Bullet (31 page)

If I’d known the answer to that question, I likely could have solved a good many mysteries of the ages.

* * *

It wasn’t until Brad and I were heading back to the hotel that I found a way to ask him about Ethan’s drug usage.  I might have been inexperienced, but I was pretty sure Ethan was using something.  I hoped Brad would know.

We were halfway back, so I knew I didn’t have much time to broach the subject.  “So what’s Ethan taking, Brad?  Do you know?”

“Hmm…what?”  Either he hadn’t been paying attention
, or he was pretending he didn’t catch my question.  I repeated it.

“Come on, Brad.  I’m not stupid.  What’s Ethan been on lately?”

He shook his head.  “You really don’t wanna know.”

“Yeah, actually, I really
do
.”

He sighed, pulling into the motel parking lot.  He didn’t say anything, instead pulling the van back into the space where he’d parked before.  After he shut off the engine, he looked at me.  “I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure he’s taking
Vike.”

“
Vike?”

“
Vicodin.”

“How do you know?”

He looked over at me, stopping himself from rolling his eyes.  “I don’t, Val.  But I have my reasons for why I think that.”

He started to get out of the van, but I grabbed his arm.  “Wait.  Just tell me.  Why?”

He took a deep breath, just looking out the window.  But then he looked over at me.  “A couple years ago, his mom had some in the medicine cabinet…leftovers from something, and she never used the rest of ‘em.  So we both took one before going to a party.  Well…we wound up not going to the party.  We were wasted.  It was…hard to describe.  Pretty peaceful feeling.  I didn’t want to do anything, just lay there, vegging, watching whatever stupid movie we were watching on TV.  And then I just wanted to sleep.  But Ethan…over the next year, he’d take one now and then until the whole goddamn bottle was gone.”

“So if it’s gone now, how’s he getting more?”

The look on Brad’s face told me how pathetic he thought I was.  “How does anyone get illegal drugs?  You think it’s that hard?  All you need is the right amount of cash and a connection.”

“So…what should we do about it?”

Brad let out a puff of air, almost like a laugh, but it didn’t come off that way.  “What do you think we can do about it, Val?”  I just looked at him, desperate for an answer, now that Ethan’s drug use was confirmed.  “We can’t do shit.  He has to decide he wants to stop.  You try to make him stop, he’ll just do it more.  You stand back.  That’s what you do.  You…”  He squinted his eyes and let out another breath, but he kept talking, his voice low.  “You go on loving him and be there when you need to.”  He pulled his keys out of the ignition and opened the car door.  “Just like I always have.”

* * *

So I felt no better actually knowing the truth, and Brad had probably known that would happen.  Maybe he’d tried to shield me from it.  It didn’t matter, though.  I needed and wanted to know, and maybe his advice was right.  Maybe all I could do would be to be there to help Ethan when he was ready.

During the next week alone, I did a lot of thinking.  I decided that maybe I needed to be more forward with Ethan.  More than that, though, I also thought maybe I needed to take control of my future.  I knew I wasn’t going to be a virgin forever, and now that something inside me was awakening, I needed to be safe.  I knew, deep down, that if Nick and the girl he’d been with hadn’t interrupted Brad and me
that night in the van, we probably would have wound up having sex.  And that would have been stupid on my part.  No protection meant, first of all, possible pregnancy.  Nothing would happen with my life if I wound up being a young mother, no matter who the dad was.  I knew STDs were a concern too, but that didn’t scare me as much as having an unwanted baby.  So I made an appointment with the family planning agency in town and took the first step.  The nurse gave me a three-month prescription of the pill and several condoms, and even though I couldn’t start the pill right away, I felt some relief at knowing I was being smart.

We had shows every weekend, and by the end of June, I felt comfortable on stage.  I was enjoying being the center of attention, stirring the crowd into a frenzy.  I felt like I’d started to master
some screaming in addition to singing clean, and I knew the songs well.  We’d started doing a little writing again too, but a lot of it was done through email, simply because it was hard for us to get together much being in different locations.  We saw each other for shows, and when the guys didn’t party too much, we could get a little work done, but partying was their priority.  I guessed I could understand it, but we hadn’t made it big enough to justify blowing all our money on party favors.

Ethan didn’t warm up again like he had my first night on stage.  We were on speaking terms again, but our relationship—as boyfriend and girlfriend or even as just friends—hadn’t returned to normal.  We’d talk now and again, but it was often strained.  I was beginning to think it would never work between us and, no, I didn’t immediately go running back to Brad.  He and I both knew I was “hung up” on Ethan, even if nothing was happening.  Until that boy was out of my system
for good, Brad was off limits.  It was a now-unspoken agreement between the two of us.

By the time we got to the Thursday show in Denver, the guys weren’t willing to do a show without me.  I’d suggested a couple of weeks earlier that Brad and Ethan could, for one night, resume their previous roles, but they wouldn’t hear of it.  Instead, they picked me up right after work
, and we sped to Denver.  After the show, they drove back to Winchester, dropped me off at home so I could get a little sleep before work on Friday, and then found a motel.

What su
rprised me was how that summer I’d fallen into the routine so easily, and I loved every moment I was onstage.  It was magical.  There was an energy that came from the audience that fueled every performance.  It drove me and excited me like nothing else I’d ever done in my life.  And I tried to ignore the voice in the back of my mind, the one telling me not to get used to it.  I wanted to just enjoy the feeling, live in that moment.

One show near the beginning of August, we were playing
in a small rural sleepy eastern Colorado town.  Knowing what little I’d known about this town which shall remain nameless, I hadn’t expected anything great.  But they turned out to be one of our best audiences.  They loved us and the other two bands we were playing with, and I was bummed we wouldn’t be coming back.

We were staying in another rundown cheap-ass motel, just like all the other ones we’d been staying in, places with worn yellow carpeting, faded beige drapes, and
plumbing that had seen better days.  The guys were drinking again, and they had girls in tow.  But I’d been sitting at the round brown table in the corner, and I saw Ethan put what looked like a pill in his mouth before knocking it back with a beer.  That was my opportunity.  I didn’t have to guess anymore.  So I walked up to Ethan and asked him if we could talk outside.

He agreed
, and we stepped just outside the door on the sidewalk that served as a buffer between the parking lot dirt and the rooms themselves.  He seemed guarded.  Maybe he already knew what I wanted to talk to him about.  “What’s up?”

I took a deep breath and forced myself to look in his eyes.  “What are you doing, Ethan?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you’re taking something.”

His eyes grew dark then, and I could see him shutting himself off.  He narrowed his eyelids and got his face closer to mine.  “And this is your business
how
?”

I hadn’t known what reaction to expect from him, but it certainly hadn’t been that.  He was cold and closed in, already unwilling to talk.  But I couldn’t just give up, not yet.  “You’re my friend, Ethan, and you’re also
kinda like my coworker now.  What you do affects me, affects the other guys.  I’m afraid of what you’re doing to yourself.”

“It’s no worse than drinking.”

“You don’t see me drinking.”

He raised his eyebrows.  “I don’t see you lecturing the other guys
either.”

Well, he had a point there.  I wasn’t ready to give up yet, though.  I grabbed his hand.  “I’m not saying I approve, but you’ve seemed to function just fine with drinking.  This…
stuff
, though. It’s like you’re numb, Ethan.  It’s like you’re not here with us.  It’s like you’re far away somewhere else.”

His eyes hardened.  “You ever
stop to think maybe that’s the only way I can do this?”

I was at a loss.  No words wanted to form on my tongue, and I heard the door open behind me.  But I ignored it and decided to try a tough love approach.  “That’s bullshit, Ethan.  I thought you
loved
this…and if you’re not giving it your all, if you’re not fully here, then you’ll never reach your full potential.  You’re not just letting yourself down.  You’re letting us all down.”

He grabbed my arm just above my elbow.  His voice was low, almost like a growl.  “Listen, Val, I know you think you know me, but you don’t. 
I do this shit to survive, and I’m here, all right?  The day I don’t perform, the day I don’t show, that’s the fucking day you can tell me I’ve let you down.  Till then…”—he let go of my arm then and started backing away—“not another goddamned word about it.”

That’s when I noticed Brad behind him.  Brad wasn’t much taller than Ethan, but it was enough that I could clearly tell that
was who it was.  He put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder and said, “Everything okay here?”

Ethan gave him a dirty look.  “Yeah.  I was just leaving.”

I raised my eyebrows and nodded my head.  I was pissed.  “Yeah.  So was I.”  Apparently, Ethan wanted to self-destruct, and the rest of us be damned.  I might have been naïve, but I wasn’t stupid.  I knew about rock stars who’d killed themselves with drugs.  And long before the point of death, they’d done stupid shit to damage their careers.  How many concerts had The Doors’s Jim Morrison been late for?  He’d been the first of a long line of rock artists known for letting drugs wreck their lives before they killed them, and I didn’t want Ethan to become just another rock star cliché.

For now, though, I had to let it go, so I just walked over to my room, leavi
ng Brad standing alone.  I didn’t slam my door, but I couldn’t sit down right away.  I was angry at Ethan for just giving up, and I think I might have been even angrier that his friends seemed to be just letting him flush his life down the toilet while they watched.

So when I heard the knock on my door, I was really not in the mood.  It was Brad, carrying two bottles of beer.  I didn’t even know what to say, but I know the look on my face was not one of amusement or happiness. 
“What?”

He didn’t seem too amused or happy either.  “Can I come in?”
  I didn’t say anything, just stepped back, pulling the door open further, letting him walk in.  He sat at the chair up against the desk, so I sat on the edge of the bed.  I still didn’t say a word.  “Want a beer?”  He handed the bottle to me, the neck tilted toward my hands.  I shook my head.  He placed the bottle on the desk and then twisted off the cap of the other bottle in his hand.  “I know you want to help Ethan, Val, but what you’re doing now…he’ll just blow you off completely.  He needs to realize on his own what he’s doing.”  I rolled my eyes.  “I mean it, Val.  Don’t push him.  Trust me.  Doing that is a bad idea.”  I sucked in a breath of air, considering arguing with him.  “I don’t think he’ll overdose on it.  I’ve never seen him go overboard.”

“But can he become addicted?”

His eyes looked sad then.  “He probably already is.”

“And you just let him?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?  I
let
him?  Like I’m his mom, or I have any control over what he does?”  I just kept staring at him.  “I have my own shit to deal with, Val.  I’m not the fucking cops.  That would be like me asking you why
you
just let him.”

At first, I wanted to tell him I’d only known Ethan for less than a year, that Brad and the other guys had known him for much longer.  But then I realized Brad was right.  Ethan was
the only person responsible for Ethan.  No one else here could control his life.  Even I, with my good intentions, could only hope to reason with him.  I shrugged my shoulders and made myself look at him.  Then I nodded.  “Fair enough.”  I sighed.  “But what can we do, Brad?  We can’t just let him keep doing this.”

“What the hell are we
supposed
to do?”

Well, he had me there.  Ethan wasn’t far enough gone to stage an intervention
, and Brad was right.  Until he admitted he had a problem, there wasn’t much we could do.  “I guess there’s nothing.  I just feel so helpless…and lame not doing anything.”

“How do you think
I
feel?  I’m his best friend, and you were right about one thing.  I used to encourage a lot of that shit.  Hell, we used to do a lot of shit together.  First time I tried meth and coke were with Ethan.”

I couldn’t help that my eyes grew wide.  “You’ve tried meth?”