Blessed Tragedy(38)

Colton burst into the room. “What's going on in here?”

“Sir, can you please wait in the other room?” The older officer requested. When he stepped closer to me, the officer spoke again. “Sir, we need to talk to Miss Neumann alone.”

“Maddie, are you going to be okay?” At least he had the good sense to refer to me by my given name in front of the officers. The last thing I needed in the midst of this nightmare was to have to explain the dual names thing. I shook my head, fighting my stomach's efforts to expel its contents.

“Call Jon, tell him to get in touch with Cal. I think this is going to get much worse before it gets better.” As much as I wanted to shout from the rooftops that the box wasn't mine, that I was being set up, I knew the best thing I could do was say nothing.

“What the f*ck? Your home was broken into and you need a lawyer? Someone better tell me what's going on here.” That's when he saw the box, which the female officer had placed on the bed. “Jesus, Maddie! I thought you got over that shit years ago.” I will never forget the look in his eyes when he saw the box containing three baggies of cocaine sitting on my bed.

Yes, there had been a time in my life when I'd falling in deep with the wrong crowd, snorting my way from one party to the next. It was a short but painful time in my life.

When I got back to Portland from the visit that had me believing my family would never understand me or love the person that I had become, I wallowed in Southern Comfort and cocaine almost every night. I knew it was only masking the pain but I needed the pain to go away, even if it was for short periods of time. When I couldn't afford to score a fix, I slept with my dealer, ran errands for him, did whatever it took to avoid the withdrawals.

A few months later, I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and got busted. Because I was a first time offender with an otherwise spotless record, I was given the opportunity to go through inpatient rehab and be placed on probation for a year, provided I kept my nose clean. It was through one of the counselors there that I met Travis, and subsequently Colton and Jon.

“You've been with me every single day. Do you really think I could have hidden something like this from you?” Colton's eyes were fixed on a spot near his feet, unable to look at me. “Colt.” I moved towards him, willing him to lift his face to see me. “Baby, you know that's not mine. Tell them!”

“Maddie, I want to believe you. Dammit, I hope you're right because that's some serious shit there.” He brushed my shoulder before turning to leave, “I'll make the call. Don't say anything.”

Colton's footsteps echoed through the apartment and I flinched when the door slammed behind him.

“Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we're going to have to take you in.” The female officer reached for her cuffs and read me my Miranda Rights. Just when I thought life was going my way, a grenade was launched at my feet threatening to destroy everything I'd worked for.

The first night I could have slept in my own bed in over six months was spent on a thin cot in the police precinct. I suppose I should count my lucky stars that they didn't throw me in with everyone else in central booking, but it didn't change the fact that I was in jail, waiting to officially be charged with possession of nearly thirty grams of cocaine.

The arraignment was fairly standard. Cal, the band's attorney represented me for this proceeding but told me I'd have to hire someone else if it went to trial, given the accusations I had made about Tanya's involvement and her history with the organization. Within an hour of the hearing, Cal finished the paperwork necessary for my release and I was headed back to face the mess known as my apartment.

Colton and Jared were already there when I walked in and most of the mess was cleaned. “Hey,” Colton said without moving from his spot on the floor by my desk. “I take it today went okay?”

“Not really, but better than it could have, so I guess I'll take it.” I flopped onto the couch wondering what it was going to take for those closest to me to believe me. No one had flat-out said they didn't trust me that the cocaine wasn't mine, but their actions spoke volumes. Jared disappeared into the bathroom as soon as I opened the door, Colton wouldn't look at me, Travis wouldn't return my phone calls and Jon sent a message with Cal telling me I needed to get my shit straight before we headed out again in a few months.

I started sorting the stacks of papers on my coffee table, avoiding Colton's disapproving glances. He cleared his throat one too many times and I snapped. “If you have something to say, just f*cking say it.”

He let out a long sigh before speaking. “Babe, I love you and you know that, but this is serious. They're talking about giving you time this time around because of how much you had in there.”

“Jesus, Colt! I didn't have anything in there. What will it take for you to believe me? You want me to go pee in a cup? How about if I chop off my hair and they can test the entire strand to see if there's anything anywhere in my recent past?” I started pacing around the room feeling like the world was closing in around me. “You were there. You've been with me the entire time, except when I was at my dad's house. When did you see anything that would make you think I'm using?”

For the first time since he'd seen the damning bagging on my bed, Colton looked at me. Seeing the turmoil in his ice blue eyes, I almost wished he hadn't. “Baby, I really do want to believe you. But I know you've had one hell of a rough patch and I know this is what happened to you the last time...”

“You have no clue what happened to me before. And why would I turn to that shit when things in my life are turning around for the better? Do you see how little sense that makes?” I threw my water bottle across the room and watched as the cap popped off on impact, drenching the books on the floor below. “You know what, f*ck you! Nothing I can say is going to make you change your mind about me. It's easier to believe that I'm using again instead of looking at the facts.”

I went to the fridge to find something to eat, slamming it shut when I realized I'd been arrested before I had a chance to go to the market. “You were the one who told me that bitch was looking for a way to get me out of the way. Don't you think it's just a little bit interesting that after she's fired, I come home and my house has been ransacked and there are three baggies of coke hiding in plain view?”

“Yeah, I get that, but I really don't see her going to that much trouble or spending that much money just to get back at you for whatever f*cked up reason.” Colton moved to sit next to me and I stood to get away from him. If he didn't trust me enough to know I wasn't using drugs, I didn't want him anywhere near me.

“I think you need to go,” I said trying to keep myself from breaking down before the door was closed.

“Jared, c'mon,” he called down the hall. Not saying anything about the fight he'd no doubt heard, he followed Colton out the door without saying a word to me.



The next was spent wallowing in my own misery. Jon was pushing for me to talk to someone, “just to make sure you're not at risk,” he said during one conversation. Travis stopped by once, telling me there was nothing to be ashamed of, that relapses happen. There was nothing linking Tanya to the break-in, so there was little chance she'd ever be caught.

As soon as the gossip sites caught wind of my arrest, they started twisting and turning the story to see who could come up with the best tale at my expense. One site claimed I was so high when the cops arrived I didn't think to hide my stash. Another claimed Colton came over to confront me and I went ballistic on him, sending him to the hospital for stitches after the police had me in cuffs. Every day for two weeks, the stories grew more and more outrageous. Pictures taken of me at the worst possible millisecond on stage were used to show the times I was high on tour. A picture of my one attempt to face the outside world showed me without make-up, my hair tossed back into a sloppy ponytail, wearing sweats and an over-sized t-shirt. The caption claimed to show the downfall of a rising star.

As soon as I saw that particular report, I knew there was no way for this to blow over while I was still in Portland. I called Mark and Dale, his partner, and took them up on their offer to let me hide out in their guest room. Everything in me was screaming that I wanted my daddy, but between my upcoming court date and the attention it would bring to my little town, I knew that wasn't possible.

I packed as many of my belongings as I could grab in an hour and packed them into my Toyota Prius. I didn't bother letting anyone know I was leaving town. I'd reached an impasse with the band; they claimed to want to believe I wasn't using again, the entire time urging me to get help for my problems. I didn't see any point since the only problem I had was those closest to me trying to get me to seek help for a non-existent condition.

As I drove into the unincorporated town of Odell, in the middle of nowhere along the western edge of Mount Hood National Forest, I wasn't sure if I was entering my dream or my nightmare. For someone who thrives on the chaos of a metropolitan area, it was a nightmare. For the troubled celebrity looking for peace and quiet, it was heaven. And for the next month, it would be home.