Over the Hills and Far Away (NOLA's Own #1) (34 page)

“I get so horny whenever I listen to it,” I confessed.

“I was totally jackin’ off in the sound box while I recorded it.”

I knew it! I totally called that shit!

“I forgot to erase it, and the next day, the guys heard it and wrote music to it.”

“You were amazing on Friday, performing it onstage.”

“I was hopin’ you were there. Flipper insisted we play it. I guess now I know why.” He laughed.

“You’ve been one of my heroes for a long time, Phil,” I told him. I heard his sharp intake of breath. “I’ve gone to every show I possibly could. I have all of NOLA’s Junk’s CDs and DVDs. I think if this is surreal for anyone, it’s me. I guess it’s just difficult for me to accept that. It’s kind of hard to think of you as my man when you’ve been more like a heavy metal god for me.”

“I am your man. And the last time I checked, I was pretty fuckin’ mortal.”

“I know. In any case, I prefer the man.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he’s mine.”

Our phone conversation had been a long one last night. It had been a lot easier to be open with him when we weren’t in the same room. Not having to look at him had helped keep my train of thought in check. He just turned me on, and when he got pissed, it
really
turned me on.

I had woken up with my phone in my hand, having fallen asleep still on the line with him at some point. I hadn’t done that since high school. It was ridiculous, how young and giddy I felt with him—not that I was
old
, but still. I guessed I had felt pretty old for a long time. After all the responsibility and studying I’d had to do to get to where I was, it was nice to have something that made me want to act like I was actually twenty-four, not fifty-four.

It was a seriously warm day, so I pulled my long hair over my shoulder and braided it.

I really need to cut it. It’s been, like, two years.

It nearly reached my ass and had no style.

Dirty hippie.

Baggy jeans, ZoSo T-shirt, black Jackie O’s, and black flip-flops on, I headed out the back door, deciding to walk over and enjoy the late morning sun. I was still a bit nervous about seeing him today, but I was excited all the same.

I was really trying to take my time and force myself to be mindful of my actions rather than cha-chaing my ass over to Phil’s. I wanted to be able to think straight around his giant self. I thought that was part of the problem. He was so much larger than life—in personality and physical presence—that he could be a bit overwhelming to my senses.

Walking up to the side door, I could hear people talking inside—no, they were arguing, and that was Phil yelling. After a few minutes, I just turned the knob and walked in without knocking. The whole band plus their manager, Tim, were in Phil’s kitchen, and the discussion seemed pretty heated.

“…complete fuckin’ bullshit!” shouted Phil. “We
just
got home! We haven’t been back a fuckin’ week—”

“It’s just a few days, man,” said X, attempting to calm his best friend.

“I don’t want to go either,” said Flipper, “but it’s not like we’re leaving the country.”

“I told the record company you guys needed some time—” Tim tried to tell them.

“We’re
done
with this fuckin’ shit from them! The second our contract is up in December, we’re out!” Phil’s voice spit. “For years, we’ve busted our asses, never seeing our family, never coming home—”

“Hi, Kenna!” Flipper projected loudly, smiling and waving.

Phil whipped around to find me standing by the door.

“Hey, guys. Bad time?” I joked.

Phil, X, and Flipper said, “No.”

Jason snapped a scornful, “Yes.”

Phil rounded on Jason. “Can it, douche. This concerns her, too.”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” shouted Jason, turning several shades of incredulous.

“I’m fuckin’ serious!” yelled Phil.

The rest of us flinched from the loudness.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Since when has she had
anything
to do with band business?” snarled Jason with loathing.

“Since the second she stepped into my life!”

“So, that’s how it’s gonna be then? As long as Dr. Yoko—”

“I will punch you in the fuckin’ throat, so help me God, Jace—”

“She ain’t no Yoko!” shouted Flipper.

Oh, damn. Dr. Yoko? I really should go.

I sidestepped silently toward the door and reached for the knob.

Phil busted me and glared. “Don’t fuckin’ move, Baby Girl.”

“Everyone, just shut the fuck up!” shouted Tim, apparently discovering a pair dangling from somewhere.

Phil strode over to me and grabbed my hand. “Rattlesnake wants us in New York to record ‘Louisiana Baby’ for radio play.”

“Okay,” I said. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow mornin’.”

I nodded and asked, “What does this have to do with me?”

“Nothin’!” stated Jason. “It has abso-fuckin’-lutely
nothin
’ to do with you!”

Phil straightened to his massive full height, his back rigid, and the immense fury pouring out of him was palpable. I saw Tim shudder and close his eyes in terror.

Poor dude.

He seemed to be the bearer of ill tidings for Phil, and it didn’t look like he enjoyed a single minute of it.

“Jason,” Phil said.

His voice was so low and deadly that a little tendril of fear snaked its way into my chest for the guitar prodigy.

“You keep mouthin’ off at my woman, and I will not hesitate to beat the livin’ shit out of you.”

Flipper’s and X’s spines straightened, too, and I was starting to feel as apprehensive as Tim appeared.

“Back off, Jace,” X warned, his own voice pitching deeper than normal.

Jason shut his mouth, but he glared at me all the same. I knew his apathy toward me was in part due to Sheri. But I couldn’t for the life of me understand why he was
this
pissed because I was here. I hadn’t said a single word to him, and my actions had been nothing but respectable. If he thought I was there to destroy my favorite band on the planet, he could think again.

“You have to go, Phil,” I said, looking up into his eyes. “There needs to be a decent recording for radio play. They bleep everything out. The fans deserve it—”

“We’re also booked to do this week’s
Metal Madness Hour
!” blurted out X, bouncing a little.

“Seriously? Like, Thursday’s episode?” I asked, his excitement infecting me.

They all stared at me now, looking surprised that I watched it.

What dumbasses. Of course, I watch it!

“We’ll be shootin’ it on Tuesday,” said Flipper.

Jason’s glare had softened a bit.

“Sweet,” I said to Flipper.

“We won’t be back until Friday afternoon,” said Phil, his voice shaking with anger.

“So? It’s just a few days. You
have
to go.”

He looked at me, his sweet brown eyes pleading for…
something
. The thing was, whatever he was asking me for, I couldn’t give. I actually happened to agree with Jason in this regard. I had
nothing
to do with the band.

“Come with me,” he begged, his voice turning soft.

“I’m slammed with work, babe. There’s no way I can up and leave.”

His eyes closed in resignation.

“Phil?”

“Yeah, Baby Girl.”

“I’ll still be here when you get back.”

He nodded and squeezed my hand.

“Is it settled then?” Tim asked. He still had his eyes closed.

“Yeah,” replied Phil. “Now, you all can fuck off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Phil—” said Jason.

“You need to be the first to fuck off,” snapped Phil, pointing an ominous finger at him.

Jason fired a mutinous glare at Phil before he stormed out through the sliding panel door. Not too far behind, Flipper and Tim headed out, and X winked at me and grinned before following them. Phil covered the distance in a couple of strides and locked the door behind them.

“Are you mad at me again?” I asked.

“No. Why would I be?”

“Because I said you should go.”

“You were only sayin’ the truth,” he stated. Then, he walked up to me and swept me up into his arms, his mouth taking utter possession of mine.

Sighing with unadulterated happiness, I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders and gave myself up to him. He tasted like toothpaste and Phil, and there was nothing better. I was slightly disappointed when he pulled back, his eyes sparkling.

“I’m gonna miss the fuck outta you.”

“I’m sure I’ll miss the fuck outta you, too,” I replied with a grin of my own. “Want to go for some food?”

“I could go for some food.”

One of my all-time favorite places for a fantastic breakfast was a little mom-and-pop place called the News Stand Café. They served only locally grown organic food and lots of it. And the coffee…oh, the coffee. They made the best lattes ever.

Light and airy, I found it to be moderately cheerful in here with photos of happy organic animals running free in green fields before they had been brought to the slaughter for my gastronomical enjoyment. Potted ferns and ficus trees every few feet brought a fresh sort of outdoorsy feel to the place.

Seated in a booth in a back corner of the restaurant, Phil took the bench against the wall, so he could watch who came through the door.

He looked around for a few seconds before hissing at me, “You’ve brought me to a hippie restaurant!” He looked positively scandalized.

“One that has some seriously good fucking food.”

“
Hippie
food,” he grumbled.

“You’d better get used to it if want to be with me. I only cook hippie food.”

“I
never
want to be without you,” he told me as he snapped open his menu. He didn’t even look through it before putting it back down on the table and taking my hands in his. “Kenna, there’s nothin’ and no one more important to me than you. Everythin’ I’ve done the past six years means nothin’ if I can’t have you in my life from now on. The thought of comin’ home and findin’ you has been the only thing that’s kept me goin’.”

He was looking at me with such intensity that it was a wonder I didn’t combust.

“Phil,” I whispered, “knock it off. You’re going to make me cry.”

His eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth.

“I mean it!” I snapped.

“Hi, guys! My name’s Janine. I’ll be your server today,” said the perky little thing who had popped up next to our table. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Phil looked up at her with a thunderous expression on his face, making her smile slip a bit.

“I’ll have a double latte and a large orange juice,” I said, picking up a menu.

“Regular coffee,” grunted Phil.

“You have to have an orange juice. They have the best,” I told him.

“And an orange juice,” he added.

“Coming right up!”

He scowled at her retreating back before looking at me again. “You’re a pushy little shit, you know that?”

“Yep.”

He looked surprised by my agreeing, and his lips twitched. “You’re too cute.”

Rolling my eyes, I asked, “What are you going to have?”

Picking up the menu again, he started browsing. “Why don’t you just tell me what I want to have?”

“Keep being an ass, and I’ll order you the vegetarian special.”

“Now, you’re just being evil.”

I grinned wickedly.

Janine came back with our coffees and juice, and I ordered the fruit platter with Brie and fresh rolls while Phil got the farmer’s omelet with ham and veggies, a side of bacon
with
sausages, hash browns, and toast.

“Will that fill you up?” I asked, feeling a little snarky.

The snarky sailed right over his head. “It’ll hold me over.”

“No doubt.”

As he took a gulp of his orange juice, the sight of the large cup looking so tiny in his huge hand struck me as hilarious.

“Damn, that
is
some fuckin’ awesome juice.”

“Right?”

We sat for a few moments in silence, mostly because I was wondering how to phrase my next question. He seemed preoccupied with just looking around. I guessed being direct was the way to go. He had been pretty open and direct with me.