While in Seattle, we didn’t have a whole lot of time to spend sightseeing. The day of the concert, we all went out for lunch in the Space Needle. Then, it was back to the fairgrounds.

Seattle residents were hard rockin’ motherfuckers.

NOLA’s Junk destroyed them.

The weather was shit, mud was everywhere, and the guys beat the music into the amped up crowd. Everyone and everything was filthy, sweaty, and disgusting by the time we made it back to the Fairmont.

Next stop was Portland, Oregon. The weather was nice—sunny, warm, and bright—and the surrounding forests around the venue were breathtaking.

After Portland and Eugene, we headed to California. First stop was in Eureka and then San Francisco where we met up with Lewis’s parents, who put us up in their huge home before we were scheduled to head to Fresno.

Devon had decided to continue on, trailing the Cannibals and staying in the same hotel with them. Brigid hadn’t been looking at all well, and he’d felt he needed to be there for her. He was going to try to get her away from them, and the day after the San Francisco show, he called Phil to let him know he’d succeeded.

Phil

Kenna handed me my phone as I stepped out of the bathroom. Checking the name on the screen, I saw it was Devon.

“Hey, man,” I answered.

“Hey. I got her.”

“Oh, yeah? That was pretty quick. How’s she doin’?”

“She’s fuckin’ covered in bruises and…” Devon swallowed hard. “I’m scared she might need to see a doctor. One of those fuckers tore her ass up bad. She’s bleeding, and she can hardly sit down.”

“Then, fuckin’ take her! What are you waitin’ for?”

“She won’t go. She’s scared they’ll see her as a user and admit her to rehab or jail. Can I talk to Kenna? See what she says?”

“Yeah, man, here.” I handed the phone off to my Baby Girl.

She raised an eyebrow at me. “Hello?” her sweet rich voice spoke into the phone.

I watched her face for any telltale expression, but those waters were calm as she listened to Devon.

“How bad is it? Will she let you take a look?” She nodded her head.

I wished she would hit speakerphone. We were alone in our room. No one else would hear the conversation.

“Okay. Okay. I suggest that you get to the pharmacy…” She walked around the room, giving him instructions.

Devon must’ve said something she really didn’t agree with because her cool waters rippled with irritation.

“All right. Just keep a close eye on her. Yeah. Here’s Phil.”

She slapped the phone in my hand and walked out of the bedroom.

“What the fuck, GianFranco? Why’s my Baby Girl pissed?”

“Because I can’t find Brigid’s stash, and I can’t be with her every fucking second. She’s got tracks in the inside of her elbows, but they look a few days old, so maybe she wasn’t doing so much to go into full withdrawal. I know she doesn’t feel well, but she’s not wholly fucked up.”

“Can a roadie or one of your detail sit with her when you can’t be there?”

“I guess so. She’s been sleeping since she got here. Well, we talked, but…”

“About what?”

“About us, her and me. She said she was sorry about everything that went down. She admitted that you were the guy she fell for and that she went a bit psycho when she saw you again. But…she told me that she loved me, too, that she was just scared that I’d bail on her like you did. She fucked shit up on purpose, so she wouldn’t have to go through it again. I asked her if she was over you, and she said she wasn’t sure, but she was ready to move on.”

“Huh.”

“So…after the tour, I guess I’ll go to Amsterdam and get her back into rehab—if, for nothing else, as a friend.”

“You’re really thinkin’ of gettin’ involved with her? After all this shit she put everyone through?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always cared about her, and right now, she needs someone who gives a shit, you know? Once…there was a time when I thought I could have that with her. She wasn’t like this, Phil. She was…Brigid—sweet and loving and adorable.”

“Yeah,” I replied, guilt flooding me.

“So, I’ll see you in Fresno then?” said Devon, sounding bone tired.

“Yeah, man. Call if you need anythin’.”

Hanging up, I took a seat on the edge of the bed. I thought about the young woman who had caught my eye after a club set in Zurich. We’d all hit up the bar, and there Brigid had sat, on a high stool with her long legs hanging out of a tight black miniskirt. She’d had her blonde hair up in a ponytail high on top of her head. I’d wanted to twist it around my fist and pull.

Gorgeous.

Brigid had been gorgeous.

For seven months, she’d been my girl. We’d partied, fucked, and had a good time. I’d paid for her rent, food, and covered the costs of drugs. I never could give her all of me. I’d never imagined she’d given me all of herself. If she had…it was never enough.

She wasn’t Kenna.

Kenna wanted me to be no one else but myself—the good, the bad, and the fucked up. No one got me as she did. She didn’t judge me for my weird baggage. The shit she put up with for me, the things she would do for me…she was everything and more.

I looked up, and there she was. Tall, cool, and collected, Kenna stood in the doorway, watching me come to terms with the Brigid situation.

“Hey.” I held up an arm, needing a fuckin’ hug.

Smiling sweetly, she came up and wrapped her long arms around me, holding my head to her chest. I loved how she smelled right in between her tits, clean and musky with a hint of sweetness.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I sighed because, right then, I was home, in her arms, and nothing could shatter that. “Just…sad, I guess. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Phil. She’s got Devon, and I know if it gets bad, he’ll take her to the emergency room.”

“Yeah,” I replied, my arms tightening around her. I pulled us both back on the bed.

“Is she a responsible user? She doesn’t share needles or anything, right?”

“I think so. She used to be. We only shot up together a few times, and when I told her I was done with it, she said she was, too. We didn’t share. No fuckin’ way. But I have no clue what goes on in that bus. I don’t think Jürgen would allow for that sort of shit, not with his boys and not with the women he uses.”

“Do you know if he uses heroin?”

“I’ve seen him use, yeah. Never used with any of them though. That shit scared me when we hung out. Too many people, too many factors that could go way fuckin’ wrong.”

“But not with Brigid.”

“No. I was more comfortable with her.”

She snuggled into my arms, and her sigh of contentment warmed me. Sometimes, I’d catch these moments with her, and I would wonder how I’d ever existed without them. Kenna was just so fuckin’ vital to who I was anymore. Most guys would fuckin’ lose their shit in fear of feeling like that but not me.

I was born only to be her other half. Whatever else…fuck it.

Las fuckin’ Vegas!

End of the tour for us, and fuck yeah, we were going all out! I’d made sure Kenna and I would have a killer room at The Bellagio. I’d thought of the penthouse, but I knew Kenna wouldn’t be impressed with a huge fuckin’ room just for the two of us, so I’d scaled it down.

“Wow!” she gasped as we walked into our suite. “This is awesome!”

Not as awesome as the penthouse, but whatever…

Just something else I adored about her. She was perfectly happy, no matter where she was, as long as we were together.

Everyone else got suites on the same floor, including Devon and Brigid. She still wouldn’t leave whatever accommodations he’d put her up in, preferring to be anti-social. That was just fine by me. As long as she wasn’t up in Kenna’s face, irritating my woman, I was happy.