Hell, I’d already compromised my integrity by having four orgasms with the man. But this seemed even further over the line.
“It’s too personal,” I said.
“I’ve never talked about it.”
“To anyone?”
He rocked his head back and forth on the pillow. “No one.”
We were silent for long minutes. Betty snored indelicately from her dog bed in the corner. A mix of snow and sleet hissed against the windows. His fingers trailed up and down my arm like he was playing chords.
“Been keeping it inside long enough. Might be nice to know that someone else out there in the world is keeping it with me.”
“Vonn, it doesn’t have to be me.”
“You’ve got all my other secrets.”
“I’m writing a story. If this is something you don’t want out there in the world, you need to at least tell me it’s off the record.”
“He’d been clean for nineteen months. Longest stretch yet. Tommy was a partier. Always had been. He loved the stage, the spotlight. When he was offstage, he was constantly chasing that feeling. We all dabbled off and on in the early years. But the rest of us learned our lessons. We got over it. Tommy never did. He couldn’t stand being alone. If he had a day off from touring or interviews, he’d throw a party or show up at some hotspot and make news.”
As Vonn talked, his hands continued to stroke my flesh. As if touching me made the words come easier.
“He thought he was the life of the party. But for us, he was becoming a liability. He didn’t show for practices. He was late for shows. There were a few times when he could barely stand on stage. Every time we shipped him back to rehab. And every time he tried. He fucking tried. But he couldn’t stand being sober and alone.
“We told him it was his last shot. He had one more chance to get clean, or he was out. He was my best friend, but I couldn’t even look at him anymore. So we sent him back to rehab. And this time it looked like it stuck. Long enough that I started letting my guard down. We were writing songs again. Touring. Things were good. It took me a while before I started to notice the little things. The fidgeting. The too-loud laugh. The showing up late or not at all.
“We had a show in Atlanta, and it was fucking clear as day he was using again. We put it up to a vote on the tour bus that night. He was out. Tommy begged me to change my mind, to change everyone else’s mind. But he’d blown his last chance. I told him that. I couldn’t stand by and watch him kill himself slowly.”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“We got to Miami and crashed for the night. I woke up early feeling like something was wrong. I went to Tommy’s room and let myself in.”
I clung to Vonn, trying to put myself between him and the memory.
“He was still alive. High as fuck. Pills and coke on the coffee table right in front of him. ‘I started a new song, Vonn. We can finish it together.’ He couldn’t even hold his head up, and I knew something was wrong. So fucking wrong. I called the doctor, then sat on the floor with Tommy.
“He kept sayin’ he was sorry. So fucking sorry. And I just held on to him. I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight like it was gonna keep him with me.”
Vonn’s voice was tight with emotion. It felt like a knife in my chest. “I loved him like a brother.”
Hot tears escaped from my eyes, slipping down my cheek to slide against his chest.
“Told him he was going to be okay. That we were gonna be okay. He told me it wasn’t my fault and that he wanted me to finish the song. Our last song. He was reciting lyrics one second and gone the next. His heart stopped. On Christmas Eve.”
“I’m so sorry, Vonn.” Words felt meaningless when stacked against his palpable pain.
He sighed, his breath ruffling my hair. “It was always going to end this way. That was the first line of the song.” His fingers trailed up and down my arm like he was playing chords. “There’s no new music without him. I’m no good with words. He was the lyrics. I was the music. But there aren’t any more songs without him.”
“That’s why this is your farewell tour?”
“Yeah.” He was silent for a while, threading his fingers through my hair over and over again. “Not sure who I am without the band. Not even sure how to find out. But seeing what you’re doing…maybe it gives me hope that I can become someone besides a bass-playing punk rocker.”