Page 35 of Derailed
I don’t know what to say to that. How to respond without being insensitive. I never realized how much it meant to him, and now that I think about it, we all took him for granted. He was there when we needed a drummer—one of our roadies who knew how to play, so it was a natural fit. One that didn’t take much work on ourpart.
I finally settle on, “We really miss you,man.”
Iz laughs, a deep throaty chuckle before placing the cigarette between his lips for another inhale. “No. Not true. You might, but Trent and Austindon’t.”
“They do.” I don’t know why I lie, but I do. Maybe it’s because I wish they cared more. Or that I still have hope they do. They’re only reacting with blame. With hurt by what Iz did at the Grammy’s. How it’s thrown our band for aloop.
Iz doesn’t smile at my words, though. His lips pinch as if they pain him, and I instantly regretlying.
Silence stretches between us. Birds chirp. The sun shines. The day goes on as if nothing ever happened. As if addiction hasn’t altered everything in this man’s life. Like it hasn’t changed everything for Three Ugly Guys. But I guess without it, I would never have met Jess. That thought only brings an onslaught of shame as I shouldn’t be thinking about her—about someone else’s girl—especially when I’m supposed to be here forIz.
“So, things are going good though?” The question slips through my mouth and God, if it doesn’t sound tactless, even to my own ears. “Fuck,” I grumble. “Sorry.”
“Peachy.” Iz laughs and lights up another cig before stretching out his long legs and leaning back into hischair.
That’s how we sit. For the next twenty minutes. Him smoking and me failing miserably at small talk. Turns out I lack the knowledge of what to say when things get uncomfortable. Oh, and Iz and I don’t have much in common besidesmusic.
“Hey, Sean,” Iz says after about his sixth cigarette. “Can I ask you for afavor?”
Straightening in my chair, I lean forward and rest my forearms on my thighs. “Anything,man.”
He nods, snuffs out the butt on the ground between us, and meets my gaze. His eyes widen and his jaw works back and forth several times before his lips open to speak. I barely catch the words they’re so soft. “Buy forme?”
“What?” Realization of what he’s asking floods me with disappointment. He’s using me. He never wanted to see me or any of the guys today. He only wanted someone gullible enough to feed his addiction. And the winner of that prize would be me. God, I’m such a fucking idiot. Shaking my head, I spring from my chair and stalkaway.
“Wait!Sean!”
I shouldn’t stop or turn around. I should keep walking and drive straight home—leave this entire mess behind, but that’s not what I do. I stop and I turn around. Anger at being played the fool furrows my brow and I throw my hands in the air as he approaches with sorrow in his gaze. “What the fuck, Iz? What the ever lovingfuck?”
“I’m sorry.” Anguish etches every wrinkle with hisfrown.
I want to believe him, but how can I trust him? “What are you sorry for? Sorry that I won’t buy you drugs, or sorry youasked?”
“A little of both.” His gaze drops to theground.
“I’m out of here,man.”
“Wait. No,” he says, and when I stop, his gaze cuts through my soul, along with his words. “You’re all I haveleft.”
I shake my head. No. No way. I won’t allow him to guilt me for this. Not after what he just asked. “I’m all you have? No, Iz. That’s not true. You have life. You have this day. You’re a fucking talented drummer. And you know what? You’re wasting all ofthat.”
“I fuckedup.”
“You did. So make itright.”
He shrugs and shakes his head. “I don’t knowhow.”
“Isn’t that why you’rehere?”
“It’s hard.” He sighs and I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. If I weren’t so angry I mightbe.
“Of course it is. But fuck, Iz, do the work. You have so much left to offer the world. And people like me, and Austin, and Trent? We’ll be here for you. We want you to get clean. Fuck, I want you back in the band. But none of that shit’s gonna happen if you keepusing.”
He holds my gaze, pulls out another cigarette, and places it between his lips while he reaches for a lighter. “Maybe it’s not worth it, you know? Maybe it’s better I don’t get clean. Better I’m not aroundanymore.”
A scoff explodes from my lips. “You’re a damned fool to thinkthat.”
“Maybe.”
