—Atlanta Journal Constitution
Henley Hendrix’s publicist has issued a statement notifying the public that Hendrix has awakened from a comatose state. She remained in a coma for fourteen days after the vehicle collision that claimed the life of longtime friend and bandmate, Caleb King. An earlier statement by the publicist confirmed Hendrix suffered internal hemorrhaging. Funeral arrangements are still postponed for Caleb King. Fans have poured out en masse to show respect to Hendrix and King at the site of the accident and Grady Hospital.
Hendrix rose to fame as a guitar prodigy at the tender age of twelve. Her legendary grandfather, Red Newman, taught her to play the guitar, and she was first noticed on stage with close family friend Buddy Guy. Guy has always joked that she played him “right off the stage.” King also rose to fame as a guitar prodigy at the age of fifteen, and the two childhood friends formed the band Abandoned Shadow. The two recorded their first album with bandmates Griffin Hughes and Rhys Ryan, and were touring by the age of sixteen. Their following grew quickly, and they remain one of the top-grossing rock acts in history. Her brother, Koi Hendrix, and his band Broken Access, rank right behind Abandoned Shadow. All members from both bands have roots in Macon, Georgia. It is reported King will be buried in his hometown.
“HENDRIX HYSTERICAL AFTER MISCARRIAGE”
—The Sun
Sources close to the Guitar Goddess report Henley Hendrix is devastated after losing her unborn child while she was comatose. The sources disclosed Hendrix was around three months pregnant with Caleb King’s child. There is a clear link to our earlier reports that King was being forced into rehab, and expecting a child was a prime motivator for the intervention and ultimatum given to him. Funeral details have not been reported for King.
Statement issued by Jagger Carlyle
Members of Abandoned Shadow and Broken Access have all been linked since childhood, and it is with a heavy heart that I thank our family, friends, and fans for the outpouring of love and support in the three weeks we have endured the loss of Caleb and the near loss of Henley. I feel it is necessary to clear up rumors about the tragic accident that claimed Caleb’s life and nearly claimed Henley’s.
Henley is not pregnant, nor has she ever been pregnant. She and Caleb have always been friends and have never been romantically involved. It is disgusting that the media looks to profit off of false news. This is a time of grieving for our friends, families, and fans, and we ask that our privacy be respected to allow us the time we will inevitably need to remember, mourn, and heal. Funeral arrangements have not yet been scheduled because of Henley’s injuries. Caleb’s parents would like for her to attend.
I would like to take a moment to ask the world to consider other options when intoxicated. Drunk driving is a senseless act that can claim innocent lives. Caleb touched so many people around the world in his short twenty-three years, and his life was cut ridiculously short because someone made a selfish decision. Please call someone for a ride, call a cab, or walk if you are intoxicated. I urge you to think of the possible consequences your actions can have on others. If you are prone to drink and drive, surrender your keys before you drink.
I appreciate all the support during this difficult time. Our parents have held us together, and our friends have been our rock. Henley is awake and doing as well as can be expected. She is healing well physically, but is still coming to grips with her immense loss. Thank you to all of our fans who have poured out their hearts on social media for us. Your words do not go unnoticed. Please continue all positive thoughts and prayers as we endure the days, weeks, and months to come.
Chapter 4
Four Years Later
“HENLEY! LOOK THIS WAY.”
“Who are you wearing?”
“Your dress is gorgeous.”
The lights flash all around me as I walk into the awards show. I was taught a long time ago to look straight ahead. You can’t see a damn thing when the mass of photographers aim their incessant flashes at your eyes. Alas, you just smile and look ahead. When you join the league of the rich and famous, your life is no longer your own. You are superhuman to the world, and eyes lurk in the shadows, watching and waiting for you to fall gracelessly from the top. A celebrity’s fall reminds them of their own humanity, their own impermanence.
The red carpet always turns into the lights on the dash. Caleb is laughing about the gig we just left, telling me about the girl in the front row who flashed him all night. He loves everything about being a musician. We cruise down Interstate 75 South heading for Macon, home. The bump startles me. Caleb’s smile leaves his face, and he peers into the rearview mirror. I see the horror take over his beautiful face. Then, the world is upside down, and I’m trapped. I can’t breathe.
I launch myself into a sitting position on the bed, covered with sweat, attempting to catch my breath. It’s always the same dream. He’s always gone at the end, and I can never find him. I sit on the edge of the bed and take a drink of water from the bedside table.
My cell starts ringing.
“Yeah?”
“Little sister,” Koi says with a smile in his voice.
“Hey, you,” I croak out.
“You okay?” His tone turns to one of concern.
“Yeah. Bad dream.”
He sighs, “Hen.”
“I’m okay,” I lie.
“No, you’re not.”
“They aren’t as bad as they used to be.”
“Look... if you don’t—”
“I’m still coming to Atlanta,” I cut him off.
“Fuck, I miss you, Hen. Road’s never been the same without you,” he says, and guilt slices through me.
“I’m so sorry. I just...”
He cuts me off this time, “Stop. You made the choices you had to make to deal with the hand you were dealt. I didn’t say that to make you feel like shit. I just really fucking miss my sister.”
“Well, I’m not going back on the road. My travels are over for now.”
“That doesn’t help me,” he says as he also chuckles. “My travels are never over.”
“Poor rock star,” I goad him.
“No, poor brother. If I have to listen to Kip, Cam, or Jag talk about your beauty in ways only reserved for porn sets again, I might end up in jail. You should come up and satisfy their lust,” he laughs.
“Jesus Christ.” I laugh as well. “I’ll be there in about three hours,” I promise.
“Good, we can hang for a while before the show. Pack a bag in case you decide to get wasted tonight, sis.”
“Will do. Love you.”
“Love you too. Be careful driving.”
THE LAST FOUR years of my life are scarred by the tragedy that took my best friend. Rock-’n’-roll’s favorite child left music, left it all behind because I refused to fall apart in front of the entire world. It isn’t any of their fucking business. They didn’t know him, and they didn’t lose him. I also can’t muster the courage to play music again without him. It took me six months to decide that I couldn’t stand the look of pity in almost every pair of eyes I met.
My dad suggested I pick up my camera again and find something to do with it. I photographed my entire life before Caleb died. I managed to maintain control of most of the photographs that were released by our band and even our private lives. I love photography as much as I used to love music.
I went backpacking through Europe. I saw everything I ever wanted to see from the Irish Countryside, medieval castles, Rome, and I even ran with the bulls in Spain. But, the numbness and the constant sadness remained.
Everything had turned to muted colors of gray. I often wondered why others in the world were allowed to keep their light, their color, their zest for life, and the ability to dream when mine was taken from me. It was cruel. I couldn’t appreciate a beautiful smile o
r eyes with unique colors. I wanted to be alone, and I wanted the world to be quiet. I hated music, but most of all, I hated that it wouldn’t stop playing in my head. It was relentless in its pursuit to break my will.
There was music everywhere as I wandered aimlessly from country to country, and eventually, continent to continent for three years. It haunted me, but Caleb did too. He travelled with me, living in my dreams, and sometimes in my imagination. His death hung over me like a black cloud some days, and those nights, those nightmares, were hard, because I was alone. The memories would assault me again, and the realization that his death had really happened and that I was still here living in a colorless world dropped me to my knees. My heart broke for the millionth time as tears burned in my eyes. Some nights I became violently ill, but there was never anyone there, because I wanted it that way. Wanted to come to grips with being broken on my own.
Until, one day, almost four years after his death, I woke and yearned for home. I longed for the people I loved and the land I was born on.
BROKEN ACCESS IS playing Verizon Wireless Amphitheater in North Atlanta tonight, and I promised Koi I would photograph the show. I have a two-hour drive to Koi’s hotel, and might as well get my ass ready. I’m wearing a dress that could probably be longer, but I’m twenty-six, and I have a nice body. This shit won’t last forever; I might as well flaunt it while I can. I’m also sporting my knee-high black leather boots with a four-inch heel.
I make the drive to Atlanta from Macon, turning my iPod all the way up and rock out to Sevendust, Chevelle, and Jimi Hendrix. I finally arrive at the hotel, but not before Koi and his bandmates send heaps of texts requesting my ETA. I meet Koi in his room and throw my arms around my brother. He has darker features than I do. His dirty blond-hair and chiseled jaw encase his dimples and dark blue eyes which make women love him.
“I fucking missed you,” Koi says as he squeezes me tight.
I don’t respond. I simply take in the smell of my brother, regret cutting through me as I remember I haven’t seen him in close to a year. I let him squeeze me for a long while.
We part as there is a loud sudden knock on his suite door. Koi steps back to open it, and Jagger bursts through, all smiles.
He hugs me tight and doesn’t let go for a beat. God, I love the smell of him. He smells the same as he always has since we were teenagers. A touch of patchouli, a hint of cigarettes, a dab of leather, and spicy like saffron.
“Stop mauling my sister,” Koi says.
“Your sister is hot. I can’t help myself. She is all powerful and classy, and it just makes me all touchy-feely.”
I look at two of my favorite men in the world and give them the biggest smile I can muster. I really miss these guys, and cue my misty eyes. Damn allergies. I avert my eyes, look down at my boots to hide my emotion. Jagger lifts my chin to force eye contact.
“What’s wrong, gorgeous?”
I smile again. “I just realized how much I miss you two. It has been a long time since we’ve hung out. It feels like old times. Well, sort of.”
Sort of, without Caleb.
Fuck, Jag is gorgeous. His crystal-blue eyes shine back at me.
“I’m only ever a phone call away, Hen.” He strokes his thumb up my cheek.
How does he do that to me? I think I need to change my panties.
He keeps rubbing his thumb down my jawline, and oh dear Lord Jesus, Buddha, and Allah, I think my cooch is on fire. I quickly assess how I can get my brother out of the room, disrobe Jag, have amazingly hot and dirty sex, then get myself in order. My brother never has to know. I muster the best smile I can hope for and pray Jag and my brother can’t read my thoughts. He probably shouldn’t touch me again. It’s highly likely I’ll start humping him like a damn dog.
Down, girl.
Fuck, I need to get laid.
Koi interrupts my reverie with tirades about the girl he recently split from. We start discussing issues with his ex-flame. He just broke up with a makeup artist, Reagan, who is the spawn of Satan. Seriously, the bitch is certifiably psychotic. He speaks to Jagger as he finishes telling a story, but Jagger doesn’t respond. Koi launches a pillow from the nearby couch at his best friend, and Jag finally seems to snap out of it.
“Sorry... shit... what?” Jag asks, irritated.
“Dude! You are checking out my sister’s ass.” Koi is disgusted.
“No. I’m checking out your sister’s ass, legs, feet, back, shoulders, hair, and all the places I can only imagine in between,” he retorts.
Oh, Daddy.
Koi’s jaw tenses and I can see his aggravation. “I’m going to find the rest of the guys. I’ll call when it’s time to load up on the bus and head over to the venue. Try not to fuck my sister while I’m gone.” He smirks.
I look back to Jagger, and he’s staring again. “I’m going to have to kill any motherfucker who looks at you tonight. Maybe we should cover you up. Jesus! While I’m re-dressing you, we should just buy you a jibaab and hijab. We can even buy you the Moroccan version—it has all that pretty stuff on it.”
He looks serious.
“Jag, I’m going downstairs for a smoke. If I see you with a jibaab or a hijab, I’m going to put my cigarette out in your eye.” I give him my serious face, hands on hips, the whole shebang.
Jagger takes a few steps toward me with his long legs and pulls me into a tight hug. He holds me for a long time and strokes my hair with his free hand. Just as I think I’m about to spontaneously combust from the sexual frustration coursing through my body, he draws back and places the sweetest kiss on my forehead. See my problem? He sees me in a platonic way, while I see him in a very naked way. Yup, right between my legs. Hell, I couldn’t care less what part of him is between my legs, as long as he is there. He offers me his arm with a smile, and I take it.
He shakes his head and mumbles, “I’m going to jail tonight.”
We wait for the elevator and then enter the car when it arrives. Jag leans into the back corner, and when I look up, he has an intense look on his face. He holds my gaze. I would normally break the ice by saying something witty, but I can’t seem to muster up the words. His crystal-blue eyes are making my vagina pull out her Sunday church fan to fan the flames. If he continues looking at me intensely, I might jump him. The scene plays out in my head.... Mmm.
Jagger crosses the car with lightning speed and puts his hands on either side of my head, as he leans down into my personal space. I mean up close and personal.
I really love the way he smells. Have I mentioned that before now? If not, I should have. He smells like sex on a stick. Speaking of sticks.... I wonder how big his is. I do a mental headshake.
I look down at his chest because his proximity is making me all light-headed. Am I in high school again? He lifts my chin, and I look into those crystal blues. I really could get lost in them.
“I’m fucking glad to see you. I don’t mean your presence; I mean the Henley who threatens violence, like putting a cigarette out in my eye.” He pauses and looks all over my face, “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
He leans down to my neck and sniffs.
“You even smell amazing.”
Goosebumps spread down my arms.
If I speak now, I will stutter like a damn fool. He leans back up and makes eye contact. He is really close to my face. He looks at my lips and then back to my eyes.
Oh, in the name of everything holy, please just fuck me. Please kiss me.
The elevator car pings, and it stops on the tenth floor. He pulls away slightly and then tucks into the corner behind me as the elevator fills with roadies. They instantly notice me, then I’m enclosed in hugs and greeted with endless smiles. We make our way down to the lobby, and I follow the mass of men out to the smoking section, all the while wondering what just fucking happened in that elevator. I sho
uld have worn extra thick panties tonight.
Once I enter the smoking section, I light up a menthol and enjoy the first drag. Camden and Kip emerge from around the corner with Koi, and their faces light up when they lay eyes on me. Cam pushes Kip back as though they’re still kids trying to get a head start on me. He picks me up, swings me around, and hugs me tightly. Kip yanks me from Camden’s embrace and throws my petite body over his shoulder.
He walks away from the guys with me yelling, “I’m wearing a fucking dress, you asshat.”
“Bring her back, Kip,” Cam growls in mock irritation.
“Go get your own,” Kip yells back.
“There isn’t another one, asshole,” he replies while I’m being manhandled by Kip.
Kip finally sets me down when we turn another corner, and I quickly pull my short dress down. He steps back, looks me over, and smiles.
“Looking good, girl. Missed you so much,” he says, and then he embraces me in another hug.
I feel another major rush of guilt for barely being around for the past four years.
Cam rounds the corner with Koi and Jag and immediately picks up where he left off. He wraps me up in a big bear hug and sets me back down and smiles at me, then kisses me on my cheek.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Why, just the other day, I was telling your loving brother how one of your Rolling Stone covers is my favorite jerk-off material for like, ever.”
I feign a gag, and the guys laugh.
“Yeah, your brother was none too happy about that revelation. Jag was about to pummel me, and Kip tried to one-up me by...”
“Shut up, fuck face,” Kip warns.
“What, you don’t want my baby sister to know you jacked off to her Maxim Magazine photographs?” Koi laughs.
Kip is immediately face-to-face with me, lifts my chin to meet his eyes, and I know by the mischievous grin on his face he’s up to no good.
Broken (The Guitar Face Series Book 1) Page 4