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We eventually wound up on the back

We eventually wound up on the back patio, with Ryan grilling up burgers for all of us.

Derek stood around drinking a bottle of sparkling water. He seemed calm, collected, almost zen. He cracked jokes, smiled, told stories about rehab – like how he had tried to escape five times in the first three days.

“I didn’t adjust so well at first,” he grinned.

However, Miles had posted rotating shifts of roadies surrounding the walls of the property. Every time Derek got out, a big, burly dude had chased him down, tackled him to the ground, sat on him, and then called his fellow guards to help carry Derek back inside, kicking and screaming.

“The first time it was Otto – remember Otto, with the beard?” Derek asked Ryan. “He sat on me and I was screaming, and the whole time he was shouting, ‘I’m sorry, man! I’m sorry! Miles is making me, dude! Don’t hate me, bro!’”

He went on to talk about long hours of therapy, and even longer hours of solitary soul-searching. About how he realized that he was al
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