Obviously I don't own Degrassi! But anyway... Plot: Craig and
Ellie are engaged and happy. And then the press gets wild with his
rehab stories. But what really happened back there? Craig won't tell
Ellie anything, and a fight ensues. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Future
"Okay, left. No, left, man!" Mickey just looked at me as the cab driver turned left and he slammed into my side. I glared at the cab driver's shoulder, wanting to scream at him to watch the fucking road. Mickey slid back onto the end of the seat, apologizing with his eyes. I shrugged and leaned back, looking out the window. The cab driver slammed on his brakes and I lurched forward. My sunglasses flew off my face, stabbing the dashboard. I quickly reached over, handed the guy his money and grabbed my glasses.
"There's extra in there for the crack on the dashboard. Have a nice day." I stepped out of the cab, Mickey following me. I stuffed one hand into my back pocket and tried to hide my face. Mickey walked along beside me, trying to keep up with my hurried pace.
"I fucking hate walking around in New York. Fucking ridiculous." I started jogging over to the building doors. He started walking over to keep up with me, almost out of breath.
"Um…. Sir… Am I calling you sir?" Mickey nervously asked me. I shrugged, "Whatever.", and he continued, "Why are we in such a rush? I mean, the meeting's not for another twenty minutes." I nodded.
"Where's room 52?" I asked the secretary as we walked into the building. She cleared her throat, "That room is off-limits. A very import…" I handed her my ID and moved my sunglasses down. She nodded and led me to the room, Mickey following us obediently.
I slammed open the door, reluctantly stepping into the room, Mickey in front of me. I slammed it closed again and threw my sunglasses off of my face; they landed on the table in front of me. I leaned forward, putting my elbows on the desk, rubbing my temples with my fingertips.
"Mr. Manning?" I looked up sharply.
"Oh… I'm here, aren't I?" I laughed and stood up, taking off my cap, "Sorry. New York is rough on my head." The woman smiled at my pathetic joke and I laughed again, out of habit.
"Are we going to start this thing?" I asked, sitting down in the chair closest to me. I noticed Mickey was sitting next to the woman across from me. I sighed, fiddling with my cap. The woman nodded and pulled out a file.
"How's your girlfriend?" she asked, the question that made me smile.
"Fiancée." I corrected her and she nodded, almost half-apology. I smiled and she continued, "How is your fiancée?" I grinned.
"She's good. But that's not what we're here for is it?" She nodded at my request to get the real stuff started.
"You'll be flying to Los Angeles, correct?" I nodded.
"And you are going to talk to the record company about re-signing your contract?" Another nod.
"What about the past?" I looked at her strangely for the last question. Slowly, I cocked my head at the thought. Then I decided to mess with her mind.
"What about it?" I raised an eyebrow, my eyes confused. She stuttered, not quite sure what to say.
"Uh… are-are you going to, um, discuss… previous issues in your life with the p-press in Los Angeles?" I grinned and she seemed to relax a bit.
"Which part?" I said, looking down at the frame of my sunglasses. I looked back up again, "The drugs… the sex… or the rock and roll?" She looked at me, silent for a few minutes. I sat up in my chair.
"No… no past talk with the press." She sighed in relief and continued her questions, "And the benefit for breast cancer is the 15th, correct?" I nodded, "I bet you want to know why I'm playing there?" She smiled at my psychic abilities of the news-hounds.
"Breast cancer killed my mother." I stopped there. I hated doing this, but I'd have no sympathy in my career, no depth, just albums. She nodded and almost wrote that down. I stopped her hand from moving across the paper.
"Don't—do that… for me, please." She agreed solemnly as I pulled out my wallet. She looked confused as I pulled out a small medical packet. I ripped it open with my teeth, poured the three bright red pills into my hand, took a water bottle out from my backpack and swallowed the pills, one by one. I leaned back into the chair, and then looked up. Mickey's jaw was on the floor and the reporter just stared at me, her eyes wide open.
"No… I'm not on drugs." I answered their mental question. The woman shook her head.
"I didn't say you were. That was… um… surprising, though, Mr. Manning." Her hands shook and I smiled.
"It's Craig. Call me Craig." She nodded, another almost apology, "And… do you mind if I ask what the medication was for?" she smiled and I nodded.
"I'm bipolar. The rumors are true." I nodded and stood, "I'm gonna go feed my dog. And go drink a beer. And… yeah." That's how I left. Just stood up, walked away and called a cab. My second cab ride of the day, I need a car.
I stood there, waiting for the cab, I didn't know what to do, my cap was on backwards this time, a little of my face showing. A girl stopped and kind of looked at me. I nodded at her, trying to keep my profile low.
"Are you Craig Manning?" she asked incredulously. I took off my cap and sunglasses.
"Might as well show myself now." I smiled, "Yeah. I'm Craig." She burst into a grin and hugged me.
"Wow! Ohmigod! I love your music soooooo much! Paula, Kimberly, come here! It's Craig Manning!" she shouted, waving to two girls. I laughed and my head turned the other way, my neck cramping up. I bounced on my heels, ready to run, though after rehab, running was still a little problem. My leg muscles were messed up beyond belief. The three girls circled me, their voices high and loud. I knew they were happy, I loved their enthusiasm, but I was trapped.
One of the girls, Paula, I think, shoved a shoe in my face and I pulled out my emergency Sharpie, signing it. Then, I saw a textbook; a piece of paper, a notebook, a packet of guitar strings, one of my CDs, a songbook- they made songbooks now? - everything for me to sign. I'd done the worst possible thing—attracted a crowd. The white and purple cab honked at me, and I practically jumped over the people to get to the car.
"18th! Please, hurry!" I put my disguise back on, cursing myself, "Who am I, John freakin' Lennon?" The driver scattered along the city streets, then stopped at my apartment building. I ran out of the taxi, paying the guy through the window and running up to my apartment, my legs stinging. I opened the door with my key that swung around my neck and shut the door gently as I went inside. The red haired girl that stood in front of me, mad, startled me.
"Craig Jacob, where were you? Marco had a meltdown!" Ellie glared at me, "Did you get attacked or something?" Then she noticed the cut on my head I got trying to get to my cab.
"Why are you bleeding, babe?" she asked, taking some of it off with her thumb. I smiled and kissed her.
"Nice to see you too, Ellie." I walked past her into the kitchen, "I bombed the interview. I felt so weird down there." I took a washcloth, ran it under the water in the sink and put it up to my head. I took one look into the living room, my boxer lying on the couch, asleep on Marco's legs. I smiled.
"Sammy likes your gay friend." I took Ellie's hand and showed her the dog. Ellie laughed and pressed the washcloth deeper into my cut.
"Ouch." I laughed and leaned down to kiss her. She stopped me, her fingers on my lips.
"No… Sammy will cry." She laughed at me and I kissed her anyway. She started cracking up and Marco jolted awake.
"What just happened?" he yelled groggily. That got me laughing, and I dropped onto the ground, Sammy running over, licking my face.
"Sam, I'm not a freaking plate!" I laughed and wrestled the dog to the ground, "And now you're mine." Ellie laughed as I played with the dog, his tail wagging out of control. I got tired and lay back into the kitchen counter.
"God, this place sucks!" I laughed, meaning my apartment, "Two hit albums and I can't even get a good apartment!" Ellie laughed, "Nooo… I love it here! It's homey." She walked over to me and kissed me again, and the usual make-out started. I laughed when Marco started fake gagging behind Ellie, though Ellie couldn't stand it.
"Oh you're just jealous." Ellie laughed, "Jealous that he's straight!" Ellie grinned and I nuzzled her face.
"I think he wants you, Craig." Ellie said suggestively and I backed away from Marco jokingly. The phone rang and Craig picked it up, still laughing.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Craig?"
"This is Craig, who's this?"
"This is Laura, from the Serenity House Drug & Alcohol Treatment Centre, down in Calgary."
"Oh… hi, Laura. What's up?"
"We need you at the courthouse this Friday."
"For… for Michael.. the Michael case?" My voice was hushed now, I couldn't let Ellie hear.
"Yes. Michael will be there too. Are you okay, Craig?" I started coughing a little and I said yes, then hung up. It was all coming back to me now. Four years after rehab, and the scars still hurt. Why was he bringing it up now? The scars, the stealing, the injuries. Why now, when I was feeling better?
"My guitar." And the memories hurt my head still. I dragged my fingertips down the scar on my right arm. Ellie went over to me, but my eyes were still closed. She kissed me lightly.
"I know it hurts. I told them to call you." I nodded and leaned into her shoulders, hugging her pathetically, "He stole my guitar."
