Page 32 of August Lane

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

L uke called his addiction “the Snake.” He used to call it “that Asshole” but eventually realized that he was letting it off the hook.

There was power in a name; it was a sign of respect.

That’s why it took him so long to admit drinking was a problem.

He didn’t respect its power. He thought it was just that asshole, a buddy who tagged along when he partied.

Assholes may be annoying and cause trouble, but no one drops a friend because he screws up now and then.

Only then, he starts tagging along to your shows and business lunches.

Then one day he’s pouring gin down your throat at six a.m. and you wonder what the hell is going on.

Why’s the asshole here? It’s fucking breakfast. Who told him he was invited?

Snakes were sly, secretive predators. Tricksters that slept with their eyes open, waiting to strike.

Five years sober, and Luke still had mornings like this one where he woke up hating himself for ruining things with August. He cleaned the kitchen, wondering if she’d ever speak to him again.

Then he remembered how she’d gotten drunk over Terry, which made him wonder whether Birdie used to drink, which made him realize he hadn’t checked the house for liquor before he moved in.

That’s when the Snake woke up and said, It’s been five years.

Love is hard. A little nip won’t hurt anything.

Luke immediately searched for the closest twelve-step meeting.

He wasn’t surprised that it was being held at Arcadia Baptist. It was the biggest church in town and rumored to be responsible for all the failed attempts to allow liquor sales in Arcadia.

The surprising part was seeing Silas King, owner of the most notorious bar in spitting distance from the city limits, leaning against the lectern while the group trickled in.

He caught Luke’s eye and nodded in acknowledgment, almost like he knew this was where they’d reunite after all these years. Silas had met the Snake years ago.

Once they’d all settled into pews, Silas cleared his throat and said, “Name’s Silas, and I’m an addict.

” The group acknowledged him, and then he led them through the serenity prayer.

It was comforting, and he was sinking into the words when the door to the sanctuary opened again.

Silas paused midsentence to shoot an annoyed look at the newcomer. “We start on time here.”

“Sorry.” David Henry glanced at Luke and shrugged. “There are nine churches in this town, and they all look alike.”

Luke was tempted to leave. David must have followed him there, looking for an excuse to fire him. They locked eyes, and Luke raised an eyebrow that said, “See? I’m being good.”

David sat in the same pew but far enough away that no one would suspect they knew each other.

“All right,” Silas said, then clapped his hands to regain their attention. “It’s been a while since we’ve had new faces, so, gentleman, please introduce yourselves. First names only.”

David glanced at Luke. “Guess he means us.”

Luke didn’t acknowledge him. “I’m Lucas.”

A chorus of hellos greeted him. David cleared his throat and said, “I’m Dave—Jesus Christ, this place is getting to me. David. ”

Silas introduced the topic for that day, which was making amends.

A few people gave examples of their attempts to apologize to aging parents they’d neglected and young children they’d traumatized.

One guy broke down after admitting he’d finally gone back to his sister’s house after slamming his car into their garage last year.

“I couldn’t ring the doorbell,” the man confessed.

His name was Frank. He wore a Pearl Jam T-shirt and his arms were covered in hives.

Once they reached the end of the meeting, Silas asked if anyone else wanted to share what was on their mind. He looked at Luke when he said it. David’s presence made it tempting to remain silent, pretend this was all just maintenance. But again, that was the Snake talking.

“I didn’t want to come here,” Luke admitted.

“To Arcadia. I didn’t want to come back to this town.

” He glanced at David, whose expression was unreadable.

“Bad things happened to me here. And it’d be a lot easier to forget that if I was drunk.

That always made it easier to pretend that nothing bothered me.

No one could touch me because I was floating.

Chasing clouds.” He shook his head. “But you can’t hold on to those, can you? ”

Luke took a deep breath and tried to focus.

He needed to talk about August. “You were discussing amends earlier, and I sat here listening, knowing that’s my problem.

Amends are holding me back because I’m still figuring it out.

You’re supposed to apologize, but only if it doesn’t hurt them more than you did before.

But how are we supposed to know? What heals and what hurts?

Especially when she looks at you like—” He pictured her face when he played for her.

“Like this thing you do, the only thing you do well, is what she’s been waiting for. Like it could save her.”

He looked down at his hands, at the tattoos covering his old scars. “I want to make things right, give her what she asked for. But I still love her. So, it feels selfish. Like I’m taking something else I don’t deserve.”

He thought of her first song, the one about fireflies.

That was August in his mind. A girl who loved so hard she had to put the feeling in a jar and wait for someone to find it.

“She used to love me,” he said. “And it’s getting hard to remember that it was one of the worst things that ever happened to her. ”

No one spoke. Luke could feel Silas staring at him, asking questions Luke wasn’t ready to answer. Eventually Silas focused on David, who seemed to chafe under the attention.

“I’m supposed to follow that?”

“Speak your mind,” Silas said. It sounded like a demand. People were never forced to talk at meetings, but this small, close-knit group wasn’t used to strangers. Silas knew Luke, but David was being tested.

“Okay.” David straightened and yanked at his shirt, smoothing the creases.

“I’m no poet, so I’ll make it brief and boring.

I’m an alcoholic. Never said that out loud before.

Never done this, either…” He waved at the room.

“Never thought my drinking was a problem because it wasn’t.

I’m what they call high functioning .” He made air quotes.

“Which means I can hold a meeting while blackout drunk and no one can tell.”

When they’d met in Memphis, David had been clear-eyed and steady. It was hard to believe what he was saying was true.

“So, what brought you here?” Silas asked.

“Boylan Heritage.” David looked at Luke when he said it.

“It’s good stuff. Makes it easier to say no when someone offers you a cocktail.

” He paused. “And I met this guy, this singer, who I’d written off as a talentless hack years ago.

Listened to him play the most lackluster set of covers I’d ever heard.

” He lifted a finger. “Except for Patsy Cline. ‘I Fall to Pieces.’”

Frank grunted his appreciation. “Love that song.”

“Yeah, me too,” David said. “But this guy broke it open. He took something I loved, something I thought I knew inside and out, and told me I was wrong. There were emotions I hadn’t felt yet.

Son of a bitch nearly made me cry.” He leaned back in the pew.

“I don’t cry. And I’m never wrong. But I didn’t notice what I usually see in people who become stars.

My career is based on knowing who’s special.

” He shrugged. “I blame the booze. So now I’m here. ”

Silas glanced at his watch. “All right, we’re out of time. Luke. David. Thank you both for sharing.”

Luke approached David as people slowly filed out of the room. “Was any of that true?”

“All of it. My lies are more interesting.” David shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “So that’s why you’re here before rehearsals? A forgiveness tour? Groveling to some woman you cheated on?”

“I didn’t cheat on her. And I don’t expect her forgiveness. A good thing now won’t erase the bad from before.”

“Where was all this lyricism on your albums? A chipmunk could have written your singles.” Luke laughed.

David’s lips hitched upward like he was trying to resist the urge.

He rubbed his face and sighed instead. “Promise me that whatever happened with this girl isn’t a bomb about to go off in the middle of Jojo’s concert. ”

“It’s not,” Luke said, because it wasn’t. It was a bomb he was quietly diffusing to repurpose for something better. Something Jojo would thank him for. “Despite what you heard earlier, I’ve got it handled.”

David nodded and looked at Silas, who watched their conversation while tapping a pack of cigarettes against his palm. “This guy scares me.”

“I know him.”

“Good for you. I’m out of here.” He pivoted but paused. “We should talk once this is over. About your career.”

Luke nodded. “I’d like that.”

Once David was gone, Silas sat down, lit the cigarette, and smoked with relish. “Don’t tell anyone I did this in here,” he mumbled. He puffed while Luke grabbed a matching chair and pulled it up to him. “Heard you were back.”

“For a few weeks now.” Luke took in Silas’s older, grayer appearance. “I should have called.”

“I heard those pitiful albums you put out. Probably better you didn’t.”

Luke laughed. “All right. Lay it on me.”

“Nah, you already know. My question is what are you doing now? Or what do you want to do?”