Tempt My Heart Page 7

  I hope focusing on this adventure will help distract me from the sadness that is consuming every second of my life.

  Since we buried him, I’ve spent every night lost in my thoughts, scribbling down lyrics to songs I’m writing for him or about him and me. They’re all still works in progress. I’ve found it’s extremely therapeutic to put all of the thoughts that are screaming to get out of my head down on paper.

  I don’t know if I’ll ever share them with the guys, right now they’re just for me. It’s the only way for me to grasp onto the last bit of sanity I have left.

  Crawling into bed after getting home from the bar, I feel a small weight has been lifted off me. I was so stressed about returning to school because my heart wasn’t in it.

  It’s time to start the next chapter in my life…

  January 11th 2014

  Present Day

  “Are you ready for tonight?” Roxie asks as we make our way through the city towards the cemetery.

  Propping my arm up on the door of Roxie’s BMW M4, I give her a big fake ass smile and lie through my teeth, “Yup, I can’t wait to kick off this tour.”

  Roxie gives me a sideways glance before refocusing on the road. I can’t tell if she’s buying my bullshit or not. She is so damn hard to read sometimes.

  Slamming her breaks, she shouts out the window, “A blinker would be nice, you asshole!”

  A small chuckle escapes me. No one has more road rage than Roxie St. Claire.

  Snapping her head at me, she huffs out, “What!? He cut me off! If he makes me wreck my new car, I’ll ram my stiletto right up his fucking ass.”

  Roxie’s new candy red M4 is her newest gift from Matt. He bought it for her for their seventh wedding anniversary. He now plays professional basketball for the New Orleans Pelican’s. He was with Miami Heat for years, but he decided when he became a free agent and go to New Orleans, due to paycheck with a few more zeros on it. She hates his being away all of the time traveling for games, but she’s just as busy with her ‘Wake up with Roxie’ morning television show she has here in Miami; which, by the way, is #1 for the third year in a row.

  I am so proud of my best friend, and only hope getting my life together will make it so she can be proud of me again. It’s hard, I’m not going to sugarcoat it, but I want to be the Brittan that Cane loved.

  I still can’t believe Roxie and Matt stayed together all this time, and they’re still madly in love with each other. I often daydream what it would have been like if Cane was never killed. The four of us going out on double dates, and becoming the God parents to each other’s kids. Eight years later the pain still feels as fresh as it did the day I got the news that he was dead.

  I’ve been back in Miami since November third. Leaving rehab and entering the regular world again is overwhelming. My cravings are almost completely gone, and I have my sponsor on speed-dial. I can’t help but be afraid that I’ll be tempted to fall off the wagon once we kick off the new tour.

  I’ve kept myself busy and distracted by focusing on writing and recording, to try and fight the cravings when they do hit me. My record label is sending us on our new tour next week. Tonight we’re having a huge party at Club Vertigo in South Beach with the band that’ll be touring with us, Tempting Tomorrow. They’re really talented, and I think our fans are going to love us touring together. So far, our tour is sold out at every venue we’ll be performing across the United States. Once we finish our US tour, we’re off to Europe.

  I just hope I can withstand the temptations I know will be presented to me at every concert. You’ll see someone doing a line backstage and people view it as normal, like it’s no different from seeing someone sucking on a god damn lollipop.

  I don’t even know how I allowed myself to get sucked into the world of drugs. I guess I took the term, Sex, Drugs and Rock & Roll to the max. I was running on almost no sleep and barely had the energy to perform each night as we traveled across the southern states working our way towards L.A. One night, a roadie that was helping us, pulled me aside and told me he had some coke on him. He said I could do a line if I was interested; that it’d give me the boost I needed to get through my performance.

  That one powdery white line changed my life for the next eight years. I got to the point where I couldn’t perform without having coke coursing through my veins. Then there was the crash. I would crash every morning after a show, sending me deeper into depression and only feeling alive while I was high.

  When I was riding that high, I felt nothing. The voices and hallucinations of Cane disappeared. For those few short hours, I felt normal, instead of a girl grieving over losing the love of her life. The other guys in the band preferred pot, but wouldn’t pass up taking a line or two with me from time to time before going out on stage or to celebrate after a show.

  The only difference is none of them hit an all-time low like I did.

  Just before I was put into rehab, last spring, I was supposed to go live on E!News to discuss our upcoming album. I was so out of it; I made a complete ass of myself for millions to see. To say that my record label and manager were pissed would be putting it lightly.

  That night I had a breakdown after everyone decided to rip into me, letting me know I was flushing my career and my dreams down the drain. I locked myself in my hotel room in L.A. wanting to get away from everyone and everything. That night I did so many lines of coke I thought I was going to die…and I almost did.

  Seeing the spectacle I made of myself that evening, Roxie flew in from Miami to L.A. to give me an intervention and insist I enter a rehab program. When I wouldn’t open my penthouse suite for her, she made security let her in.

  She said she’d never been so scared in her entire life. She found me slumped over on the floor beside the coffee table that was covered with empty tubes, razor blades for cutting my coke, rolled up one hundred dollar bills and a mirror covered in coke residue. She said the second she saw blood coming out my nose she panicked thinking I was dead.

  I was pretty close to it.

  I felt as if I was in between life and death. While I was there, I saw Cane. I cried with joy because I had missed him for so many years…I actually ached to finally be wrapped in his arms again. I was okay with dying because it meant I was finally going to be with him. I’d slowly been killing myself each day as I fell deeper into my addiction and depression.

  I ran into Cane’s arms and jumped up, hooking my legs behind his back. Crying into the nape of his neck, I told him over and over, “I love you so much…so much…” I never wanted to let him go.

  Cane pulled back so he could look me in the eye, the sadness I saw in his once beautiful bright blue eyes was like a punch to my stomach.

  “Brittan, I love you too. I want nothing more than to take your hand and walk you to the other side, but baby, it’s not your time. I didn’t put my life on the line and die just so you could throw your life away.”

  Shaking my head, I laced my fingers behind his neck, refusing to let him go, “I don’t want to live anymore, Cane. I just want you…” my words taper off as the tears that were filling my eyes began to fall one by one down my cheeks.

  With his right hand, Cane used the pad of his thumb to brush the tears from my face, leaning in he pressed the sweetest kiss to my lips that caused my heart to flutter in my chest for the first time since he passed away. I felt a wave of peace wash over me as I melted in his embrace.

  “Baby, it’s not your time. I’ll be here waiting for you for as long as it takes, but I need you to live for me. Live the life I know you deserve, and do it for me…live the life I can’t.”

  I cut him off, “No! No, I refuse to leave you! I don’t want a life without you in it. I’ve lived seven miserable years without you by my side. I don’t want to anymore. Why don’t you want the same thing?” I ask now, in almost a whisper, as I shake my head and lock my eyes onto his.

  I’m sobbing uncontrollably now as I feel him slipping from my grasp.

  I don�
�t want to lose him again; I can’t. Not after finally being reunited!

  “I love you, Brittan. Please…live for me.” Are the last words he said to me before I awoke in a hospital bed with Roxie crying by my side with her face pressed against my hand that now had an I.V.

  After recovering from the overdose, which felt like I had my head kicked in with a steel toe boot, then tossed in front of a freight train, my manager checked me into a rehab facility in Malibu. When I first checked in I was miserable, and haunted by the dream I had while unconscious. It felt so real. I only told Roxie about it; anyone else would hear my story and commit my ass.

  I was haunted with the last words Cane said to me. He begged me to not give up, to live for not just me, but him too. Make his death mean something. So I spent six months in a rehab facility, and then the last two months having a drug addiction counselor meet with me at my home once a week to help keep me clean.

  I feel like no one understands me or what I’m dealing with. They all look at me with judgment in their eyes, especially the press. They’ve now portrayed it to look like I’m just another rich, Rock Star who checked into rehab instead of looking at the bigger picture.

  I’ve tried every pill possible, and none of them ever helped. I’ve talked to shrinks, which was a waste of time because nothing ever changed. I still feel empty and dead inside.

  Now that I’m sober, I feel every ounce of sadness and pain. When before, when I was high, I could at least escape it and live a life full of numbness and false reality; pretending my life was perfect. I perfected the big ass fake smile, used my expensive clothes, hair style and flashy cars to put on this front that I was okay. Living the perfect life while Beyond Redemption climbed the charts, #1 hit song’s with each single we released.

  I think five years ago, when we signed with Razor Records and finally made it big, is where my life took a turn for the worse. We were selling out arenas around the world, and had my face on every magazine, but the bigger the band and my life got; the smaller I felt. I was surrounded by fake people who only acted like my friend because of the millions in my bank account.

  I was living in L.A. surrounded by nothing but superficial people looking to be my friends so they could get into all the best clubs or to get the dirty deets on my life to sell to all the gossip magazines.

  So when I checked out of rehab, the first thing I did was return home to Miami. Having my parents and true friends around me for support is one of the reasons I’m still clean two months later.

  Each time I felt the desire to get high while in rehab, and since I came home, I just pull out my phone and look at Cane’s pictures in my gallery. I’m bettering myself for him. He is the only thing giving me the strength to get through this.

  I thought it would get easier over the years. But it doesn’t. I’ve tried to move on, but I can’t. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been with some amazing men. Men who can fuck you so hard you forget your name. But after the sex is over, and my body floats back down to earth, the cold reality hits me, knocking me on my ass.

  No one can make me feel what Cane did. No one can make my heart come back to life. It withered and died eight years ago today, and since then it’s felt like there’s nothing there, but a hollow hole in my chest where my heart use to be.

  The guilt I feel after being with another man is unbearable. The sex feels amazing while I’m in the moment; I crave the feeling of being desired and loved. But once we finish, I always leave or kick the guy out. Then I go have a long hard cry in the shower as the guilt of what I just did eats away at my insides.

  I know it sounds stupid, but each time I fuck a guy, it feels like I’m cheating on Cane. It doesn’t help that, in eight years, I’ve yet to find the strength to remove my engagement ring. I still sleep with his dog tags in bed beside me every night and have a picture of us together on the beach as my wallpaper on my cell.

  I’m so afraid that the moment I allow myself to move on I’ll forget Cane.

  I never want to forget him.

  So I pay for two cell phones. I kept my old phone that I had while Cane was alive. I listen to his voice messages and read his texts every single night before I fall asleep. It sounds crazy, but it’s the only way I can cope with him not being here with me, and get through each day without him in my life.

  Today marks eight years since Cane was taken from me, and of course, the party to celebrate our new tour falls on the same day. So Roxie is driving me to the cemetery so I can visit Cane before I have to get ready for tonight’s party.

  She hasn’t said it, but I know she didn’t let me have my driver bring me because she’s nervous it’ll be too hard and cause me to relapse. So she’s here with me to support me, but also to babysit me. It sucks feeling like a child, having everyone monitoring your money, and everything you do to make sure you’re not falling back into the dark world of drugs.

  I understand her reasoning. I know I’d do the same for her if it’d been me finding her practically dead on a hotel floor eight months ago.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Roxie asks, her voice sweet and full of concern, breaking me out of my thoughts.

  I’ve sat here watching as the scenery changed from the busy city to rolling hills of grass decorated with grave stones of every shape and size. With each passing second, I became nauseous and tense.

  I haven’t been to Cane’s grave since January eleventh of last year. It’s too hard coming here, so I only visit his grave on the anniversary of his death.

  “No. I think I need to do this alone. Thank you for everything Roxie.” Unbuckling, I grip the yellow roses that are lying on my lap and open the car door.

  The grass is still damp from the morning dew, and it’s tickling my toes as I walk towards Cane’s grave in my flip flops. I hug the bouquet against my chest and stop when I’m finally standing in front of the stone that reads:

  Cane Mathew Allen

  Son, Beloved Fiancée and Hero.

  Falling onto my knees, I set the flowers against his headstone and get to work pulling the weeds out that have grown around it. His parents must not have come by yet because normally they add a wreath with a flag by his stone every year. The little flag we put by his stone eight years ago is still here, but it’s faded and beginning to fray.

  Sliding my fingers over the cold stone, I trace his name with my index finger, “God, I miss you…” I whisper, trying to keep myself together. I don’t want to cry today. I want to stay strong.

  “I can’t believe it’s been eight years, it just doesn’t seem possible. The other day one of your buddies you were in Iraq with messaged me on Facebook. He and his wife are having a baby boy. He wanted to let me know that they are using your name for his son as a way to keep your memory alive. You never told me you saved his life over there…I can only imagine you didn’t want to share all the anguish and horrific things you had to witness while there. It feels amazing hearing people call you a hero and to have them tell me stories about you that I never knew.”

  Reaching in my purse, I take out a can of Grizzly and set it on his stone. “I don’t know if God is keeping you fully stocked with your dip, so I brought you a can. Don’t want you bored while you’re up there waiting for me.” I say with a small smile on my lips as I gaze up at the bright blue sky.

  “I hope you’re proud of the woman I’m becoming. It’s not easy, but every day I feel like I’m getting a little stronger. I don’t miss you any less than I did yesterday, but I’m learning to at least love myself for you. I have been talking with my manager about setting up a fallen hero foundation to support widows and widowers in the military. I hope focusing my attention on positive things will help me with my sobriety.”

  I hear the sound of footsteps coming up behind me, and turn to see Dalton walking towards me. Standing, I brush the few blades of grass that stuck to my knees away and nervously tuck my hair behind my ear.

  “Hey, Britt.” He says as he sets down a bouquet of flowers beside mine. Standing, he f
olds his arms across his chest and speaks to me while his eyes stay focused on Cane’s stone. “Can’t believe it’s been eight years…it still feels like yesterday.”

  I glance towards where Roxie is parked, and spot Cane’s Silverado parked beside her car. I can’t believe he still has the truck. It makes my stomach flutter as I picture Cane, and I cruising around Miami with the music blasting as we both sing along to the radio.

  “Yeah, it doesn’t seem possible. The last eight years have flown right by it seems.”

  Reaching in his pocket, he pulls out a can of Grizzly, “I see we had the same idea. Man he couldn’t go a few hours without having a chew.” Dalton jokes, as he sets down a can of Grizzly next to mine. Spinning around, Dalton slides his eyes over my body and searches my face for a moment before he continues speaking, “How are you doing? You look great; I’m glad to see you finally put some meat on your bones. I thought for a while there you were going to get so skinny that you’d disappear.”

  Dropping my eyes to the ground, I stare at my toes for a few seconds. It’s one thing to have strangers knowing you hit rock bottom, but it’s worse having a close friend know it.

  I feel like everyone is wondering the same thing: is she really sober? Or just saying she is?

  I sit back down on the grass. Dalton eyes me for a moment before sitting down beside me, sprawling his legs out and leaning back onto the palm of his hands. He still looks as handsome as he did when I attended his wedding four years ago. I’ve been so busy and so absorbed in my world of self-pity; I lost contact with all my friends here besides Roxie. That’s only because she made it a point of not allowing me to push her away.

  “I’m taking life day by day, but I just celebrated eight months sober, which is a big milestone for me.” I say matter-of-factly as I gaze up into Dalton’s big brown eyes.

  They soften as he listens to me speak, “I’m glad we ran into each other Brittan. I worry about you; ya know?” He pauses, and tips his head back to peer up at the sky before continuing, “I feel like Cane would be kicking my ass right now for not trying harder to keep in contact with you. I feel like if we all would’ve tried a little harder, maybe you wouldn’t have gone through all the shit you have over the last couple of years.”