Country star Mack Linger, more accustomed to the spotlight of the Grand Ole Opry than the shade of a rehab center, nursed his ego and shoulder — both bruised when a security guard thwarted his escape attempt from a Palm Springs rehab clinic the previous night.

Clinic director Nathaniel Beaumont confiscated Mack’s cellphone and revoked his online, TV, and radio privileges.

Mack was already plotting his next departure when a nurse escorted him to one of the patient conference rooms. She nodded toward a landline phone, then closed the door behind her.

He picked up the handset, pressed a blinking button, and recoiled as the voice of Christopher “Topher” Coobee, his label’s PR man who navigated the murky waters of public relations with the finesse of a shark, blared across the miles.

“Mack, get ready,” Topher said. “Caitlyn Mahoon is doing a piece on you.”

“Tell her to find another loser. I’m not some sob story for her to exploit.”

“It’s all about the drama, Mack,” Topher said. “You know how this works. Your recovery, or lack thereof, is just fodder for the masses.”

“And what about my actual recovery?” Mack shot back, his words edged with cynicism.

“Recovery, relapse, it’s all the same headline. You’re here to make a scene, not a change.”

With a resigned scoff, Mack agreed. “Fine. Is this that old bag who looks like a cross between Barbara Stanwyck and an albino prune?”

“Whoa, there. Just keep it smooth, buddy. Lather on that old Oklahoma charm,” his flack said.

“I’ll be the perfect gentleman,” Mack said.

Text and photo copyright © 2023 L.T. Hanlon. All content in this post is fiction.