The Song Remains the Same (23 page)

“Two inches?” Viv repeated, perplexed.

Sheri gave me a knowing look, and yeah, I fucking got it.

Sheri was setting herself to rights and picking up her clipboard when Phil came storming back up. The jam was about halfway through at this point, so he had maybe four minutes before heading back on stage.

“That was fuckin’ uncalled for!” he shouted at Sheri.

“Trust me, Phil. It was
completely
called for,” snapped Vivian, giving him a black look. “She had no business being here, and the shit she was saying to—” She caught my eye and stopped speaking.

“What?” snapped Phil.

“Nothing. But that woman had it coming,” was all Viv said before plopping her ass back down.

Sheri totally ignored him, spun on her heel, and headed in the opposite direction, so that left only me.

“What was that all about?” Phil asked me, his eyes still fueled with anger. “How could you let that happen?”

That was fucking
it
. “Fuck
you
!
Let
that happen? What am I? Fucking psychic now? It’s not my fault that the skanks you’ve banged have the personalities of a dishrag dipped in poison. I pulled Sheri off before she did some serious damage—”

“You’re back on, Phil,” Sheri called out.

I turned back toward the crates, and he gently grabbed my arm, but I could shake him off, if I wanted to. Instead, I turned back to him.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Piss off, Phil.”

Shooting me one last look, he headed back on stage.

Grabbing my bag, I headed for the exit. I didn’t need that sort of blame. It wasn’t up to me to control his fucking road manager.

As if I could! How dare he? Ugh!

Once out back, I made my way toward the buses, running into Devon along the way.

“Kenna? What happened? I just got a call—”

“Sheri fucking jumped your Super Slut. Word to the wise, keep that bitch away from me and my friends because I refuse to be held accountable for the condition she’ll fucking end up in!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly, putting a consoling hand on my shoulder. “What did she do?”

I was shaking, close to hysterics, and it showed. Sucking in my cheeks, I bit down hard, hoping the pain would give me a sense of control over myself. Closing my eyes, all I could see was Phil shooting me the stink eye before scooping Brigid up into his arms.

I clapped my hands over my face. I didn’t want Devon to see me lose it. My whole body convulsed with the effort it took for me to hold in my sobs. It was useless. The moment he drew me into his arms, I broke down.

“Shh,” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay, Kenna.”

He smelled really nice. Freshly showered, his scent was light and manly. It reminded me of Connor. As my episode ebbed, Devon pulled back, helping to thumb off a few tears.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Not particularly. But I will tell you that you have deplorable taste in women.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said with a self-deprecating grin. “But it’s not like I’m looking for love or anything.”

“That’s too bad.” I gave him a watery chuckle. “You could use some, I think.”

His smile turned sweet, and he leaned forward…and kissed my brow. “Try to have a better evening,” he said softly.

I nodded. “You, too.”

Mack was sitting outside the bus, eating a chicken salad sandwich.

“Hey, Pretty Hot ’n’ Temptin’,” he said as I approached.

That was his nickname for me. It drove Phil bonkers.

“Hey, Mack. Did you sleep well?”

He nodded, munching and swallowing. “You make this sandwich?”

I smiled. “Just for you.”

“I knew it! You’re crushin’ on me, ain’t ya?”

“Yeah, but don’t tell Phil,” I joked.

“Hell no. He’d fire my ass right quick if he thought I stood a chance of takin’ his Baby Girl.”

Laughing, I told him, “Well, I’m going to hit the shower.”

“Oh, I don’t know if you know, but Phil packed up your clothes and put ’em in that foxhole of yours.”

Crushing weight squeezed my chest in a viselike grip. All I could manage was a nod.

The lock had been fixed on the sliding panel, too. Tears pouring down my face, I slid it open, looking for my overnight bag. It was tucked into the cupboard. I also found the bunk had been nicely made with a single white lotus blossom sitting on a fat green leaf in the middle of my pillow.

“Oh…” I breathed, reaching for the perfect blossom.

Beneath it was an envelope addressed to
My Other Half
. With shaking fingers, I flipped it open and pulled out the note. For a dude, Phil had some seriously beautiful handwriting.

My Other Half.

You complete me in ways I did not foresee.

Never have I known you’d create the breath in me,

That you would be the Light that guides

Or the Voice of Reason in my mind.

For how long have we traveled this road together?

As long as I’m with you, I hope to travel it forever.

When forever’s path comes to its end,

I will call upon Eternity for the next journey to begin.

My promise to you is to travel by your side, too,

Spiraling through space and time

As two halves of one soul must do.

We’ll come full circle, you and me,

Once more to begin anew.

“For the love of all that’s holy…” I whispered, my vision blurring with this new wave of tears. “That fucking poet!”

Not wanting to ruin the paper by sobbing and snotting all over it, I slipped it back into the envelope and tucked it under my pillow. I pushed the lotus blossom into the far corner, so it wouldn’t be crushed when I got in. Grabbing some clothes, I hurried to the bathroom and took a blessedly cold fast shower.

Whatever walls I’d been trying to put up, Phil was effectively tearing them down. Not even the memory of him carrying a howling Brigid to safety from the Big, Bad Amazons could dampen the spark that poem had ignited within my heart.

Yeah, but he wrote that before he watched Sheri beat the crap out of that smarmy cunt. He actually tried to shovel a heap of blame on me, like I had anything to do with that!

He did apologize for that though.

But the fact that he blamed me at all is enough for me to hide that fucking wonderfully brilliant piece of written love and try to pretend I’d never read it!

Out of the shower and tucked into my foxhole, I popped in my iPod, put on
Houses of the Holy
, and attempted to commit the poem to memory. I cried some more. I cried a lot more. I sparked a spliff and slipped the poem back into the envelope.

Outside the bunks, I could
feel
,
more than hear, the movement of people thumping around.
Houses of the Holy
had finished, and now, I was listening to
Led Zeppelin IV.
“The Battle of Evermore” sang sweetly in my ears as I desperately forced myself not to open the panel and see who was out there.

More time passed.

Mack fired up the bus.

My eyes, chest, heart, and soul ached. Salty hot tears leaked out from the corners of my eyes, running into my hair and behind my ears as I stared blindly up at the ceiling.

A soft knock penetrated through the foxhole just as “Kashmir”
started. Quickly wiping the wetness from my face with the heels of my hands, I sniffled.

In a soggy broken voice that made me wince, I called out, “It’s open.”

Phil stood there, shirtless, his chest a blaze of color. He looked so damn fine and smelled so fucking heavenly that I wanted to rail against the gods for this little slap of injustice.

“Hey,” he said.

I yanked the earbuds out, and then his face turned painful.

“Baby…why are you cryin’?”

“Why
wouldn’t
I be crying, Phil?” I whispered, not wanting to incriminate him with Connor possibly lurking below in his crusty sock-filled foxhole. “Today completely sucked.”

Reaching in, he stroked his thumb along the side of my nose, collecting a fat tear and bringing it to his mouth before sucking it off. “Then, let me make it better. Why are you puttin’ us through this? You know it’s killin’ both of us.”

Swallowing thickly, I couldn’t for the life of me think of a single reason I was willingly doing this. Instead, I asked, “Do you still feel that way? When you wrote the poem, I mean.”

“Always.”

Laughing, Jason and Sheri tripped down the hall. Phil moved closer to me to let them pass. They trampled up the ladder, and Phil saw the question in my expression.

“I ain’t sleepin’ up there without you. It was made for us.”

“Where are you sleeping then?”

He jerked his thumb to the foxhole right across from the one I was in. “Figured if I couldn’t sleep next to you in the same bed, I could at least sleep in the bed next to yours.”

“I didn’t let that happen to Brigid,” I choked out.

“I know that. I was just pissed, and I said somethin’ stupid.”

“How was the rest of the show?”

He shrugged. “Fine. The people were happy.”

I nodded. “That’s good.”

“Kenna…”

“Yeah?”

“Can I please kiss you good night?” he asked so sweetly. His voice was so low that I almost couldn’t hear him.

Wanting nothing more, I nodded and leaned forward. He poked his head inside, and our lips brushed. It wasn’t enough for either of us, and we went back for more. Phil slid his arms around me and pulled me into him. My arms snaked around his shoulders and held on tight. My tongue traced the seam of his lips, and his mouth opened, inviting me inside.

Gods above, he tasted wonderful. My hand fisted in his hair, and he growled at me. The kiss turned feverish, leaving me aching all over for more. I was starting to wonder if he could fit in here with me when he broke the kiss, pulling back.

“Will you do somethin’ for me?” he whispered.

“What’s that?”

“Will you keep the panel open, so I can watch you sleep? I just…I miss you so fuckin’ much. I couldn’t sleep last night without you next to me.” He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Okay,” I whispered back.

Nodding, he opened his eyes, and mine filled up again, seeing just what it was I had been doing to him, to us.

He knows he fucked up. Why am I still punishing him? He’s truly sorry for what happened, for needlessly hurting me, for creating doubt within me. This is hurting me just as much!

Yes, but it would all be worth it when he finally broke down and spoke with Devon. Phil needed to hear the truth, and it wouldn’t be the same coming from me. By keeping my distance, I was making him see that there were far worse things than being forced to talk to the man who had once been his best friend.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you, too. And thank you for the poem. It…I loved it.”

I watched him crawl into the foxhole across from mine. Once under the covers, he turned on his side, so we could see each other.

“How much longer?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“That really all depends on you,” I replied.

I didn’t know when it happened or how long it took, but finally, I fell asleep, putting a really difficult day behind me.

Phil wasn’t in his foxhole when I opened my eyes the following day. The scent of omelets, bacon, and dark roast hazelnut coffee wafted down the corridor.

Orlando, Florida, was hotter and brighter than Jacksonville.

Pulling myself out of the bunk, I headed into the bathroom for the usual morning ritual, and I got dressed for the day.

When I went into the kitchen, Alys, Lili, and Viv were enjoying Lewis’s fine cuisine.

“Where are the guys?”

“Out and about. I think X and Phil went shopping,” replied Alys.