Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(25)

“But I could see from the start how Clark was different than David. In good ways. He was always available for an audit or to speak. If he couldn’t be there, he had one of his assistants do it. No putting people off. Hell, even in the middle of the night, if that’s the only time schedules could gel. Good luck pinning David down even on the phone. I figured it was because he had a young kid at home and was doing dad stuff, you know?”

Mevi shook his head as he stirred the ground beef. “Clark, you call his personal number in the middle of the night? He either answers it, or calls you back immediately if you leave a message. Every damn time. I mean, look at what he did for me getting me into the rehab center. Bonnie called him instead of the cops, and he came and got me with a big, beefy guy of his who sometimes works as a personal bodyguard or security for Clark’s clients. They loaded me in a car and drove me straight to the rehab facility. No cops. No press.”

He turned the heat down and let it simmer. “Back to your question, I rarely ‘cooked.’ Sometimes if I was having dinner with Bonnie, I’d help her. Or one of the other guys. Usually, I grab takeout or something ready to eat from the store’s deli section. Or something frozen.”

“Not exactly a healthy diet.”

“I know. I lost weight in rehab. Exercising.”

“I usually do tai chi every morning. Haven’t while we were on the road, but you’re welcome to join me.”

Mevi leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Any chance we can figure out a way for me to exercise? Private gym or something? A friend with a pool? Walking? Anything.”

Doyle considered it. “I’ll ask around. I might be able to arrange something. Meanwhile, we could get up and go walking early while it’s still cool out. Do laps around the complex or something.”

“Thanks.” Then, Mevi did something totally unexpected. He stuck out his hand. “Malcolm Maynard. Recovering alcoholic. Sorry if I’m sometimes a jerk, but I’m still new at this trying to get used to dealing with my shit stuff.”

Doyle chuckled and shook with him. “Doyle Turner, psychologist, addiction counselor, recovering alcoholic, and sometimes hard-ass. Very dominant. Sorry if I’m sometimes a jerk, but I have a job to do.”

“Honestly? When we pulled up here, I was thinking you are shitting me. This place is really nice. How’d you get it?”

“Like I said, Kel’s a friend. Well, more an acquaintance than a buddy, but we have a lot of friends in common. Including the friend who referred Clark to me.”

“You’re not going to tell me who they are, are you?”

“Maybe. If they okay it. I didn’t specifically get that permission, though, and just like I protect my clients’ privacy, so I protect my friends.”

“You sound like a good friend.” For a moment, the look on Mevi’s face made Doyle want to pull the guy into his arms and hug him. Something between sorrow and longing.

Like he didn’t have good friends.

Then again, in Doyle’s experience, many celebs didn’t have good friends. Lots of hangers-on, sure. But not friends.

Not friends they could trust.

“I try to be a good friend, but I haven’t been able to be around for them like I wish I could. Your bandmates seem to be good friends.”

Mevi shrugged. “They are, but we’re also in business together. That’s how I’ve always approached music. It’s art, sure, but it’s business. And when I forgot that and thought of David as a ‘friend’ instead of an employee, I got f*cked.” His expression turned dark. “I just hope I haven’t f*cked up my relationship with them. I owe Bonnie a huge apology.”

“Have you talked to them since you entered rehab?”

“No. Clark has. Bonnie’s pissed off, but willing to forgive me.”

“Did you hit her?”

“No! I was…I was a real * that night.”

“From the reports I’ve seen, it seems like the two of you have had a pretty contentious relationship over the years.”

Doyle felt the wall go up. He could practically see it. “It’s…complicated between us.”

Bingo. No, he wouldn’t push harder right now. But it was a topic he’d revisit once they’d had a day or two to recover and had settled into some sort of routine.

Doyle laid out the fixings while the taco shells heated on a cookie sheet in the oven. By the time they were ready to eat, sitting together at the kitchen counter bar, the conversation had turned once again to Mevi wanting to know more about Hamilton, whatever Doyle knew about it.

Which, to be honest, wasn’t much more than he’d already told Mevi.

“I think that Lin-Manuel Miranda was in an episode of Drunk History.” He belatedly realized what he said. “Sorry. Belated trigger warning.”

But Mevi smiled. “I think I could handle watching that. I loved that show. Ironically, I always watched it sober. It was funnier that way. Just like doing karaoke sober was always my thing.”

“Isn’t that like being a ringer?”

“What?”

“A singer doing karaoke?”

“Oh, that was before we got started. That’s how I met everyone.”





“How the band got together?”