If he fucked her over, grabbed another chick’s ass or acted like a dick, she’d walk away and not look back.

Walk away from Preacher, who had it all. Looks, talent, brains, attitude. He could get any girl he wanted.

But he wouldn’t do that because he was into her too, he knew what he had in his hands and he wasn’t going to do shit to jeopardize that.

They were just…tight.

They were just…real.

It was just…cool.

And Bobby wanted that.

And I’ll say it was even more.

Lyla was Lyla.

Bobby was the first, but he wasn’t the last.

There are women who just have…

[Pause]

Something.

Lyla had that.

There are names I could give you, big names, and not just rock stars but movie directors and actors and photographers and guys like that, who met Lyla and wanted Lyla and made that clear.

I mean, one of those names did not make it a secret he wanted her as his muse, and I know you know about that. I know you’ll ask Lyla about that.

Michelangelo was gay, and he’d want to paint her, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.

There’s that saying, one in a million.

Lyla was one in a lifetime.

And most men who knew her, knew it.

Lyla always said Bobby made that play to piss Preacher off and to try to get him to do something stupid.

But she was wrong and that was part of what made Lyla, Lyla.

She had an innate confidence, even though she had her insecurities, she could be timid or shy, but that confidence shone through and it could be intimidating.

So, she’d never think it was about her.

Maybe Bobby also wanted to do that, but he thought he was Bobby Sheridan and he thought she’d drop Preacher like a rock if he sniffed around.

Then he’d have her.

Two birds.

One stone.

You know, what Lyla has, it’s made, it is not born.

Her mother saved those girls from their father. Man beat the shit out of her, stalked her, landed lawsuit after lawsuit on her, custody, visitation, support, which, mind, he did not pay, just to fuck with her.

And if he’d had a free hand, he would have destroyed those girls. They’d never be perfect enough for him, but he wouldn’t have given up tryin’ and makin’ them feel like pieces of shit while he did it.

Lyla’s mom delivered them from all of that. Faced him head on with any shit he pulled. Put herself up as a shield in front of those girls. She couldn’t afford to take them anywhere else, so she moved ’em in with their grandparents, and boom! Two more shields.

Anchors.

A foundation.

You got fertile earth to grow in, you bloom.

Lyla’s mom busted her ass to give her girls that and I’ll remind you, this was in a time when MeToo would have been a joke.