Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(21)

Mevi thought about that particular regret. Coming home and finding one of his roommates, and the guy’s girlfriend, stone-cold dead in the living room. An OD from bad heroin. It turned out the guy actually renting the apartment had been a dealer and kept that hid from Mevi. Easy to do, since he was hardly ever there. And not like he had a lot of shit to start with for them to steal, and he kept his guitar locked in his truck.

He’d moved out immediately, and in with a guy who also washed dishes at one of the restaurants he worked for.

“No,” Mevi finally said. “I saw what they did to people. Seen a lot of it. Been offered a lot of drugs, sure. Didn’t want it in my brain, anyway. Alcohol, at least I knew if I had a drink or two, the worst I’d lose was a couple of hours by not being able to drive.” He took another bite of his dinner. “Problem was, over the years, I buried myself working, trying to ‘make it.’ Nothing was ever good enough for me, no level of success. And I trusted David.”

“David?”

“My business manager. Thought he was a good guy. Bonnie and the others tried to warn me early on, but he was a good guy. I’d never been f*cked over in a big way before. I was clueless, I’ll admit it. Then…”

Mevi shook his head. “They were right. And I blamed myself as much as I blamed David. That in that one area I was ‘lazy,’ and look what happened? Alcohol became an escape at that point. Fuck it all, you know?”

“Who’s Bonnie?”

“Bonita. We all call her Bonnie.”

“Ah. Doesn’t need to be tonight, but at some point I’d like you to tell me about the events that led up to you being committed to the rehab center.”

Mevi was ashamed to admit he couldn’t remember much of it. Bonnie’d had the sense of mind to pull her phone out and record it in case she had to call the cops on him.

Clark and Mevi’s lead counselor had shown him the video during his first week in rehab, when he’d been arguing with them why he should be let out.

That’s when, resigned, he had to admit they were right. What he watched on the video horrified and shamed him.

“When we reach Florida,” Mevi finally said. “I’d rather get through the trip first.” Another poke at his food. “Will the cravings get easier?”

“Eventually. Sometimes stress will trigger them. We’ll work on developing healthy coping techniques to help you get through them.”

Doyle sounded so…calm. Not cocky, but a quiet confidence or surety.

“Twelve-step isn’t my deal,” Mevi said, not sure if he’d already told Doyle that.

Doyle nodded. “That’s fine. It’s not for everyone. Some people pick and choose what works for them. Only thing that matters is whatever you use works and is a healthy technique, not just another crutch that will let you down.”

“I don’t want to be another one of those ‘Hollywood Meltdown’ kind of stories, you know?”

“I can’t promise you anything except that we’ll try. I’ll work with you, but you have to do the actual work. And it won’t be easy. Some of it will suck, and suck hard.”

Mevi hoped Doyle couldn’t see the sudden flush of heat filling his cheeks.

He wanted to suck something, all right.

And it lay between Doyle’s thighs.

“Thanks.”





Chapter Eight


The next morning, with Mevi showing no interest in stopping to sightsee, Doyle ditched that plan and focused on getting to Florida as quickly as possible. He was almost regretting exposing Mevi to Hamilton and finally coaxed him into listening to The Hamilton Mixtape album for a little bit of respite.

He might as well have offered a couple of lines to a cokehead.

They stopped Saturday night in Mississippi. Doyle was awakened by a noise just after dawn Sunday morning and spotted Mevi sitting up in the next bed, earbuds in and working on his iPad.

That Doyle hadn’t heard him get up and get his iPad bothered him. Either he was more exhausted than he thought…

Or maybe it’s just that I’m enjoying spending time with him.

Because you’re attracted to him, *.

They were on the road less than an hour later. Tate had texted him again, begging him to reconsider.

Clark was happy to hear reports that Mevi was behaving himself and hadn’t made a complete ass out of himself, or run Doyle off yet. Doyle knew that wasn’t totally altruistic on Clark’s part. As Mevi’s manager, and the manager for the band, Clark made more money if the band made more money, and the band would definitely make more money with Mevi back in full form.

At least Mevi relinquished control of the car’s music back to Doyle. They’d had a good Wi-Fi connection at the hotel. One of the first things Mevi had done was log into iTunes and buy the two albums and put them on his iPad.

Doyle kept the cabin’s volume low enough so Mevi could work. As he drove, Doyle sang along as the Broadway versions of Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett dispatched unsuspecting victims to put them into pies.

It wasn’t until he was halfway through the musical that he realized the theme of unrequited and lost love—and revenge—probably wasn’t the best one to be listening to right now.

Not when a man he knew he could never have sat in the seat next to him.