Winston wasn’t driving. Charlie, one of the bodyguards was driving. I was happy to be on my way. I needed to find him. He needed supportive people around him. As much as I wasn’t fond of Winston I knew he cared about Jagger.
“How was his mood?”
“He was hurt. He was angry.”
“I called Abbey Road and a few other recording studios. He’s not at any of ‘em. He sometimes makes music when he’s upset.”
My hands started shaking and Winston noticed before I could hide them.
“Katrina, don’t worry. We’ll find him. He’ll turn up. I’m waiting on a call from the head of security. The trucks are rentals. They have GPS. Soon as they call we’ll have his whereabouts.”
“Okay.”
I didn’t even think of that. Now I wished I’d call Winston earlier. Just then Winston’s cell phone rang. He answered it. I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation.
“Yeah…Are you sure? ... Is the truck parked? … Give me the address…Text it to my mobile. Thanks, Robbie.” Winston ended the call.
He leaned forward in his seat. “We’re headed to Chelsea. I’m sending the address to your mobile.”
“Aye.” The driver responded.
I watched Winston out the corner of my eye. His text messages were blowing up. He seemed fine at first but the longer we drove the more anxious he seemed to be.
After awhile we stopped moving. We were parked somewhere. Winston scooted forward to have a private conversation with the driver.
“Katrina you get in the front seat. We’ll go in and get him.”
I grabbed my purse off the seat and got out. I opened the front passenger door and slid in. I looked back at Winston and he was putting the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. The bodyguard in the driver’s seat reached across my lap and opened the glove box. He removed a gun. I pressed my body back in the seat and watched as he put the gun in the holster under his suit jacket.
I wanted to ask questions but my mouth didn’t work. I quietly sat as they both exited the vehicle. They walked into a regular looking apartment building and I didn’t see them anymore.
I was nervous sitting alone in the truck. I wanted to lock the doors since the truck was still running but I was too nervous to push any buttons. The neighborhood looked nice. It didn’t look like we were in a shady part of town. I hoped that meant I wasn’t going to get kidnapped or carjacked. But I had no idea what a shady part of London looked like. So there was no comfort in this passenger seat for me to hold on to.
I watched the time on my cell phone. I remembered Jagger’s phone was in my purse. After six minutes they were back. I sat like a statue as they stuffed Jagger’s limp body into the backseat. The bodyguard got in the driver’s seat and took off without a word.
“I turned my body to look into the back seat. I forgot to put on a seat belt. I turned back to buckle up and then the backseat had all my attention.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s fucked up,” Winston replied.
“What’s that mean?”
“He’s high. I’m sorry Katrina. A drug dealer lives here.”
“What did he take?”
The bodyguard took his eyes off the road to glance at me and my stupid questions.
“Black Tar,” He could tell I didn’t have a clue. “Heroin.”
I looked down at the back of Jagger’s head. His face was on the leather seat next to Winston’s thigh. Jagger’s long legs were on the floor of the truck. His arm was hanging to the floor. I reached back as far as I could the pushed his hair back off of his sweaty forehead. I hated seeing him like this.
“Is he going to be okay?” I naïvely asked. Winston didn’t answer.
I wanted to ask more questions but Winston looked stressed out. I turned my body straight in my seat. I stared out the side window and just let the tears fall.
I sat quietly until we made it back to the hotel. I wanted to ask why we didn’t go to the hospital but I figured it out before my mouth asked.
Jagger was too famous for a hospital. This was why we were sneaking into the hotel from the back and going up a service elevator. Two security guards met us and they carried Jagger’s unresponsive body into the suite. They even placed him in bed.
I didn’t go into the bedroom. I sat on the couch. I waited for Winston to come out. I didn’t want to see Jagger like that. Winston walked up and took a seat on the couch beside me. He leaned back and exhaled.
“What happened at Linda’s?”
“He read the suicide note and he blew up.”
“What did it bloody say?”
I reached into my purse and pulled it out. I didn’t know if I was betraying Jagger by showing Winston the note. I didn’t know what to do. I handed it over to Winston.
He leaned forward. He read it while resting his elbows on his knees. When he finished he turned to me.
“Literally, I don’t even have the bandwidth for this rubbish. He didn’t need this fucking letter.”
“Is this bad?”
“I don’t know. He’s been clean for nine months. I don’t know if this is a slip-up. I don’t know. When he’s high he’s another person. When he wakes up, I don’t know. He’s alive. He was breathing this time. We got to him before he could do a lot of damage. I glad you called me.”
I bobbed my head up and down. “Are you going to tell Glynn?”
“No, it’s one slip up. I want to see what happens. Glynn will fine him. The label may throw him back in
