Over the Hills and Far Away (NOLA's Own #1) (24 page)

Poor Lucy was clutching her tiny gold cross, looking utterly petrified.

I took a deep breath, found some inner fucking peace, and said, “Mr. Bouvier?”

Flipper looked up and over at me, and his eyes went wide. “Yeah?”

“I’m Dr. MacGregor. Are you ready?”

He stood, tossed the magazine onto the coffee table, and walked up to me. He still had that weird look on his face.

“I know you,” he stated.

I gave him a small smile. I honestly hadn’t counted on him recognizing me.

“From where?” I asked.

He just studied me for a minute. “You look like someone I met once.”

“All right. Shall we?” I indicated for him to come with me.

He followed me back to my office where he stopped dead in front of the plaque next to the door. He stared at my name, and then his eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Your name is Kenna.”

“I know,” I replied.

He looked at me, the weird look gone wild. “Holy shit. You’re
Kenna
.”

“I am,” I said. “Care to come into my office?”

“You’re Phil’s
Baby Girl
!” he nearly shouted.

“Shh! Come inside!” I whispered hotly.

He all but raced in, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“So, tell me, Mr. Bouvier, what happened to your shou—”

“You’re
her
, right? You’re that girl from Bougainvillea all those years ago? Phil’s Baby Girl!”

I glared at him. “Are you here to get your shoulder fixed or—”

“Oh my god, woman! Answer me,
please
!”

“Yes!” I snapped. “I met you guys there, okay? Now—”

“Oh god, Phil is going to freak the fuck out!” He whipped out his cell phone from his pocket.

“Wait!” I cried.

“What?” he practically shouted. “Oh fuck, please tell me you’re not married!”

“I’m not married—”

“Engaged?”

“No.”

“In a relationship?”

“No. I’m—”

“Gay?”

“No!” I raised my voice a little. “I’m your fucking doctor right now! Put the phone away!”

He shut his mouth and stowed the phone.

“Now, what’s wrong with your shoulder, Mr. Bouvier?”

He started to twitch, and he went slightly cross-eyed. It made me think of how Lili would be acting right now if she were here to witness this.

“Please,” he said softly. “Phil’s messed up over you. He has been since that night. You have to let me tell him—”

“Flipper?”

“Yeah?”

“When I’m finished with work for the day, we can talk, okay? Until then, I need to see what I can do to help you, all right?”

He visibly relaxed. “All right.”

Once his shirt was off, I had him lie facedown on the table, and I went to work. The axilla muscles were inflamed, so I couldn’t do a massage, but acupuncture and icing might work. If not, a shot of cortisone for the swelling should do the trick, but I’d use it only as a last resort.

“Friday’s our last show for a while. It’s the
last
show. I have to play it!” he informed me as I poked and prodded around. “We’ve been going nonstop for so long. I can’t miss it!”

“I’m going to do my best to fix you, but we’ll just have to see how it goes.”

“My roadie’s played the last two shows. I think he’s planning a hostile takeover.”

I laughed outright at that. “You’re one of the greatest drummers I’ve ever heard. With a lot of bands, you don’t really hear the drums as an
instrument
, you know? It’s usually just something that keeps the time. You
play
that shit, and—” I realized that I was being way too enthusiastic right now.
Way to be professional.

“And what?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. I just got carried away. I really shouldn’t be discussing my personal preferences at work.”

“I don’t mind,” he said cheerfully.

Then, he grunted in pain as I shoved my thumb up and under the outer edge of his shoulder blade.

“Fuck. But seriously, you still listen to us?”

“NOLA’s Junk is my favorite band, ever since you guys played the music festival in the summer of ’96. I think every one of you is brilliant and unique and—quit making me discuss my personal preferences!”

“What about Phil?”

“What about him?”

“What do you think about him?”

I heaved a sigh. “I think he’s got the most amazing voice I’ve ever heard. Happy? Now, shut it.”

“But what abou—ow!”

I found the cramped trigger point causing his problem. It was hard, swollen, and hot. Stiffening my first two fingers, I pressed up while using my other hand on top of his shoulder blade to press down.

He was in so much pain that he couldn’t breathe, let alone ask me personal questions. When the point started to give, feeling as though it was melting under the pressure, I released and shoved an ice pack in his pit. He remained quiet for the next five minutes.

Then, I removed the pack and told him to sit up.

Sitting up slowly, he sighed. “It feels better already.”

“Try to slowly raise the arm, and let’s see how far you can lift before it hurts.”

He managed to get it three-quarters of the way to shoulder-level before he winced.

“It’s loads better though,” he stated. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

“I think we should book you every afternoon this week, to be honest. If you take it easy and do everything I recommend, you just might be able to play on Friday—maybe even rehearse on Thursday evening.”

“Awesome. Are you done with work now?”

I smiled. “I am.”

“So, Phil…he’s never forgotten you. When he gets back on Wednesday, he plans to start hunting you down.”

I felt my eyebrows rise. “Really?”

“Really. He hasn’t been the same since that night,” Flipper confessed in a whisper as if this bit of information were top secret. His looked toward the door as if Phil would burst in and bust him for talking smack.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t even really know myself. He just became really…I don’t know. He was an easy, fun-lovin’ guy, and when you disappeared, it was like you took that with you.”

“We were kicked out,” I explained.

“Oh, we know that. Phil was ready to kill the bouncer. But by then, it was too late, you know? Anyway…I have to let him know I found you. He’s seriously gonna—”

“I really think you should wait—at least until your treatments are finished. It’ll be best for everyone involved—you know, with doctor-patient confidentiality and all that.”

“Don’t you want to see him? Or did he not have the same effect on you as you did on him?”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but something must have shown on my face because his eyes went huge again.

“He
did
!” he gasped.

“Look, let’s just finish the week out, okay? And then maybe you can tell him—”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. I
am
telling him. There’s no two ways about it. He
has
to see you, Kenna.”

I sat down on the edge of my desk, staring at the floor and feeling out of sorts.

“Are you scared or something?” Flipper asked gently. “’Cause he’s a great guy. He’s wanted only one thing since he’s met you, and that’s to
be
with you.”

“Why?” I asked, sounding breathless. I
was
breathless.

“He says you stole his soul that night. That’s how he describes it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Tell you what. I’ll keep this between us, okay? I won’t tell him I found you, if you promise to come to the after-party on Friday. It’ll be at his place. I’ll bring you the concert tickets, so you can go—”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said dryly.

“You
have
to go to the concert!”

“We’ll be there. We already have tickets.”

“Oh.
We
?”

“Me and my best friends.”

“The two girls you were with that night?”

I couldn’t help but smile because he remembered Lili and Alys. “The very same.”

“Those were some badass chicks. You all sort of rocked our world that night. Even X was a little heartbroken when you guys weren’t there when we went looking for you.”

“Really?” I laughed.

“It’s not every day we run into some really cool, down-to-earth, not-looking-to-get-laid, and not-wanting-a-free-ride chicks, you know?”

I shook my head, trying not to laugh. “Not really. No.”

“And the
weed
y’alls had. Fuck, that was some of the best herb we’ve ever smoked.”

“I’ll be sure to bring some on Friday then,” I told him with a wink. “But let’s go get you booked up for the rest of the week. I need you fixed. I don’t want some half-assed drummer screwing up NOLA’s Junk’s welcome-home concert.”

“Too fuckin’ right!” he whooped.

Lili and Alys were in the kitchen, making dinner, when I got home. Well,
Alys
was making dinner while Lili smoked a joint and watched from the breakfast bar. Lili didn’t cook, and to be honest, if she woke up one day and decided that she was going to try, I wouldn’t let her in our newly remodeled kitchen I had paid for when Grandma had the interior painted. Lili usually got salad duty, and even then, we would be afraid of her poisoning us.

“You’re home late!” Lili accused. “Where were you?”

“I had a lovely day. Thanks for asking,” I replied sweetly for sarcastic emphasis. “And you?”

“Did you go and see Brian or something?”

“No. What’s for dinner, Alys? It smells great,” I told her as I snatched the joint from Lili’s fingers.

“Lemon-herb chicken breasts with a lemon cream sauce and organic fettuccine,” she replied, pulling the casserole out of the oven. “And Lili made the Caesar salad.”

“No doubt.” I snorted, which made me cough since I had a lungful of smoke. “Damn.”

“That’s called Karma,” snapped Lili, snatching back the joint. “Where were you?”

I threw down my Burlap Beast of a bag onto the floor, startling them both into looking at me.

Raising my arms, pointing at the ceiling, I shouted, “The mother ship has fucking landed, bitches!”

Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” blasted through the stereo, and Alys and I sang along as we got ready for the concert in my bedroom. We’d never see our original favorite band live, so we liked to play their albums before any show.

“Ah-ahh! Ah-ahh!” we shrieked.

Lili joined in from the hallway.

This whole week had dragged by so slowly.

On a positive note, Flipper had made a full recovery, and he would be playing the full two-hour set they had planned.

Yesterday, he’d informed me of the whole operation. After the concert, he was going to be dropped off at the clinic for one last treatment before heading back to Phil’s place. I still wasn’t sure if he lived in the Plantation House because we hadn’t seen anything going on over there. Flipper had told me that he’d told the guys that he was bringing back his therapist and her two friends as a thank-you for fixing him in time, and they’d bought it.

The big shocker of the week was learning that Lucy wasn’t so much as terrified of Flipper as she’d recognized him as the drummer from NOLA’s Junk. She’d experienced heart palpitations over the fact that she really, really wanted to ask him for his autograph, but she was too professional to do so. I’d mentioned this to Flipper, and not only had he written her a sweet little note with his signature, he’d also given her two tickets to the concert.
How fucking awesome was that?