We were only together for a few months, but what we had was true love.

I’d met him his third day in town. Though, technically, I saw him on the street the day before. Walking down Galena, him on one side, me on the other. The sun was out and he was squinting, brushing his thick black hair from his face. He looked lost. And beautiful. I figured he was a young actor bound for movie stardom, in town to pay his respects to the older celebrities who’d moved here. He turned and ducked into a hardware store, and I thought maybe I wouldn’t see him again.

Then the next day, during one of spring’s famous flash downpours, he came into the diner for cover and coffee. That was all it took. Conversation came easy. He was on a sort of seasonal circuit, moving from state to state, mostly harvests, but was lucky to be brought on as an all-purpose hired hand sort of role. Maintaining the property. He was bunking up at Mr. Miller’s place on high flats. I only met Mr. Miller a few times; he was quiet, old. Seemed grateful to have Tommy.

This was when, foolishly, I still believed in good luck.

Zara

The idea had been to go alone, but my manager insisted I needed at least one of my bodyguards. Dave volunteered, since it was around the holidays and the other guys have families. He’s good at his job, definitely looks the part. He’s almost seven feet tall, always wears a custom-made dark suit from some big-and-tall shop. I watched him scoop up two people in each arm when the barrier broke last year when I was main stage at Coachella. Please understand that even though he came with me, I viewed this as a solo expedition of recovery and discovery. Of course the one thing Dave couldn’t save me from is if our little plane smashed into a mountain. Which seemed like a real possibility. The turbulence started the minute we left L.A. and never once, not even for a minute, let up. Halfway through I could hear Dave mumbling something like a prayer.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“I’m usually the bus guy,” he said. “Not the plane guy.”

Luckily, Pip was there for emotional support, proving once again that dogs are the only option for a true relationship. The turbulence didn’t seem to bother her one bit. She just curled up against my chest in her little sling sack all cuddly and kissing my face. I popped an extra Xanax but didn’t manage to sleep. Too much thrashing.