July 20 #5
At the exact moment that Dean was picking Mike up at his home in Malibu, Claudia was fast asleep in room 201 at the Back Country Motel in the tiny town of Boulder Oaks.
She had no recollection of driving there, only of starting the car knowing she needed to get as far away as possible from the rich and powerful of the world.
Back to the comforts of the type of place where she came from.
Somewhere the garbage men and cleaning ladies of the world would go on vacation.
When she woke the next morning, she had a dry mouth from not bothering to drink any water the day before, and a headache from the shock of what had happened.
Mike, her boyfriend of six years, had called her a slut and a whore and pushed her to the ground.
In front of Mariah Carey, Tori Amos, and all four members of Weezer. By her face.
Her Nokia mobile phone had died during the drive, but she had neither the desire to call anyone nor the need to avoid anyone’s calls.
Mike hadn’t bothered, and she assumed he was out somewhere, surrounded by a bunch of people who were happy to party on his dime.
She had a long shower, dressed in the outfit she’d put on the morning before, and drove back to Malibu, her hands gripping the wheel as she prepared herself for whatever was about to come.
She didn’t want to be with him anymore. Not after what he’d done.
Not after having the space to admit to herself that she would likely, pathetically, always be in love with Zane, which made being with Mike wildly unfair to him.
She was sorry for hurting him, but that’s exactly what she had done.
Claudia wasn’t a victim in her own mind.
She was an adult who made adult choices, only to have them backfire in a way that she—and every other person in the McCreights’ backyard—would never forget.
She was terrified of losing her place with the band, and furious with Mike for what he did.
Did he have a right to feel hurt? Yes. She would have been hurt too if the wrong name had escaped his lips.
Did he have a right to treat her in such a vile way in public? No, he did not.
And so, it was over between them. She knew it had to be.
For both of their sakes. Her career might survive, but it would look completely different a year from now.
She unrolled the window of the silver Porche Mike let her use, feeling the hot air on her cheek and ear while she made her way to Malibu.
This would be her last time driving a luxury car.
It would be back to her Corolla, which sat behind Mike’s six-car garage on his property, hidden from view.
She was driving herself to the end of an incredible era of her life.
Claudia entertained a fleeting thought of Mike being the one to get fired, but that would never happen, and she knew it.
It was a boys’ club and always would be.
Even if she suspected Zane would prefer to keep her over Mike.
At least she’d never have to see Sienna again.
Sienna, who looked like she’d been slapped across the face when Mike blurted out what Claudia had said.
Sienna, who would most certainly have given Zane the ‘it’s either her or me’ speech after their guests left.
Sienna, who was a friend to all in the music biz, who was much loved and respected, who was married to one of the most powerful men to ever lay down a track.
Yes, Sienna would have started dismantling Claudia’s entire life by now.
Not that Claudia could blame her entirely.
She’d been coveting Sienna’s husband—and the father of her children—for years now.
And women who covet get what they deserve. Nothing.
When she pulled into the garage, Claudia’s stomach tightened. All of Mike’s other cars were there, meaning he must be home. If he was sober, she wouldn’t have to worry about a physical altercation. But if he was drunk, she would grab the keys to her own car and make a quick exit.
The house was deadly quiet when she walked in.
She set her purse down on the kitchen counter and stood perfectly still, listening for Mike, heart pounding, palms clammy.
Her gaze landed on a note next to the bowl of oranges, and she walked over and read it without picking it up, already feeling like an intruder.
Claudia—
Not sure where you are. I’m sorry.
Checking myself into rehab today.
Not sure how long I’ll be gone.
Love you, my girl,
M
It was exactly thirteen days after she read the note that Claudia heard from Mike, who had checked into the Phoenix Recovery Center (which was not, as Claudia learned, in Phoenix, Arizona, but rather in Utah, set next to the majestic Colorado River).
He phoned on a Thursday night, just as E.R.
was starting. She was sitting on his couch with a bowl of microwave popcorn on her lap and an open bottle of rosé on the coffee table. When she answered, he didn’t say hello.
Instead, he said, “Oh, good. I was hoping you were still there.”
She swallowed a sob. “I’m here.”
“Glad someone’s there to water the plants,” he said, his tone lightening. Then, after a pause, emotion filled his voice. “You all right?”
“I’m hanging in there. You?”
“Being sober is… umm… hard. But I’m doing it. Twelve days now.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, I’ve been working through a lot of old shit that’s been weighing me down. Apparently, it’s necessary, but it sucks balls. I won’t be doing rehab again, I can promise you that much.”
“Hopefully you won’t have to.”
“That’s the idea,” he answered, and she could hear him take a drag on a cigarette.
“Listen, I wanted to apologize for what happened at the party. And for disappearing without talking to you. And for… generally being such an asshole to you all the time, especially when I’m using, but also when I’m hungover or in a shitty mood for no good reason. ”
“That’s okay.”
“You’re not supposed to tell me it’s okay. That’s called enabling. And if you enable me, I’m more likely to reuse.”
Chewing her lip, she said, “Sorry. It’s not okay.”
“You’re supposed to say thank you.”
She scrunched up her nose, frustration coming over her like a tidal wave. “Well, no one gave me the script, so I’m kind of winging it here.”
“I know. I’m not criticizing you. It’s just that people have to stop letting me off the hook. I need to be held accountable for my actions if I’m going to move forward.”
“Moving forward sounds good,” she said, her heart pounding a little quicker while her brain told her he was about to say he was moving forward without her. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. I mean, when I get back, I need all the booze and drugs gone, but Dean said he’d come over and take care of that.”
“No, I can do it.”
“I’ve already told him where I hid everything.”
Her stomach dropped, and she wasn’t sure if it was because he was hiding things or because he’d trusted Dean to take care of it instead of her. “All right.”
“He’ll call ahead to arrange a time with you.”
“Sure. Anytime is fine, obviously. I mean, it’s not my house, so…”
There was a long pause, then finally, Mike said, “I need to make a lot of changes if I’m going to stay sober.”
“Like what?” she asked, her voice so quiet she barely heard it herself.
“Honestly, I have no idea,” he answered with a little chuckle that said he was annoyed with himself. “I’ll have another couple of months to figure that out, and one of my therapists will help me make a plan.”
“Sounds smart.”
“Yeah, these guys know what they’re doing. They’ve seen it all.”
“I bet.” Claudia closed her eyes, wishing he was there so she could hold him. He sounded vulnerable. Real. Not at all like the tattooed guitar player with a massive ego and all that false bravado. “Is it okay if I tell you I miss you?”
“Probably not.”
They both laughed quietly, then she said, “I suppose not. What if I say I’m proud of you for doing this and I know you’re exactly where you need to be to get healthy?”
“That sounds safe enough.”
“In that case, I’m proud of you, Mike, and I know you’re exactly where you need to be to get healthy.”
“Thank you.”
She took a deep breath, noticing how numb her limbs were. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to support you, even if that means being gone when you get home.”
“No, I… I don’t want that. Unless you want to be gone. If that’s what you need, you should go.”
“I don’t know what I need. Right now, I’m just very confused.”
“If you do stay, everything would need to be different.”
“I don’t care if I ever have another drink again,” she answered, knowing that was a lie. She’d never been on stage sober, and she had no idea if she could do it. Not that she’d likely ever be on stage with them again.
“I appreciate that, Claud. You’re a good woman.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Not really. I screwed everything up between us.”
“I can’t help but think that if I had been better to you, maybe you wouldn’t have felt the same way about Zane.”
Claudia’s heart squeezed at his words and a rush of guilt came over her.
The truth was it wouldn’t have mattered.
Not one bit. She fell for Zane the moment he appeared on stage next to her at her audition, and there was literally no force in the universe that could have stopped it.
“Please, don’t blame yourself for that,” was the only answer she could give without breaking his heart.
“I don’t know what that means, Claud.”
“It means you’ve got too much on your plate right now to think about any of that.”
Another awkward silence followed, then Mike said, “All right, well, my doctor said I’m not to make any big decisions right now anyway. I just wanted to call and apologize.”
“It’s one of the steps, right? Making amends?”
“Yeah, but that’s not why I called,” Mike told her, sounding slightly offended. He blew out some more smoke. “I just needed to hear your voice tonight.”