Stone Cold (5 page)

“Fine, let’s talk about it.”

“I’d like to know how you felt about seeing Drake last night.”

There were no words to describe it. The ugly display in front of J.T. had been the scared little girl in her lashing out at the neighborhood bully who was threatening to beat her up again. Drake had all the power and she felt helpless in the face of his rage and disgust.

“At first, I was scared of what he might say or do, so I lashed out.” She winced at the memory. “I hit him.”

The corners of Phil’s mouth twitched, as though he was trying to suppress a smile he knew was inappropriate in light of her confession. “I’m sorry…
you
actually struck someone?”

She abhorred physical violence, probably because she’d been a victim too many times herself when her mother brought the wrong man home time after time. “I don’t know what came over me. I was just trying to protect myself the only way I knew how.”

“He made you feel threatened?”

Lowering her eyes to the hands clasped in her lap, she said, “No, he made me feel small. Worthless. Just like I used to feel when I was a kid. As though I had no voice. Anyone could do anything they wanted to me and I couldn’t stop them.”

“Because Drake is wealthy, successful, with a reputation in this city and the music industry, you feel powerless against him?”

She and Phil had talked about her childhood, her sister, her mother, the abuse she’d endured as a child, the bullying, and drugs, but she had never been willing to open up about her relationship with Drake. She told Phil the truth about what happened the night he kicked her out, simply because she had to let it out or risk a
real relapse
.

“Yes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and because she was working hard to find her strong inner core, she cleared her throat and repeated, “Yes,” more firmly.

Phil smiled, obviously pleased that she had picked up on her fallacy without being reminded. “Did striking him make you feel powerful?”

“No,” she said, twirling her ring around on her finger. “There’s no way to bring a man like Drake down.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Cassidy. You have more control over that man than you realize.”

Her heart began to pound in her chest. Phil was able to read people effortlessly and if he had a hunch about Drake after meeting him, she knew it would be spot on. “What do you mean?”

He slid his pen between his fingers, watching the repetitive action as though it mesmerized him. “He feels powerless to control his feelings for you. He doesn’t want to care about you, but he can’t help himself.”

“No, I don’t think—”

“I know,” he said, firmly. “I saw it in his eyes when he spoke about you. I saw it in the way he looked at you. Trust me, that man still has feelings for you.”

Drake knew J.T. would be at the bar around lunch time as he was most days.

“Hey,” J.T. said, grinning when he spotted him. “Perfect timin’. I was just about to grab a sandwich. Care to join me?”

He knew food would sit like lead in his stomach, but he couldn’t tell J.T. he’d lost his appetite after seeing Cassidy last night. “Yeah, sounds good.”

J.T. leaned over the bar and said to the waitress restocking the shelves, “Two draft and two pastrami at the back booth when you have a minute, Darla.”

“You got it, J.T.,” she said, her smile landing on Drake. “Can I get you guys anything else?”

“Nah, that’ll be all for now. Thanks,” J.T. said, leading the way to the rear of the bar. There were several customers crowding the tables in the front and lining the bar watching sports highlights, but the rear of the bar was empty.

Sliding in to the booth across from his friend, Drake wasted no time asking, “What did you mean when you said you thought Cassidy had reached rock bottom?” That statement, among other things, had kept Drake awake most of the night, and he needed some answers before he went crazy speculating.

J.T. tipped the black cowboy hat back on his head and slouched down in the booth, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Man, I really didn’t want to get in to this. I know Cassidy would be embarrassed—”

“Damn it, just cut to the chase.” He knew J.T. had done nothing to warrant his bad attitude, but he couldn’t contain his frustration. “Tell me what the hell’s going on with her.”

“She’s livin’ in some damn shelter for addicts,” J.T. said, wincing when Drake revealed his shock. “And I’m afraid that’s not the worst of it.”

“How the hell could it get any worse than that?” They had lived together for almost a year without benefit of a legal agreement protecting his assets, and Drake knew she could’ve come after him demanding a settlement. But she hadn’t and he couldn’t figure out why.

“She… uh…” J.T. looked like he’d rather submit to a tooth extraction than continue on with his tale. “Sleeps in her car when the shelter’s full.”

Drake’s head fell forward as he covered his face with his hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“It seems the center director only has so many beds. It’s a short-term facility to help people get back on their feet and since Cassidy isn’t staying there as a patient, she has to give up her bed when someone else needs it more.”

Drake felt like someone had just drop-kicked him in the stomach. He was grateful when the waitress came to their table with two steins of beer. Not because he needed a drink, but because he needed a few minutes to process this news.

“I can’t believe what you’re telling me, man. I mean, I knew she wouldn’t be making much money singing when I shut her out, but I thought she’d get a job as a waitress somewhere, ya know? Maybe rent a room or…” He hadn’t allowed himself to think about what might have happened to her after he’d lowered the boom, but now that he was being forced to face the consequences of his actions, he felt sick to his stomach. He’d wanted revenge, but he’d never wanted her to be homeless.

“I know it sucks to think about,” J.T. said, sitting upright and leaning forward. “I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to feel guilty. Hell, I’ve offered to help her, so has Nik, but she refuses to take
handouts.
She said she’d rather be homeless than borrow money from a friend.”

Damn her for being so stubborn. She could get herself killed taking that kind of risk, and her blood will be on my hands…
“You still got that apartment upstairs?” Drake asked, thinking through the possible solutions to her dilemma.

“The new manager is livin’ up there now. It was part of the deal when I hired him.”

“How do you know about this?” Drake asked. “I know she has too much pride to tell you herself.”

J.T. waited until the waitress set their sandwiches down on the table before he said, “I was fillin’ in for one of the bartenders one night. I went out to the alley behind the building to toss the trash in the dumpster and I found a car parked there. It seemed strange for a sweet set of wheels like that to be sittin’ in an alley, so I thought I’d check it out. That’s when I saw her curled up in the backseat. I forced her to come inside and tell me what the hell was goin’ on with her. That’s when it all came out.”

“She’s still drivin’ the BMW I gave her?”

“Yeah,” J.T. said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

It didn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t she have sold the car and the ring to put a roof over her head, or at the very least found a job that would allow her to take a cheap room somewhere? “She tell you why she hasn’t been bustin’ her ass to find work so she can get herself out of this mess?” He knew she wasn’t lazy. She’d insisted on cleaning their penthouse herself, preparing all of their meals, doing the grocery shopping and laundry in spite of the fact he had a full-time cleaning lady to tend to their needs.

“She’s had a few temp jobs,” J.T. said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, but I guess it’s not easy tryin’ to balance a work schedule with her time at the shelter durin’ the day and gigs at night.”

If not for that one night, she would’ve been living in the lap of luxury by now as his wife. They would be preparing to release her debut album, planning a tour… “I can’t believe this,” he said, pushing his plate away. “If she’s not getting paid to work at that shelter, why the hell is she doing it?”

“I asked her that.” J.T. popped a pickle in to his mouth. He finished chewing before he said, “She said if it wasn’t for this Phil guy and his center, she may have slipped right back in to her addiction. She feels like she owes that guy her life.”

“Phil?” Drake asked. “That’s the guy who was here last night. We talked for a bit. He said he was putting a roof over Cassidy’s head, but I never imagined she was living in a place like that.”

J.T, shrugged. “I guess it’s what she wants. She told me that place was the closest thing to a home she’s ever had. Said Phil and his wife are like family to her.”

Drake suddenly wished he’d made more of an effort to make her feel at home in the penthouse they’d shared. He knew it wasn’t her style, but he hadn’t even thought about selling until after she moved out. When he couldn’t stand living with her ghost any longer, he put the place on the market and bought a mansion in Brentwood.

“If that’s true, then why the hell aren’t they helping her to make her life better? They have to know she doesn’t belong in a place like that.”

“She told me she loves bein’ there. It gives her an opportunity to help people.”

“The addicts?” Drake asked, tried to keep the disdain out of his voice. Given his experience with his missing brother, he had no time or tolerance for people who chose to throw their lives away getting high. “How the hell does she think she can help them?”

“She said a lot of them are just lookin’ for a friend. Someone who’ll listen to their story and not judge them.”

“You and I both know it’s not safe for her to be there.” When he thought about what could happen to her, living amidst those derelicts… “Question is, how are you gonna convince her of that?”

“Me?” J.T. asked, flattening his palm against his chest. “What makes you think she’s gonna listen to me? I’ve already tried to offer my help. I told you, she’s not willin’ to take it.”

“Well she sure as hell isn’t gonna accept my help,” Drake said, considering his options. “She won’t accept money from either one of us, so we’re gonna have to help her without her knowing we’re helping her.”

J.T. smiled. “I thought you didn’t care about her anymore?”

“I don’t.” He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, but he wasn’t ready to drop the pretense. “But that doesn’t mean I wanna see her homeless either.”

“Okay,” J.T said, rubbing his hands together. “What do you suggest?”

“I’m gonna see about getting her back in to some of the A-list spots. That’ll pay more money, and hopefully it’ll be enough for her to at least get a decent room somewhere.”

“It’s a start,” J.T, said. “You think your friends will be willin’ to take her on after you blacklisted her?”

He didn’t know how he was going to explain his change of heart to them when he didn’t understand it himself. But he loved that girl enough to want to make her his wife once upon a time, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her risking her life when he could do something to help. “I’ll make them listen.”

“If anyone can, you can,” J.T. said, taking a drink of his beer.

“How many nights a week is she working here?”

“Just one right now. I’ve got my regular act for the weekend, and I’m tryin’ out a couple of acts my brother-in-law has his eye on for their record label.”

J.T.’s brother-in-law, Evan Spencer, was a friend of Drake’s. Titan Records had been close to offering Cassidy a deal until Drake informed Evan that she’d had a relapse and was using again. No way would a label like Titan sink millions in to an artist who was a loose cannon.

“There’s no way you could give her another night or two?” Drake asked, knowing he was asking a lot of his friend. He liked the idea of Cassidy working at Jimmy’s bar. It was safer than most because J.T. hired the best security people money could buy to keep the patrons in line and protect the artists performing there. Thanks to J.T.’s older brother’s connections on the police force, many were off-duty and former cops who were experts at handling rowdy drunks.

“I wish I could, man. But I’ve got a full line up as it is.”

“Fair enough,” Drake said, thinking through his options. He stood up and reached into his pocket to put some money on the table for the lunch he hadn’t touch.

“Don’t even think about it,” J.T. said, holding his hand up. “Your money’s no good here.”

He tossed a fifty on the table and grinned. “A tip for the cute little waitress then.” Extending his hand, he said, “Thanks for filling me in on Cassidy’s situation, man. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re a good guy,” J.T. said, smiling. “I knew you’d do the right thing.”

***

Cassidy walked in to the sitting room of the center with her vacuum cleaner in tow when she spotted one of the residents, Bill, sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine. “I heard you were back,” she said, smiling. “It’s good to see you.”

“I guess you heard about my relapse, huh?” He didn’t spare her a glance as he said, “Once an addict, always an addict, right?”

She knew he was suffering from depression and some other form of mental illness he hadn’t disclosed during their group sessions, but she always tried to encourage him to maintain a positive attitude. Phil had done that for her when she showed up on their doorstep begging for help. She felt the least she could do was pay it forward. “You just have to take it one day at a time, Bill,” she said, sitting down on the chair next to him. “Just because you had one set-back, that doesn’t erase weeks of being clean.”

“Sure it does,” he said, tossing the magazine on the scarred coffee table.

The furniture was second-hand, donations from members of the community that Goodwill refused to accept.

Clasping her hands in front of her, Cassidy asked, “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“What’s the use?” He shrugged. “It’s not like it’ll change anything.”

“You don’t have to talk to me, but I hope you’ll let Phil help you.” She knew better than to try and overstep her bounds. She wasn’t a trained therapist, just a friend should any of the residents feel like talking to someone other than Phil.

“He can’t help me,” he said, lacing his hands behind his head. “No one can. I’m a lost cause.” He smiled, showing chipped, yellowing teeth. “Hell, my old man’s been tellin’ me that my whole life.”

“Just because he said it, doesn’t make it so.” Cassidy still cringed when she thought about some of the messages she’d received growing up.

“How the hell do ya manage to stay positive livin’ in this hole?”

She shrugged. “It beats the streets.” She knew that’s where she would be without Phil and his wife. She had no skills and had barely graduated high school. The only hope she had of building a decent life for herself was her voice, and since Drake had cast her aside, the odds of that happening seemed slim, at best.

Nashville was the mecca of country music. If she couldn’t make it here, she knew she wouldn’t be able to make it. Period. There were days she was tempted to throw her hands in the air and give in to the despair, but today wasn’t one of those days. She’d earned a positive reaction from the crowd at Jimmy’s last night and that always helped get her through at least a few days.