Muse: ( Groupie Volume 2 of 2)

by Susan Daugherty

  I didn’t see either hot country star again until it was show time. Jack and his band had holed up for some last-minute tweaks in the gray bus while Travis played. I watched his hour of music from the curtain, curious. His role seemed the opposite of Jackson; he was the good mannered, Southern gentleman with the deep voice and stoic presence. He didn’t move around the stage or work the crowd a lot, but acted humble. His hat and belt buckle were standard, of course, and he played a variety of songs about cowboys, soldiers, and families. The crowd seemed to like him well enough, and he definitely had female admirers screaming for him. As he finished, I turned to find Andy, Jackson, and the band approaching.

  Jack joined me at his normal entrance spot and gave me a weary look. “What did you think of the kid?”

  “Kid, huh? How old is he?”

  “I don’t know, like twenty-five or something. He’s just so green, and I don’t want him out there messing up.”

  “Well, since you are the very wise age of twenty-eight, I’m sure he can learn a lot from you, Master Yoda.” I smirked at my own joke, and he tried to keep a straight face, finally rolling his eyes and chuckling. “I’m sure when you were green, good old Kenny Chesney thought the same thing when he gave you a shot at going on tour.”

  “At least I showed gratitude and knew my place when I was given my first chance. This kid acts like he’s—”

  Our conversation cut short as the applause consumed the area after Travis’ last song, and he exited the stage to our right. Despite our efforts to act casual, I’m sure he could tell he’d been the subject of our chat.

  He boldly strode a few steps to us and said, “Got them all warm, Jack. Let’s see if you can keep up.” He winked as if he were joking, but there was an undercurrent of taunting in his voice.

  Jackson’s hands clenched, and I quickly interrupted. “Good show, Travis. Guess we’ll see you back out for the last song.” He had quickly rehearsed to come out and sing along with Jack for his last song, like Delilah.

  He nodded. “Thanks, Ms. Travis. Glad you enjoyed.”

  “It’s Doctor Travis,” Jack snapped, and I felt my cheeks burn, wishing someone would save me from this awkward threesome.

  Travis didn’t miss a beat as he said in his deep voice, “I don’t know any doctors who make cowboy boots look that good.” He slowly drew his gaze down my body to Ashley’s boots and back up to my eyes. I studied him, trying to decide if I felt complimented or disgusted. He turned with a tip of his hat and headed down the hall to his dressing room.

  I bit my lip cautiously and turned to face Jackson, who was visibly fuming. “That mother—”

  I covered his mouth quickly and tried not to laugh. “Oh, I think he’s trying to be charming or something. I don’t think he means to be awkward. Anyway, you have a show, and we need your head in the game. Watch your step out there, and please, sit for half the songs. If it goes well, we can try more weight on your foot tomorrow, so there’s your incentive.”

  He pressed his lips but then resigned. “Good luck kiss?”

  I obliged him, once again noting how perfect he smelled as I lingered for a moment at his cheek.

  “Hope you like the song tonight, Lex. It’s actually the latest tune out of the green notebook.” He gave me The Grin and turned to head under the stage as I blinked after him.

  I watched in fascination from the side of the stage, once again. I loved the new set of songs he’d created since Knoxville. He always played “Cryin,’” “Wonderful Tonight,” and often “Angel Wings.” The dancers looked amazing, and I moved along to most of their choreography from my backstage seat and gave them high fives during their breaks on the slower songs.

  “Tonight, I would like to debut a new song, if that’s okay with you, Louisville.” Of course it was, they said by way of huge applause. “I just wrote this in the last few days, and we still have lots of tweaking to do, but the band and I have a basic version, and we’d like to see what you think of it.” There was more cheering as the lights dimmed and he sat on his stool with guitar in hand. “It’s called ‘This Love.’”

  I went into a semi-comatose state when he said the title. I was immobile and watched as if a freight train were coming at me. He surprised me when he began to strum a fast, steady beat. It was definitely not a sappy ballad. It had a fun, driving sound to it and made me tap my toes instantly.

  This love, this love, It drives me crazy.

  This love, this love, It turns me on.

  This love, this love, It’s gonna kill me.

  This love, it can’t be wrong.

  Girl, I didn’t stand a chance right from the start,

  Something ‘bout you got straight to my heart.

  Didn’t try to impress me, told it like it was,

  Being ’round you was like having a buzz.

  Moved heaven and earth to keep you near,

  ’Cause we had a connection that was so clear.

  So patient, I waited for you to come ’round,

  When you finally did, magic we found.

  When the chorus repeated, a resounding cheer rose from the crowd and I glanced around at the immediate positive response. The audience was as captivated as I was… and the realization hit me that this had to be about me.

  So high we climbed and so fast we fell,

  To lose what we had was like a living hell.

  Once I knew how good it could be,

  How could I settle and why can’t you see?

  Got mad, got sad, said let’s be friends,

  You said, ‘don’t chase me, this is the end.

  Try to date others so we can move on,’

  But how can I do that when my heart is gone?

  Chorus

  Girl, to make you happy, I tried a date,

  All along, I knew it would be second rate.

  She was sweet and her eyes were blue,

  But I prefer green, so I kept thinkin’ ’bout you.

  She just wasn’t you, even though she was nice,

  Did I mention, I called her your name twice?

  Chorus

  He said the last line before the chorus in conversational tone, with shrugged shoulders as he asked the question. It came across very funny, and the crowd howled with laughter. They were all still as mesmerized as I was. Naturally, I was trying to drink in every word and analyze it, but it went too fast and I felt almost dizzy when it ended to thunderous applause. He bowed and snuck a glance my way, as I stood frozen.

  “Sounds like you really drive him crazy.” The sudden interruption to my left made me turn quickly to see Travis standing next to me, guitar slung across his chest and a smirk on his face.

  Heat flushed my neck and I challenged, “Why would you think that song has anything to do with me?”

  He laughed. “You’d have to be blind not to see. He’s staked a claim on you. I just hope you’re smart enough not to fall for him.” He turned as Jackson finished thanking the crowd and then welcomed back Travis to the stage.

  His know-it-all attitude irked me, and yet, there was something appealing about his confidence. I shook my head to clear his voice from it and then headed to the lounge, trying to remember the lines to the debut song. He really had written a song about me. Moreover, he’d said love—granted, it was love that was going to kill him.

  Kate made a beeline for me during the after-party and proceeded to analyze the song for me, which made me half-giddy and half-sick to my stomach. Across the room, several of Louisville’s big wigs had VIP tickets and kept Jackson busy while the drinks flowed. The buzz in the room said the song was a hit with the crowd, though the band was already talking about arrangement changes they wanted to make. The mayor’s two teenage daughters walked by and I heard them talking excitedly, “I wonder who the song could be about? I can’t believe Jack Morgan finally fell for someone!”

  Burying a smile, I finished my beer, tossing it into the recycling can nearby. I turned back around and ran smack into Travis McCoy, who was holding a fresh b
ottle out to me. “I thought you looked like you were ready for another.” His mouth formed a lopsided grin.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” I took a swig and leaned against the wall. He leaned as well, keeping his eyes trained on mine until I looked at him again.

  “So, how does this work, you and Jack?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked innocently. “I treat him once or twice a day, just like regular physical therapy with documentation and goals to meet. I get to progress him steadily through his protocol and manage the safety of his environment.”

  “I meant, you actually live on his bus with him?” His eyes showed incredulousness.

  “Well, Mr. McCoy, it may shock you, but it is possible to share space with a man, even Jackson, and manage not to jump right into his bed.” My words bit as my face flamed at his nerve.

  He laughed at my outrage. “Hey, you don’t have to convince me. I know you aren’t sleeping with him. If you were, he wouldn’t bother writing a song about you. I imagine you’re the first and only one who hasn’t jumped at the chance, and that’s why he’s into you.”

  The fear in the back of my mind, he put it right out there. My brow furrowed as I spat, “Thank you, Dr. F-ing Phil. I’m glad you have this all figured out. I just wonder why you even care.” I turned on my heel and headed to the door, stopping quickly to tell Joe I’d be in the coach when Jack was ready for his therapy.

  Chapter 9

  I was in my pajamas with my hair piled high on my head, reviewing my therapy notes on the couch when Jack arrived. Joe helped him up the stairs and to the couch. He was obviously tipsy. I raised my brows in surprise.

  Joe shook his head and explained, “Quite a wild group tonight. There’s an after-party over on the gray bus, but he was already tore up from the lounge.” As he opened the door to exit, I heard a steady thump of music and peals of laughter from the direction of the band’s bus.

  Jackson fumbled with his boot as he tried to talk with a heavy slur. “Sorry, Lex. These people know how to party. They do like bourbon here, so good thing you didn’t take shots with us.”

  “Wow, Jackson, okay. Let me help you there. Just lay back.” I unfastened his boot and assessed his ankle, surveying the moderate swelling and a nasty red mark where the boot dug into his leg. I propped his ankle into the dry whirlpool and got him peanut butter crackers and water to drink. “You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

  He looked at me with bleary eyes and finally shrugged and devoured them both while his foot warmed up. His swelling worked out easily as I massaged and then passively stretched him, though I couldn’t figure out why he suddenly had issues with the boot. “Jackson? What was different with the boot tonight?”

  He was unfocused, with his head rolled back on the couch. “Wha? I dunno. I know what was different tonight, a new song. You didn’t say anything yet.”

  I focused my eyes on his leg as I finished the mobilizations to his foot. “It was a really catchy song. I was tapping along to it. Um. I can’t believe how fast you and the band put it all together. That’s amazing.”

  He slurred, “Tell me what you really thought.”

  “It made my head spin, Jackson. It made me happy and sad, all at the same time.”

  He closed his eyes as I hooked up the e-stim. “Just happy, that’s what I want for you.” By the time I got the ice on his ankle, he was snoring.

  No surprise, Jackson was behind closed doors when I woke. I threw a robe over my pajamas to run to the kitchen bus and grab our breakfast. I stepped out the door and nearly ran smack into someone coming up the step at the same time.

  “Whoa, ma’am, we have this habit of colliding, don’t we now?” The deep voice of Travis McCoy greeted me when I least expected it. No makeup, hair in a bun on top of my head, in a robe … awesome. I left mad at him last night, but it seemed like a small thing now as he held out a steaming cup with apologetic eyes.

  “Ah, Travis, you have yet to learn. I’m the one freak of nature on this tour that doesn’t drink coffee.”

  He looked genuinely embarrassed as he pulled the drink away and stepped back to allow me down the stairs. “I took a shot, anyway. Just wanted to apologize for what I said last night. I was out of line, and it’s none of my business.”

  I allowed my lips to form a partial smile. “You were saying what everyone else thinks; I was just surprised to have it spoken out loud. I’m heading to get some breakfast if you want to walk over with me.”

  He fell into step as he sipped his coffee and explained he had already eaten and was heading to a conference call with his label. “You did make me think last night, about why I even cared,” he said just before we parted ways. “I think it’s because I like you, Lexie, and I don’t want to see you hurt.” With a tip of his hat, he was gone.

  I ate alone and caught up on emails, sending a detailed report to both Dr. Gray and Dr. Blevins. I started coffee when I heard Jackson moving around in his room, and around eleven o’clock he finally joined me at the table with a thud.

  “You’re the best, thanks,” he said, noting the coffee, plate of food, and the three Advil placed at his spot.

  “Eat up. It’s past time for therapy.”

  “Did I make a fool of myself last night?” he asked between bites of omelet and toast.

  I pressed my lips together. “Hmm, I could make up some good stories, since you don’t even remember …” He shot me the evil eye and I laughed. “You were a bit slurry and passed out during e-stim.”

  “Oh, good, then I do remember most of it.”

  I changed the subject as I started his session. “So, what was her name?”

  “Huh?”

  “The blind date. I’m curious to know if you called her my name for real or not?”

  The Grin appeared, and I had to clench my hands to stop the butterflies. “So, you were listening to the lyrics. What did you think?”

  “I actually liked it a lot; it could be a radio hit tomorrow. My feet automatically wanted to move along with that beat, and the wording was very clever.” I realized my gushing was for a song written about me and had to glance away. “I just can’t believe how fast you wrote it and all.”

  His relief at my condoning the song was evident all over his face as he explained, “Yeah, it came together quickly, and it was … the easiest to share right now, out of my new stuff.”

  I raised a brow at him but didn’t push the topic as I worked his ankle and checked the red spot to see it had nearly resolved.

  “Leslie,” he said simply a moment later.

  “Huh?”

  “Her name. It was Leslie. I mean, give a guy a break. That was the worst luck ever. Not only was I thinking of you all night, she had a similar name.”

  “So, you really did call her my name?”

  “Twice.”

  I pressed my lips together to stifle it, but finally my laughter rippled out, and he shook his head, joining me.

  “Time to get you exercising this foot.” I instructed him on five things to start while I worked on my documentation and then told him about the red spot from the boot. I added a small foam pad to the offending edge while he finished up, and then I put him on e-stim. I made his day by demonstrating fifty percent weight bearing on a crutch, and stressed why no more than this amount was allowed. I had to show him why he still needed a crutch at all with half of his weight allowed on each foot.

  “See how with every step I take, one of my feet is on the ground by itself, while the other leg swings through and plants again? That one leg has one hundred percent of your weight on it, which is …”

  “More than fifty. I get it. I will still use the damn crutch, but only because it’s a camo crutch and the best gift I ever got.”

  I went for a long walk again and lost myself in my iPod, skipping around to get fast tempo songs from Dierks Bentley, Beyoncé, and Guns N’ Roses. Someone could accuse me of having multiple personality disorder if they ever examined my playlist.

  When I entered the bus an hour
later, with a sandwich tucked under my arm, I saw Joe and Lee hanging out in the wingback chairs. I waved as I settled into the booth with a cold water bottle and began to eat.

  “Hey, Lexie, help us convince Jack to come out for a night,” Lee pleaded, “We heard about a cool place called Fourth Street Live just down a few blocks, where they have a ton of bars, restaurants, and entertainment all in one complex. Don’t you think we should all go as a group?”

  I swallowed my bite. “Yeah, it’s really fun. We came a few times during college. There’s even a Hard Rock Café, oh, and a dueling piano bar that I love.”

  Joe nodded. “Yeah, since we have another night here, we should take advantage of such a convenient place. I bonded with a few of the arena security guys, and they said they’d meet us for extra security. Plus, it’s a Tuesday night. How crowded could it be?”

  Jackson rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Y’all need to remember I have a damn boot on my foot and a crutch. I don’t exactly blend in, and I can’t move very fast. Last thing we need is a mob scene. You guys can all go without me.” His words lacked conviction.

  We eventually convinced him to try a group night out, and plans quickly came together. A few hours later, I was showered, styled, and dressed a new green top with one shoulder and ruching. The common area between the buses was alive and buzzing. Kate ran up to tell me we were all going to eat at Hard Rock at seven o’clock. Even the drivers gathered together with groups of people mingling, drinks pouring, and taxis coming to pick us up for the short drive.

  “Hey, Lexie, go long!” I heard Lee shout from across the way, and I jerked my head up to make sure a ball wasn’t flying at me. He laughed at my reaction, and I promptly flipped him the bird, making the rest of the nearby group laugh.

  “I’m not sure I can let you go out looking like that.” My heart skipped a beat at the smooth voice suddenly next to me.

  I faced Jackson with mock hurt on my face, and said coyly, “Do I really look that bad?”

  He shook his head. “You know I meant the opposite. I’m going to have to beat the guys off you with this crutch. Your shirt makes those eyes greener than usual.” He looked handsome in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up and jeans that fit in all the right places.