Текст книги "The Song Remains the Same"

Автор книги: Kelli Jean

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

“Yeah, she’s right here,” he said before handing it to me.

I knew who it was, and I was in trouble. “Hello?” I said, sounding deflated.

“Baby Girrrl,” Phil growled.

“What? I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to freak everyone out. I just needed to be alone, and I guess I was desperate for more than a couple of hours of sleep.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “I just don’t understand how you could do that to us, given what we’ve all just been through.”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” I defended hotly. “I needed some fucking peace and quiet!”

“You should have told us you got a room! You fuckin’ scared us all half to death! We had no idea—”

Tossing the phone back to my brother, I marched into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind me.

A few minutes later, Connor softly knocked on it. “Kenna? Please let me in. Or come out.”

“Just go away!” I shouted.

“You know I can’t do that,” he said.

Wrenching the door open, I snapped, “Fine!”

Catching me before I could storm past him, Connor pulled me into a strong warm hug. “It’s okay, Kenna. Phil…I know he’s not easy to deal with right now. He’s like that with everyone, not just you. He yelled at his dad today. Well, I think mostly because he was terrified something had happened to you.”

“It was an accident,” I said before breaking down into tears. “I’m so tired. I just want to go home.”

“I know. Phil went in for another scan. They think, by the end of the week, he’ll be able to use a walker to get on a plane. He’s lost a lot of muscle mass, but with therapy, they’re confident he’ll make a full recovery within another four or five months.”

We’re supposed to get married next month.

“I guess I should go and see him then,” I said miserably.

“I’ll go with you. He won’t dare be an ass to you if I’m there.”

Bullshit.

For nearly four weeks, Phil had been in Saskatoon City Hospital.

Due to the nature of the fractures in his pelvis and femur, a physical therapist had been helping him stretch and exercise the muscles. It was a necessary part of the healing, one that Phil hadn’t particularly enjoyed, mostly because he needed the help at all. He was used to being big and strong, and it’d irritated him that he had to depend on others.

Afterward, he’d load up on opiates and conk out. When I’d asked about alternative pain relief, the doctors had shrugged it off and told me the opiates helped him rest. He was severely depressed, hurt, angry, and just foul in his spirit. His refusal to help us help him had started to wear down on me.

When Connor and I arrived though, the relief on Phil’s face spoke volumes. I’d truly terrified him, and I could see it still lurking behind his eyes. Wordlessly, he reached out his arms, and I went into them, curling up next to him on the bed.

“Baby Girl, you scared me,” he said softly. There was no accusation in his tone. It was merely a statement of fact.

“Honest, babe, I didn’t mean to. I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until Connor was banging on my door.”

“I know.”

For a few minutes, it was as it used to be—just the two of us, happy in our own bubble. Closing my eyes, I imagined we were back in La Place, the sun shining, the air warm, the breeze rustling through the walnut trees. I missed the laughter that always could be heard in some part of the house. I missed his laughter the most. The thought that he hadn’t laughed in weeks left an open sore on my heart.

“I want to go home,” he whispered. “They think I’ll be able to in a few days.”

“It’ll be good,” I said. “I miss it, too.”

His arms tightened around me. “Nothin’ feels right anymore. Except this. Us.”

“I promise, Phil, it won’t always feel like that.”

“I guess if anyone would know about that, it’d be you.”

The end of the week came, and Phil was discharged from the hospital. Louis called in a favor from a friend of his and chartered a private jet for us back to New Orleans. Four weeks of frozen Canadian hell were just about over.

Ever since word had gotten out about NOLA’s Junk being in the wreck and of X’s untimely death, reporters and journalists had been camping around the hospital, looking for the guys, wanting interviews. We’d all decided it would be best to leave the premises in the middle of the night, through an employee exit. Security had been beefed up, and Tiny was back in action.

Watching Phil dress himself in his usual Dickies with the left pant leg cut away to accommodate for the cast, black shirt, and hoodie nearly did me in. Emaciated, his enormous frame looked fragile in comparison to how he used to be. He insisted he could do it on his own, but I could see just how much he had shrunk as he stood to pull up his pants, putting all of his weight on his good side.

“Fuck me,” he gasped, realizing it himself.

We had to drill another hole in his belt. Otherwise, his pants would’ve immediately dropped to the floor.

“You’re still beautiful,” I assured him, coming up and helping him cinch the belt.

His eyes met mine, and behind them, a spark flickered, reminding me of Little Zephyr, the child inside me that would never have a chance.

Slowly, Phil sat back down on the edge of the bed, his hands encircling my waist. His eyes never left mine, burning now, heating me up from the inside.

“Kenna Baby,” he said softly, pulling me in closer, “I haven’t told you how beautiful you are in a long time.”

“It’s okay,” I replied. “You’ve had more important things to think about.”

“Ain’t nothin’ more important to me than you. I’m sorry.”

“There are more important things, Phil. Like you getting better. I need you to concentrate on that.”

His hands slid around to my back, slipping under my shirt and sweater to caress skin. “You’ve lost so much weight…” He pulled back and looked at me, actually taking in my appearance for the first time. “Shit, Baby Girl…”

“I haven’t had much of an appetite either,” I explained, which was true. It was hard to summon an appetite for anything when I carried our lovechild and knew I couldn’t have it. “I’m sure it’ll bounce back once we’re home.”

Please, don’t feel it. Don’t realize there’s something in me. Because we can’t have it. It’s not meant for us…not yet.

He rested his forehead against my heart. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I told him, running my fingers through his long hair.

“Don’t ever stop, Baby Girl. The day you do, I’m a dead man.”

“I feel like an old fuckin’ geezer,” Phil grumbled as he used the walker to board the plane.

“You sound like one, too,” I ribbed, hoping it’d get a twitch of a smile.

He only scowled deeper.

Heaving a sigh, I told him, “It’s only until you’re healed.”

In the hospital, Phil had to be wheeled to the employee exit in a chair. Then, Tiny had to actually pick him up and put him in the car. Once at the airport, Phil had to be wheeled to the terminal. He was going to put up a huge stink if Tiny dared to pick him up again, so we let him use the walker. It had taken longer, but at least he wasn’t acting like a diva. It was a battle we’d picked wisely.

When seated, the only flight attendant took and stowed his walker out of sight, and he fished out his bottle of Vicodin. Popping out two into his hand, he tossed them into his mouth and swallowed them dry. Dropping his head back onto the seat, he angled his face toward me.

He was sweating lightly, but the spark was in his eyes again. “When can we have sex?” he whispered.

Biting my lip to keep myself from grinning, I shrugged. My grin won out.

“You’re makin’ me chub, Baby Girl. I don’t even remember the last time I had one.”

“We have to wait until your pelvis is fused, Phil.”

“When’s that gonna be, you think?”

“That depends on you really. If you eat what I tell you to and keep doing your exercises, it should be smooth sailing. But, on average, we’re looking at another four to eight weeks.”

“Oh, fuck no!” He groaned in defeat.

“I’m afraid so.”

He leaned in close. “Can I at least get a blow job here and there?”

Smiling, I replied, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I wanna eat the fuck outta you, too. Is that on my get-well diet?”

My face went up in flames, and he grinned wickedly.

“Hells yes,” he said. “When we get home, Baby Girl, I want full buffet access—”

“Phil!” I admonished.

“What?”

“Not in front of your father and my brother!” I hissed. “Or Tiny!”

“Pfft! They can’t hear us—”

“I wouldn’t mind a bit of buffet,” rumbled Tiny from the seat behind us. “I’ll have to talk to my woman when we get back to Louisiana.”

Phil’s eyes bugged, and I laughed right in his face. Despite the slight pink tingeing his cheeks, Phil bit his lip and chuckled.

Life just might be getting easier.

Returning to New Orleans lifted our spirits tremendously.

Back at the Plantation House, our friends and family gave us a jubilant reception. Jason and Flipper ran down the front steps as the black van pulled into the driveway, Siggie taking over Tim’s vacant chauffeur spot. If Phil had thought of that, he’d said nothing about it.

Wrenching open the sliding door, Jason and Flipper pulled Phil out, and the three of them embraced. Connor stepped out, reaching for my hand, and assisted me from the van as though I needed the help. Not an original member, he felt out of place with his brothers since they had lost a founding father of their group.

Jason stepped back though and dragged Connor into the knot. Phil and Flipper heartily embraced him, and I could hear the sniffles and gasps coming from them. Since this had nothing to do with me, I grabbed my stuff, which Tiny promptly relieved me of, and headed for the house.

Alys and Lili burst out the front door, followed by Viv and Sheri, who surrounded me in my own knot of grieving humanity.

“Oh God, I’ve missed you so much!” wailed Alys.

“I missed you, too, Muffin.”

Da and Gloria, and Danielle, Martin, and their kids along with everyone from Devil’s Advocate had come together to welcome us home. Mama Sally and Papa David were there, too.

“For th’ love o’ all tha’s holy, Kenna!” griped my father, pulling me in for a papa bear hug. “Yer naugh’ but skin an’ bones!” Taking my face in his hands, he peered into my eyes, finding the-gods-knew-what in them. “Are ye all righ’?”

“Stressed out and exhausted, Da. Don’t worry.”

Phil watched this exchange, guilt crossing his features. He blamed himself for my own condition. In a way, he was right. But it was more to do with the dying piece of life I carried rather than his surly attitude.

The grill was going, and a massive amount of food had been prepared. Never mind that it wasn’t even noon. There was going to be a barbeque, and beers were already making the rounds.

Even though I knew the pregnancy wasn’t going to amount to anything, I declined the alcohol. Phil didn’t. He sucked down a beer in record time and popped open another. With him on the Vicodin, I wasn’t too pleased, but I kept my mouth shut, happy that he was just trying to find a place to be comfortable in.

On our side of the house, Danielle and Gloria had set up the living room for Phil, moving out the sofas and replacing them with a bed. It would be some time before Phil would be able to take the stairs.

Bone-weary by the time evening came, everyone dispersed, and Phil and I ventured into the downstairs bathroom for a mutual shower. The stall was small, made even more so by the stool Phil had to sit on, but it was the first time we’d been naked in front of each other in five weeks.

Helping him out of his clothes and securing plastic wrapping around the cast, I felt that burn that only he could inflame igniting low in my groin. Even in his wasted state, he was still so magnificent to me. His narrow waist was ridiculous, his once flat stomach now caved in, his ribs showing. The width of his chest was thinner, but still…he was larger than life, powerful and so beautiful. Phil was my everything. No matter what, he always would be.

His cock hadn’t lost a damn thing though. With Phil’s body gone overall thin, it looked even more enormous by comparison.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I said.

“Pretty cool, eh? Even if it’s an optical illusion.” He snorted. We were both looking down at it, grinning like dipshits. “He’s missed you, Baby Girl.”

He let me help him into the shower and onto his seat, and he asked in an almost shy voice, “Strip for me?”

“Well, I’m not going to shower in my clothes.” I laughed.

“You know what I mean. Like that time in New York at Stephen and Tara’s place.”

Smiling, I nodded and did my best to hide my trepidation. It was easy to hide whatever changes had been taking place in my body beneath the bulky sweaters in the frozen hell of Saskatoon. Even though I was just seven weeks along, there were subtle differences. My nipples had grown larger and turned a bright pink, and although I had lost a few pounds, my abdomen was tight and slightly rounded.

Phil knew my body like no one’s business, and he’d pick up on the changes. I was certain of that. I took my time, giving him what he wanted, and his desire burned hotter the more I took off. Then, I realized he was doped up, buzzing on beer, and the changes went unnoticed.

Stroking his length, he stared at me, hard and intense. “Baby Girl…you are the most beautiful woman ever created.”

“I guess it’s only fair since you’re the most beautiful man.”

“I think we both need to eat more. Your ribs and hip bones are pokin’ out.”

Weirdly ashamed, aching with an odd sort of pain, I started to cross my arms beneath my breasts.

“No!” he barked. “Don’t, Kenna. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelin’s. It’s just…we’ve both been wrecked by this, you know? I look like I’m diseased or somethin’.”

Dropping my arms to my sides, I walked up to him, and he placed his hands on my bony hips. Something flitted through his eyes, a brief wave of shock and confusion, and then it was gone.

He felt it! Our Little Zephyr.

Leaning forward, he placed a soft kiss on my belly, over our child, infusing us both with his undying love. He didn’t know it, but he’d just given both of us the strength to continue on this path, Little Zephyr and me.

“Home…” he whispered.

My eyes filled with tears.

Tilting his head up, he saw them and tugged me down onto my knees between his legs. Bending forward, he kissed them away, his hands holding my face. “My other half.”

“My whole life,” I whispered back.

His lips pressed to mine, and the inferno raged to life between us. He dragged me into him until his groin was pressed between my breasts, my overly sensitive nipples positively aching with the heat of his body and scratch of his pubic hair.

“Baby…” he rasped. “We gotta find a way. I need to be inside you.”

I needed him inside me, too. But more than that…I needed him to get well.

“There really isn’t a way,” I told him.

“But—”

“No. Would you truly risk it? You could fracture your pelvis all over again. You’d have to have more surgery, and you could very well end up with damage that would lead to impotence. We’d never have sex again!”

He growled. “No.”

“If you promise to hold completely still, I’ll go down on you, okay? I can give you that.”

Leaning back against the shower wall, he heaved a sigh of resignation. “This fuckin’ sucks.”

“I thought you liked the way I sucked.”

Phil’s eyes softened, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “I do, Baby Girl.”

His erection had started to deflate with the flat-out refusal of sex, but it quickly surged back to life beneath my hands, lips, and tongue. He did his best not to rock his pelvis, and within a few short minutes, he was howling and coming hard down my throat.

As I got to my feet, Phil grabbed my hips and dragged me forward, bending to press his mouth to me, sucking and licking at my throbbing wet flesh.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You taste so fuckin’ good.”

Phil

My Baby Girl tasted different, sweeter and hotter. Beneath the difference, I could still taste her though. Maybe it had just been so long that I had forgotten that part of her flavor. When she came, I pushed a finger inside, shaken by the liquid warmth. She felt heavier somehow, the pulsing of her orgasm thicker, weighed down.

I didn’t put too much thought into it though because, for ten minutes, I felt good, almost normal again. Inside this steaming tiny shower with my Baby Girl, there was no outside world.

Kenna scrubbed me up and hosed me down. She was looking like Sheri used to, all skinny, like she was hungering something fierce, but she was still beautiful and keeping a brave face, a smile just for me.

The real world hit me all over again when we made our way to the new bed in the living room. I wanted my own fuckin’ bed, damn it! I wanted to fuckin’ throw my woman over my shoulder, march our asses up the stairs, toss her on our fuckin’ bed, and bury myself so deep inside her that I might never be able to leave.

Instead, I hobbled my broken ass like an old-timer over to this fuckin’ imposter bed and slowly dropped down onto the mattress. “Baby Girl, would you get me a beer?”

The look on her face told me she didn’t like that, but she kept her mouth shut and headed for the fridge. I was due for some more pills, and I found them on the table next to the bed. Kenna wasn’t happy about me mixing my meds with alcohol, but it made everything bearable.

X is dead.

Each time I thought about it, the world would close in and compress on my chest. I’d give anything to wake up from this nightmare and have X back.

When Kenna sat on her side of the bed, I thought, Almost anythin’.

“Want to watch TV?” she asked, picking up the remote.

“Yeah, sure,” I replied, not really giving a shit. Between the killer blow job, the beer, and the Vicodin, I was starting to mellow hard core.

“Do we have any weed?” I asked.

“Um…I don’t know. If there is, it’d be dried to a crisp.”

“Hmm…forgot that we moved. I guess we can call Jimi tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

Why does this feel weird?

Because the whole fuckin’ universe was fucked up, man! Everything was out of fuckin’ whack!

The only thing that hadn’t changed was how I felt about my Baby Girl. She had stuck by my ass through all of this, had taken care of me, while the others had trickled home once they were well enough—except for Connor. He might have stayed more for his sister than me, but I appreciated that he had all the same.

X is fuckin’ dead.

X had been my oldest friend. He’d been the reason I’d gotten into music. He’d been the one who had come up with the name NOLA’s Junk.

It had been back in the day, and we had just snagged Flipper from Glory Hole. We’d been downtown. Jason had been the only one with a license, and he’d had his dad’s piece-of-shit truck.

“Seriously, we really just want to check out the bands. We aren’t interested in drinkin’ or anything,” Flipper tells the bouncer.

It’s a balmy warm evening. The sky has that inky quality to it, just after the sun has sunk low and the moon hasn’t risen. Downtown always smells of fried food, spices, gasoline, and sex to me—not that I know what sex smells like. I’ve made out with chicks though, and I recall the scent of mingled body odors.

X and me are sitting in the bed of Jason’s truck watching Flipper try to convince the bouncers to let the four of us in to watch the bands playing tonight.

“Dude, Crissy Lasserman let me touch her titties,” X tells me.

“Bullshit.” I snort, sounding like a rusted hinge. I really fuckin’ wish my voice would stop doing that shit.

“Seriously! I snuck in a nipple tweak at her locker between fourth and fifth period today. They’re fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Isn’t she a cheerleader?” Jason asks from behind the wheel, through the back window.

“Fuck yeah, she is. Amazin’ fuckin’ tits,” says X.

“Really shouldn’t be doing this…” one of the bouncers was saying.

“Talk to the manager? It’s for educational purposes,” wheedles Flipper.

One of the bouncers heads inside.

How Flipper is able to charm the shit outta people is anyone’s guess. He’s a twerp of a dude.

“You think Danica would let me touch her tits if I asked?” I muse.

Jason just laughs, but X shrugs and looks thoughtful.

“I think she likes you, but she’s afraid of what people will think, you know?” says X.

“What d’you mean?”

“She’s afraid people will think she’s a pedophile if she goes out with your twelve-year-old–lookin’ ass,” says Jason. “But, yeah, ask her when no one else is around. I bet she’d let you touch ’em.”

Danica is the fuckin’ hottest chick in school, and I’ve had a hard-core crush on her for as long as I can remember. With long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a nice fuckin’ rack, I’d give anything just to be able to fool around with her.

And I don’t look fuckin’ twelve, damn it.

“Well, if it ain’t the Bum Chums and Public Enemy Number One,” came that awful sneering voice that front-manned the worst band on the face of the earth.

“Aw, man!” whined X. “Trash day was yesterday! No one dragged your nasty ass to the curb?”

“Piss off, Vic,” snaps Flipper from the door of the club.

“Fuck you, traitor! We should beat your pathetic ass for ditchin’ your brothers the way you did!”

“Maybe he was sick of wastin’ his talent on the shit pile that comes outta Glory Hole.” Jason laughed.

I keep my fuckin’ mouth shut. My rusty pipes will only bring humiliation down on us.

“Fuck you, Jones!”

“Jesus, I think my IQ is droppin’, listenin’ to your witty rejoinders.” Jason steps out of the truck.

Jason is one of the coolest motherfuckers around. Girls at school fuckin’ worship him, and all the guys wanna be him. It’s fuckin’ badass that he only hangs with us. He’s older by a year, smart-mouthed, and wise-assed, and no one fucks with him and gets away with it. And when people fuck with the rest of us, they fuck with him, too.

Plus, he’s not a virgin. That fuckin’ counts for something.

“You assholes are the ones without any fuckin’ talent!” snarls Vic, his cronies chuckling like numskulls. “Hangin’ in a fuckin’ garage, you ain’t ever gonna go anywhere. You call us trash? The four of you ain’t nothin’ but a junk heap!”

X leaps to his feet in the truck bed and grabs his crotch. “Finest fuckin’ junk in all of NOLA right here, motherfucker. Just you wait, one day, you’re gonna beg to suck it off!”

I bust up laughing at that, honking in my awful voice, which makes the rest of us laugh our asses off. Jason doubles up, pointing at me, while X howls, jangling his crotch inches from my face.

“That’s right, fuckers!” X cries. “We’re the finest of NOLA’s junk, and we’re gonna rock Glory Hole into the fuckin’ ground! You’ll be braggin’ to everyone that you gave us our fuckin’ name! This band of white trash is gonna wipe Glory Hole’s face in its own fuckin’ pile!”

Flipper wipes the tears from his eyes as he’s walking up to us. In a sneak attack, the little fuckin’ Mexican punches Vic in the nuts.

“Oh shit!” I honk. Really hope that stops soon.

Glory Hole’s bass player jumps Flip, and then it’s a fuckin’ free-for-all.

“Sic ’em, Half-Breed!” screams X.

I’m out of the truck bed, happily wailing on the closest motherfucker I can get my hands on.

Sucking in a deep breath, I yanked myself out of my head and wiped the tears off my face with the back of my hand.

“Why you, man?” I asked softly.

Next to me, my Baby Girl stirred. The sight of her eased the pain in my chest a little. Her love was the only thing that could come close to healin’ me in my world of hurt. If I had known back then what sort of woman was waiting for me, Danica would never have crossed my damn mind.

Reaching for the walker, I hobbled my weak ass to the fridge and got myself another beer. Sucking it down, I grabbed a few more and headed back to the bed.

I don’t want to feel this. I don’t want this bleedin’ hole in my heart anymore. I don’t know how to make it stop.

But I knew how to numb it. Poppin’ two more pills, I downed another beer.

Kenna

“Um…babe?”

“Uhngh?”

“Did you go on a bender after I fell asleep last night?”

“Uh…yeah, maybe.”

Phil rubbed his face and opened a bleary eye at me. Standing on his side of the bed, I counted seven empty beer bottles and a pill bottle that was suspiciously low.

“We have to talk,” I told him.

“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about, Baby Girl. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Alcohol and painkillers aren’t the answer,” I said, sitting next to him.

“Really? ’Cause it sure worked like a charm last night,” he replied, all snarky.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Like fuck-all,” he grumped in reply.

“You don’t say,” I said sarcastically. “I’m letting you know right now, the second that bottle of Vicodin is gone, you’re on fucking Tylenol. You keep popping them like candy, and I’m going to tell every physician in the state that you’re an abuser. You got it?”

Phil looked at me as though I’d suddenly sprouted horns from my head. “What the fuck?”

“You’re joking, right?” I scoffed.

“No.”

“You’ve seen me come home from the fucking rehab center, and now, you’re going to make me live in one? Hell no.” I was fucking furious with him.

“How can I be a fuckin’ addict?” he snapped, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “So I took two pills an hour ahead of schedule last night. I was havin’ a hard time sleepin’! One early dose, and I’m a fuckin’ addict?”

“It’s how it starts. And you mixing it with alcohol…” I tried to keep my voice calm, tried to rein in my alarm and the tears, but I just wasn’t strong enough this early. I’d woken up and had to run to the bathroom to puke.

To come out and see the empty beer bottles and the missing Vicodin had compounded everything, and I was close to losing it. Yesterday, I’d let the drinking slide because Phil hardly ever drank more than a beer or two. I’d understood the urge to have some liquid courage when facing the pain of losing someone. But he could do much more harm to himself while being on opiates, and that scared the shit out of me. I’d just faced the possibility of losing him. I wasn’t ready to go through that again.

“Naw, Baby Girl, don’t cry.” Reaching out and pulling me into a hug, he sniffed me. “Did you puke?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “My stomach’s been hell with the stress.”

Sighing, he kissed the top of my head. “I won’t do that again, all right? Don’t need you gettin’ sick over my ass.”

When we learned that X’s memorial service was to be the following day, Phil, Jason, and Flipper got together with a couple of bottles of whiskey and drowned their sorrows. Connor joined in for a few drinks, but he stopped well ahead of them to ensure everyone would make it through the night. The drinking didn’t prevent Phil from popping his pills, and I lacked the courage to tell him to stop.

Somehow, the doctor in me had shriveled up, and the woman who was watching her man try to ease his pain with a slightly more than moderate abuse of alcohol and prescription painkillers didn’t have it in her to make a stink. Instead, I hung out with my girls, and we left Our Boys to sink into the pits of despair.

“How are you holding up?” I asked Alys as we sat on the back porch of my house, listening to the guys get wasted on their back patio.

Damn, they were loud.

“I don’t know,” replied Alys before hitting the blunt.

She passed it to me, and I passed it straight on to Lili.

“What? You’re not smoking?” Lili asked in surprise.

Shaking my head, I replied, “I need to be fully functional when shit goes down over there. It’s been so long since I’ve smoked that I’ll get ripped and be useless.”

“I’ll stay sober with you,” volunteered Sheri. “Jason’s a shit when he’s hammered.”

Sheri had bounced back from the accident better than the rest of them, that was for sure. My respect and admiration for the woman had only grown. In her life, she had faced so much, had suffered such horrific physical and mental anguish, that for her to walk out of the hospital after having her liver lacerated and refuse any additional medication—using her knowledge of diet, gentle exercise, and meditation to heal instead—was amazing to me.

If only Phil would get a clue…

Alys took my hand and laced our fingers. “Sometimes, I feel so angry,” she told us, her voice soft. “Other times, I think I’ll drown in my tears because I’m that sad. I feel lost and then furious that he left me at all. Then, it’s like all of it clears, and it makes sense that he was the one to go, you know?”

“No,” said Lili. “What do you mean by that?”

“Only the good die young,” said Viv. “Out of all the guys, X was the one who made everyone laugh. He was the joker, the peacemaker, and the shit-taker. Flip would get so pissy, chucking his drumsticks at him.”

“X was special,” said Lili. “He kept Phil grounded in a way. You could see it. Well, until Kenna came and snatched the Gigantore’s ass.”

“He drove Jason nuts.” Sheri laughed. “They were worse than brothers, always snapping at each other, but the love between them…it was like they could rag on each other, but no one else was allowed to, and anyone who did would get their ass kicked.”

“He made Connor feel welcome,” I said. “He made Connor feel like a brother.”

Alys nodded in agreement. “He really did.”

“Flipper and X were like sneaky ninjas when they got a whiff of mischief,” said Sheri. “Those two pulled the best fucking pranks.”

“I remember the first time we saw NOLA’s Junk play, and—” I started to say.

“And Kenna fell so fucking hard in love with another one of her species,” said Lili.

“Besides that.” I laughed. “I just remember looking at X and thinking he had the brightest eyebrows I’d ever seen. He was more ginger than ginger.”

“You had to wipe the drool off your lip, Alys” Lili quipped. “You’ve always loved the gingers. Yeah, X was more ginger than ginger.”

Alys smiled…and then burst into tears. “You see?” she wailed. “What’s going to happen now? What…how do we move on from this?”

“I don’t know,” I told her. “We just do. One day, we’ll all wake up and remember him for the happiness he brought us and not the pain losing him caused.”

My mother’s words echoed through time with my voice. She was right. She was always right. Knowing this spread a healing balm of hope over my raw heart.

Xavier James Johnson’s memorial service was held in the early afternoon on a gorgeous sunny day beneath a sky that matched the color of his eyes to perfection. His parents had agreed with his young widow that his life needed to be celebrated out in the open. The sweet cool breeze of late March would give everyone a sense of freedom. His ashes would be scattered into the muddy waters of the Mississippi.