Three Part Harmony (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Griffin

What the fuck just happened? One minute we’re joking and teasing each other with huge smiles on our faces as we walked to Oliver’s dressing room. The next minute all hell breaks loose. My mind was spinning but I already knew I’d really fucked this up—for more than one reason. There were two glaring issues at the moment. The first was I’d immensely overreacted to the situation, just as Michael suggested. I knew in my gut and my heart that Michael wouldn’t cheat on me. We hadn’t really had a conversation about being exclusive but we’d both implied as much which I was happy about. So, why did my head immediately jump to the conclusion something other than talking happened with Oliver in that dressing room?

I’d always had trust issues. It’s why I’d never gotten serious with anyone before. Just the idea of a partner going with someone else while they were in a relationship with me was enough to make me gun-shy to the whole dynamic. But then along came Michael. He opened my eyes to the fact that not all couples were destined to deal with infidelity and really it was all rooted in trusting the other partner.

I totally fucked this up.

The best thing to happen to me and I pulled the pin on the grenade and dropped it at our feet. The other issue brought to light tonight was the very real fact that I wasn’t going to be able to remain focused on my job while being in a relationship with Michael. Tonight proved it. I stepped into a personal situation with him and my brain immediately slipped into jealous boyfriend mode. If a real threat had unfolded then, I would have missed every last red flag presented and Mike could have been hurt. This was exactly what Fizzbo warned me could happen.

Fuck.

As soon as this gig was done I was going to have to talk with Fizzbo. I couldn’t risk Mike’s safety or any of the other guys in the band because my head was elsewhere from where it absolutely had to be when I was working.

I let Mike run ahead of me while keeping a safe distance from him but he was never out of my sight. I waited until I saw him slip back into the Chaos dressing room and then fired off a text message to Fizzbo.

Me: Would you have time to talk in the morning?

Fizzbo: Absolutely. Meet me at the office first thing.

Me: See you then.

The rest of the night seemed to pass in slow motion. Chaos performed last and did an adequate job with their set but it wasn’t up to the standards I knew them to achieve in front of an audience. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I sensed this but it was sort of like they were all playing separately, never really achieving a solid grip on being a unified band. For Michael’s part, he wasn’t merely playing. It was more of a calculated assault on his drums. He broke three drumsticks before they reached their fourth song and then put a hole into the skin covering one of his snares. I’d never seen him play with such fury coming from his fingers and it totally felt like my fault.

When they came off the stage, I saw Sebastian and Oliver waiting for Michael. I wasn’t close enough to hear what they were discussing but as buoyant as Oliver and Sebastian were acting, Michael seemed completely detached.

I flanked MacAlister behind the band with two other guards walking out in front of them as we navigated them through the crowded hallway. Once they all disappeared into the room— including Oliver and Sebastian—I knew I had to get the fuck out of there. I approached MacAlister to let him know.

“Hey, would you be okay to cover me with driving them home or wherever they want to go after this and getting them to the rehearsal studio in the morning?” I asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he answered. “Why? Are you not feeling well?”

“I just think it would be best if I take off and call it an early night for once,” I stated. “Plus, I have an early morning meeting with Fizzbo, so if you can get them to rehearsal it’ll be one less thing for me to worry about.”

“A meeting with Fizzbo?” he asked with one brow lifted.

“Yeah, I have a couple of things I want to discuss with him and it’s always easiest to catch him early in the day,” I said.

“Yep, I’ve been there,” Mac said agreeably. “Do what you gotta do. I’ve got you covered.”

“Okay, sounds good,” I said. “I’ll see you soon.”

I started to leave but MacAlister called out to me. “Hey, I’m a good listener, if you need an ear. We can get a beer and talk, or I’ll just shut the fuck up and mind my own business.”

I gave Mac a weak half-smile. “Thank you for the offer but I’m fine, really.” He nodded in approval and then I turned and started walking again.

I went straight home to lick my wounds but didn’t end up sleeping much at all. More than once I considered sending Michael a text message to apologize and explain myself but I knew it would gut me if he didn’t respond. Same went for calling him. If he didn’t pick up or call me back, it would shred my heart.

In the morning, I immediately reached for my phone to see if Michael had messaged during the night and there was nothing waiting for me. Then again, it wasn’t as if I had reached out to him to apologize for my behavior, so why would he want to have anything to do with me? At this point, I knew the best course of action was for us to give each other space for a bit and then come back at this with clear and level heads. We were both new at this relationship shit and it was also the first time either of us has been in love, which made this situation normal, didn’t it?

Shit, I hoped so.

I showed up early to my seven o’clock morning meeting with Fizzbo. Leave it to him to already be in his office and working. Sometimes I wondered if the man ever slept. I knocked on his door and took a deep breath, fairly certain he wasn’t going to like what I had to say.

“Come in,” he instructed from the other side of the door and I walked in. “Coffee?”

“No thanks, I had some on the drive over here,” I said as I approached his desk.

“Please, have a seat,” he suggested and I dropped myself into one of the leather-upholstered chairs sitting in front of his oak desk. “So, what’s going on to bring you into the office this early in the morning?”

“Something’s come up,” I started.

“What do you mean? ”

“Actually, it’s two things,” I elaborated, figuring I might just get this all off my chest and start again with a clean slate. “The first happened the other night at a club the guys wanted to go to after practice. There was an incident—minor at best, and Mac and I neutralized it immediately. Then last night at The Asylum I had a… more personal situation crop up that led me to talk to you.”

“Okay, so tell me what happened,” Fizzbo requested.

“I love my job and I feel I’m a helluva an asset to the team,” I declared.

“I would agree,” Fizzbo interjected.

“Thank you, but I think moving forward it’s best for the team if I’m reassigned to another principal,” I said. The words leaving my mouth had a dizzying effect on me but it also felt so freeing to have it out in the open.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because on the two occasions I just mentioned, I lost my focus and didn’t excel at my job effectively which left my principal’s safety in jeopardy,” I confessed.

“Just so you know, MacAlister told me what happened at the club and the way he describes it, you were more than effective in stopping the situation before it even got started,” Fizzbo said. “Mac also added that he’s never worked with a more highly skilled security officer and he thanked me for pairing you with him. He said he’s learned a lot from working with you.”

I ran a hand over my face. “It’s flattering to hear that but…I don’t want to risk Michael’s wellbeing.”

“Have your feelings changed toward him?” Fizzbo pushed .

I shook my head. “Not at all,” I said. “I’m crazy about him which is why if something were to happen and he was hurt, I’d never be able to forgive myself for it.”

“And you feel a reassignment is the answer to this issue?” he asked.

“I’m hoping so. Like I said, I love this job. I don’t want to walk away from it,” I explained. “But I think you were right about the possibility of me losing my focus because of how I feel. It’s already happened twice in a matter of days.”

“Is he aware you’re asking to be reassigned?”

“No, I wanted to talk to you about it first, and if you agree with my suggestion, then I’ll let him know,” I said.

I knew in my bones this was the right course of action but why was my gut churning to such a painful degree at the thought of no longer protecting Michael? Who would take over my position and would they be as effective as I was to protect him?

Fizzbo stood from behind his desk and walked over to the window facing the busy street below. His hands were stuffed deep into the front pockets of his black jeans and the slouched position of his shoulders told me he was conflicted by whatever he was thinking about. I remained seated and quiet. Fizzbo was not a man of many words but what he did say was always powerful.

“Okay, this is what I’ll do. It might not be exactly what you’re looking for but it’s the best I can offer on short notice,” he explained and spun around to face me. “I have a new client—a female pop star, who is starting another tour in a few weeks. She’s in rehearsals now. I can add you to her detail if you’re interested, but it will mean you’ll have a few weeks off before that tour starts.” His steely eyes met mine and held. “Would that work for you?”

“How many weeks off are you talking?” I asked.

“You have a lot of accumulated vacation time you haven’t used, so it’s likely this would be a paid leave until the tour begins. And Mac is already familiar with Mike’s routines and schedules which makes him a good prospect to step right into your role with Mike.”

A hundred different questions and thoughts began to zip through my head. This was exactly what I wanted, and the best thing to fix the situation, but would Mac be good enough to keep Michael fully protected? Would I be okay dealing with the aftermath of a failed protection duty if Mike was hurt?

“You’re hesitating to answer—which is fine,” Fizzbo stated and walked back to sit behind his desk. “Why don’t you take a few days to really consider this move and we’ll meet again in a week? In the meantime, you can discuss this with Mike and get him up to speed with what you want to do. Mac can take over with Mike, effective immediately, until you tell me otherwise. I’ll give him a call and let him know.”

“Okay, that works,” I said. I stood from my seat and reached across the desk to shake Fizzbo’s hand. “Thank you for meeting me so quickly.”

“I make it a point to be available whenever my guys have an issue or need to talk,” Fizzbo stated. “It’s an open-door policy here. Remember that, but I also want you to carefully consider this new assignment before you agree to it. Your work with us has been stellar and your willingness to work extra hours or even do double shifts is duly noted. You’re a real team player which is what Ventura needs. I want to assure you that I have absolutely zero doubts you can separate personal with professional and protect Mike the way I know only you can do for him.”

“Believe me, I will think long and hard about this and I’ll see you in a week,” I said.

“Call me if you need to talk further about this,” Fizzbo said as he went back to the spreadsheet he had up on his computer.

I gave him a mock salute and walked out of the office. My next task was to find Michael and talk to him. Ordinarily, after a gig the guys wouldn’t be working but with them set to leave for their tour in a few days, Dagger wanted them in the studio first thing. I could hear the grumbling they’d be doing to Mac and was somewhat happy I wasn’t driving them this morning so I didn’t have to listen to it.

I stopped for breakfast before I drove to the rehearsal warehouse to give myself a chance to mull over Fizzbo’s offer and to gather my thoughts before seeing Mike. I also needed a lot more coffee before I talked with him. By the time I arrived at the warehouse the guys seemed to be in a heated argument over who was more hung-over from last night’s after party which was a typical conversation for them but it still made me smile.

Fletcher saw me enter the rehearsal space and immediately elbowed Dixon and Potts. “How about you two help me haul in the…” Fletcher mumbled.

“What are we moving?” Potts asked .

“Just come with me, both of you,” Fletcher instructed and pushed them toward the door to give me and Mike some privacy to talk.

I stepped closer to Mike, as close as I dared in case he wanted to haul off and hit me. At this point, I’d probably let him because deep down I felt like I deserved it. That’s how bad I felt about what happened last night. Once I entered his peripheral vision, he gave me the slightest acknowledgment that I was standing there.

“Good morning,” I finally said.

“Is it good?” Mike asked as he adjusted the stool behind his drum kit. “I hadn’t noticed.”

I shrugged and took another cautious step. “Can we talk for a bit?” I asked.

“Now’s really not the best time,” he said. “You can see we’re about to start working.”

“I won’t take up too much of your time,” I said. “But I wanted to apologize again for last night. You were right. I completely overreacted and I’m sorry about that. I’d also like to apologize for implying you were messing around with Oliver when I know you wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Do you know for sure I wouldn’t cheat?” he asked with obvious sarcasm. “After all, how trustworthy could I possibly be with my track record?” His eyes flicked to me but then he quickly looked away again. “I mean, maybe I fucked them both after the show last night. You didn’t stick around to see, so how would you know whether I did or didn’t?”

My jaw clenched together to the point I worried my teeth might shatter from the force. He was goading me to argue with him but I couldn’t allow myself to take the bait. I didn’t think for one second he slept with Oliver and Sebastian after the Asylum show. Their performance was subpar and Mike would have been sulking about that after they left the stage. There was no way he would’ve been up for sex at that point. Drinking? Hell yes, and I imagine he drank his weight in booze to dull his anger about the show—and me.

“We never discussed being exclusive, so I guess you had every right to sleep with anyone you wanted,” I said softly, the pain in my heart becoming more acute with every passing second.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you don’t care ,” Mike said as he came to a standing position beside his kit.

“I never said I didn’t care who you fuck,” I said a little louder than I intended.

“You know, you really should learn to say what the hell you mean and stop speaking in cloudy riddles,” he said. The tension seeping into his body language was so very telling. He set his hands onto his hips and finally met my gaze full-on. “What the fuck do you want, Griff? Why are you even here?”

“I wanted to apologize and…”

“And you’ve already done that,” he said sternly. “What else do you need? Tell me so we can move on with our day.”

“Jesus, Michael. I truly am so sorry last night happened but it was an eye-opener for me,” I rambled. “I realized Fizzbo was right, that I do lose my focus on the job when it comes to you, and that leaves your safety in jeopardy. I met with Fizzbo a little while ago and we talked about what happened at the dive bar and I also told him about last night. I explained how I lost focus in both instances and that I couldn’t let it happen again. Fizzbo won’t except less than one hundred percent from his security officers when it comes to keeping our clients protected and when I took the job I swore I’d never give less than my full capabilities and focus.”

“What the fuck? Did he let you go?” Mike asked.

I shook my head and continued to explain myself. “He doesn’t want to let me go but instead I suggested that he reassign me to another client,” I said. “He has a pop star heading out on tour soon and he could put me on the security team for her, if I was interested.”

The angry expression keeping Michael’s face stiff suddenly morphed into something stone-like and utterly blank. I literally witnessed his protective walls dropping into place and it broke my heart into pieces. He was as shuttered as he was when we met a year or so ago and I was the one who’d done this to him.

“Probably just as well you leave,” he said and started stacking boxes of his sticks on the edge of the stage.

“I haven’t accepted the position,” I replied. “Fizzbo gave me a week to decide but, in the meantime, Mac is going to take over for me as your personal security guard—effective immediately.”

Michael grabbed a handful of sticks and dropped the box onto the floor, partially spilling the contents. Then he loaded up the pouch he kept hanging off a brace to his drum stand that always held extra in case he dropped or snapped one during a set .

“Why wait the full week to give Fizzbo your decision?” he questioned. “Just call him back today and take the damn job, then you’ll be free as a bird to leave.”

“Michael, listen…”

“No, you listen!” he snapped. “This is exactly why I don’t do relationships. You said we could make it work—that being in love would work for us, but it didn’t. You’re just like the rest. You say one thing but you mean something else entirely. I certainly won’t make that fucking mistake again but you go ahead and do you. Take the fucking job. Greener pastures and all that bullshit. I wish you a boatload of luck and happiness but don’t expect a fucking parade or a parting gift from me.”

“I never lied to you—about how I feel or anything else. And I don’t want to take this new assignment, but I fear if I keep working with you there’s a big chance I could fail in protecting you. I won’t risk your life because I’m blinded by the feelings I have for you.” I moved closer to stand beside the drum platform, close enough to smell the bodywash from his shower that morning and it made my stomach knot. “I love you, Michael, and that’s the truth.”

He kept his back to me while he collected the spilled sticks on the floor and tucked them back into the box.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing you love someone,” he commented almost under his breath but loud enough for me to hear him and he sounded like a wounded animal.

“The only reason I’m considering this job is to make sure you are properly protected, not for any other reason. ”

Michael spun on me and in a flash he was right in my face. “Bullshit! You’re leaving to protect yourself and I certainly won’t hold you back. You can go with my kindest regards but don’t fucking lie about the reason behind this.”

I remained in place for a few seconds that felt more like hours. I still had one more thing to discuss with him but I already knew it was a waste of my time to bring it up. But, apparently, I was a masochist and loved feeling pain and humiliation because I kept on talking.

“I wasn’t looking at this as being an end for us,” I said gently. “It would just be me working for another artist and we could continue to see each other when our schedules allowed.”

“I’m not looking for anyone’s scraps. Sorry, Griff,” he said. “You said it yourself, I shouldn’t have to be someone’s side piece. I deserve to be a priority. Besides, what’s the point of being with someone who doesn’t trust me or who jumps right ahead to thinking the worst when situations crop up like last night? I’d rather be alone or stick to fucking strangers than deal with that shit.”

“I’m so sorry, Michael, for how I acted,” I just about pleaded.

“And we’ve already covered that,” he said. “Are we done here? Because the band needs to get started with practice.”

I blinked several times to try and clear my head, emotions threatening to spill. “Yeah, I guess I’ll take off so you can get to it. Mac is right outside if you need him.”

“Doubtful.”

Michael continued to sort through his supplies and examined his drum setup as if it were new to him. It didn’t need inspecting and it certainly wasn’t new. He was simply ignoring me and maybe it was better this way. In no way did I come here thinking my job opportunity would translate into a forever goodbye for us, but Michael seemed hell-bent on making it so. If that’s what he really wanted, I’d have to respect his wishes, even though I knew it would gut me.

“Okay then. I guess…I’ll see you around,” I said.

“Also doubtful,” he said without even looking at me.

Wow, the final slice into my heart proved to be the most painful and devastating. There was no way my heart would recover from this. Ever.

I turned around and stepped off the platform, then crossed the floor to the exit. As soon as the door closed behind me I heard a series of crashes that I knew were from Mike throwing around his drums and cymbals. I wanted to turn around and go back inside the studio but it wouldn’t make any difference. Mike had clearly made up his mind about any kind of future with me. At least I had my answer. He’d go his way and I’d have to figure out how to travel a different path without him.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mike

Whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder was a fucking misguided crackhead. The passage of time only served to make me angrier and more bitter. There wasn’t an ounce of fondness in this situation. Every day that passed without seeing or talking to Griffin was a day closer to the point where I started spitting nails whenever someone tried to talk me .

Fuck Griffin and fuck everyone else.

That was my new mantra. Maybe I should have it printed on t-shirts and I’d wear it during our shows. That would surely paint a picture of the fractured mess my life had become since he walked away.

I know, I sent him away—or at least I strongly pushed him in that direction. So, in essence I guess I only had myself to blame for being so disgustingly miserable. Maybe this was my burden to bear for being stupid enough to fall in love in the first place. I never should have let that happen but I honestly never figured I’d meet someone like Griffin, either. He made falling so easy. No matter how badly it ended, I’d always see him as a blessing in my life, even for the short time we had together. He taught me how to love with my whole heart and proved to me it was possible. I also learned that feeling love for someone didn’t make you weak—it gave you strength, like a super hero. If that was the case then I wanted us to be Batman and Robin because everyone knew they were gay for each other.

Yep, for Griffin, I’d be willing to wear tights and a cape.

Just saying.

But it wasn’t to be. He flaked and wanted to work with someone else. End of story, and I needed to get the fuck over it.

After about two weeks without seeing him—although I couldn’t be sure exactly how much time was passing because the days had begun to blur together after the first week he was gone. All I knew was we’d been on tour for a few days. Most of that time I’d managed to keep myself at a level of drunkenness to be distracted and not think about Gri—I mean, the man who walked away from me. Why did it hurt to even think of his name?

Was I drinking too much? Probably, but not enough to affect our shows. I’d quit being a musician before I let that happen. I more than showed up and performed to my best ability, but once I left the stage the real partying began and I’d continue until I was drunk enough to sleep without dreaming. The dreams were the worst because they always brought me back to a time when things were so incredibly good with Griffin. I’d wake up and believe for the briefest of moments that the dream was real and Griffin was still happily with me.

It fucking killed me every time.

Fletcher warned me about the booze and said they’d have to get another drummer if I kept on this path of destruction but I was nowhere near the level he was suggesting. Sure, I wasn’t myself and hadn’t been for a while, but I wasn’t falling down or passing out. I was merely drinking to keep my brain from thinking. Under the circumstances, was that such a bad thing?

Drumming didn’t require thinking for me. I didn’t need to be completely in the moment to play in the zone. It just happened, like how your brain knew to make your heart continue to beat even when you were sleeping. It was living life that required a fully functioning brain and that’s the part I was aiming to mask, or at the very least, make it hazy enough to be able to ignore.

So far, I was succeeding at making that happen.

My band disagreed .

Tough luck for them, because this was my life and I would live it as I saw fit. Last I checked we were living in America—land of the free and home of the fucking brave. I promised my band one thing, and that was I would never show up for a show already drunk, and I’d managed to ace that promise. I saved the dirty business of the hard partying for after the shows, same thing went for the groupies. Although I had yet to partake in the gratuitous amounts of hot human flesh that was consistently waiting for us backstage.

I wasn’t ready for that. Even thinking about being with someone that wasn’t Griffin made my heart feel strangled and achy and I wanted to throw up. I couldn’t make that leap and I was in no hurry, but when I did it would be nothing but nameless, emotionless hook-ups and nothing more. I would never again open myself to feelings because it hurt too damn much when they walked away.

Instead I existed inside a vortex all my own, circling the drain and wondering if I’d ever climb back out onto solid ground or if I’d get sucked into the sewer system. But I did my job and fulfilled all the other responsibilities required with it, such as interviews and whatnot. I was always on time and when the lights hit my face, I smiled like I didn’t have a care in the goddamn world. But inside, I was crumbling—hanging by a thread that was fraying more by the day. Fletcher suggested I see a professional therapist to work through my feelings. I told him I had no more feelings left in me, so there was nothing to work through.

About a month into the tour and I barely acknowledged it when Dallas returned from boot camp wearing his sexy dress uniform and surprised Fletcher at one of our shows. We almost had to shut down the show early because Fletcher was rendered so speechless with Dallas behind the stage curtains. I wanted to be elated for my brother because I knew how much he missed his man and how lonely he’d been, but I didn’t have it in me. I left them to celebrate and went to bed as soon as I could sneak away from the after show festivities.

Turned out, after I took off I missed Dallas proposing to Fletch and that part killed me. Apparently, Dallas got down on one knee, offered Fletcher an engagement ring, and then carried Fletcher off stage after he said yes. It was like a scene right out of the movie, An Officer and a Gentleman . I should have been there cheering them on. Instead I was having my own pity party back in my room. Just because I was dealing with a painful breakup didn’t give me a right to shit on Fletcher’s party and his future with Dallas. They managed to make their relationship work and they were thriving. Mine crashed and burned to ash. So fucking what. Life went on, right?

“Let me see the ring,” I asked Fletcher the morning after the proposal.

“You should have been there to see it last night,” Fletcher argued.

“You’re absolutely right. I should have been there and I’m sorry I wasn’t,” I said. “I have no excuse for it, either.”

“That about sums up your attitude for the last month,” Fletcher admonished.

“I know and I’m going to try and do better,” I said.

“You’ve promised that a lot lately, and at this point it’s an empty promise,” Fletcher said. “You seriously need to do better, Mike. Get your shit together and start being present in your own life, and be there for the rest of us, too. This has gone on long enough. Changes need to be made. The Rocktoberfest show is in less than two weeks and you better mentally show up for that gig or we might be parting ways because your behavior since Grif—”

“Don’t you dare say his name,” I nearly growled at him.

Fletcher tilted his head at me. “You don’t see the problem with this? You can’t even listen to someone else say the man’s name, never mind yourself. That’s a fucking problem and you need help!”

“You’re probably right but I don’t even have the will to find a therapist,” I admitted. “I just don’t give a flying fuck about anything anymore.”

“That much is obvious but I’m begging you, Mike. Please find someone to help you work through this.”

I went back to bed after Fletcher’s latest scolding and stared at the ceiling. After about an hour, I grabbed my phone and hit the speed dial button for the one person I thought might actually understand.

“Hey, Dagger. Do you have time to talk?”

“I absolutely do,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“I need help.”

“I’m in room 1501, top floor,” he said. “I’ll let security know you’re coming up.”

“Don’t you want to know what’s going on first?” I asked, doing my best to keep myself from sobbing through the phone to the man I’d come to think of as my second father .

“I know it’s serious enough that you reached out to me, and I respect the hell out of you for doing that,” Dagger said. “I’ll see you in a few.”

“Thank you, Dagger. I really appreciate this.”

“Don’t mention it.”

I didn’t bother changing into something more presentable. Dagger already knew I was a mess, so showing up in stained sweatpants and a t-shirt I was pretty sure belonged to Griffin wouldn’t surprise him in the least. I tucked the room key in the pocket of the sweats and left the hotel room. A couple of minutes later, I was knocking on the door to Dagger’s suite. The door swung open almost instantly and I’d never been more grateful to see someone’s smiling face. Without a word spoken, he tugged me inside his room, shut the door, and wrapped me up in his muscled arms. I knew in that moment everything was going to be okay— I was going to be okay. The simple act of Dagger’s touch had managed to balance me again and ease the ache inside my heart.

“How can I help?” he asked and directed me toward the living room and the couch positioned near the balcony.

I moved over to the couch and took a seat, then drew in a deep breath before I slowly let it out. A beat later, I began to spill my guts and I told him everything. We talked about Griffin, the breakup, and I even admitted I was drinking too much. He listened, asked questions, and consoled me. Best part was he never came off as preaching or condescending to me. Instead, he started to create a plan to get me back on track. I wasn’t thrilled with some of his suggestions, like doing daily workouts every morning with his trainer, but I was committing myself to getting stronger. If this was part of it, then I’d have to suck it up and deal because I didn’t want to wallow anymore. It hurt too fucking much. Dagger even set me up with weekly visits with an AA sponsor—one that could do online Zoom meetings when we were on the road. I didn’t think I was an alcoholic—yet, but the behaviors were already in place. If I kept on this path, I would definitely become one. Knowing that made it easier to be proactive about this and get rid of my destructive habits, replacing them with positive behaviors before this got out of hand.

I’d like to say the rest was history but this would be a life-long process for me. At least I wasn’t concealing my problems from those closest to me anymore or hiding from life in general—like Fletcher said I was doing. He was right about all of it, and he was justified to draw the line he’d drawn in the proverbial sand. In the end, Fletcher pushing me the way he did might have been what saved me. I didn’t know, but I loved the hell out of him for giving me the kick in the ass I needed. I was also grateful for everything Dagger had done and continued to do to keep us all on track. I was just one example of the things that man did for us and it truly made me emotional to think of how one man could change the course of our lives so greatly.

It all led me right to this moment, us driving onto the Rocktoberfest property in the same gorgeous tour bus Dagger provided for us the first time we played here. It almost felt like full circle in the sense we were returning to the stage that launched us. We still had a long way to go before we hit the big time, but it sure felt like we were on our way. And same as last time, Dagger trailed behind us in his own sleek bus.

I knew this show was going to be a challenge for me on every level. It would surely test every bit of resolve I had to stick to my new healthy habits and exercise routines. I’d gained some weight since I quit drinking and started working out every day but it was all muscle. I was looking kind of ripped and liked how I looked in the mirror. My hair was somewhat styled and my unkempt beard was now a trimmed five o’clock shadow. More importantly, I had confidence again and my natural swagger was back, too. But what I was most proud of was that I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in almost two weeks. It was the longest I’d gone without drinking since I was a teenager a decade ago.

But being at Rocktoberfest, where everyone was either high on drugs or drunk off their asses, would be the first time the libations were shoved directly into my face. It would be up to me to say no and then distract myself from the temptation by doing one of my new healthier habits. During our mini club tour, it was somehow easier to avoid the shit because I could stick to myself for the most part, but at Rocktoberfest it would be impossible because the stuff was everywhere you looked. Anything you wanted was ridiculously easy to get but I couldn’t let it blind or distract me. We were here on a mission to prove we weren’t flashes in the pan last year and that our star was continuing to soar into the stratosphere. Where it belonged.

Some of the guys started calling me Mr. Clean and I was okay with that. I’d worked hard to even be considered as “clean and sober,” so why not be proud of the new nickname? And, for the most part, I was as happy as I could expect to be. I still missed Griffin with every fiber of my being and I remained ridiculously in love with the man, too. I realized those things might not ever change.

But life moved on whether we wanted it to or not. Besides getting one text message wishing me good luck when our club tour began, which I responded to with only a simple “thanks,” I hadn’t heard from him. Not one phone call, no text message apologies, not so much as a fucking carrier pigeon flying overhead to drop a message—or a turd on me. Nothing came from him. It was crushing to think of how effectively he had cut me out of his life, which was why I kept myself busy with other things that didn’t allow me to think. Thinking took me to dark places if I let it, so I had to avoid it when I could.

Yep, I had more distractions than I could shake a stick at—something for every occasion, and sometimes it still wasn’t enough to help me forget about Griffin.