Ain’t no amount of cash can give you what you NEED!”
That last bit he roared into the mic, torn from his chest, his throat, his mouth. The pain behind that one word hit deep inside the soul, and I was struck with another revelation. It was about me, too. This song—fucking hell—was about him not deserving what I could’ve given him back then. All his money had bought him the drugs and possibly sex, so he could try to forget about those few hours we had shared. But all it had done was make him hate himself and feel disgusting, and no matter what he did, no matter that he could afford whatever the hell he wanted, the one thing he couldn’t have then…was me.
When he looked up at me from his place on stage, I knew it was true, that what I sensed was exactly what this song was really about.
“You think you can hide behind this?” he and Andy bellowed together.
“You think you can fool me?/
Motherfucker, you’re a special kind of idiot/
Just another rich shit, pussy-ass bitch/
Snort it! Shoot it! FUCK IT!/
I see nothin’ but shiny fuckin’ garbage, pissant/
A fuckin’ broken deviant.”
The song ended abruptly, and Andy jumped up, pumping his fist in the air. “Phil fuckin’ Deveraux!” he roared, his face split in a huge smile.
Phil laughed. “Thanks for havin’ me, guys.” He walked up and clapped Andy on the back, waved to the crowd, and then did his now signature Namaste. “You all have a great evenin’, yeah?”
When he rejoined Siggie and me, I had a cold beer waiting for him, which he chugged until empty.
“That was fun,” he said with a hint of a Lady Killer.
“That was fan-fuckin’-tastic!” crowed Siggie. “They’re going to be talking about this for weeks, I’m telling you. You’ve created a monster!” She laughed.
Phil looked at me, his eyes twinkling. “We should get out of here before they finish. That crowd’s gone brutal now.”
“All right.” Turning to Siggie, I smiled warmly. “We’ll definitely be in touch.”
She stood with us and threw her arms around me, hugging me tight. “It was awesome to meet you, Kenna.”
“Likewise,” I told my new friend.
“So, when were you planning on telling me that you own Bougainvillea?” I asked Phil as he unlocked the door to his half.
He looked down at me and scowled. “Who told you? Travis?”
“Who’s Travis?”
“The fuckin’ bartender you had a winkfest with.”
“Yes. Travis Winkfest told me when I tried to pay for the beer.”
“Tried to pay for the fuckin’ beer,” he huffed under his breath. Wrenching the door open, he ushered me inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. “Kenna…we need to have a serious fuckin’ talk.”
“Yeah, all right,” I replied. I opened the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea. “You want?”
“Fine. Then, sit your ass down afterward.”
I took my time, getting the glasses and filling them with crushed ice from the freezer door. “Lime wedge?” I asked sweetly.
“No!” he snapped.
It’s cool. I really didn’t feel like cutting one up anyway.
Phil was sitting at the island, glaring at me, as I placed his tea in front of him.
“Okay,” I said as I sat down. “What’s up?”
As he attempted to control his twitchy eyelid, he had me biting my lip to quell the urge to bust out laughing. He took a deep breath.
“Quit tryin’ to pay for shit,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.
“But I make money! A very good salary. I am a doctor after all—”
He jabbed his forefinger at me. “Shut it, woman. I’m dead fuckin’ serious about this. When you and I are out, when we’re together, I’m the one who fuckin’ pays!”
“What if I’m not okay with that?”
“This is one instance where I don’t give a fuck, Kenna. Do you have any clue as to what it is that I’m worth?”
“No, and I don’t need to! Your money means nothing to me!”
“That is why I want to spend it on you! I’ve got more money than I could possibly spend in this lifetime! Probably several lifetimes! I have so much fuckin’ money I donate millions of it to charities quarterly!”
“Millions?” I gasped.
“Millions! I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I could probably buy Louisiana. What’s sittin’ in my bank account alone is staggerin’ to my own head, so quit fuckin’ tryin’ to pay