I smile, “You are a dirty bitch.”
“Thank you,” she says.
The charges were dropped against all of us, thank you baby Jesus. I can’t wait to get home and shower the germs off. I’ve never felt so gross in my entire life.
“Where are the boys?”
“Home,” she answers.
“They got out before me?”
“Just by a couple of hours.”
***
Henley
Two weeks later, I find myself angrier than ever. I am pissed at no one in particular, I’m just mad. I crave an escape from reality, and I’m just not sure how to find it. Kip suggests we party in Vegas. I know he’s trying to pull me out of my funk, and I don’t have shit else to do, so Kip and I board a plane to Vegas.
We check in at The Sky Lofts at MGM and hit the casino. I’m not huge gambler, but it passes the time and seems to take my mind off Red. I mindlessly throw chips down at a black jack table and drink my beer. I have to write a speech for Caleb’s induction ceremony next week. I both dread and look forward to seeing my best friend immortalized in the rock-n-roll hall of fame. I miss him so much. I think back to the last dream I had of him, and he told me the guitarist was right in front of me. It was always Memphis. I don’t know what I believe in some days, but I can’t chalk that up to coincidence. I had no idea I had another brother out in the world, but Caleb did. Other than Caleb, my own flesh and blood is the only way I can get that connection on stage.
I leave the black jack table in search of the ladies room. I am pleasantly surprised to find an old friend.
“Holy shit, bitch!” Noel says.
I smile and wrap my arms around her. Noel is a fellow rocker. Her dad was a big deal in the seventies and eighties and is a phenomenal musician.
“I haven’t seen your crazy ass in years,” I say.
“You look good, Hen” she says stepping back to take a look at me.
“You always look gorgeous.”
“How are you doing, girl?” she asks.
I shrug.
“That bad?”
“It could be better,” I answer.
“Well let’s go catch up.”
I find Kip surrounded by women at a craps table. He’s on a roll tonight, so I tell him we’re going to a nearby club where he can meet us later. He winks, pulls a blonde into him, and kisses her enthusiastically.
“Daddy needs good luck,” he smiles.
I wink back, and Noel and I take off for a nearby club.
We find a table, and order drinks. She wants to know everything, so I tell her about Jagger, the miscarriage, Memphis, Red, the fights, and going to jail twice. She can’t stop laughing at the fights, and Kip’s antics outside the precinct the first time I was arrested for assault. I describe the second fight, and beer comes out of her nose from her giggling.
“I’m just angry. I can’t find my way out of it,” I confess.
“Come on, let’s go to the ladies room, I have something for you,” she says.
Noel is trouble, I’ve always known this, but right now I need all the friends I can get. She locks us into the handicap stall, and breaks out a small bag of powder.
“Coke?” I ask.
“Yeah, you’ve never done it?”
“No.”
“You’ve spent all these years in rock and never done coke?”
“Never felt the need.”
“Coke makes it all go away, Hen. If you want to party all night, it’s a great high. Just make sure you pop a Xanax or smoke some pot when the high’s over so you don’t crash like hell. That shit is no fun.”
She hands me a fancy straw looking device, and I follow her instructions snorting two lines from the small tray in her hand. It didn’t take long as the burn made its way up my nose to the back of my throat. I smile and Noel, and she nods her head before she snorts some Coke of her own. It doesn’t make the anger disappear, coke just numbs the hell out of it for a while. We danced the night away, shooting whiskey, downing beers, and snorting more lines of coke. I feel like Superman, a very happy Superman.
Men are all over us, and we dance like our lives depend on it. We sit for a while, and Kip joins us about three hours after we arrive at the club. He and Noel dance, so I sit at a table, enjoying my cigarette, and people watching. I feel magnificent and find myself smiling for no reason at all.
Someone joins me at the table, but I don’t care. I don’t even look their way, I just enjoy breathing. I see Kip and Noel smiling as they walk towards our table and know those two are probably going to do the nasty tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time by any means. Kip winks at me when we make eye contact, and then looks to the stranger on my right, and his face drops. Shit.
“Well hello Claudia, how’s your cunt? All recovered after childbirth?” Kip asks.
Claudia? Shit. She’s been sitting here this entire time, and I was too damn high to care. I laugh out loud. Noel sits down beside me and pulls my hand across my lap. She places a ring on my ring finger, and I look at her like she’s lost her damn mind.
“Hi Claudia, I’m Noel. Are you here to congratulate Hen on her engagement?”
I told you she is trouble, and a shit starter, too.
“Engagement?” Claudia bites out.
“Jagger proposed to her three weeks ago. I can’t wait for their wedding; it will be bigger than Will and Kate’s. I mean rock-n-roll royalty is marrying! Can you believe it?” she gushes at Claudia like she’s talking to her best friend.
“He proposed to you?” she asks me.
Kip jumps in, “It was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen. He sent her on a goose chase through his vinyl record collection until she found the last clue, and the last record was the song Jagger wrote asking her to marry him. He used music to propose to her!” He sounds like a teenage girl.
My two friends are having entirely too much fun at Claudia’s expense.
“Where’s your baby?” I ask.
“I don’t have a baby,” she smiles.
“Now, Claudia, I’ve known you to be a bit delusional, but I assure you my dear, you were indeed pregnant. As I remember it, you were trying to pawn the child off as Jagger’s so you could get paid. That didn’t work out too well, huh?” Kip laughs.
“Fuck you, Kip,” Claudia says and rolls her eyes.
“You gave birth to a child,” I state.
“Yeah, well motherhood wasn’t for me. I gave the little bastard to his father. I have shit to do. If I’m not getting paid for the kid, I don’t want it,” she says.
“You were going to keep the child if it was Jagger’s?” I ask appalled at her behavior.
“Fuck yes, I was. I want to be a kept woman. If I have to get pregnant by a man and raise his demon seed to get there, then that’s what I’ll do. It really is great to be a woman,” she smiles.
“Oh shit,” Kip says.
Oh shit is about right. I reach across the table and grab the bitch by her throat. I see red again, and I know, I know, it’s becoming a theme in my life. She needs a good ass whooping though, and I’m more than happy to oblige. I throw her back in the seat, and she and the chair fall over backwards to the floor. I waste no time jumping on her. I punch her in her face, and she pulls my hair. She did not just pull my fucking hair. I pull my knee up and push it into her gut, and she releases my hair, but leans to the right and bites the hand I have on her shoulder. She did not just fucking bite me. I grab her by her hair and throw the back of her head into the concrete floor, then jump up and kick her in the ribs over and over again. As fucked up as it sounds, somebody needs to prevent her from having another child and doing what she attempted to do to Jagger. She fucked up our relationship over a child that wasn’t even his.
Someone pulls me off of her and throws me to the floor face down. My hands are pulled behind my back and cuffed. Great, I am going to jail, again. I’m lifted up, and marched towards the door, where the crowd cheer
s for me. I wonder if they know whose ass I just beat. They should cheer. She humiliated me in front of the entire world, ended my relationship with Jagger, and she doesn’t even want her own child, while my child died. Fuck her!
I’m placed in the back of a cop car, and Kip yells, “I’m calling Sam and Meghan.”
Those two have been earning their keep as of late, and I laugh at the notion. I’m still high as hell, and I don’t care that I’m going to jail again.
***
Henley
I’m bailed out by Meghan two days later, but I’ve kept myself busy in jail watching the media frenzy over my fight with Claudia. They’ve recounted the entire story from the beginning of her pregnancy to my fist in her face. Based on the polls I’ve seen on the television, 98% of America is behind my decision to beat the shit out of her, and that makes me smile. Meghan and Samantha were in the 2%.
Coming down from coke in jail sucked royal balls, and I’ve decided I shouldn’t get arrested next time I do that shit. Kip is waiting for me at a private plane when Meghan and I pull up at the airstrip.
“There’s my Holyfield! Meghan you should’ve seen the shit, she beat dat ass!” Kip laughs while throwing punches in the air.
“It’s not funny, Kip. She can’t keep fighting like this! You need anger management, Henley!” she says really pissed off.
Meghan’s never been pissed at me before, but I guess if I had her job I would be pissed off too. Bailing my ass out of trouble cannot be fun.
I crash on the short plane ride home, and again in the limo. Kip puts me to bed when we get home, and we sleep the day away. I wake at dark, and text Noel. I need some Coke. I need that high. Meghan’s pissed at me, I might go back to jail after my hearing, so I need an escape. Noel brings me an eight ball over, and apparently that’s a great deal of coke. I hand her a significant amount of cash and realize how people go broke buying this shit.
I drive to the studio at midnight and find Rhys, Griffin, Memphis, and Kai still there. They’re eating Chinese takeout, and jump to give me hugs when I walk through the door. More Holyfield comments are thrown out, and they’re genuinely amused by the fight with Claudia. I laugh it off and make my way to the studio. I pick up a guitar and play like I did with Uncle Buddy in Chicago. I jam. If you aren’t a guitar player, the concept of jamming means you just pick up your guitar and play. There’s no song, chords, or notes to memorize, you just play and feel that shit all the way down to your core. I play for Red because I miss him. I pour my soul out, and all the anger and sorrow inside of me filters out through the amp.
“Hen?” Rhys pulls me out of my trance.
“Yeah?” I ask as I sit the guitar down.
“You’ve been playing for three hours, your finger is bleeding,” he says as he sits down beside me with a first aid kit.
“I’ve played too long,” I admit.
Rhys doctors my finger and places a bandage on it.
“Want to get breakfast? We can find a twenty-four hour diner.”
“I’m not really hungry,” I say.
He looks my face over, “You okay, girl?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
He doesn’t believe me and with one last look, he leaves me be. I take the opportunity to break out a few more lines and ride my wave. Luckily, Noel left a bag of reefer at the house so I can smoke and go to sleep when it’s time. I find Kai still in front of the soundboard when I emerge, and he looks tired.
“Come on, let’s go home,” I say.
He rubs his face, his eyes bright red from exhaustion.
“Yeah.”
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, I was just staying in case you wanted to record something. You looked like you had something going in there.”
“Just jamming,” I smile. “You should’ve gone home. You need a ride?”
“Would you mind? I might fall asleep at the wheel.”
“Not a problem.”
I give Kai a ride home to his gorgeous home in Malibu and then take my time driving back to the Pacific Palisades. I stop at a gas station in between to fuel up and lean against the car enjoying the numb while the pump does its thing.
“It’s four in the morning, girl. What ya doing out here?” Jagger asks.
I turn to see his BMW parked at the pump behind mine.
“Left the studio late,” I answer.
“You okay, Hen?”
“Yeah,” I nod looking down at my feet.
“What’s going on in your head, babe?”
When he calls me babe it breaks through the numb of the coke, and I want him to take me against the Range Rover right here, right now.
“Just worried about Red. I feel a little lost. I think about Chicago a lot these days.”
“I Can’t Quit You Baby,” he smiles knowingly. ;
“Yeah.”
“You get anything done at the studio?”
“No. I just jammed for three hours. Made one of my fingers bleed,” I say as I hold up the bandaged finger to him.
He pulls it to his mouth, and kisses it, and desire swells in my chest and travels the path to my pussy. He drops my hand, his eyes never leaving mine, but the click of the pump interrupts whatever passed between us. I pull the handle out, and screw the cap back on.
“You should record it,” he says softly.
“I Can’t Quit You Baby?”
“The one and only. Do it for Red. It probably isn’t going to fit with the rest of your songs, but fuck it, you’re Henley Hendrix, and you can get away with putting a blues cover on the album. Fans will love it.”
“Maybe I should,” I contemplate.
“Can you get into the studio?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll meet you over there,” he says as he kisses me on the temple and walks back to his car.
I guess I’m going back to the studio with Jagger.
Chapter 23
Henley
“Let’s just work with the guitar part now. How do you want to arrange it?” Jagger asks at five o’clock in the morning.
“Have you ever heard the live version Little Milton did with Gov’t Mule?” I ask.
“I don’t think I have. You got it?”
I pull up the live version of the song on my iPod, so he can hear what sound I want to go with. I love the electric blues style Warren Haynes and Little Milton combines with each other. The live version is part jam session, and Little Milton arranges the vocals slower than recorded versions. I love all versions of the song, but this one especially speaks to me, and the fans would enjoy the mixture of rock and blues.
We sit on the leather ottoman in the studio and listen to the almost seven minute song. I close my eyes and let it take over. Jagger interlaces his fingers with mine as I listen to the guitars blare through the speakers. I keep my eyes closed and sway with the music. I feel his hand on my cheek, and his lips softly touch mine. His hand trembles, and I’m not sure if it’s from need or nerves. I never open my eyes, but give in to his touch. Our tongues meet amid the music pouring through the room. Within moments, he’s picked me up, legs around his waist, and walked us into the room that houses the soundboards.
He places me on top of the soundboards, and once our bodies are no longer connected, I run my hands under his shirt. I love the way his muscles dip and protrude against my fingertips. My favorite part of his body is the area that runs from his hipbone to his pelvis. He’s so damn toned, and that area is incredibly defined. I hear the song end, and another number from my blues play list begins. Otis Rush plays “You’re Breaking My Heart.”
I open my eyes and look at Jagger who is watching me like a hawk. I lift his shirt over his head, and kiss his stomach and chest, which causes a moan to escape from his mouth. The moan was all I need to speed this up. I stand from the soundboard and push him towards the couch. He fumbles with his belt, so I take it from him, drop his pants, and then push him down to the couch. I turn
around and dance to the guitar, pushing my shirt up. I pull it over my head, and lower myself down to his lap, still facing away from him, moving my hips to Rush’s guitar strings. Jagger runs his hands up my ribs and goose bumps break out over my skin. I lean my head back, and his kisses my shoulder sensually. I pull his left hand into my mouth and suck hard. I can feel him moan below me, so I stand and continue to dance as I pull my jeans off and kick them to the side.
I face him and dance, keeping my eyes on him, watching his self-control unravel and hang on by a thread. He attempts to grab my hips in an effort pull me to him, but I step out of his reach, and shake my finger “no” with a mischievous smile. I place a foot on either side of him and stand on the couch where I continue to rock my hips. Otis ends, and Gov’t Mule’s “Back to Georgia” roars through the air. I remove my bra and speed up my hips to the faster beat of the song. Jagger looks up as I throw my arms straight up and enjoy everything the music evokes form my body. Turning and stepping off the couch, I face away from him, and slowly push my panties down my legs, as my hips groove. I step out of the panties; kick them across the room and spin around to see Jagger breaking apart.
He pulls my hips down to straddle him and sucks on my nipples. The Allman Brothers start singing “Come on in my Kitchen.” Jag wraps his arms around my lower back and eases me onto him. Touching the sides of my face, he pulls my forehead to his, and we breathe each other’s air while we rock against each other. It feels so damn good, and as the music pace picks up, so do we. Our bodies sync together like they always do, hips pulling apart and slamming together in an attempt to put out the fire that burns so brightly between us tonight.
There’s a pause between ABB and the next song, so he stands us up, and takes us to the soundboard, where he leans over and kisses the spot where my neck and shoulder meet. Cat Power croons “Dark End of the Street,” and Jag slows his pace when he begins to move his hips again. His thumb pulls my bottom lip down, and pulls my top lip into his mouth, sucking so sweetly. His tongue touches mine ever so slightly. I love the way he towers over me, and can still be so gentle. His tongue moves in and out of my mouth delicately; while his hand rests on my cheek, thumb on my chin. Our eyes never leave each other.
Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4 Page 49
