Chapter 22: Smart Girls Don't Fall In Love The Easy Way

Marley

I've had so many patients in toxic relationships. Women who would do anything for the man they loved. And I thought I could counsel them from a place of perspective, because of what I went through with Daemon.

I was so wrong. Daemon was toxic all right, but I didn't love him. I needed him, I feared him, and sometimes, because of his undeniable magnetism, I even wanted him.

But I didn't love him.

The things I did for him, they weren't out of love. They were born out of desperation, attraction, inexperience. Fed with denial and bargaining.

But now, I'm kneeling in the center aisle of a private plane that has landed in Nashville and there's a broken boy lying on the floor, shivering and panting.

And all I can think is...

Unhealthy relationship?

This is about to be one.

The worst part is...I don't care.

I think...I love him.

I know...I will do anything to take his pain away right now.

Maybe I always loved him, but in this last hour, he's broken my heart wide open with his stoic shivering, his silent suffering.He's poured himself into the cracks of my broken heart and there's not a damn thing I can do to draw him out.

He's inside me, now.

My heart is filled with him.

Belongs to him.

But his soul belongs to heroin.

I'm on my knees beside him. He's in physical agony and I can feel every one of his labored breaths like a poison spreading into my own lungs.

I reach toward him. He shakes his head with a motion that looks frantic. He's wrapped in a blanket, rolling a little, trying to cope with the excruciating pain of every single nerve firing in agony.

"Don't touch me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry...but just...don't."

I put my hands over my face. Crying won't help him.

I have to figure out some way to help him.

"Right, this was a mistake," Riley says, hands on hips. He turns around, and to my utter shock, he throws his phone against the wall. "FUCK!" he yells.

I stare at his back. I know don't Riley that well, but he doesn't seem like the type to lose control.

I see him snatch off his glasses, calmly wipe them, return them to his face and retrieve his phone.

He comes to stand over Bodie. "The pilot is going to call emergency services out to the plane, alright?"

"No..." Bodie croaks. "The label..."

"They already know you are back in the States, thanks to the fuck-ton of money you've been pulling from your accounts this week—which we haven't even begun to discuss. We're out of time, here, mate. I just got off the phone with Moran. Either you drug test within 48 hours or they pull your contract. The only hope we have of salvaging this situation is to get you into treatment right now, alright?"

"I...wanna see...Mac first," he hisses.

"There's no way you are getting off this plane under your own power..."

"There is...there is..." I say, scrambling to my purse, pulling out a prescription I've never used—painkillers prescribed for some oral surgery I had last year. I didn't need the pills, just a few doses of ibuprofen.

They sat in my medicine cabinet until three days ago, when I started looking for Bodie. I guess I knew I was in trouble with the way I feel for him, when I put them in my purse along with the Naloxone prescription Kade had given me.

My line of reasoning?

I might need the pills to lure Bodie out of whatever bad situation I found him in.

I hold them up to Riley. "We can dose him temporarily. Enough to ease his withdrawal symptoms. Enough to get him on his feet."

Riley looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Participate in his drug abuse? Are you joking?"

"No, I am not. I am a clinical psychologist who has managed many addiction step-down cases in conjunction with medical doctors. His withdrawal response is too strong to be safely managed without medication. He cannot detox cold-turkey. A small dose of opiates is just...a very temporary measure until I can get him the treatment he actually needs."

Okay, most of that is true. But it's still unethical and medically contra-indicated to give Bodie my oxycodone. I hope I sounded professional enough to bluff Riley.

Apparently, I do. Riley narrows his eyes at me. "Methadone, you mean. That's what you are saying? He needs to go on methadone treatment?"

"Yes," I say firmly.

"No," Bodie says. "Takes too damn long. I want this...over. Just want to get back to...normal."

I sigh. I know what he's thinking. He wants to detox quickly so he can claim that he's "good." Like so many addicts, he thinks he can stay in the gray. He thinks of battling addiction as only a detox. He gets out of control, well then, he needs a detox. He dries out for awhile, he fools himself into thinking he will manage his drinking and his weed better than before. Then he starts the cycle with pills over again. He doesn't think in terms of working toward lifelong sobriety.

But now is not the time to argue with Bodie about long term treatment options.

I kneel beside him, knowing the answer he will give me before I even ask it.

"We can talk about that later," I say gently. "Right now, you only need to make one decision. Do you want to go directly to a detox unit, or do you want to dose with a very small amount of pain relief and see Mac and the baby?"

I hold the prescription bottle out. He snatches for it, but I pull it back.

"No. I'm not giving you this bottle. I'm asking you to make a choice about your treatment. Does sobriety start now or tomorrow?"

I make it sound all counselor-y but I'm lying to myself. I would never encourage an actual patient to delay treatment like this.

I am so far out of perspective, here.

"I want the dose," he says.

Of course he does.

"Okay," I tell him.

"Crush it. Please. It will take too long otherwise...crush one and give me two to swallow."

"Absolutely not," Riley growls.

"Okay, okay," I hold my hands out to Riley. "That's too much. But let's figure out what would be a proper dose, considering his tolerance..."

I pull out my phone and do a very hard thing.

I call Kade.

He answers at once, falsely cheerful. That forced post-break-up persona fades quickly as I explain the situation and ask for his advice.

"My advice it to bring him in through the ER, Marley," Kade says calmly. "He needs a controlled methadone program, you know that."

"I will. I will get him in care, Kade. He's ready to get clean. He just wants to walk into the hospital under his power and see Mac and the baby."

Kade is silent on the other end.

"How are they, by the way?" I ask.

"Doing just fine. I..." he laughs softly. "I delivered the baby, you know...it was kind of crazy...her doctor was caught in traffic..."

"Oh! Wow!" I say. "That's...pretty cool, Kade."

"Yeah. Mac rocked natural childbirth and Adam was...well..."

"Scared out of his mind, but steady as a rock, I'm sure..."

"Yeah," there's a laugh in Kade's voice again. "It was a really special moment. Now, it's a VIP party up in there. Everybody is here. Everyone is...joyful."

"Not every one. Not Bodie," I remind him. "Kade, please. He needs this. Reconnecting with his band family is so important right now. To see them before he enters treatment, to know they support him, it could be a huge motivational factor to help him through detox and begin sobriety..."

"Fuck, Marley. Don't hoo-doo me with counselor speak. We both know what you are asking is...walking the wrong side of the line. It's bad enough I wrote those prescriptions for naloxone. But for you to dose him with opiates, for me to advise you how..." he growls.

"Kade...I won't ever ask you again. I swear. I just want him to...to remember who he is. Remember where he belongs."

"If I do this...I need you to surrender the rest of the prescription to me as soon as you get to the hospital, so that you are both out of pills to medicate him with."

"Okay."

"I need your word, Marley."

"Yes, I absolutely will give you the prescription bottle as soon as I get there. Thank you."

"Put him on the line please, so I can ask him about his habits and tolerances..."

Bodies answers his questions abruptly and I can only hope, honestly. In the end, Kade tells me to crush a  half of a pill for Bodie to take nasally, and to then give him one more full pill orally.

"That's it, Marley. One tiny bump for quick effect so that he can leave the plane under his own power, and one dose to alleviate his withdrawal pain. It should buy him...a few hours. He needs to be in a bed in a detox unit by then."

I can tell Riley is extremely upset as I cut the pill and crush it between two spoons from the attendant's tiny kitchen supply. He watches with judgment as I help Bodie sit and give him the tiny coffee straw that I've cut down.

"I'm going to speak to the terminal manager about having the car pulled directly onto the tarmac," he says tersely, as he rises and barrels down the plane stairs.

That's when I realize...Riley can't be a part of this ugliness—the raw compromised care I'm giving Bodie. There is some painful, personal baggage there.

Bodie's hand is shaking but he manages to dose himself. He lies back against the captain's chair and I see his body relax, his pain relieve. He looks at me with heavy eyes as I hand him a water and the pill to be taken orally.

"I hate this. I hate this so fucking much."

"I know." I tell him.

"You...seeing me like this, I mean."

"Well, for someone with a heroin habit, I'd say you look pretty good," I tell him, tracing his gaunt, beautiful face.

"Earlier you said I looked like hell."

"I was angry."

"You should be."

"I'm not now. Not since you promised me you are going into treatment."

"About that—"

I feel my throat tighten. Is this where he begins to bargain, to walk back the promise that he made?

"Let's go to Switzerland."

My heart sinks.

"No, Bodie. You promised."

"I know what I promised. I'm saying...find me a rehab in Switzerland. I'll go. For a month, ninety days, whatever you want. As long as you and Darius come, too. When I get out, we can...spend some time together. I think we should...just the three of us..."

If it were anyone but Bodie, I would assume this was crazy talk. But Bodie's brain works better than most people's. It's maybe even why he takes drugs, to slow it down to normal speed.

I see he hasn't given up on the idea that Darius is his son. But I don't want to open that contentious subject right now, so I choose my words carefully.

"Why Switzerland?"

"Because they don't have an extradition tradition with the US. They wouldn't send me back for a warrant."

That does scare me.

"What did you do?" I whisper in horror.

His eyes open fully. Seeing my horror, he reaches for my hand quickly. "No...nothing...new. You know what I did. Cain Priestly."

My rapidly rising heart rate calms slightly. "That...no. You don't have to worry about...repercussions from that. It was an accident and it's been...taken care of."

Bodie keeps hold of my hand, twisting his fingers into mine. He looks behind him, to make sure the attendant is still giving us privacy. "Listen to me, okay? I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to confront him, but Daemon fabricated evidence that would implicate me in Cain's death. He had one of his cronies hold me at gunpoint and made me put my fingerprints on the gun that shot Cain. He's holding it over my head."

"What?" I say dumbly.

After a long moment where Bodie realizes I really can't comprehend what he's saying, he repeats himself slowly. A cold white anger rises in me.

"That motherfucker," I grit out.

Bodie weakly squeezes my arms. "That's why it would be better to...just leave all this drama for right now, okay? You, me, Darius. We could go to Europe for awhile."

I shake my head... "Bodie, you're altered, you're not thinking clearly. You can't go to Switzerland and live as a fugitive."

He smiles. "I could. I've got thirty million dollars in the bank that says I could. Especially if you and Darius were with me."

I blink. I  can't comprehend these Soundcrush guys' wealth and the avenues it opens up before them. Adam chucking half-million dollar rings off hotel balconies. Trace throwing parties that cost six digits. Bodie willing to relocate to Europe on a whim. But that's hardly the issue here.

"We can't just...run away like that. What about Soundcrush?"

He frowns, but then tucks it away. "Well, I'm hoping it wouldn't be forever. I'm hoping we'll figure something out to thwart Daemon. But the truth is, if Soundcrush had to, they could move on."

"But...could you move on? From them?"

"If I was moving on with you? With Darius? Yes."

I shake my head. "No, Bodie. This is like...some spy-novel plan."

"I thought you liked spy novels. Courtroom dramas. Murder mysteries." He smiles lazily. The oxy is really starting to reach his brain. He seems more at ease and more high by the second.

"I do," I smile back, touched that he remembered that. "But this is real life. And there's got to be a better way to resolve this problem. TJ will help us, okay? If Daemon will listen to anyone, it's TJ. Let's see if TJ can get Daemon to hand the gun over."

Bodie groans and touches my face. "You really do feel like TJ is your family, don't you? That he would do anything for you and Darius?"

"Yes. I know he'll help. He hasn't been happy with Daemon for months now. Maybe this is why. He'll help with this...I know he will."

"You trust him?"

"Yes."

"And if he took Daemon's side? If he turned on you?"

"He wouldn't—"

"But if he did, it would hurt you?"

"He wouldn't turn on me. To turn on me would be to turn on Darius. He loves Darius."

Bodie closes his eyes and I have the distinct impression it's so that I can't look into them when he says, "What if TJ thought Darius was my son and not Daemon's? What do you think he would do?"

"Bodie...that doesn't matter..."

"What if it did?"

"It doesn't."

"What if it did?"

"I don't want to talk about this right now," I say. "We need to get you to the hospital," I try to pull him to his feet, but he slowly wraps his long fingers around both my wrists and says, "TJ knows."

My heart is racing again. "Knows what?"

"He knows what I know. What you know but won't let yourself admit."

"Bodie, please don't do this," I feel the taste of iron in my throat, feel the swim of frustration welling up in my eyes.

I feel a rant coming on.

"Don't you think I wanted Darius to be yours? Don't you think I hoped and prayed? Don't you think I searched for you in his face the first time I held him? Every time TJ brought him to visit me in jail, I searched. For years, I searched. I searched so hard for you in him, I think I...started to see what I wanted to see. Then I saw you at UGA, and then again on my television, and searching changed to making up fantasies. What if's. The first time I saw you on TV? That night I dreamed you came for us and everything changed for us. That my life went from hard to easy. That Darius went from being a fatherless child to having a family. But it's not real. I had to let all the false hope, all the fantasies go. It's not real. What's real is the paternity test that says Daemon is Darius' father. What's real is--"

"Shhhhh," Bodie puts a shaky finger to my lips. "Shhhhh, Baby. Look. Look at this." With some effort, Bodie pulls two pictures from his jeans pocket and hands them to me.

The one on top is a snapshot of me and Darius taken recently. The one below it is an old formal picture, of a man I don't know. But his features are so imprinted in my brain, I can see his image perfectly with my eyes closed.

He's the spitting image of my son. I flip the picture over. It reads, Clayton Jamison, USMC, 1969.

I flip it back over and stare at him. Then I read the name again on the back. I keep doing it, flipping back and form between the image and the name.

Bodie surprises me by chuckling. "Christ, Jaz, I didn't think you could get any whiter than you already are. Don't faint, girl..."

I do feel like I'm going to faint. My brain doesn't seem to be working. I hold the picture of the soldier up. "This is..."

"My grandfather. My mother's father. Clayton Jamison. My namesake."

I look at the picture again. Then I hold up the picture of Darius. "And this is..."

Bodie's mouth quirks a little. "Our son."

"No, he...he can't...be..." I can't breath. My head is moving on its own, shaking from side to side. Bodie chuckles again and puts both his hands on cheeks, forcibly changing the direction of my negative shake to a positive nod.

"He is. Our son. Mine. Yours. We made him. He's ours."

"I don't understand. I don't understand...I..." I must say it a dozen times.

"Christ, Marley, you're shaking. C'mere," he tugs at me. Almost effortlessly, I climb on top of Bodie, straddling him, pressing my head to his chest, trying to stop shaking as I turn my head to the side every few seconds, to the two pictures fanned in my hand. Bodie's holding me easily, rubbing my back and kissing the top of my head.

"I'm good with this, by the way," he says mildly.

"When I found out about this," he taps the pictures, "I was on a plane home from Thailand the same day. I wanted to come straight to you. It just got all messed up, with the way I met Darius and then Daemon and his damn extortion that kept me running around the hood for days...

"What I'm trying to say is...don't think I was avoiding you. Don't think I'm not good with this," he rubs my back. "With Darius being my son. With me being your Babydaddy. I'm gonna take care of you and Darius. You don't have to worry about that.

"And I'm gonna get clean. I'm gonna show you, I can be a part of Darius life. I'm gonna prove to you I can be...whatever you need. We just...we need to do that somewhere where Daemon can't send me to prison, ok? Cause I can't go to prison and leave you and Darius open to revenge from him. Add TJ? He ain't gonna help us, baby. He's seen the pictures. He knows. He don't want anything to change. His love for Darius...it's the kind that runs scared. He's afraid of losing him."

Suddenly I envy him his mild high, because I feel like my brain is a spastic cat chasing its own tail inside my skull, trying to keep up with his thoughts.

"What...what extortion scheme?"

He makes a dismissive noise. "Don't worry about that right now. What I want to know is what are you thinking? About this?" He touches this pictures again.

"I'm thinking...a DNA test...it's...infallible. I researched...it's infallible. I asked TJ a hundred times about the samples. We had a saying, to make sure he knew which sample tube to take to which place. Tube A for Almost Positive Daemon is the Daddy. Tube B for Bodie Is Too Young To Be A BabyDaddy. There's no way he messed it up...he knew how important it was..."

Bodie's lips tighten. He sighs. He shrugs. "Maybe the analyst at the lab, then. Infallible tests are administered by fallible people, Marley. I know what the test says—Pat showed it to me. But it's wrong, baby. Okay? It's wrong."

"But...how?" I'm looking at the pictures again. The photographic evidence in front of me is so strong. I want it to be true so badly.

"Doesn't matter how. All that matters is...do you believe now? What your eyes can plainly see. What your heart always knew?" he asks softly.

I raise up, searching his amber eyes. Darius' are somewhat darker and slightly more almond-shaped...but then Bodie squeezes them slightly in thought, and his brows furrow in just the same way as Darius' brows, and I see what I've seen so many times.

The windows into a mind at work.

The same kind of windows and the same kind of mind as Darius.

Like father, like son.

I wrap my arms beneath Bodie. "I'm...I'm so sorry. Oh god, I'm sorry, Bodie..."

"Sorry? For what?"

"I never felt right about it. I should have had another test done. I should have trusted my instinct. I...I should have come to you all those years ago at UGA. I should have..."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he growls. "I knew you were pregnant, remember? I knew you were planning to let him be adopted, but I should have contacted you. Followed up. Made sure. But it doesn't matter now. All that matters is...we can figure this out now, okay?"

I stare into his gorgeous wasted face...all angles and shadows, except for the new energy that is beginning to light his eyes.

Light them with purpose. Light them with feeling.

"Tell me, Jasmine. Say it. Please. I need to hear you say it."

I feel my lips trembling. I take a quick breath but it escapes right back out in bursts. "I think...I mean...I believe...Darius is your son. Our son."

His fingers play over my shoulders and pull me into a long hug. "I'd kiss you right now, but I keep doing it when I'm drunk or high and I kinda want to do it when I'm sober. Plus...I know you gotta man. Do you love him? Oh. Arabella and I broke up, by the way. I mean, we're still fake dating. Or finally, fake-dating, I guess. Anyway. Kade. Is he gonna be a problem in this Switzerland plan?  I'm kinda hoping you and I can get to know each other. When I get sober. I've done a shitty job of representin' myself since we reconnected..."

"Jesus you are so high," I sigh into his chest.

"Hmmmmm. Yeah. I am. I don't ever snort oxy. It's a different kind of high for me. My tolerance doesn't run this way. I kinda like it. Fuck. I'm gonna miss this. New highs. But I ain't gonna miss dependency. I swear I'm gonna get sober, Marley."

I tip his chin down. "You promised. To let me choose the treatment program."

"Yeah, I know. Anywhere in Switzerland. I'll go anywhere you want me to. I don't want you to have to deal with my detox, so I wanna go somewhere with good staff. Somewhere you don't have to worry about me. I don't want my rehab to be a big deal, for you and Darius, You and Darius...you can leave my ass in rehab in Switzerland, and travel all over Europe. I'll get you good security. A travel guide, if you want. You can go everywhere. See everything. Maybe come visit me one every couple of weeks, yeah? Do some family counseling?"

"Bodie..." I don't know what to say. This idea that we are going to be an instant family? This idea of going to Switzerland?

It's a rock star escapade that I can't go along with.

I can't quit my job, take Darius from the only home he's ever know, and just run away to Europe like a thief in the night, with no more plan of returning than Bodie had when he left for Thailand.

I can't tell Darius, Surprise! I pegged the wrong Babydaddy! Your real daddy is not a felon, he's a rock star! Pack your bags, we're jetsetters now! We're going to hang in Europe indefinitely while your new daddy hits a swank Swiss rehab.

"Bodie..."

"The car's ready," Riley calls up the plane stairs. "How is..." he trails off as he enters.

Bodie and I turn to look at Riley, who's giving us an exasperated look. I blush, realizing that I'm straddling Bodie and his hands are splayed on my hips.

"Hey, man," Bodie grins at Riley. "I'm feelin' better."

"I can see that." Riley gives me a long, assessing stare. "Let's get him to the hospital before his high wears off, shall we?"

"Hey don't shoot Marley judgy eyes," Bodie says lightly. "She just jumped to the top of the queue in SCIC. She's more than a girlfriend. She's a Band Babymama. We're having a moment, talking about our son."

"Bodie," I hiss. I don't know why I'm so embarrassed. I've never felt shame about being a single mother. Why does the idea of having a famous rockstar babydaddy freak me out so much?

"I know, I know, Mama. It's a down low situation for right now." He soothes me. "That means, keep it to yourself, okay Riley?"

"Of course," Riley says. "Need help getting him up?"

"Nah, I'm good." Bodie pulls me off his lap and rises with remarkable steadiness, considering how bad off he was fifteen minutes ago. I'm still sitting on the floor, ogling him. He smiles and offers me a hand.

I look up into his wicked smile and have a very alarming thought.

The man thrives on a high. He really loves drugs.

So much sharing in this chapter! I'm especially worried about the thoughts Marley is sharing. Is she ready to help Bodie get clean or is she too close to this situation?