
“Where the fuck is this stupid ass town?”
This time Adam speaks up, “It’s about an hour and fifteen minutes away.” I can tell there’s something else they’re not telling me, but I’m too pissed to speak any further to them.
Without another word, I grab my duffle bag and suitcase from the floor, stomping my way to the front door.
“Dec! You don’t have to leave yet.”
“Yeah, come on, man. Hang out for a bit,” Damon says to my back, but I don’t spare them another glance.
“Fuck you guys!” I call out, slamming the door behind me as I step outside, the desert heat hitting me in the face.
I spot a black SUV idling in the driveway with a familiar face sitting behind the wheel.
David.
He’s been my driver a few times when I’ve been here. Benny always uses the same company whenever we’re in Vegas.
Spotting me, he instantly climbs out and fixes his suit, hitting a button inside the vehicle to pop the trunk.
“Nice to see you, Declan. I’ll be your personal driver. I can get those bags for you.”
Waving him off, I place them inside the trunk myself. “Hey, man. Nice to see you, too. Let’s just go.”
Climbing into the backseat, I cross my arms over my chest, huffing in annoyance at the situation. I’m aware I’m acting like a pouting child, but I don’t fucking care.
They don’t trust me.
It feels like I’ve been banished from being around my friends, because they don’t trust me enough to remain sober while living in the city.
They’re probably right, but that’s not their decision to make. If I’m going to get better, I can’t hide. No matter where I go, I’ll always find a trigger.
Addiction doesn’t stop just because you hide away in an unfamiliar city.
This is the time I need friends and support more than ever.
We’ve been driving in silence for nearly forty minutes when I finally decide to stop pouting.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I do a quick search of Loganville to check out the unfamiliar city and see exactly what I have to look forward to.
A humorless laugh leaves my lips.
Loganville, NV.
Population: 3,500
Location: Middle of fucking nowhere.
The more I scroll, I learn that there is nothing in the small town.
There’s exactly one grocery store, two gas stations, a few restaurants that seem family owned, a 24-hour fast-food restaurant, a bar, a rundown motel, and one hotel that doesn’t look too bad.
I say a silent prayer that Benny booked me the hotel. The images of the motel looked fucking awful .
Locking my phone, I slide it back into my pocket.
“Hey, what do you know about this middle of nowhere place we’re going to?”
David looks up, his eyes meeting mine in the rear-view mirror, a grin on his lips. “It’s everything you’d expect from a small town. It’s mostly families and old folks out there. One of those towns where everyone knows everyone because they’re all related.”
“Great. Just fucking great,” I mumble my response, getting a laugh from him.
Fuck this.
The exit sign for Loganville catches my eye as David flips on his blinker to turn, taking the road that’ll lead us to my prison for the next two months.
I fucking hate small towns. I enjoy the noise of the city. The crowd. The energy.
You don’t get that in a small town. It’s too quiet. And quietness means it’s too easy for me to lose myself in my head. The demons that speak to me become too loud, encouraging me to use drugs to silence them.
The farther we drive, the darker it seems; I notice when he turns the brighter headlights on the vehicle. There are no streetlights or light from any buildings around us.
We’re alone in the dark on a lone two-lane road in the middle of the desert.
Great. This is when one of the town hillbillies jumps out and skins us, using our flesh as decoration.
I’m pretty sure this is where they filmed The Hills Have Eyes .
Who the fuck willingly lives out here?
After a ten-minute drive through the desert, the first light comes into view. The closer we get, the brighter it gets, until eventually we pass it and I realize it was one of the two gas stations this town has.
David mumbles under his breath, but I hear it. “Shit’s creepy out here at night. ”
“Sure as fuck is.”
A few minutes later, we’ve reached our destination. He pulls the SUV into the parking lot of a red-brick hotel that doesn’t look too terrible.
Thank fuck Benny booked this and not that seedy motel.
I notice the rooms on the first floor are accessible from the outside, and the rest of the rooms on the second through fourth floor are all indoor.
Weird, but it’ll work. Hopefully I can request a first-floor room so I can smoke easily.
“Are you staying here, too?” I ask David as we climb out of the car. I stretch my long limbs, tired of sitting in the car and on the plane earlier in the day. It’s 9 p.m., and all I want is a shower, a smoke, and a fat ass burger.
My stomach grumbles at the idea of food.
I can’t remember the last time I ate.
“Not at this hotel.” A slow grin spreads across his face. “I live here.”
What the fuck?
I think I said that out loud, because he throws his head back and laughs. “I know, I know. But I love the small-town life.” I thought he was from Vegas. Never would I have guessed he’s from this town.
“Trust me, this town will grow on you, and you’ll love it. Call me if you need anything, I’m on call 24/7.”
Shaking his hand and thanking him, I carry my luggage into the lobby as he drives away.
Two things I know for certain.
This town will not grow on me, and I can’t fucking wait until the two months are up.