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“You don’t need to explain. Let me know how much rehab is. If you can get her to go, I mean. Can’t you make her? I mean, she isn’t eighteen yet.”
His mother sighed into the phone. “I can force her. I will if I have to, but rehab tends to be more effective when people go willingly. I don’t want you to spend all that money and have her come right back out and start using again.” There was a pause. “You could pray for the intervention to work.”
“You want me to pray? Do you still believe in that?”
“I’m trying to. It isn’t always easy, but I don’t think prayer is about making it easy or giving us what we want.”
“Then why pray? What’s the point?”
Sterling had stopped going to church with his mom around middle school, a few years after his dad left. It no longer meant anything to him and felt like a big lie. When he was younger, he believed in it all: a big God who created everything and ran the world. Jesus, who was the perfect sacrifice for people who couldn’t be perfect. Maybe that was the problem, though—people who believed in all that, like his Dad had claimed to, they weren’t perfect or even good. So what did it matter if you believed? People still did what they felt like doing, even if they believed in all that stuff. He just didn’t see a difference in people inside the church or outside.
His childhood faith turned into a snide disbelief that anyone could believe in God when things were so messed up.
Even across the phone line, Sterling recognized a desperation he had never heard in his mother’s voice before. “I believe that God cares about May. The Holy Spirit intercedes for us, so praying makes my prayers join with his prayers for her. So I will continue to pray even if I don’t see changes. The same way I pray for you.”
Sterling was startled by this. It shouldn’t surprise him that she prayed for him, but the thought made him uncomfortable. “Mom, you don’t need to pray for me. I don’t need fixing. Save your prayers for May. Or just stop saying them at all.”
“I need something to work. I’ll do anything. I feel like I’m losing my baby.” There was a choked sob. “I have to go.”
Sterling palmed the phone, still crouched in the parking lot, his thigh muscles burning. When she had said that she felt like she was losing her baby, he got the distinct impression that she didn’t just mean May. It had been years since she had tried to talk to him about God and the conversation left him reeling, both because of that and because of what was going on with May. He knew it was bad, but not how bad. Again, he felt like a failure for deserting them. Sterling didn’t drink, but was he really any better than his father?
The sound of her voice left him unsettled. He had never heard his mother cry. His mom was not a particularly emotional person. In fact, he suspected that his inability to express his own feelings well came directly from her.
Before he could think it through, Sterling punched the asphalt. The pain shot through his knuckles and flared up through his arm. The skin had broken on several of his knuckles, but not badly. Which was good since he needed them to play guitar tomorrow night in Atlanta.
Sterling sighed and made his way back to the bus. He really hoped that Morgan and Reese would be able to work miracles on his image. Because he didn’t know how he could possibly hide the darkness that he felt descending over him.
Chapter Five
“Let’s take a break,” Morgan said, stretching her arms up above her head and revealing a part of a tattoo on her stomach.
Reese wanted to ask if she could see it, but wasn’t sure how long you needed to know someone before asking to see their ink. Did people really call it ink or was that just a TV thing?
“What’s next?” Reese asked.
The two of them had been closed up in the back lounge for the past hour or so, talking strategy, branding, and all things Sterling. This was going to be challenging, but Reese loved a good challenge. Morgan laid out some of the current issues Sterling was having, mostly related to the whole Night and Day persona. The main thing that they were both working toward was getting rid of that perception that he was moody and especially the dark parts. Which would be a huge challenge considering Reese had almost exclusively seen Night Sterling since she got on the bus. She was beginning to wonder if Day Sterling existed. That wasn’t true—she had caught a glimpse when he was interacting with a younger fan at the meet-and-greet. He had been sweet with her and kind. His smile had been genuine. They just needed to help him channel more of that Sterling.
Morgan also said Sterling had mentioned a potential rebrand to his music and image. Before she could hammer out a strategy, Reese would need to sit down with Sterling to get a sense of who he was, what his goals were, and take an audit of his social media platforms. The idea of sitting down across this table with Sterling had her nerves jangling, despite his very clear words that she wasn’t his type.
Those words were like an icy knife to the heart. She couldn’t stop hearing them. Anytime she was feeling crush-y, she could just remind herself what he said. Total crush-killer.
“We’ll be pulling out pretty soon. I don’t know about you, but I want to snag a bite to eat before we go. I think we could walk to the Subway across the street or get an Uber to somewhere close. We are waiting on a few of the crew who will be on the other bus.”
“Subway’s fine,” Reese said. “I don’t know what it is, but the smell of their bread gets me every time. If they could make that into a cologne, I would seriously not be able to resist any man wearing it.”
Morgan bent over, laughing. “You are so random. I love it. I wouldn’t expect it coming from you. You look so …”
“Boring?”
Morgan smiled. “I wasn’t going to say that.”
“I know. I chose my clothes based on the fact that I needed Sterling to see me as a professional and not some fangirl wannabe like he thought. I plan to pick up some better digs as soon as possible. I’m not a rocker-chick style maven like you, but this outfit was more about trying to get a second chance at a first impression.”
“You think I’m a style maven?” Morgan grinned.
“Totally. Your everything is amazing.” Reese waved a hand from Morgan’s still-bare feet to her pink-tipped hair. “If I could pull that off, I would. I’m somewhere between that and what I’m currently wearing.”
“When we get to Atlanta, you and me: shopping.”
