Rock Me Slower (Licks of Leather #3) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,80

up at me, eyes filled with tears. “It’s not going to be the same without him.”

Nodding somberly, I wrapped my arm around her waist and led her to the open pew behind us. Short minutes later, the others joined us as members of the music world began filtering into the room. Most paused at Nigel’s photo and urn, then extended their sympathies to Mia. Others whispered comments about me holding her hand.

“Fuck ’em,” Burk mumbled beside me. “She needs you, man. That’s all that matters.”

I nodded. “I couldn’t give a shit what these assholes think.”

“Good.”

The service was poignant and emotional as Nigel’s bandmates spoke about their friend. I couldn’t wrap my head around losing any of my band brothers, let alone sharing my grief with a room full of people. But the men were far braver than me. So was Mia. She gathered a handful of tissues and strolled to the front of the room, dragged in a ragged breath, and leaned into the microphone.

“Matthew Nigel ‘Iron’ McAlister was an amazing man, a musical genius, and my best friend.”

Mia’s last two words stung like a bitch. Once upon a time, I was her best friend. Shoving my petty jealousy aside, I tugged my tie and continued to listen.

“Not only did Nigel take me under his wing and teach me everything about this crazy industry, he gave Phoenix wings to fly and set me free. Nigel always watched me with a critical eye and blunt critique.” Mia smiled at the fond memory. “But the safety net he offered only made me stronger and more determined to make him proud.”

“You did make him proud, love,” called out Nigel’s drummer.

Mia’s chin quivered and she quickly wiped an errant tear spilling down her cheek.

“Maybe so, but I wasn’t there to save him,” she said softly. “I wasn’t his lover, either.”

Collective gasps and murmurs laced with shock went up at Mia’s confession.

“Despite the stories the tabloids printed and the images you’ve seen, Nigel and I were never romantically involved. We were friends. Good friends. Now that he’s gone, there’s a hole in my heart that’s never going to heal. I’m going to miss him—” Mia’s voice cracked with a mournful sob. “We’re all going to miss him…forever.”

As Mia stepped back from the mic, I stood and met her halfway, then helped her back to the pew. The minister said a few more words and finally ended the memorial service with a prayer.

An hour later, after more sympathies were extended, and a couple of prying questions about her and Nigel—which I quickly shut down—all that remained were us and Nigel’s bandmates.

“I hope that bloody prick is up in heaven laughing his arse off over what we’re about to do,” Nigel’s keyboard player said, cracking a wide smile.

His drummer raised his eyes to the heavens and waggled a finger at the ceiling. “Just make sure we don’t get caught, brother. If we have to spend a night in jail for this, I’ll kick you in the bits when I see you in the afterlife.”

Mia picked up Nigel’s ashes while the keyboard player clutched the photo to his chest, before we all paraded from the funeral home. After eluding the press following the twin black limos—ours, and the one behind us carrying Nigel’s band brothers—we wound our way to Mount Lee Drive until we reached the backside of the iconic Hollywood sign.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Syd chuckled as he climbed out of the vehicle and darted several clandestine glances into the darkness.

Mia pulled a flashlight from her purse and flipped it on. Nigel’s bandmates illuminated theirs, as well. I held Mia’s arm tightly, and we all made our way down the steep and sandy, scrub-lined slope, like thieves in the night.

When we reached the iconic sign, Nigel’s drummer pulled out a fat joint and lit the end, took a long draw, and passed it to the keyboard player. When the man offered the joint to Mia, she shook her head and began slowly unscrewing the lid of the urn.

“I hope you’ve found the peace you needed, my love,” she whispered before shaking some of the ashes into the wind, then passed the urn to the keyboard player.

“I love you, brother. Until we meet again, mate.” He released more ashes, then handed the canister to the drummer.

“The world is a darker, sadder place without you in it, my friend. May the love and salvation of all the angels in heaven grant you peace.” He tipped the urn