Over the Hills and Far Away (NOLA's Own #1) (15 page)

“Oh my god, Kenna,” said Lili.

Our gazes met, and she had a fierce look in her eyes.

“What?” I asked.

“I told you.”

Nodding back, I said nothing. There really wasn’t anything I could say at that point.

“Well, let’s get these boxes into my bedroom. I’ll start on them next week,” said Grandma. “And I’ll call the painters and see how soon they can start. It’ll be nice to have a change.”

“Damn, Grandma, what’s gotten into you?” I asked, yanking myself out of my thoughts. I hefted up the heavier boxes into my arms.

As Grandma pattered out of the room, Lili gave me a pointed look and said, “Jimi’s weed.”

The painters came in and transformed our boring little home into fantastic brilliance. My new master bedroom and bathroom looked fabulous with a fresh coat of paint in a latte color. I’d chosen one accent wall, the one that had the headboard of the bed against it, to be painted in a dark green. Everything was decorated and ready just in time for me to start my six-month internship.

Alys had graduated and moved in with us into her newly redecorated bedroom.

One of Mom’s picture frames I had kept for myself housed the photo of Phil and me as kids and had a special place on my nightstand.
What could I say? Old habits and all that.

I ended up interning in the long-term care unit at the hospital, determining treatments to reduce the use of prescription painkillers. When I wasn’t at the hospital, I was doing research work at a rehab facility, helping detoxing addicts by administering drug-free pain relief treatments.

That had really ended up being an eye-opener for me. What a horrific illness for these people to try to get through. It was no wonder that more people didn’t try to kick the addiction. I mostly worked with heroin and opiate users because the detox was debilitating. I was only too happy to be able to provide any kind of relief for them.

Before I knew it, my internship had finished. At the end of January, I concluded my last shift at the hospital. It was a little bittersweet because working with long-term care patients meant I’d developed relationships with them. It was hard to say good-bye, but I could always come back and visit anytime I wanted or if they needed me.

My final day was on the last Friday of the month. The following Monday, Rita handed me my own practice within the Center for Radiant Health. Gavin became my second-in-command. It was a huge relief that all this work had finally paid off. Rita had had a new extension built onto the building just for us.

Walking in that first day, it hit me full-blast.
I did it. I fucking did it! I’m a practicing doctor of therapeutic medicine.

It was the second greatest feeling in the whole world.

Phil

“Seriously, Phil,” said Jason, dropping his ass on the barstool next to me, “you’ve been a complete douche for the last few weeks. Find yourself a piece of ass, and get it out of your system.”

Irritated, I heaved a sigh. I was annoyed because the fucker was probably right. To be honest, there were a lot of blondish sweet things walking around London, and that was what I liked.

Liked
.

Not once had I met anything close to my Baby Girl’s copper head.

Is she the only one in the world with that hair color? Probably. I mean, there were those who came close…

“Yeah, maybe,” I said to my brother from another mother. “It’s just—”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, sounding a bit irritated his damn self.

Touring was really starting to take its fuckin’ toll on all of us. We were sick of the bus, sick of the hotels even though the accommodations had gotten better the more money we made the record company. At least it was no longer the six of us stuck in two rooms. That had been the worst. Our poor manager, Tim, usually got stuck with Jason and Sheri “Sher-Bear,” and had endured many a night sleeping with his head stuffed under a pillow, praying for the live porn show to be over. The rest of us ended up not bunking with them ’cause we’d usually end up joining in, which was weird enough.

I went through phases with the whole sex thing. There were times when I couldn’t seem to stop fuckin’ any pretty piece that came my way, and then there were times where I’d just abstain.

Guilt was a bitch and crept up on me from time to time. It wasn’t just about my Baby Girl. I’d tried to have a relationship with this girl, Brigid, and in the end, I’d wound up hurting her and feeling like an ass. I had tried to forget and move on from my Baby Girl, and it had fuckin’ backfired. So, after that, I’d just stuck to the women who were there to put out, and that was it.

“You ever think your Baby Girl might’ve moved on, man? It’s been…what? Four years?”

“Five and a half,” I replied.

Jason let out a low whistle. “Fuck, it’s been that long?”

“Since the night we met Sheri.”

“Huh. Well…really, Phil, do you think she’s been waitin’ for your ass for six fuckin’ years?”

Anger burned deep in my chest, beneath my heart, because the thought of anyone else touching my Baby Girl really didn’t sit too well with me. What made it worse was the guilt I felt because I’d spent the last five and a half years becoming an absolute man-whore.
How could I even be the slightest bit upset if she had gone off and done the same thing?
I had no clue, but there it was.

“No,” I snapped at Jason. “I never expected her to sit celibate for all these fuckin’ years. But I damn well expect her to be ready for me when I get back.”

“Ready for what?”

Ready for fuckin’ forever—that’s what.
“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, well, what if she is married and has kids or some shit?”

“She isn’t,” I replied, getting angrier by the second.

“How do you know?”

“I just fuckin’ know, okay? Fuckin’ knock it the fuck off, dick!”

Jason sighed. “All right, man.”

The thing was, he wasn’t wrong.

Recently, I’d been waking up in the middle of the night, feeling like time was running out, like she was done. She could be done with waiting, done with believing in me, in the fact that there really was no one else for either of us. It was as though I could sense her waking up inside, that maybe she really had just waited and had nothing but loneliness and frustration to show for it.

I didn’t want to think about that.

“Who’s that chick?” asked Jason out of the blue.

My attention zeroed in on his pointing finger and followed it across the bar.

“She’s been around the last few days,” he mentioned. “I think she’s part of the tour crew or somethin’. I think she does makeup.”

The girl in question did look familiar, real familiar, but I guessed maybe I had seen her around a bit. She was real cute—honey-colored hair, tight little body with a rockin’ ass and a decent rack. She had a pretty face, too.

“I don’t know, man,” I replied.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should.”

“Hey there,” I said, walking up to the honey-blonde bombshell. “What’s your name?”

Man, she’s cute,
I thought. Her eyes were hazel and they were looking at me as though I had scared the piss outta her.

“Phil?” she asked, her voice sounding small.

Well, she was kind of tiny now that I was standing next to her.

“Yeah. I guess you know my name, but I wanna know yours. Unless yours is Phil, too?”

Startled, she looked around the bar but then smiled. “I’m Camryn.”

“Hey, Camryn. Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure,” she replied.

I took the stool next to her. “Jason said you do makeup for some of the bands on the circuit,” I said, trying to start up a conversation.

“Yeah. Mostly Cornered Cannibal, but The Undying use my services, too.”

I nodded, my chest twisting up inside at the mention of the Cannibals. I hadn’t seen the guitarist for that band yet, and I wanted to keep it that way. We were touring with them through the British Isles, but Sheri had made sure that when we were staying in hotels, it wasn’t the same ones.

GianFranco can go fuck himself. His level of fucked-up is beyond anythin’ I need to be a part of.

“Where you from?” I asked her.

“California—LA,” she replied. “You?”

“New Orleans,” I told her, pronouncing it
Nawlins.
My father always hated how I had slipped into the dialect of the region, but it had become such a part of me that it was hard to shake.

She laughed. “Of course—
NOLA
. How stupid of me.”

“You don’t seem stupid, so no worries,” I said. “You got a boyfriend?”

“Not really,” she replied.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I date, but I’m not committed. In this business, it’s best to stay unattached.”

Too fuckin’ right.
“Yeah.”

It was perfect really. If she was interested but not
too
interested, then maybe we could work something out. I’d gotten tired of banging new pussy all the damn time. I didn’t give a shit what Flipper and X had said. It was better to have a woman who knew what got me off, and I knew what got her off. With the groupies, I got sick of sharing with the guys and the roadies.

I mean, really, we’ve fucked the same fuckin’ chicks. It’s kinda gross.

Some of the groupies would give it up just minutes after doing it with someone else.

But Camryn was a fresh face and attitude, and if she was touring with the other bands, then maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing. I wouldn’t have to see her all the time, and we could be banging on the side with no guilt.

“You busy tonight?” I asked her.

Camryn’s eyes traveled the length of me, stopping a little longer than necessary on my crotch. Her sweet little Cupid’s bow mouth curled up.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinkin’,” I said, pitching my voice low, “that maybe you’d wanna come up to my room with me.”

Jaded eyes met mine. “Just sex?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“You into weird shit?”

“Not unless you want it.”

She nodded, smiled, and told me, “After you, big boy.”

Camryn was cool, and she wasn’t into weird shit, which was just fine by me. She didn’t ask the usual questions I would get from other new pussy.
Why do you hold your dick? Why won’t you go down on me? Why don’t you make any noise when you come?
—that sort of shit.