After an overdose, Henley Hendrix retreats to Georgia to chase sobriety and get her life together. To do that, she’s got to keep her distance from Jagger and company. But when an old friend pops back into her life, a private moment is leaked to the world, and someone she never thought would walk away from her does exactly that.She’s got to deal with rejection, a stalker, her return to the rock world for a promotional tour, jungle peepers, a riot of fans, a 1% motorcycle club, a one-eyed teddy bear, and two men fighting over her.
Just when she’s figured out how to finally be the best version of "Henley” she can be and how to stay healthy, her world is turned upside down again when her eyes are opened to something she never expected.
Award-winning author Sasha Marshall, a concert photographer, toured with legendary bands such as The Allman Brothers Band. A self-proclaimed free spirit, she’s most often found outdoors, or painting a canvas, capturing a photograph, people watching, reading a book, or writing a new book. Sasha makes her home in the beautiful state of Georgia and loves to hear from readers. Visit her website to connect.
Prologue
Kip
"9-1-1, WHAT’S YOUR emergency?”
"My friend’s having a seizure. There’s stuff
coming out of her mouth. I don’t know how to help her!”
"What’s your address?”
I tell the operator the address, then Jag
shouts my name from the hall.
"In here! Hurry!” I scream. "Hen, please don’t
do this.” I push her hair to the side to keep it clean.
The 911 operator continues to help. "Sir, is
your friend on her side?”
"No.”
"Turn her on her side.”
Jagger walks in the large bathroom and freezes
when he takes in the scene.
"Help her,” I beg.
"Oh no. No, no, no. Baby, no,” he pleads and
drops to his knees beside me.
The operator interrupts us, "Sir, you need to
turn her on her side so she doesn’t choke on vomit.”
Jagger and I turn her on the side, but she continues
to seize.
"I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay, baby.
I’ve got you,” Jag tells her.
She finally stops seizing.
"She stopped shaking,” I tell the operator.
"Make sure she’s still breathing,” she says.
Jagger puts his head to her chest and his eyebrows
furrow. He lifts her shirt up and looks at her belly for a beat. Then he places
his hand on her neck, and then her wrist.
Then he puts his ear to her chest and moves around every so often.
"Sir, is she breathing?” the operator asks.
"No, and there’s no fucking heartbeat!” Jag
screams.
"Sir . . . ” and she drowns out.
I freeze as tears fall freely down my face, and
I watch Jagger perform CPR.
"Come on, baby. You can’t leave me. I didn’t
mean it, okay? Please,” he begs as he pushes up and down.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,
no,” I repeat.
"Stay with me. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll
do anything, just stay with me,” he pleads but continues CPR.
After what seems like an eternity, the
paramedics rush in, place her lifeless body on a stretcher and rush her out.
Her arm falls from the gurney when they load her body. It just lays there, no
life left.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,
no,” I stare on in horror and disbelief.
She’s dead.
"Kip!”
Her arm is dangling. No heartbeat or breath
sounds. Rocking. I need to rock.
"Kip!”
I can’t do this again. I can’t do it. I don’t
have it in me. People think I’m so damn tough because I joke around a lot, but
I’m not. I’m not tough at all. I depend on a group of people more than they
will ever realize. I depend on them for love and companionship. I depended on
Caleb for that, and he died. He left her and me. Can’t do this.
"Kip!”
I search for the screams. My eyes land on a
red-eyed Jagger. He can’t do this again either. We were both there with Hen
when Caleb died. We saw him die. I can’t do this again.
Jagger grabs my face. "Kip, listen. Are you
listening?”
I nod my head.
"I need words, Kip.”
"She’s my Caleb. I can’t do this, Jag. I can’t
do it,” I plead with him to leave me be.
"You can and you will do it. They’re continuing
CPR. We found her just in time, but we have to get to the hospital. We also
have a shit ton of people to call and notify before the media gets a hold of
this,” he says.
I nod, and rock again. I want to go back to my
own little alternate reality. It’s nicer there because no one dies.
"Kip, listen to me. I need you to pull through
this and help me help her. She’s your best friend, yeah?”
"I love her so much, Jag. I don’t want her to
be dead. She’s my favorite person in the whole world,” I sob like a little
bitch. I don’t care though. Big fucking toddler sobs. She’s the only one who
has ever loved me unconditionally. My parents didn’t even give me that. Hen’s
all I have in this world some days.
Jag turns and sits beside me on the wall in the
bathroom where Henley just seized and then died. He grabs my head and pulls it
to his shoulder.
His voice chokes on his own emotion, "She’s my
favorite person too, man. We love that girl in different ways, but neither one
of us can live in a world where she doesn’t exist. I get that. So here’s what
we’re gonna do . . . we will get up from this wall, wipe our tears, get in the
car, and go to the hospital. On the way, we have a lot of people to call who
love her as much as we do. When we get there, she will be okay. They’ll make
sure she is okay, because she’s Henley fucking Hendrix and she’s too stubborn
to die, but more than that she’s too amazing to die. We will think happy
thoughts, regardless of what we just saw.”
"Okay,” I push down my emotions and try to
focus on the here and now.
"Henley is going to be okay. Say that over and
over again, Kip,” Jagger orders.
"Henley is going to be okay. Henley has to be
okay,” I repeat.
He stands from the wall, offers me his hand,
and pulls me up. We march to the garage, get in the Audi R8, because it’s fast
as hell, and head to UCLA.
