“Henley?” Samantha leans down and eyes me like a psych patient.
Jessica stands nearby with pity on her face. I hate that look. Poor Henley.
“I can’t talk about it,” which is what I have been saying for an hour now. They aren’t listening.
“Okay. We won’t talk about it, but we have to get you out of here. I have an SUV waiting for you in the back. I’ve hired security for you. You need a bodyguard again,” Samantha says as she handles me with kid gloves.
“Okay.”
She looks like she wants me to say more, but I have nothing else to give right now.
Sam introduces me to a large man, attractive in that body builder kind of way. Meatheads aren’t my thing, and this guy isn’t a meathead, he is just a gigantic wall of white muscle in a black suit. I always wonder why bodyguards wear black suits. I wish mine would wear blue jeans and a band shirt. If I had to beat someone’s ass I would want to do it in jeans and a t-shirt, not a black suit in California weather. This man’s name is Cory. Cory says he will protect me and take care of me. I just nod.
Jessica then introduces Maurice. He is not as large as Cory, but I wouldn’t be caught in a dark alley with him alone. He has long, beautiful dread locks. I want to run my hand through his hair. I bet it would be soothing. He wants to know if I want him to carry me. I nod “no”. I am not being photographed while this mountain of a man with pretty hair carries me out like a child.
I stand, and everyone looks around waiting for me to speak. I don’t want to speak, so I exit the office and turn towards the back of the store. Cory and Maurice flank my sides. I wonder if they have guns. Kevin Costner did in the movie with Whitney Houston. He was a bad ass. I should hire him too.
When I reach the back of the store, Cory opens the door and Maurice and I walk through. Samantha and Jessica follow. I climb into a large Black Escalade, and the bodyguards enter the front. I sit between my two friends who each grab one of my hands. I stare straight ahead, and wonder if he knows how much this hurts, but it doesn’t matter if he does because I will never understand why.
The men don’t take me home, instead they drive to a hotel, and Maurice exits the car while we all sit in silence. Why am I here? When Maurice returns, he advises he has checked me into a room for the night, and I nod understanding. Cory drives the SUV into the pull through in front of the hotel and quickly ushers me in. An eager hotel manager, who is a little too excited that I am using his facility, greets me. He is going on and on about me enjoying my stay. He is here to ensure I receive everything I need. I nod. I wish he would shut up.
I stop in front of the elevator and wait for a car to arrive. I close my eyes and remember Jagger’s smile this morning in bed. He kissed every inch of my body and made sweet love to me. He told me he loved me over and over again, and then he made me breakfast in bed. We lounged in the hammock, listened to the ocean, and held each other until after lunch. He begged me to stay home with him instead of leaving to shop with Jessica. I was so worried about finding him the perfect gift, I didn’t think about this morning being the last moments I could’ve spent with the man who holds my heart. If I had stayed, maybe I could’ve prevented this.
The elevator stops on whatever floor my room is on, and I follow the big bodyguards to a door. Cory slides the key in and opens the door for me. I enter and immediately locate the mini bar. I need cigarettes and something strong to drink. I prefer whiskey, but I am not picky today. I hear Samantha instruct the men that no one is to enter my room. All room service must be left outside for Cory or Maurice to bring in. Good thinking Samantha. I open the balcony door and step outside to smoke. Jessica and Samantha follow.
“Henley, I don’t think you should be on the balcony right now. It would be difficult for photographers to see you, but we need not take any chances,” Jessica speaks softly.
“Will you call my mom and tell her I’m okay?”
“Yeah, I will call her right now. Henley, can you come inside please?” Samantha pleads.
“No. I will change my hair so no one knows it is me. Incognito and shit,” I advise.
“Okay,” Samantha humors me.
I am serious. I am overdue for a change. Change is good, right?
“Can you come inside until I can find someone to do your hair?” Jessica asks.
“No, I am not coming inside, so stop fucking asking me! Just find someone to do my goddamn hair!” I scream.
I return to my whiskey and cigarettes. People should just listen. No one ever listens to me until I scream. Jessica and Samantha finally leave me to my own devices.
Samantha returns a few moments later, “I called your mom. She is worried sick, but I told her where you are, and that you are doing as well as can be.”
“I am not okay.”
“I know,” she sighs.
“Keep telling people I am fine though, yeah?”
“Okay.”
“Did you find someone to do my hair?”
“Jessica is working on that now.”
I drink more whiskey, “I need things from my house.”
“I will send Jessica to retrieve them. Can you make me a list?”
“Yes, Samantha, I can make you a list. I still have two arms.”
“Okay,” she clips out and leaves the balcony again.
It is probably for the best. I am being a first class bitch, and I am in no mood to be told what to do right now. I am definitely not in the mood for the Poor Henley looks those two keep giving me. Jessica announces her departure and Samantha demands she take one of my goons with her. I like that. I think I will refer to them as my goons from now on. Samantha sits at the table with me and takes a swig of whiskey. Then she lights up a menthol with me. She is having a really bad fucking day. Not as bad as mine, but it is still a downer.
“I didn’t know.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” she resigns.
An exotic brunette shows up half an hour later to do my hair. She looks Hawaiian. I do not understand why she is doing hair because she should be a model. She is star struck when she sees me, but I don’t give a shit. I run out of whiskey, so I walk over to the mini-bar and find vodka bottles. Why do they make these things so damn small?
“Will you ask Jessica to pick up several bottles of Crown?”
“Yes,” Samantha answers as she works from her iPad.
I consult with the hairdresser, and decide I want to color my hair dark underneath, and add some dark lowlights to the top of my light blonde hair. My hair is all one length that lacks seven inches from touching the bottom of my back. She is cutting long bangs and layers into my hair so it will add volume and slightly flip out in all the right places and show off the dark hair underneath. Naomi, the hairdresser, foils color into my hair. She tries to talk to me once, but Samantha gives a shake of her head to discourage her. I pretend not to see because it will invoke more fucking conversation about that which I do not wish to discuss.
I really love my hair when she finishes. Change is good. I thank her with a smile and a big tip because I am not a total bitch. Jessica returns with bags loaded with items from my home. Maurice pushes in a cart of food. I opt for the bottles of whiskey Jessica so sweetly bought me instead. A silent exchange occurs between Jessica and Samantha, but I don’t care. Cory carries my bags into one of the rooms. I am in a suite, so I guess Jessica and Samantha are staying. I don’t care about that either.
I walk into the room and sit on the edge of the bed. I love expensive hotels; they always have the softest beds. Samantha rolls the food cart in front of me.
“Do you think you could eat a little? You’ve had a lot to drink,” she worries, ever the maternal friend.
Yup, I sure have. I answer her by taking another swig from my bottle.
“Please eat,” Jessica begs.
I don’t speak to her either. These two aren’t getting it. I close my eyes again and remember Jagger this m
orning. We talked about getting a puppy, but I joked I wanted a pot-bellied pig instead. We make up many names for the hypothetical pig. Bacon, Pork Chop, Sir Oinks-a-lot, Albert Einswine, Elvis Pigsley, Porky, The Delicious P.I.G., and Kevin Bacon were possibilities. Albert Einswine was our favorite though. I smile at the thought of our ridiculous conversations. He always keeps me laughing. We even talk about what it would be like to take Albert Einswine on tour. He would definitely be the life of the party. The recent memories bring a smile to my face. I wish I could stay lost in my memories of Jagger… and even Caleb. Reality is so much less appealing.
“Henley, I know you don’t want to talk about it. You take your time, but you still have to take care of you,” Samantha says. “Please at least eat the bread.”
I grab the edge of the tray on top of the cart and sling it across the room, and then take the cart and flip it over, kicking it again and again.
“I don’t want to fucking eat! I want Jagger! I need him! I don’t understand! Why? Why did this happen?”
I hit my knees and scream through my tears. My heart wrenches inside of my chest. I want a fucking pig, so we can name it Albert Einswine. I want my sunshine back. This hurts so much. I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t do this. I just can’t find the strength inside of me to live through this. I cry and cry for hours. I haven’t cried like this since Caleb died. Jessica and Sam hold me while I continue to come to terms with this. I just don’t understand, and I say as much repeatedly. They hush my cries and rock me while their own tears cascade down their faces. I cry myself to sleep in their arms.
“Will you take a picture with me?” Jagger asks.
“A picture?”
“I want something to remember this moment by,” he answers.
“What are we remembering?” I ask.
“I need this picture so I can tell people I knew you before you became a bona fide rock star!” he chuckles.
“Whatever, it’s not like we won’t always be friends, Jagger.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course! Now, come here so we can take that picture. If I ever get too big for my britches, you show me this picture, and I’ll know I need to reevaluate my ego,” I answer.
Jagger hands me the camera, and maneuvers me in front of him by placing his hands on my hips. I’ve never had sex before, but I’m pretty sure him touching my hips makes me want to. When he leans his chin down to my shoulder, I can smell him. Other boys don’t smell like him. I wonder what he tastes like when he kisses. The bit of facial hair he has these days scratches the side of my neck and ignites the butterflies in my stomach. I try to focus on holding the camera at just the right angle slightly above us before I take several snaps, hoping at least one turns out well.
“Let’s see them,” Jagger says with his chin still on my shoulder.
I pull the camera down and toggle through the playback menu until the pictures pop on the screen. We review the four pictures, and I quietly sigh. The picture will mean far more to me than it ever will to Jagger. He looks so incredibly gorgeous in the photo, and I feel so small compared to him. We are smiling, clearly both happy in the picture, but I wish I had the guts to tell him he makes me smile like that. I wish he knew just the thought of him makes me smile. I’ve been in love with him forever, but I’ll always just be Koi’s little sister.
“Now we can do better than that,” Jagger says.
“How’s that?” I giggle as his facial hair tickles the side of my neck.
“Give me the camera,” he demands.
“No,” I tease.
“Please?” he says.
“Still no.”
“Pretty please?” he begs as he tickles my ribs.
“Dammit, Jag! Stop it!” I laugh.
I pull away from him and run through the basement of my parent’s home. This is where we hang out. I jump the couch only to run smack into his chest. He grabs me, picks me up, throws me on the couch, and lands on me in record time. He continues his assault of tickles, and I shriek in laughter while begging him to stop.
“Jagger! Please stop it!”
“Are you going to give me the damn camera?”
“Yes! God, yes! Just stop it!” I giggle more.
I manage to lift my arm and hand holding the camera between giggles and tickles. He snatches it from me and sits on the end of the couch. He messes with a few buttons.
“Come here, you,” he says as he reaches for me.
I compose myself, and snuggle in close to him where he tucks me under his arm.
“Pretend you are a tiger,” he says and we both chuckle before we make our best tiger face with faux claws out.
He snaps several pictures before he says, “Blue Steel!”
We put on our best “Blue Steel” faces and chuckle more. We take more pictures, with eyes crossed, tongues out, and our best Dr. Evil faces. As our laughter dies out, he places his hand on head, and leans me towards him, where he places a kiss on my temple. The picture turns out to be one of my favorites of all time. As I look at him in shock, he closes his eyes, and holds me tight. If you didn’t know us, you would look at this picture and think we were boyfriend and girlfriend.
After we’ve looked at the last photo, he sighs and places the camera on a coffee table in front of us. He snuggles me back into his side, and those damn butterflies turn somersaults in my stomach. I hope he can’t hear how loud my heart is beating.
“I will miss you so much, Henley,” he whispers.
I wrap my arms tightly around his midsection, “I’ll miss you too, Jagger.”
“Never forget about me, okay?”
“I couldn’t ever forget you.”
“Your life will be so different. You won’t have a lot of time between the tours, photo shoots, recording, and promotion. You’ll take the world by storm, but don’t forget me. I couldn’t deal with that. I’m so scared you’ll become like the rest of those idiots who make it big.”
“I know where I came from, Jag. I won’t forget you. You’ll have to come out with me on tour this summer. I’ll be back for all the big events. I promise,” I say.
He kisses my temple again, and he soon falls into a quiet sleep, with his breaths deep and his chest rising and falling slowly. I listen to him sleep and enjoy touching the only boy I’ve ever wanted. I’m only fifteen, but I’ve known Jagger since the sixth grade. He’s the cutest boy I’ve ever seen.
“Don’t leave, Hen,” he whispers in his sleep.
I don’t know why he seems to have such a hard time with me leaving. He has the band with my brother, he’s popular at school, and he always has a different girl following him around like a lost puppy dog. He is an amazing guitar player and gets good grades. He’ll forget about me after I leave. Maybe I should’ve asked him to promise to not forget me.
“I miss you,” he murmurs.
I wake to shouts. I wish this were one of those times where Kip was waking me up on Jagger’s tour bus with porn. I took Kip’s porn for granted. I won’t ever take his porn for granted again.
“She’s my goddamn sister! I’m not going to hurt her! Neither one of you will keep me away from her! She fucking needs me!” Koi shouts.
“How did you find us?” Samantha asks.
“My mom told me after I fucking lost my shit on her. I have never spoken to my mother that way! I needed to know where she was. I need to see her.”
“She isn’t talking about it,” Jessica tells him.
“She doesn’t have to talk about it until she is good and damn ready to,” he snaps.
My bedroom door opens, but I don’t move. In my chaotic brain, I realize if Koi is here, then it must be true. Whatever sliver of hope I am holding onto that this is all a dream, will evaporate if I see my brother. Perhaps, I am still in some dreamlike state, and I am not really in a hotel, and Koi is not really here. I want to believe I will wake up to Jagger, in my bed. I find a spot on the wall where the wallpaper in the room wasn’
t cut properly, and I concentrate on that. The pattern doesn’t continue smoothly, and it’s driving me crazy. I want to fix it.
I feel the bed dip.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say.
“You don’t have to,” my brother whispers.
“Thank you.”
He wraps his arms around me, and his touch is so comforting, yet so dispiriting. I turn towards him and hold on with everything I have left. My sweet brother is here, but it reinforces I’m about to live through hell… again.
Chapter 2
Henley
I stay in bed for three days, running it through my head again and again, and try to make sense of it all. Koi, Jessica, and Samantha attempt to pull me out of my desolation by constant conversation. They attempt to talk about anything and everything, except that. I don’t speak because I can’t find the words. The despair forces my words to whirl around in my head like a roller coaster. The roller coaster won’t stop and let me off, it continues at a high speed, and twists and turns pulling my heart to one side, and then the other.
I’m not sure how I will handle this just yet… or if I can, and then I realize… I will not deal with it. Uh, uh. Nope, I will not fall apart again. I will not be Poor Henley. I have had my three days to wallow in my sorrows and it is time to get the fuck out of bed.
I order room service, and because I love breakfast food, I order a bit of everything, and then shower while I wait on the food. When I emerge, I find Koi, Jessica, Samantha, and Kip watching TV. They all look like shit, which is exactly how I feel. This is hard on them too.
“Get up and get showered. Will you let my goons know that I’m going out tonight?” I inform.
My abrupt presence startles them, and they turn their heads towards me as though I am a ghost.
“Out?” Samantha asks, clearly she doesn’t think it is a good idea.
“Yes, out. Put on black. We are in mourning.”
Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4 Page 27
