CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

JAGGER

Everybody knows getting hit with a bat hurts. I never imagined it would fucking hurt like this, though. Erik’s didn’t have barbed wire on it, so it must have been worse for him, but then again, that fucker deserved it after what he did to McKinley.

Jett sits on a chair in our bedroom with his face in his hands. I know, after how much time has passed, he isn’t feeling well. He’s in a constant cycle of pain. He shoots himself up with heroin and feels okay for a few hours. Then if he doesn’t use, he gets sick as shit. They call it dope sick. It’s essentially withdrawal. Normally, he would have already got high again, and I know he’s putting himself through this for me. He knows I’ll tell him to leave if he does that shit in front of her.

“Jett, if you need to go, I’ll be fine.”

He hangs his head down in misery. “Maybe I’ll go to the car for a minute.”

“Just leave. You know I’m not going to allow you to come back in here fucked up on drugs.”

Popping his head up, he glares at me. “Yeah, I know. Not with her here.”

I appreciate what he did for me, but I’m not exposing her to that shit.

He’s unpredictable when he’s high. You can’t really trust he’ll follow whatever boundaries anyone has. His violence tends to get amped up, and right now I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to protect McKinley, so it’s not a risk I’ll take. She’s been through enough.

“Look, man, call me and tell me what Walton says. I gotta go. I can’t do this.”

It makes my chest literally fucking hurt, without being hit with a baseball bat, to see him like this. I hate what he does to himself. He is going to die. We’ve discussed it. It’s a fact we both know to be true. I’m not a goddamn choir boy. I’ve tried various drugs, but never heroin, because everybody knows that’s a ‘one shot and you’re addicted’ drug. I don’t fuck with that shit. It’s a common drug in the music industry, and I’ve seen too many people get destroyed by that shit. There’s a drummer in another popular band that used it for years, and Jesus, he’s off it now and his brain is still gone. Too much fucking damage was done. Jett isn’t that far yet, but eventually he will be, if he lives that long.

“Alright, thanks for your help today. Chances are, we’d both be dead if it weren’t for you.”

McKinley echoes my sentiment. “Thank you, Jett. I know you did it for Jagger, but thank you.”

He nods at her, “Anytime,” and turns and leaves.

She sits up on the bed beside me. “Is he going to be okay?”

“No. Probably not, but there’s nothing we can do about it. We have been trying to get him clean for years. Nobody can make him do it. He has to want it for himself, and he doesn’t.”

“He was really worried about you. I can’t believe he didn’t stay.”

I take her hand in mine and try my best to explain it.

“Jett doesn’t control the drugs, baby. They control him.”

“Maybe we can find him a rehab,” she says so sweetly.

I chuckle and then wince from the pain. “It’s exactly what he needs, but we have found plenty of rehabs for him through the years. He won’t go. And even if he was court mandated, it wouldn’t hold. An addict has to want to not use. Until that happens, they generally simply relapse once they get out. And unfortunately for him, money isn’t an issue, so he has no reason to quit.”

I love that she is concerned for my best friend, but the truth is, we’ve been through it so many times that we don’t address it much anymore. It’s not that we don’t care because we do, but hounding him changes nothing. In fact, it tends to make him use more, out of rebellion.

McKinley shows me my phone when it buzzes at the front door, showing Dr. Walton’s face, and I buzz him in.

He knocks lightly on the door frame and enters, since the door is open.

“Jagger. Rough day?”

“You could say that.”

He takes my blood pressure, listens to my heart, and then shines a light in my eyes.

“This is going to hurt. Take a deep breath for me.”

I do, as he presses on various spots on my chest, before telling me to turn over.

He does the same with my back, before helping me turn back again.

“I think you have a few broken ribs, but I’d need to do x-rays to be a hundred percent certain. And maybe a CT to rule anything else out.”

“How sure are you that I have broken ribs?”

He tilts his head back and forth as he thinks about his answer.

“Ninety percent, to be safe. I’m sure you have three, but the other two I’m not sure about.”

McKinley asks him, “He needs an x-ray then because they have to be wrapped, right?”

He shakes his head before he explains it to her.

“We don’t do that anymore, because it can restrict breathing, which leads to pneumonia, or can even cause a partial lung collapse. They will heal on their own in about six weeks.”

McKinley looks at me. “You should have the tests.”

Dr. Walton chuckles because he knows me all too well.

“He should, but he rarely follows medical advice.”

Dr. Walton places everything back in his black medical bag.

“You look fine otherwise. You were lucky, Jagger. I expect you to make a full recovery with no issues, as long as you take it easy. Keep physical exertion to a minimum, for at least a week. I know you won’t listen to me for longer than that.”

The doctor goes to walk out of the room but stops.

“I’d offer you pain pills, but I assume you’ll still refuse them?”

I smirk at him. “Correct. If I need something, I’ll take an over-the-counter medication.”

Of course, when he leaves, McKinley is not happy with me.

“Why won’t you get the tests?” she asks, with a scowl on her pretty face.

“I don’t want to. I’m fine, baby. Nothing to worry about. The x-ray, saying yes, I have broken ribs or not, won’t change anything. Stop worrying.”

Her scowl only deepens. “Why won’t you take pain pills? That’s ridiculous.”

I tell her simply, “I refuse to take them, because that’s how a lot of heroin addictions start. It’s not worth the risk to me.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You have not been drug free, Jagger. You snorted coke off a woman’s body.”

I laugh. “Cancel your google updates on me, or whatever the fuck you have. I wish you’d forget about that. And yes, I have done drugs. Not heroin. Not ever. I’ve seen what it does. As far as I’m concerned, cocaine is a party drug. Lots of drugs can be. Just a good time. Heroin is not a good fucking time. It’s a life ender. I will not change my mind. Now come back here and give me comfort.”

She lays down beside me and stares into my eyes.

“I wish I could touch you. There have been many scary days in my life, but nothing like that.”

“You can touch me.”

Reaching her hand up like she’s going to touch, she quickly puts her hand back down. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Trying to erase that sad look from her face, I say, “Touch my dick, baby. I promise it isn’t broken.”

“Jagger!” she scolds me, as her face turns red.

“What?” I ask, “I need you to ride me. You know, for the healing effects your magical pussy has.”

She shakes her head at me. “Wild, we are not having sex until you are fully healed.”