He lifts my face up to his with a gentle pull of my chin and kisses me. The kiss is full of all the emotions we now know we’ve held onto for far too many years. The kiss is slow but eager. I feel everything he feels for me through that kiss, and I hope he feels everything I have to give through mine. I don’t know how long the kiss lasts, but when it’s broken, Jagger calls out to Paul. “Wait, Paul! Dinner was amazing. Thank you for everything you did for us tonight,” Jagger compliments.
“It has been my pleasure, Mr. Carlyle. I do have one small favor to ask before you depart,” he says.
“Sure,” Jag answers.
“Ms. Hendrix, the favor has actually been requested of you,” Paul says as he directs his attention to me.
“Okay,” I say, unsure of what lies ahead.
“You may, of course, decline. I understand this is your time together, and I will understand if you are unable to oblige. A young gentleman by the name of Noah is one of our guests this evening, and his parents are regular customers. He has endured chemotherapy and surgeries for the last eighteen months of his life due to a tumor in his spinal column. I know you must hear this all the time, but he is indeed your biggest fan. He is also your grandfather’s biggest fan. He is quite an old soul for a ten-year-old boy. He has requested you to sing a song for him before you leave this evening,” Paul says very nervously.
I’ve imagined this day many times. The day someone is brave enough to ask me to sing or play. The world doesn’t know I stopped both altogether. My imagination always visualizes an über-panicked Henley. I don’t feel panicked at all though. I only think of the little boy in the restaurant who spent the last eighteen months of his life fighting to stay alive while I selfishly didn’t live at all. I’m healthy, and I don’t deserve to be in such a good place after the way I behaved over the last four years. I would give him my health if I could. Will I sing him a song? “I would love to sing for him. Does he have something in mind?” I ask.
“Yes. I believe he has chosen Angel from Montgomery. He has informed me you would know the song,” Paul says with a massive grin on his face.
“Can you give me fifteen minutes?” I ask.
“Sure. I will advise Noah you will be in shortly.”
“Will you call Koi and ask him to bring me a guitar?” I ask.
Jag leans down and kisses me. “I will do anything for you, Henley.”
I shiver with genuine excitement from his kiss and words as he dials Koi and requests a guitar.
I take a moment to go over the lyrics in my head. I’ve sung the song hundreds of times. It is one of the first I actually sang and played on the guitar at the same time when I was a child. The song is written by John Prine, and it is about an old woman who regrets some of her choices because she hasn’t lived her life to the fullest. Damn, is this kid trying to tell me something? Well, good for him if he is.
I take Jag’s hand when he ends the call, and we enter the dining room. Paul waits on the other side of the door. He nods and starts toward a corner on the opposite side of the dining room. We follow. The only little boy at the table sits in a wheelchair and has no hair on his head. Despite this, he smiles from ear to ear when he sees Jag and me. The table is surrounded by adults who obviously adore this little boy. The dining room is virtually empty with only a few other diners remaining in addition to Noah’s party.
“You must be Noah,” I say with my biggest smile.
A woman who looks similar to Noah stands to greet me. “I’m Noah’s mom, Carol. Please have a seat.”
I sit with Noah, and Noah’s dad leaves the seat on the other side of him for Jagger to join us. We talk about music. The kid loves music, and he reminds me of myself when I was his age. He even has the same taste in music.
“Favorite Led Zeppelin song?” I ask.
“That’s easy. Black Dog, hands down. Yours?” he asks.
“I have never been able to pick between Thank You and their remake of Since I’ve Been Loving You.”
“Favorite Allman Brothers song?” he asks.
“Please Call Home. Yours?” I enjoy the back-and-forth.
“Whipping Post,” he answers.
“Favorite Beatles’ song?” he asks.
“That’s a conversation you should have with Jagger. He’s the Beatles fan.”
“That’s easy,” Jag says, imitating Noah. “While my Guitar Gently Weeps.”
“Good one. Mine is Hey Jude.” This kid is amazing. “Oh my God,” he says and covers his mouth.
The front door opens, and Kip, Koi, and Cam stroll through carrying guitars, a bass guitar, and a drum kit. I know them, and when Jag told them about Noah, they wanted to pay their respects to the little fighter. I laugh at Noah’s reaction to Broken Access. The rest of the adults at the table vacate their seats and motion for the three additional men to sit down. They all instantly take to Noah, and more banter about music goes around the table. Noah’s family finds a great deal of humor in our conversation. I have no idea what time it is or how long has passed, but I have nowhere to be. I’m sincerely enjoying talking to this little guy.
“You play any instruments?” Kip asks.
“No, but when I get better, Mom says I can start guitar lessons,” Noah answers.
“I actually started my guitar lessons today. Henley is teaching me,” Kip says.
“You’re a drummer. Why do you want to play the guitar?” Noah asks.
“Well, Noah, I want to steal Henley from Jagger. She tends to like boys who play guitars. I thought what better way to steal her by writing her an epic love song played on the guitar? Plus, it makes me the better man if I can play two instruments,” Kip deadpans.
“I don’t know if you can steal Henley, Mr. Kip. She is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and by the time you learn to play the guitar, she and Jagger are going to be married,” he says.
Marriage? I’ve never thought of marriage to anyone. If I were to marry, I guess I would want it to be to Jagger.
Kip puts on his serious face and leans closer to Noah. “How do I stop her from marrying him, oh wise one?”
Noah leans his head closer to Kip’s. “Girls like it when you give them candy. My mom even likes chocolate. It makes her really happy, but any candy will do. You have to buy her awesome candy. If that doesn’t work, buy her a puppy.”
Oh, don’t say that, Noah. I will have a house full of dogs.
“Great advice. I will have to start on that immediately,” Kip says.
“Will you play me a song?” Noah is impatient now.
“I would love to.” I lean down and kiss his forehead.
“Kip, I don’t think you have a chance now. She’s totally into me,” Noah exclaims and the entire room bursts into laughter.
“I will take you down, little man,” Kip warns with a smile on his face.
I play the blues opening to Angel from Montgomery on Jag’s electric. I sing my heart out in the first verse, and the guys join in on their instruments. Koi adds the harmonica to the sound, and it sounds perfect. I pick up the guitar tempo and pour the blues out of my soul after the second verse. The guys keep up with me. We have small amps, no mics, and it is a simple and uncomplicated type of beauty. It’s like the old days when we were kids. When the song reaches the end, everyone claps, but we decided to do one more for Noah. I open up Susan Tedeschi’s Rock Me Right, and my friends jump right in. Jag and I play against each other in the middle of the song to see who can keep up. He loses, and I snicker.
When the song is over, we put down our instruments. Security comes in quickly to retrieve the instruments, but Jagger tells them to leave his electric guitar. We spend a few more minutes with Noah and his massive family. When we finally begin our farewells, Noah deflates, but Koi jumps in to save the day.
“Hey, little man, why do you
look sad? This isn’t goodbye. We were expecting to see you at our show tomorrow.”
Noah’s eyes light up, and a smile stretches across his face. “I’m coming to your show?”
“Oh, I didn’t mention that before? I thought your mom was your tour manager, so I asked her if you had an opening in your schedule, and she said you just happen to have some time between all those girlfriends you have and the gigs you play. I’m very honored that you can watch us play tomorrow night. Guys, a legend will be among us tomorrow night,” Koi yells and all the musicians Whoop, holler, and high-five each other.
Koi pulls tickets out of his back pocket and hands them to Noah. “I understand if you are too busy to make it, with you being a big rock star and all, but we would really appreciate if you can try your best. I scraped together twenty tickets for the front row and twenty backstage passes for you and all your favorite people.”
Noah throws his arms around Koi’s neck in affection. “Thank you. This is going to be awesome! Tomorrow is my eleventh birthday!” he says.
It all shocks us for a moment. His birthday will be amazing if we have anything to do with it.
Jagger speaks up. “I would like to give you my guitar for your first birthday present. I will also leave the practice amp, case, some extra strings, and some picks.”
My heart is swelling again.
“Dude!” Noah is so excited. “Can all of you sign it for me?” The guys surround the little man and dote on him. They sign the guitar for him with heartfelt messages.
I step back to speak with his mom about a few ideas I have for his birthday, and I ask if there are any health issues we need to plan for. I want his experience to be amazing without having to remind him of how sick he is. Carol and Noah’s father, Rick, hug my neck and thank me. I make sure to get their contact information for tomorrow.
“Henley? Will you sign my guitar too?” Noah asks. His eyes are hopeful.
“Of course I will, handsome,” I say. Kip is sitting beside him. “Kip, move so I can say goodnight to my boyfriend,” I demand.
“You wound me. I have been replaced by an almost eleven-year-old.” Kip pouts dramatically.
“Dude, I told you she was into me,” Noah says. Once again, the room erupts into a roar.
As we exit the restaurant, Jagger grabs my hand. “I had something else planned if you aren’t too tired.”
I smile and nod. “I’m never too tired for you.”
We enter the limo, and Jag immediately attacks me with kisses.
“I haven’t heard you sing in a long time; I forgot how horny it made me.” He doesn’t let me get my giggle completely out before he attacks me again.
We arrive at Oak Mountain State Park. It’s pitch-black outside, so I wonder what we’re doing at a park. The limo rounds a corner, and I can see the lake is filled with floating lanterns. Jagger is already out of the car and offering his hand to me. I exit the limo and follow his lead to a dock where a small boat sits. Inside the boat are two acoustic guitars. I look back out at the lake. No one is in sight. It is beautiful.
“Did you do this?” I ask.
“Yes, baby. I wanted to give you romance. Eating dinner was just a cover for the guys to have long enough to set this up,” he says.
Baby? Mmm, say it again.
“I don’t think I’m the only one who wanted romance,” I tease.
Jagger feigns shock. “I have a reputation to uphold as the bad boy of rock. Don’t go around tearing it down.”
I tease back. “I know it takes a great deal of women, bottles of booze, and hotel damage bills to build up that reputation. Hard work, yeah?” He doesn’t laugh or crack a smile.
“I never started that stupid shit until Caleb died. It got worse when you were in Europe and Africa. When I saw you this past Christmas, it stopped. But once you are stuck with a reputation in this business, it isn’t easily shaken off. I stopped partying when I saw you smile at Christmas.”
“What?” I’m confused.
“I numbed the hell out of myself. I couldn’t have you, love you, or see you. The truth is... I pined for you, Henley. I worried about you constantly. The only way I could forget how much it all hurt... Caleb... you... you not being here... was to drink it away. Sometimes I would fuck it away. I didn’t sleep with most of the women I was photographed with. If I had an ounce of inhibition left in me, I found something wrong with each one of them. This past Christmas, I showed up on your doorstep unannounced, and the smile on your face when you opened that door melted me on the spot. You threw your arms around me and hugged me tightly. I still think my heart stopped beating for just a moment. I had only seen you twice since the Christmas before, and you seemed preoccupied. That was the first time it felt like the real you was back. We drank beer on the front porch and played Rummy into the morning because I couldn’t bear to leave you. All it took was you smiling at me, and I didn’t need any of that shit anymore.”
Tears pierce his eyes, and I feel like the biggest idiot on Planet Earth. How did I not know that my actions affected him this much? How did I not know he only needed to see that I was still whole? I remember opening the door to him at Christmas and feeling like this man’s presence made everything seem all right in my world. I knew then that I wanted Jagger, but uncertainty about life prevented me from letting him see how I really felt.
“I’m sorry. I’m just sorry. I had no idea my absence affected you like that, or I would’ve tried harder to be around. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You don’t need to be sorry, Henley. You dealt with it the only way you knew how, and I felt like we all reminded you of Caleb and the music. Just promise me you will lean on me when you hurt. I need to know that I can be that person for you.”
He bends down and picks me up by my ass, and I wrap my legs around his waist. His mouth crashes into mine, and all the pain, longing, sorrow, sadness, and love passes across our lips. I find it is how Jagger and I communicate the deepest of emotions. No matter what words pass between us, our bodies can convey far more than the English language can. In this moment, I realize what has held me back from handing my heart over to a man. Sure, I always compared every man to Jagger, but what really diverted me from a true connection was trust.
When you are a celebrity, there is a fear that takes precedence in relationships. No matter how another human being makes you feel, it’s all overshadowed by the possibility of exposure. Every news media outlet in this country splashes relationship failures, and the reasons that led to the demise of each one are spread across the front pages for all to see. People who will never know you personally are privy to your weaknesses, failures, heartaches, and personality flaws. How do you trust someone with your heart when they may not only break it but parade the most intimate moments in front of the world? My misgivings about men have always been somewhat dictated by the lack of faith I have in a man to protect my heart entirely. There has never been a moment in time when I haven’t trusted Jagger entirely.
“If you don’t stop seducing me, woman, I’m going to tear your clothes off, and you will end up with ticks in all sorts of places,” he says.
He puts me down, helps me in the boat, and rows us out into the middle of the small lake. We spend the next several hours playing our guitars, singing, and laughing.
Chapter 12
FROM WHERE I stand on the side of the stage, in the depths of total darkness, I can hear the fans scream. My nerves are catapulting around my body, and the result is a trembling that my body can’t shake. Anxiety about stepping on this stage is overtaking my entire being. The fans can’t see me as I wait for the house lights to go down, but I can see and feel their energy. Stage fright. I have stage fright, and I’m going to make a damn fool of myself. I’m Red Newman’s granddaughter, and the headlines will be savage if I don’t pull this off. Fans are unrelenting in their pursuit
of a perfect live show. They will not take their disappointment kindly.
In the blackness, someone grabs my hand, and I know the instantaneous calmness that has spread over me can only come from Caleb.
“Don’t let it get to you, doll,” he says.
“I think I will be fine when I get out there.”
“Remember, you can’t see past the first three rows when the house lights go down. If you feel nervous, find me or Griffin, and we will play music together. You don’t have to play for anyone but yourself, Hen.”
“Okay,” I softly agree.
At that moment, the house lights go down. I’m about to play my first major venue, Madison Square Garden, at just sixteen years old. I’ve waited for this moment for a very long time. I knew it was coming, and yet, here I am with a classic case of stage fright. Caleb pulls me up on stage with him, and I stand at my mic with guitar in hand. When the first riffs come through my monitor, I’m in a different place, and I couldn’t care less how many thousands of people watch. I’m a slave to my guitar, and I play it with the same devotion and intensity that I have since I was a small child. During the chorus of this first song, I look over at Caleb to see him smiling back. The first song ends with thousands of fans screaming. The sound is exhilarating.
I realize I don’t remember which song comes next in the set list. I look over to Caleb, but he isn’t there. I look to the other side of the stage and then to the back. Griffin and Rhys are gone too. The fans boo at us. As I search the stage again, the Porsche is sitting upside down, battered. Where is Caleb? I scream for him. I can save him this time. I have to get out of the car quicker this time. I scream for him again as I walk across the stage to the Porsche. I look in, but I can’t see me. Where did I go? The fans are jeering at me, but I don’t know where Caleb is. We were in a car accident. Can’t they see that? Tears pour down my face, and I scream for Caleb again. Where is he? I need him to tell me I can help him. I can save him this time!
Broken (The Guitar Face Series Book 1) Page 12
