Gia had no idea she could go so long without talking, a simmering cauldron of emotion boiling inside her belly. She’d given Dante the deep freeze all the way to his luxury hotel. Iced him out after showering, dressing, and allowing him to escort her to the doctors. Said little, if anything, when the doctor x-rayed her, told her it was only a sprain and wrapped the ankle.
Marco wrapped it better.
She remained silent as the limousine sped them through the streets and highways of London toward Heathrow airport, sitting as far away from Kennedy and Dante as she could manage.
She didn’t know who she hated more—herself for getting into this mess, Dante for trying to get her out of it, or Marco, just because.
Sitting in a roomy leather recliner, a bottle of some bullshit chic-chic Fiji water by her side, she stared out the window of the private jet whisking her back to the states. Clouds were the only signs of life outside the window. Inside her body, she experienced fury one second, sorrow the next, and numbness the rest of the time. She burrowed deeper into a silk blanket the air steward had insisted upon her.
I wish I were back in the cave with the survival blanket.
Footsteps, presumably Dante’s, clomped along the plush carpet of the jet in her direction.
“We have to talk, G,” Dante said. “You can’t keep me out forever.”
Want to bet? She lifted her gaze to him and then resumed her cloud staring.
He settled into the cushy leather sofa lining the other side of the jet. “Come on, G. Talk to me. Marco exploited you. He exploited the contract. What he did violated his role as your sober companion. I know it, you know it, and he knows it big time. He’s apologized profusely, but it doesn’t make a difference. What’s done is done.”
Words formed in her throat, but she swallowed them away.
“Gia. I’m only trying to protect you. What he did was wrong, no doubt about it.” Dante sounded far, far away, in another Universe, perhaps.
When she still didn’t speak, he went for reasonableness. “Look, I get it. The guy’s handsome. He’s ripped. He’s a former Marine, for God’s sake. You’d have to be numb to not be taken in by him. And it sounds like you got yourself in a scary situation and one thing led to the next. I get it.”
She stayed mute.
He stopped speaking, too, allowing a screaming silence to envelop them. After a time, he said, “We’ll find you someone else to work with. Someone in the states. As it happened, it worked out to have done the intervention with Marco here in London. We had another recovery center arranged, but Marco said he needed to get you into recovery, pronto. He was visiting friends in London. That’s not where he lives. He was stationed at a military base near there while in the Marines.”
She wanted to ask where he lived, realizing she knew very little about him. And here I went for the hearts and roses connection when I know nothing about the man. What an idiot.
Dante switched gears, trying a different tactic. “I’m going to let you back in the band. Marco told me how well you were doing with recovery. He even mentioned the slip and how awful you felt afterward. He said you were one of the few he thought might actually stick with sobriety.”
She slowly turned her head to face him. She stared at him, pursing her lips, her head cocked to the side. I get to be back in the band? She hadn’t held a drumstick in her hands in over two weeks. Talk about withdrawal.
Dante’s normally warm Mediterranean skin tone appeared so pale, it looked like he’d been dusted with flour. Dark circles lined his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Gia. I’m sorry this happened.”
She nodded over and over and over but said nothing.
“You look different. I think sobriety suits you,” Dante said, leaning over his knees and clasping his hands.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Look. I may have fucked up. I may have over-reacted. But Marco did exploit the contract.” He blew out a gust of breath.
Her face hardened, but she didn’t turn away. Finally, she let out a sigh of resignation, worked her mouth around and said, “Marco made a difference, D. He made a huge difference. I don’t think I could have gotten through it without him.” Stupid tears began pushing at her walls. “I haven’t cried this much, ever. I can’t seem to stop crying. I’m a mess. I need someone to help me along, help me find my way, ya know? I’m a freaking basket case.”
She reached for the elegant tissue box also forced on her by the air steward.
“Okay, but listen. How is an emotional entanglement going to help you? You need a neutral party. Neither of you can maintain clarity if you’re...you know,” Dante said.
“If we’re fucking?” she said.
“Yeah. You know how it is,” he said. He dragged his hand through his hair. “We both know. Lord knows the mess I’ve made of my life—losing my ex to drugs, my father, and his fuck-ups, the Marquise du Manhattan...” He ticked off a few of the major heartbreaks and dramas in his life.
Gia had been with him through each sordid drama.
“Kennedy more or less saved me.” He glanced at her and swiftly said, “And you. I couldn’t have got through the years without you.”
Too little, too late, dude. She made a gun with her fingers, pointed it at him, and pretended to shoot.
He put his hands up. “I deserve that. I deserve your anger. But hear me out—I have your health and sobriety in my intentions. Because I love you, Gia. You’re my amazing sister-like comrade through the ages. We’ve seen each other through thick and thin. You can’t simply throw that away.”
“I can, and you know it,” Gia said. “I’m a survivor.”
Pain shot through Dante’s eyes as if he really had been shot through the heart.
“I won’t do it,” she said with resignation. “I won’t throw the friendship away. But you have to pay more attention to me, D. You can’t simply ignore me in your cozy nesting period with Kennedy.”
Negotiating with him, taking back a little power, gave her a good feeling.
“I know, I know, I know. Believe me, I know. I haven’t been a good friend lately. But you have to own that when you’re drinking, there’s little room for interaction.”
“Ouch,” she said.
“Am I right?” he said.
Reluctantly, her lips squashed together, she nodded. Then, she said, “I suppose so.”
“I can’t make you stay away from him. All I ask is you give it a rest. Let’s get through the holidays. See how you do on the road again. Get yourself sober and see how that feels. Then you’ll be more capable of making healthy choices.” He gave her an eager smile.
She worked her mouth around and around. Finally, she let out a huge sigh and nodded.
“So,” Dante said, looking hopeful. “We start practice in a couple weeks, then we resume the tour. We have a big Christmas show coming up, then a New Year’s gig. Then, we get to chill for a time and work on a couple new songs I’ve been hammering out in my head. I really need your drummer’s mind to orchestrate this one piece. You know how much I love to collaborate with you.”
“Oh, you’re smooth. You’re trying to appeal to my ego here, aren’t you?” Gia said.
“Is it working? I’m afraid I’m out of material if it isn’t. Other than getting down on my knees and apologizing to you,” he said, smiling slightly.
“You big doofus,” she said, letting her lips curve into the first smile she’d made all day. She pointed to the carpet. “On your knees, knave, and we’ll take it from there. And yes, I’ll go to meetings or whatever. And the only person I’m doing it for is me, got it? I’m making a change because I want to make a change.”
And, she had to admit...I’m partly doing it for Brutus. But, if she wanted to stay in the band, she had to stay far away from the man she was barely beginning to love—at least for a while. She thought about the sexy soldier. She wasn’t sure if staying away was an option.