No Quarter (NOLA's Own #2) (23 page)

“What about the other guys? They’re pretty well off now.”

“When we started makin’ some money, they had Dad invest for them, and he made them rich, too. By the time we got the record deal, we could afford top-of-the-line shit, so we made sure we had the best speakers and instruments and all that. While we were on the road, we went as cheap as possible, stayin’ in shit hotels when we had to and eatin’ garbage, so what Rattlesnake deducted from our pay was minimal.

“The band isn’t just a band. It’s a business. And now that we’re well-known and respected in the industry, we can do more. We
want
to do more. We finally have the time to get our own studio. We have the knowledge, capability, and fundin’ to build our own label and promote other bands. It’s somethin’ we all want to do, and we’ve been discussin’ it for a while.”

“I think that’s amazing,” I told him. “That you want to help others live their dreams, too.”

He shrugged. “It’s not just about that. Yeah, when you say it like that, it sounds fan-fuckin’-tastic, but like I said, we’re a business. Doin’ this is about makin’ money—for all of us, not just myself. The guys are equal shareholders.”

“But if you can already buy Louisiana, what’s the point?”

“Maybe I want Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia, too,” he replied with a grin.

I rolled my eyes.

His face suddenly turned serious. “I meant it, when I said that I’ve done all of this for you, for us. You’re my reason for all of it.”

“I guess I don’t really understand why though. Did you think that I wouldn’t love you if you weren’t able to buy me a few states?”

He smiled, his dimples showing. “No. What I want with you is somethin’ money can’t buy.”

“And what’s that?”

“A family. A big one.”

“How big are we talking here?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.

He shrugged again. “Four, maybe five kids—”

“
Five kids
?” I squeaked. “You want me to give birth to
five kids
?”

Phil shot a sheepish look my way. “Somethin’ like that.”

“You’re insane!”

“It’s what I want. And I want it with you.”

“Can we adopt some of these kids you want so badly? Do you know what pregnancy does to a woman’s body, Phil?
Five
fucking kids…” I wasn’t even ready to think about having
one
, let alone five
.

Reaching across the island, he took my hands. “It’s not like I wouldn’t be with you every step of the way. It’s why we’re doing this, Kenna—starting our own label and getting our own studio. We’re tired. We all want to settle down and start somethin’ for ourselves. X wants a family. Flipper wants it, too—”

“With his
cousin
,” I huffed under my breath.

Phil grinned. “Vivian is adopted, Kenna. There’s no blood relation between them, and they’ve been in love with each other since we were kids. They’re tryin’ to figure shit out for themselves right now, but yeah, Flipper wants that with her. And Jason…I’m not too sure Jason knows what he wants, but whatever it is, he wants it with Sheri. She’s got her own shit going on now and probably needs this time more than any of us.”

I nodded and squeezed his fingers. “Look. What you want…I know that I’ll want it, too, one day. I’m letting you know right now that I am not keen on giving birth five times though. You’re just going to have to scale back that number. And now that you know that I’m willing to do this with you
one day
, I want you to drop the whole matter of starting a family for a while, okay? I’m not ready, not by a long shot. I’ve worked too hard, sacrificed so much of myself to be where I am today, and I’m at a point in my life where I want to enjoy the time I’m having. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes. It’s not like I want to start makin’ babies tonight.”

I smiled. “Alys called them fat little giant babies.”

His face lit up. “Yeah? I like that. We’re gonna have fat little giant babies.”

“Just not anytime soon.”

He nodded. “I ain’t ready to share you like that yet. I just want us to be on the same page. Because…it’s
all
I want. You and our family.”

“Why do you want it so badly?” I asked, genuinely curious. “What is it about the idea that is so important to you?”

“I don’t know. It’s just what I’ve always wanted. I…” He dropped his gaze and blushed.

“What?”

“I used to have dreams about it. From the time I was really young, like seven years old.” He closed his eyes, and his hands tightened around mine. “I dreamed that we were married and we were livin’ here, in this house. We already had two or three kids. I could see two of them, but it felt like there was one I couldn’t see even though I knew it was there. You were pregnant again, and we were all just so
happy
. Not perfect. But happy…”

A shiver danced its way down my spine, and my heart skipped a beat.

He opened his eyes, and the vulnerability inside them weakened me—not in a bad way, not really. It just made me feel vulnerable, too. It scared me because he was making me see this dream life, making me want it.

“It’s always the same dream. It’s always
you
. When I saw you at Bougainvillea that night, I recognized you.”

I wanted to say this was weirding me out, but I had grown up with a woman who could see beyond what could be seen with the naked eye. I had heard the collective psyche for myself, and while I didn’t necessarily believe in all of this, I didn’t disbelieve either. I thought Phil believed in this dream, and that was where the power of it came from.

“Please tell me it’s not freakin’ you out,” he whispered.

“It’s not. My own mother knew about you before I even told her. She knew I met you that night and that you called me your Baby Girl.”

“She did?”

I nodded. “She was special like that. She used to say that everyone has the ability to tap in to the collective psyche. She meditated so damn much that she practically lived with it. For a long time, I couldn’t allow myself to believe in it. I think that’s why a part of me wanted to study medicine. With the science and documented evidence, I could see what was real and what was…
other.
But the older I get, the more I appreciate her unconventional ideas.”

“Do you believe that what I’ve dreamed about is real?”

“I believe that you believe it is, and it’s not out of the realm of possibility.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think that you were very moved by this dream from an early age and that maybe what it made you feel is something you find extremely wonderful. And so you chase it when you’re awake. It’s given you drive and focus in your life, so it’s not a bad thing. And if it’s something that eventually comes to pass, then it’s probably due to your perseverance and desire to make it a reality. You’ve given it power just by using it as a goal.”

“But it’s
you
in the dream, Kenna. It’s always ever been you.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just attracted to women who are fair-haired and tall—”

He shook his head. “I’ve always been able to see your face in the dream. I’ve had this dream over and over for as long as I can remember. It’s
your
face. I
recognized
you from it. I think it’s why I went apeshit afterward.”

Something clicked inside my head. “Your tattoos…”

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “What about them?”

“The dream catchers on your head. You got them because of this dream you had, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I wanted a constant reminder of it. I needed to be able to see that I had more important things to look forward to and work for.”

“Yeah, but you let your hair grow to cover them up.” I laughed.

His face was serious with his reply, “They’re always there.”

It had been so long since I had a conversation like this. Not since my mother had passed away had I spoken so in depth about this kind of thing. I missed this, the exploration of the unknown.

“So, I guess you think I’m a head case now,” he said softly, his eyes on our clasped hands.

“No, I’ve always thought you were a head case, Phil. But I understand you a little better, and…”

“And?”

“You make me see it—your dream. It’s infected me, and it makes me want to consider that life for myself. I know now why you’ve achieved so much at such a young age—because you
love
this dream. And if I love you as much as I believe I do, how can I not give you the life you’ve been so desperately seeking?”

The look he was giving me had the power to singe my soul. There was just so much behind those warm maple-sugar eyes, and as more time passed, it didn’t terrify me so much. It excited me, stirred something in me, and I wanted to feel more of it.

For some moments, we just stared into each other’s eyes.

There was so much hope within him, a passion for life that burned so hot. It was as though an inferno constantly raged inside him. It was so huge inside himself, so much larger than life, that it made sense that he was as big as he was physically. He needed this body to keep up with his spirit. His spirit itself burned white-hot with intensity, consuming and producing the sound of that inferno, the blaze of thousands of songs, notes, rhythms. It was the beautiful roaring of the language of the soul.

“What do you see in me?” I whispered.

“Blues and greens,” he replied. “Calm and cool. Still clear waters, the surface ripplin’ with gentle breezes…
Zephyr.
Clean and gentle, receptive. Acceptin’.”

“Wow,” I breathed.

“What do you see in me?”

“Reds and yellows and whites. You burn hot for
everything.
You’ve got such fire and light inside of you…and darkness, too.”

He closed his eyes.

“Your light casts shadows from the obstacles you yourself put up.”

“How can we see inside each other like this?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know. We just do.”

“We’re very different, aren’t we?” He sighed. “Opposites.”

I felt the surprise on my face. “Well, yeah. Doesn’t that make sense to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“We each have what the other strives for, Phil. Inside of you, you’re all rage and passion and excitement. I’d love to have some of that in me. I’m collected, logical, calm, and boring—”

“You are
not
boring, Kenna.”

Rolling my eyes, I replied, “You clearly haven’t hung out with me long enough then. What I’m saying is, we’re able to show one another what it is we need to find in ourselves. I think that’s what makes us so compatible. You see in me your own desire for peace and quiet, whereas in you I find my…”

“Your what?”

“My inner voice. You are my inner voice, what I’m too rational to unleash on society. From the minute I saw you walk out on stage at the music festival, you embodied everything I wished I were. You were larger than life, louder than hellhounds, and more beautiful than anything I had ever seen before. You swept me up and took me places inside myself I didn’t even know existed. Your voice was the voice inside my head. I
recognized you
when you opened your mouth.”

He just stared at me again, and it didn’t bother me. I wanted him to see me for who I was, without embarrassment, the way he let everyone see him
.

“I love that you’re not afraid of anything,” I told him. “I love that you make no excuses for who you are, that you have no problem wearing what you feel and what you think for everyone to see. I love how you were uncompromising about what you wanted to do with your life.”

“Yeah, but I had the means to do it.”

“So did I, but I didn’t.”

“Why is that?”

“I think a lot of different things factor into the whole picture of why I decided to become a doctor. One, I would always have music to listen to, no matter what I did. So, it’s not like I was missing out. Even though I wasn’t writing about it, I still could think about it and hear it and be moved by it. It’s not like I was any good at making it. My brother got that talent.

“Second, I wanted answers. My mother’s illness helped push me into researching everything about her condition, all the medications prescribed for it, and where and why it did nothing more than prolong the inevitable. It created a thirst in me to find out more. It was never a passion in me but an obsession. I needed more and more knowledge. I guess I could liken it to an addiction. I became addicted to the knowledge I was receiving.

“And three, I found out that I’m good at it. It’s challenging, and I’m someone who likes a challenge. It’s also rewarding. I enjoy making people feel well.”

“But what about
you
? What are you gonna do when it’s no longer rewardin’ or enjoyable? When just gettin’ up to go to work becomes a chore?”

“I don’t know. Live off the royalties of my stupid-rich boyfriend?” I joked.

“That’ll work. That just means I’ll get you all to myself, and I’ll take care of you, which is what I want anyway.”

“I can take care of myself,” I told him, feeling irritation rise to the surface. “I don’t
want
to be taken care of. I need to do things for myself. If I wasn’t practicing as a doctor, I’d have to find something else to do.”

“You just let me know when that happens. I’ll do whatever you need to make you happy.”

A goofy smile split my face. “Sure thing.”

Phil’s smile was breathtaking.

“How about I take your borin’ ass upstairs and see if we can do somethin’ excitin’ with it?”

“My boring ass just tingled at the thought.”

“Awesome.”