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“We do, although their end targets are different. One of them may be snowing the other until they get their hands on Chey. This is a dangerous situation. Luckily, there’s not much else that Lio can suggest putting into place. Security just about tied this up tightly,” Ken continued.
“But we can’t stay here long term, Dave,” I said, turning to the quiet chief of security. I guessed what Dave wouldn’t say. The man responsible for Mick’s death was out there, stalking the band. No, he wasn’t stalking us. Higgins was hunting me, and I had no clue of the end game.
“No, but we’ve images of Higgins, and we’re sharing with Spearfish PD. They’re putting a bolo out on the duo. Lio and I have discussed giving them to the media, but we still aren’t sure if it’s a good idea. It could push them both underground, and we lose them until they strike again,” Dave replied. That wasn’t satisfactory for me. Mick’s murderer shouldn’t walk away freely.
“Or it may force their hand. We’ve got someone in the FBI whose father is part of Rage. Willow will bring us a quick turnaround with some advice. For now, we’re in a holding pattern. I understand your frustration, but we don’t want the guy who opened fire at a teenager, shot a friend of mine, killed your guard and severely injured you, loose on the population. The guy’s mental ability seems fucked. Who thinks of driving a lorry at a car just to get payback on an imagined slight?” Lio said. Lio ran his fingers through his hair as he spoke, and I saw the worry lines around his eyes.
“Even worse, it makes one wonder what more Higgins is capable of,” Celt mused. I exchanged a glance with him, concern clear between us.
“You were supposed to be working on the new albums. I suggest locking down and doing exactly that. Kye had his chemo to attend, and Chey had physio twice a day. But in the meantime, you can start writing those songs and enjoy your break from touring,” Ken suggested.
“Sounds like a plan to me and nothing too different from what we planned,” Johnno commented. I agreed, but that fear remained. What were Higgins and Tobias up to?
???
“Are you okay?” Celt asked, his long legs eating up the distance between us. I was relaxing on the patio, writing lyrics that my mind wouldn’t let go of.
“Yes, just working. This is how we operate; we take a week apart and see who comes up with the best ideas.
“What if you don’t agree?” Celt quizzed, sitting. Celt reached over and casually brushed a lock of hair out of my face.
“We always agree in the end. Sometimes we have enough material for two albums. Some are not worth working through. We all add something to the mix, whether lyrics or the music. And if we need a tiebreaker, we call Jesse,” I laughed.
“Who does Jesse side with?”
“We don’t tell him who wrote what. Just play it, and Jesse makes a choice.”
“Seems fair enough. How are you handling things?” Celt inquired and I knew that question had a wealth of meaning to it.
“The physio is fine. Therapy is ongoing. I can now swim twenty lengths in the pool. Whoop de whoop,” I said sarcastically. “I’m managing Celt.”
“You’re struggling with the loss of your legs. Chey, you gaze off into the distance, and I see the sadness in your face. Not pain from your body, but grief in losing your independence and freedom.”
“Maybe, but I’m lucky to be alive. Mick didn’t make it, and I feel dreadful. I can’t seem to understand that I’ll not look at Mick again. I won’t hear his jokes or the snarky one-liners he was so fond of. Mick’s wife and children have lost a great man, and while we’ll ensure they don’t struggle, no amount of money can bring Mick back. His wife has requested we not go to his funeral because of the media presence. She said she’ll set up something private later on.
Yeah, I can’t walk, but so what? Sulking and whining won’t change anything, and I’m grateful I’m alive. I can either lapse into depression or buck up and move forward. Life will be different, but at least I’ve got one. Mick was doing his job, and I have to wonder if all this is worth it. Perhaps it’s time to end the band.” Celt looked surprised at my honesty before shaking his head.
“No, because that means Mick died for nothing. The man put his life on the line to protect the group and you. That’s the last thing Mick would wish Chey, for The Wild Wind to split. I guess you’re scared, more for Jesse than yourself.”
“Of course I am Celt!” I exploded, emotions flowing from me. “You assume being on the road was easy for Jesse? No, it wasn’t, but we made it as simple as possible. Jesse’s schooling was done by tutors who travelled with us. We ensured he received at least two great vacations a year and summer camp. Jesse would spend weeks here with Nana and Jed. We went home every chance we got.”
“So why not now?” Celt jumped in, sensing a weakness.
“Huh?”
“Why haven’t you returned home now?” Celt pushed.
“Because Tobias invaded it the last time we were there. Luckily we were at a restaurant and security reached him. But Tobias got into my bedroom and left me several… gifts. The house is up for sale. Jesse wasn’t safe there. This house was bought anonymously. It is owned by the six of us, but our names are hidden within a corporation,” I explained.
“Tell me why you fear for Jesse more than you. Because it’s you who’s being targeted, Chey,” Celt asked.
“Because as much as we gave Jesse, I always wondered if he wished I was the stay-at-home Mom. Music isn’t a nine-to-five job. And Jesse thrived, but I still speculated if he wanted normalcy. This threat is also levelled at Jesse. That man Higgins. He raised the gun towards Jesse. Higgins was willing to shoot my son. Because of who I am, Jesse’s in danger, and that’s completely unacceptable.”
“Jesse loves his life, and you Chey, it’s obvious as the nose on his face,” Celt refuted.
“Yeah, but would Jesse have this shit hanging over him if we quit?” I mused. A movement made me crane my neck, and Jesse appeared from behind a tree. Sneaky little bleeder.
“No point quitting, Mom. Tobias and Higgins are going to come whether or not you’re out there making music. They’re obsessed with you, and it’s not healthy. And I regret nothing in my life. I made friends with a few of the roadies children who tag along. We talk on skype and meet up often. I got buddies at camp. Mom, I’m not lonely, if that’s what you’re thinking. There aren’t many teenagers who’ve seen the places I have or absorbed the history of the world.
