Page 14 of For All It's Worth
Chapter Six
Charlie
Bythetimethefirst week of January came around, I was more than happy to go to rehab just so that I could get away from my family. I felt smothered by their well-meaning attention.
I’d been “encouraged” to let my apartment go. Giving Jessie, my housekeeper, a huge severance and an apology, I’d packed up my belongings and donated my furniture, hoping that some good karma was on its way.
My therapist had agreed that a fresh start once I came out of rehab was a good idea since I was in the position to do that.
“I know you don’t see it this way, but where possible, I encourage all my clients to do this. Severing ties to your past that you don’t want to bring into your sober future will help long term.” Evan must have seen my snort rising. “Yeah, I know it sounds like bullshit.” For all his alternative vibe, he didn’t curse often and that was what stopped me from interrupting. “I’d look at getting a job that wasn’t in a nightclub if I were you, and find somewhere new to live once you’re home. Try it. A clean sweep will help your recovery.” I still must have looked doubtful, but he didn’t push it further.
Being realistic, I’d always known that I would end up selling two of the clubs but had managed to come to an agreement with the developer and he was looking at finding similar jobs within his portfolio for my employees. Word of what had gone on with the clubs had gotten to him and he played hardball over the negotiations, but I could more than afford to hold out. I’d hire other managers if I couldn’t handle being in them, but I’d protect my staff either way. In the end, it was decided that some could stay with me and work my remaining club, but that was all down to the manager who had returned with a hefty raise. Honestly, it was lucky I wasn’t being sued, since I’d been his boss and had taken advantage of that.
Alex had grudgingly taken me to a few appointments with my lawyer to sign over the clubs and sort out the mess with the manager so he couldn’t come back and sue me later. I’d endured more than one lecture from my eldest brother over the whole mess, then spent a full hour of my twice-weekly therapist visits ranting and raving over what a dick Alex was.
It was glaringly obvious there were more than a few issues between Alex and me since he didn’t have Will to use as an excuse.
Selling had hurt, and just because I’d saved jobs, it didn’t mean that I was happy with all of this. It went against the grain to have to ask for help, to grovel to get people to do their jobs and look after their own interests as well as mine.
“How did you come by the clubs in the first place? You told me that your background and degree are in finance. I know of your family’s company since they sign my checks.” Evan asked as we sat in his boring office.
I resisted the urge to clam up and told him honestly, “The clubs had kinda fallen into my lap.” I smiled at the memory. “It wasn’t like I’d left my family’s finance company. I told you that Alex forced me out. I won the first one, one of the clubs that are now being sold, and then loved the buzz that I got from it all and was hooked. I’d been in Vegas a couple of weeks after getting my inheritance and was living it up with drinks and gambling for a weekend.” I gave Evan a wry grin. I was sure he could picture it. A young guy, loaded and troubled, going wild in the gambling capital of the world.
“Max and I were letting our hair down, so to speak, before he opened Books & Biscuits, the business that I’d insisted on investing in.” Thinking of Max made me smile. “Well, he’d demanded that I become a partner when I just wanted to give him the money to get his dream going.” I shrugged. I really would have been happy just to give him the money, but Max wouldn’t have it.
“So we’d been letting loose when this guy put the deeds to his club on the table and I’d won the pot.” Evan watched me carefully. “Later, maybe a few months after Vegas, he’d come to me with a request that I buy another of his clubs, at a cut-price since he was hemorrhaging money, and I bought it with what I had left after tucking some safely away.”
Evan nodded and noted something down. “Good, so at that point, would you say that your drinking was under control for the most part?”
“It was just before the Ethan stuff.” At his quizzical look, I clarified. “My brother’s boyfriend. I spoke about that before.”
“That’s right. Thank you for the reminder. So how did you end up with three clubs?”
“Well, I’d quickly turned both clubs around and within a year I had enough cash, so I bought my pride and joy.” My smile dimmed. It was the one club that I was getting to keep. I’d worked hard, day and night, to pull them up from the money pits that they had been. From the start, I’d been written off by other club owners in the area because I didn’t have the network they did, didn’t have the knowledge and experience. I’d poured blood, sweat, and tears into making them the safe spaces that they were now.
Just a couple of years later and here I was. The loss of the clubs felt like a failure despite the profit I was making from them. It stung.
I shrugged it off, hoping that Evan wouldn’t dig too deep today. I felt raw and flayed open.
What little of my pride was stripped away at the twice-weekly piss tests and therapy. I was being treated like I’d committed a crime instead of being the victim of a mugging.
The assault that I’d suffered was in the back of everyone’s minds. There was CCTV footage of the attack but the quality was shit and the cops didn’t seem to care. Giving a statement from a hospital bed had been the cherry on the shit sundae of my week. At least they’d waited a couple of days to come and had accepted the photos Alex had emailed to them since some of the bruising was starting to fade. To the cops, it was clear I was just another drunk rich boy in the wrong part of town, so I probably deserved it. Mom had talked about hiring a private investigator to find the culprits but I just wanted to let it go. With my luck, looking for them would bring more hassle to my doorstep. So I’d given up on any chance of getting the watch back, the only thing that I’d cared about being taken that night. My father had gifted that to me when I’d graduated college, the first and only time he’d been proud of me.
Immediately after leaving the hospital, I started intensive therapy. My therapist was an older man who’d had an addiction problem himself for years before retraining to help sufferers, even going so far as getting his doctorate.
I’d gone into our first meeting expecting some fancy woman in a stuffy office. My therapist, Evan, was the opposite. Fully covered in tattoos and piercings, gray hair in a man bun, the guy was a walking Daddy fantasy if you liked that kind of thing. Max was never meeting him. We’d never discussed the particulars in what we wanted in a guy. Max had a varied dating history. Some of his boyfriends had been hot but shallow, only wanting a cutie like Max as arm candy. Others had been smart but dull. All had used Max in some way or another. He had the unfortunate ability to attract weirdos. Though I never really saw him that broken up about a guy, never seeming that emotionally invested in the relationship. Evan though, a man this hot and with his life together, would be anyone’s type and I worried about the two of them in the same place.
Evan and I got on well and though I wasn’t as open as I maybe could be, he cut me a lot of slack since I was still suffering from my injuries. Evan had assigned me work to do in rehab. I had a list of people to apologize to and I planned on writing a lot of letters since I wouldn’t have my phone a lot, especially in the first week.
In my last call to Max, I’d told him that I’d been informed by the facility doctors that there would be no outside contact for the first week. This was to allow me a chance to adapt to the program. Though I had a good head start since I’d been dry since the mugging.
Eventually, I’d be allowed visitors, but it’d been recommended that we keep to a small list of permitted guests and short periods for the visits, so only Mom and Matty were allowed to come to the facility. Theirs were the only relationships I hadn’t managed to completely fuck up and wouldn’t cause me stress by visiting. Well, mostly. I’d rather Matty come on her own but there was no way Mom would allow that.
When I was told that I’d be going to rehab, I’d imagined weeks without contact with anyone, and though they recommended that for the first few weeks, it helped work out any issues by allowing calls and visits. Given that information, I felt my spirits raise a fraction. Maybe rehab was worth doing if it could get me out of this mess.
Rehab was almost a joke. The place I’d been sent to was so far from looking like a hospital, it couldn’t be believed. It felt and looked like an upscale spa and wellness center.
My room was cozy, just enough room for a queen bed and dresser, with a small bathroom attached. The shower was over the bath, the water kept off of the floor by a clear curtain.
