“Let’s drive to San Diego and wait,” Derek says.
“Let me and Kip go. Please. You don’t want to see her like this,” I plead.
Derek mulls it over, “Okay. Please bring my baby girl home.”
“I will try.”
“I would like to go,” Memphis says as he walks into the room.
I nod in agreement. Memphis is her brother, but he doesn’t have the bond Derek and Koi have with her just yet. We may need him.
We load into Henley’s Range Rover, and the four of us set out on the two-hour drive to San Diego. We blare music all the way there, no one speaking, everyone tense, and exhausted. At two in the morning, we pull into a diner, order coffee and wait. I text Cory our location, and hope he has news soon.
Four hours later, Cory text to say he has a potential lead, but to hang tight and let him work it. My heart kicks into gear, and hope we are closer to finding her and getting her the help she needs. I need to put my hands on her, and just… love her.
Six hours later, we’re still sitting in a diner. Kip’s asleep in a booth, John is pacing the damn place, and Memphis is tapping out a beat on the table. Cory appears out of nowhere beside the table.
“I found them,” he says with a grim look on his face.
I stand, not believing after two months, we’ve finally found her.
“It’s not good,” Cory adds.
“What? What’s not good?” Kip asks.
“I attempted to send in a guy in street clothes to scope out the situation. He was able to get inside the door and said there are drugs every damn where. It smells like meth in the apartment they’re holed up in. They rented the place six weeks ago under a different name. It appears to be just the girls there right now, but neighbors say people have been in and out and the partying is out of control. A man threatened the neighbors early on if they called the cops, so they’ve been very helpful in getting the girls out,” Cory advises.
“Let’s go get them,” I say.
“I need you all to sit down and listen to me before we go,” Cory states.
We sit, and I feel sick waiting for the words to come out of his mouth.
“They don’t look good. You need to be as prepared as you can be to see this. My guy said it appears they’ve been doing ice for some time now. They’re skinny, dirty, and off their damn rockers. They haven’t slept much and are likely to become violent quickly. Meth addicts are the most unpredictable addicts you will ever encounter. They appear to be in the middle of a high, and nowhere near coming down. We handle them like glass unless they get violent, then we restrain them. It’s not easy to restrain someone on meth, and it sure as hell isn’t easy to fight someone you love, because they’re irrational as hell. Don’t give in to the tears because you aren’t helping them by doing so. It’s difficult to see someone you care about in this shape,” he says and hangs his head.
“You care about her,” I say.
“Yes, sir, I do. I’ve seen her go through a great deal while I’ve been her security. She’s a good person, and this doesn’t change my opinion of her. She’s got something so dark in her she’s trying to run from. She’s going to be okay, but she needs a support system. We’ll need to coordinate with Samantha and Meghan on the legal and media aspects of keeping this quiet. She’s got a reputation we need to protect.”
Maurice, Memphis, and Cory leave in his SUV, and the remaining three of us leave in the Range Rover. I feel bile rising in my throat and try to swallow it down. I want to vomit it all up and make it go away. I don’t know if I can handle seeing the strongest woman I’ve ever known this way. I keep telling myself it’s not her. I need to remind myself of that when I see her gorgeous face. This isn’t my Henley, so I have to fix her until she is herself again.
Cory pulls up to a gated apartment community, and we follow. The neighbors are standing outside their doors waiting for all hell to break loose I assume. Maurice ushers them into their apartments because the last thing we need is the media getting wind of this. Maurice stands watch in the breezeway between the apartments, keeping the nosy neighbors in their places. He’s asks us to step on either side of the door, so they can’t see us.
He knocks, and a moment later the door opens, “Hen, your goon is here!”
Goon?
“Come on,” Cory says and we all step forward, forcing Noel down a small hallway until it opens to a living room.
Henley emerges from what I assume is a bedroom in the back. Her face lights up with a smile, and she runs to me.
“Jagger!” she shrieks.
She throws her arms around my neck, and I pick her up where she throws her legs around my waist. I hold her tight, afraid to let go. Tears threaten to spill over, and relief that she’s alive spreads through me. She pulls her legs from me, and stands. She just as excitedly hugs Cory, Kip, and Memphis. She speaks to John. Noel doesn’t appear to be as happy to see us as Henley.
“Get her in the shower,” Cory says.
Hen is touching Memphis’ face like she’s never seen him before.
“Hey, babe, show me your new apartment,” I say to her.
“K,” she answers and grabs me by the hand. She leads me to a bedroom, which is ransacked. There are clothes everywhere, take out containers amongst them, and tinfoil lies on the bed with what appears to be meth on it.
“This is it,” she shrugs.
I grab her gently and pull her in to a hug, then lean back and push her dirty hair behind her ears.
“Why don’t we get you in the shower? I will wash your hair for you,” I offer.
“Why?” she asks eyes full of paranoia.
“Because your gorgeous hair is dirty,” I softly offer.
“K,” she says and walks into an en suite bathroom.
She turns the shower on and takes her clothes off. She’s lost entirely too much weight from her petite body. Her eyes are sunken in, and grey circles surround them. She looks sick, and it scares the hell out of me. She steps into the shower, so I send a quick text to Kip to come back and find her something clean to wear. I’m afraid to be too far away from her.
The shouting in the living room starts, and Noel is letting her father have it. She lets out a blood-curdling scream, and I hear commotion in the other room. They must be restraining her. Cory attempts to calm her, but she just screams.
Henley doesn’t seem to hear her over the shower, so I close the door to help block out the sound.
“You want me to wash your hair, Hen?”
“I got it,” she answers.
I engage her in conversation to drown out the noises coming from the next room. We talk about Cash mostly, who she misses so much. I know he will be happy to see her. Kip opens the door quietly and hands me some clothes that appear to be clean, but still reek of dope.
He sends a text not long after, “They got Noel out. John’s forcing her into rehab. They had to carry her ass out man. I don’t know if I can do that with, Hen. Cory and Maurice went with John to restrain her until they can get her to a facility. Memphis said he knew what to do, so he’s taking lead on this.”
“We have to do whatever we need to get our girl healthy. I know it won’t be easy to see, but we have to do this for her, man,” I text back to Kip.
Henley exits the shower and puts the clothes on I laid out for her. I talk her into letting me brush her long blonde hair. I missed touching her in the simple little ways like this. She seems to enjoy it. She brushes her teeth and then sets out to the living room.
“Where’s Noel?” she asks Memphis.
“Her dad took her somewhere to get help, Hen.”
“Help?”
“She needs to dry out,” he answers.
“Rehab,” she states.
She looks down at the collection of drugs someone has found around the apartment.
“You going through my shit now, brother?” she seethes at Memphis.
“You using all this?” he asks
her.
“Don’t fucking judge me! You don’t know a damn thing about all this!” she waves her hand over the dope.
“I’ve been sober six years. I know a lot about it. I know pain because I spent thirty years with two rock star siblings and a father I didn’t think wanted me. I didn’t understand why you and Koi were so much better than me. It fucking hurt! I know all about this shit, Hen. I know what it feels like to want to numb that shit that keeps you awake at night,” Memphis reveals and shocks the shit out of me.
“Good for you,” she spits out.
I step forward, “Baby, let’s get you home.”
“I am home!” she screams.
“You are leaving this place one of two ways. You can leave willing and of your own volition, get in the car, and ride back to L.A.” Memphis says.
“Or?” she challenges him.
“Or, the three of us are going to pick your ass up and carry you out of here. Either way, you are going back to L.A. in the next fifteen minutes. Your choice. I suggest if you have anything other than drugs you would like to take with you, you collect them now,” Memphis states.
“Fuck you!” she fires back.
“Got a guy coming in here in fifteen minutes to clear all this shit out. The dope’s going down the toilet, and all the rest of the shit is going in the trash because it all smells like shit,” he says.
She sits on a couch and glares at Memphis, testing him.
A few minutes pass and Memphis says, “Eleven minutes left.”
She rolls her eyes. I throw the keys to Kip because he can’t do this. He can’t restrain her and force her into the car. We all have a soft spot for her, but Kip… he could never hurt her even if it was for her own good.
“Six minutes.”
She raises her eyebrow, not believing he will force her out that we will take her on. I don’t know this girl, but I know the one I love is still in there somewhere.
“Jagger, tell him to stop,” she says.
“Baby, you need to come home. We need to get you help,” I say as I choke back the emotion.
She’s asking me to help her, but I can’t help her the way she wants me to. I’m going to let her down, again.
“I don’t need help. I’ll stop when I want to,” she says honestly believing her own words.
“Two minutes,” Memphis says.
She jumps up from the couch and walks to the bedroom, but Memphis is on her heels. She attempts to close the door in his face, but he forces it open, and grabs her. He throws her over his shoulder and walks out of the apartment with her screaming like a banshee and flailing her arms and legs in every direction possible. A man meets us at the top of the stairs, nods, and walks into the apartment we just vacated. I suppose he’s the cleanup man Cory sent.
“Put me the fuck down!” she screams.
We reach the car, and Kip enters the driver’s seat. I open the door for Memphis and run to the back passenger door. He shoves her in the car, and she lunges across the back seat for my door. I block the door as she grabs the handle and tries like hell to push it open. My back is turned to her, so she can’t see the tears that streak my face. She’s screaming bloody murder, and Memphis is telling her to calm down.
“Jag! Help me! Please help me!” she cries.
“I’ve got her, get in!” Memphis yells over her.
I wipe my tears and enter the vehicle. She attempts to lunge at me, and Memphis pulls her back. She kicks her feet out and almost connects with my ribs.
“Help me, Jagger!” she begs and sobs.
“I am, baby. I am,” I choke out.
“Call Koi and tell him to meet us at UCLA. Do not let him bring dad,” Memphis says.
“You want me to call?” Kip asks as his voice cracks around his own emotion.
“Can you?” I ask barely holding it together as Hen continues to kick and scream.
“Koi, Memphis wants you to meet us at UCLA. Don’t bring Derek, he doesn’t need to see this shit. We’re leaving San Diego now,” he says and repeats himself several times because Hen’s still screaming like a banshee, and he’s crying.
I grab her feet and knead and massage her feet and legs. She loves this shit, and I hope it calms her down. She tries to pull her feet from me when I first touch them with a suspicious look in her eyes.
“Let me rub your legs and feet,” I beg.
She allows me to massage her and stops fighting her brother. He loosens his grip on her, and she relaxes against him. She closes her eyes, and after half an hour, I see the tears pour down her face. My girl is so lost, and I don’t know how to help her find the way back. After half an hour of touching her, I can’t take it anymore. I gently pull her to me, and she snuggles into my chest.
Once we reach L.A., we meet Koi in a parking lot close to UCLA. He enters the front passenger seat and turns to look at this version of his sister with anguish in his eyes.
“You have to go to rehab, baby sister,” Koi says.
“I’m not going to rehab,” she says firmly.
“Either you go to rehab or we commit you with a 72 hour hold because you are a danger to yourself. A 5150 will be all over the media, and the entire world will think you’re crazy. We can hide rehab,” he says.
“When you get out of this car, you will be in a rehab center or in UCLA, the choice is yours,” Memphis adds.
“Take me to rehab,” she says as tears run down her gorgeous face.
She’s given up the fight for now. Memphis rattles off an address, and Kip takes us to the rehabilitation facility.
“This is the place that helped me get clean, Hen. I tried so many times before, and this place helped. They focus on the pain that makes you want to escape with the drugs. If you’ll let them, they will help,” Memphis tells her, but she stares straight ahead and refuses to acknowledge him.
A forty-minute trip outside of Los Angeles brings us to a place by the ocean. The rehab facility is small, and it honestly looks like a fucking small resort. It’s beautiful here, and I hope she can see it. When the car comes to a stop, Memphis looks at her and studies her demeanor.
“Are you going to bolt when I open the door?” he asks.
She refuses to answer him, so we all prepare to chase her down if need be. She exits the car, walks up to the front building ahead of us, enters, and starts talking loudly.
“Hi, I’m Henley. I’m on drugs, and my brothers are forcing me into rehab. Which room is mine?” she asks like the smart ass she is.
A woman with a kind smile approaches her cautiously, “Hi, Henley. Welcome. If you are ready to get help, we can get you signed in, and figure it all out from there.”
“I’m not ready, but it’s better than the world thinking I’m crazy, so here we are,” she pauses to look at the ladies name tag, “Betty.”
“Will you come into the office with me?” she asks Hen.
Henley rolls her eyes, ever the cynic, “Why not?”
She turns to us, “You fuckers want to come watch the show? I mean we came all this way, you might as well enjoy every second of it before they lock me in a room to detox for days on end. That’s going to be so much fun! I’ll think of each of you each and every time I vomit!” she says with sarcastic cheer.
I don’t like this girl, but at least she’s letting it all hang out for once. Memphis and Koi walk with her to the office while Kip and I remain back. We sit in the small waiting room, heads in our hands, and sniffle. They return thirty minutes later, faces grim, and silence falls between us.
“They’ll call when she’s out of detox,” Koi says.
We load into the Range Rover, and ironically head for a bar. We ask Derek to meet us because the man will need a drink too. After several beers and an enormous amount of silence, Kip finally asks what we all want to know.
“What’s it going to be like for her to detox?” he asks Memphis.
“Don’t do that to yourself, Kip. Henley got herself here, and i
t will be hell, but you don’t want to know something like that,” Memphis answers.
“I want to know,” Derek says. “I need to know what my child is going through. I can’t be there to help her, please tell me what my daughter will suffer through.”
Memphis sighs, not wanting to divulge the gory details of detoxing, “She used a lot of meth in a short amount of time. That amount meth can fuck with the brain. Coming down from that shit can last three days or two weeks. When you crash on meth, it’s similar to coke, depression, sadness, and fatigue are pretty much par for the course. I ate, slept, and watched television for a month when I got clean. If she did too much in the two months she was on it, she might hallucinate, or be really paranoid. The problem for Henley is she wasn’t just using methamphetamines. She was snorting oxy and coke. Neither one of those are fun to detox from, so she’s detoxing from all three at once, and she will probably want to fucking die.”
***
Henley
I stare at the ceiling and wish like hell I could move my body, but an achiness encompasses my entire body all the way to the bone. Perspiration beads on my forehead and the nausea clicks up another notch. I’ve never been so sick or miserable in my life. I know I deserve the hell I’m in right now. I disappeared for two months without any regard for how it made the people who love me feel. I just couldn’t take life anymore, so I escaped. I left without as much as a word to anyone. The drugs clouded my mind and numbed my heart. All the hurt is gone as long as I’m high.
The first three days in rehab were boring as hell, and I thought I’d escaped the horror stories of detox I’ve heard over the years. Day four ushered in reality. I’m in day five now, and I’m pretty sure this is what it feels like to die a slow and painful death. The nausea turns into a gut-wrenching pain that forces me to curl into a fetal position. The stabbing pain in my stomach radiates all the way to my back. In this moment, I hope it ends in death. I don’t want to do this shit anymore. It hurts too much.
Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4 Page 52
