Söbriety • Mötley Crüe •

7. Surprise

Warnings: Mentions of Previous Drug Use

Ryan's POV

After our rendezvous on the beach, Nikki and I became pretty close. We ate meals together, worked on our stupid therapy assignments together, and snuck away to the beach whenever we could.

We haven't gotten any real "alone" time though, which makes me sad. He probably has the worst blue balls known to man. I'm sure he's not used to that either.

Tommy and I have gotten pretty close, too, with him always wanting a "woman's point of view" on his marriage with Heather, and ideas on how to right the many wrongs he's done to her. He really does care about her though, which makes me happy.

Vince is still a douche, but he's a tolerable douche for the most part. He finally got the hint that I'm not fucking him. I don't know if Nikki told him what happened with us or not, but Vince has left me alone since. He's married to what seems like a perfectly nice girl named Sharise. I don't know what she sees in him, though.

I got to hang out with Mick once when he stayed to talk about their new album after therapy. I don't think he's from this planet, he's too good to be from here. I feel bad for him every time he tells me stories, because it seems like the guys are perpetual dicks to him and his girlfriend. Every day all four of us are looking better, slowly but surely we're becoming stronger and growing into this new, clean version of ourselves. Every day I get a little more confident that we're all gonna be friends when we get out. I might have a shot at a real life when I get out.

Oh, just wait.

38 days to go.

"What are you writing?" I lay my head on Nikki's shoulder as we sit at a table in the rec room, on break from group therapy.

"I'm trying to piece together a song." He scribbles a phrase down on his piece of paper.

"Kickstart my heart?" I chuckle, but it has a ring to it. "I like it. Let me guess, you got an adrenaline shot when you overdosed, too?"

"Two, actually."

"Oh, okay, fancy pants." I mock him and he sticks his tongue out at me.

"You never really told me what happened when you overdosed. I figured we should talk about it, seeing as we're 'death buddies.'" He mocks Tommy's phrase.

I squirm in my seat, uncomfortable.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, Ryan. I'd just like to know about you. I feel like we talk about me all the time." He sighs. I know he's getting frustrated because he still doesn't know anything about me besides my parents died in a car crash when I was eight.

"No. We can talk about it. I just don't really know where to start."

"What happened the day you died?"

"Didn't die. I'm still here. I'm not gonna be that over dramatic person that talks about 'the day they died.'" I nudge his shoulder and he rolls his eyes at me.

"I use, but I deal, too. Used to, anyway. I'm not gonna do that when I get out. Um, the girl that brought me to Cali." I clear my throat, completely uncomfortable that I'm talking about this. "I met her in Texas, on my eighteenth birthday."

"Kelsey?" He asks me quietly, and by the look on his face he's scared I'm going to either bolt or hit him for asking the question. but I just slowly nod.

"My friends were throwing me a birthday party. I was trashed on whiskey and weed, and I met her in the bathroom. She was shooting, offered it to me, I was depressed about my parents as usual on my birthday." He nods in understanding. "So I said yes. And I said yes about a million times after. Turns out she ran for the Mexican cartel, dealing heroin back and forth from Mexico. Her brother is some type of higher up for them and she'd been running for them for years even though she was only nineteen. We became, well, good friends I guess." I stumble on explaining our relationship. "She fed me heroin, and I helped her deal in Austin clubs. One day her brother asked her to come to LA, since there's a better market and he knows the border patrol agents better in California. She asked me to come with her and I said yes. Fast forward a few years, I had gotten a lot worse in my addiction. I was supposed to be running the load through the strip but I got too fucked up and passed out in my car with it running and the lights still on. The cops found me and after getting out of the hospital I had to come here."