Since I missed the Evansville shows, I was elated to dress up in a skirt and tank top with a belted jacket and heels. I watched the concert almost like it was the first time and didn’t take the night for granted—especially the pre-show ritual when Jackson still asked for his good luck kiss. It was easy and natural, both of us smiling, and I wondered if we had truly ventured our way out of weirdness and back to a good place.
The VIP lounge was crowded and brought several heavyweights from the Indianapolis media, government, and professional sports teams. Jack was constantly under a barrage of groups that thought they were the most important in the room. I watched several women make passes at him and saw how good he’d become at dismissing them casually and in a gracious manner. I heard the murmurs of disbelief that he hadn’t asked any girls to stay for an after-party. The rest of the band did make several friends, and we could hear the music from the gray bus as we completed post show therapy well after midnight.
My face must have given my thoughts away, because as we parted to our beds, he turned to me. “I don’t miss being over there. Honestly.”
It made me smile from the inside out.
Chapter 13
I woke up early, dressed in sweats, grabbed the iPad and walked around to the various loading dock doors until I found a janitor coming out of one. I flashed my VIP clearance tag, and he shrugged as if he could care less as I entered the building and made my way to the dim stage once again. I set up the iPad on Jack’s stool and played the video of the song from the day before. I faced the empty seats and began to count out the steps I had in my head. I decided there would be four eight-counts that repeated before the lines would make a quarter turn and repeat the same four eight-counts again, making the next quarter turn and so on. My dilemma was to make it challenging, but not difficult, and to be original.
I added in some classic dance moves from over the years to each set of counts, to pay homage like Jack had mentioned. I thought different age ranges would get a kick out of seeing moves from their youth, but they were things everyone would remember- the Stayin’ Alive finger point, “Twist and Shout,” the Butterfly, the Egyptian, the Cabbage Patch, and even a Salsa move. My other problem was making it a dance guys would be comfortable doing. After an hour, I recorded myself doing what I had so far and headed back to find the others chowing on stacks of pancakes.
I stashed my stuff and joined in breakfast before Jackson and I started therapy. “You know, you’re really doing well,” I told him, matter of fact. “I thought this was going to be a much tougher mission, but your measurements are great, and unless you’re in a lot of pain you aren’t telling me about, I think you’re ahead of the game.”
He looked smug. “Oh, everything just comes easy to guys like me, you know,” he said, then he laughed at my glaring response. “C’mon, Doc, don’t even tell me you aren’t giving yourself the credit here. If you weren’t keeping me under control each day, I would have a cankle the size of my thigh, I would be in terrible pain, and my ass would be killing me. I’d be limping worse on the other leg, throwing out my back, and definitely not using the crutches properly. The tour would have been cancelled after Gainesville without you. Seriously.”
We stared at each other for a moment and I said, “I guess we make a pretty good team after all. Plus, no one else would put up with you.”
He snorted. “And you either, smartass.”
One more show that night rounded out our stay in Indianapolis. A smooth night of therapy after the lounge made me think we settled into a healthy new pattern once and for all.
An hour drive took us to Muncie, Indiana, the home of Ball State University and a whole lot of cornfields. I found the area quaint and charming, just the same. Since it was a considerably smaller venue, Amos didn’t tag along. We had PT out of the way and weren’t leaving for rehearsal until late afternoon. Jackson cornered me into finally showing him what kind of workouts he could return to with his fifty percent weight bearing restriction.
I tagged along to the gray bus, where a weight bench folded down from a wall and a pull out drawer held pairs of dumbbells weighing 10, 15, 20, and 25 pounds. There was also a bar with plate weights adding up to 100 pounds and a mounted chin up bar.
“They really think of everything,” I muttered, looking at what we had to work with. “And, no wonder these things go so slow, look at all the extra weight this poor bus carries around.”
Jackson rolled his eyes at me. “Look at all the extra weight I’m carrying around since I haven’t worked out in ages.”
I pursed my lips and snuck a glance down his ribbed tank top that was snug enough to show the outline of his abdominal muscles. There was no way he carried anything around but lean muscle.
Lee and Ric also regularly used the weights, and they sat in on my tutorial of what he was cleared to do so they could remind him of his limitations when I wasn’t around. I knew all too well how pride could take over when your mind tells you to do more than your body can handle. I left him to it and relished a chance to have my bus to myself and fine-tune my line dance.
I watched the iPad video of my practice run several times. I took notes on a few counts I needed to make smoother and decided to alter the order slightly. My issue now was the musical interlude after the second chorus, when Fitch had a solo on the fiddle. It threw the timing off a little bit; the words had matched the movements pretty well until then.
I lost concentration when the door opened and a sweaty, sexy celebrity walked up the steps with his crutch. His tank now clung to him, his cheeks flushed and hair in disarray. My mind immediately pulled up the memory of a similar look after we made out on my birthday night.
Lunch was ready, he told me on his way into the shower. I shut down the video and went to make our plates and clear my head from that steamy image. Travis appeared behind me in line and peaked over my shoulder as I piled two plates with different items. Jack’s sandwich was on white bread with a double helping of ham, American cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, and God forbid, no mayo. I chose the croissant with turkey, Swiss, lettuce, tomatoes, lots of mayo, and God forbid, no pickles. Travis snickered and snorted until I finally asked what was so interesting.
“Nothing … just looks like you’re Jack’s ball and chain. You know how to make your old man’s sandwich and take it to his recliner while he watches the ball game.”
I glared at him under his huge hat, into his golden colored eyes. “Or, like roommates who obviously get to know each other well over a period of time.”
He nodded and had the decency to look chagrined. “You’re right, I apologize. If I’m being honest, I just get jealous of how much time he gets to spend with you.” I stopped short at his admission as I exited the buffet line, and he nearly collided into me. Those eyes looked sincere, and he shrugged as if helpless and then whispered, “Please say you’ll go on that date with me. I act overly confident sometimes, but really, I’m nervous around you.”
I gulped the lump in my throat and tried to weigh the pros and cons quickly. He was often macho and inappropriate, but he was also complementary and always looking out for me. Jackson and I were supposed to try dating, and he had one whirl at it, maybe I should too. Of course, of all people, Jackson would absolutely have a fit over Travis.
“I’m really flattered, Travis,” I mumbled. “Um, how about after we finish Muncie? I have a project going on right now that I need to spend all my free time on.”
He flashed perfect, white teeth, and it made me smile in return. “It’s a deal,” he said, walking away.
In the late afternoon, Jackson and the band warmed up, while I did the safety checks. He stood on stage with his crutch, muttering about it always being in the way as the lighting crew moved things around.
“Just think,” I hollered from my current spot across stage, “one more week until you are off the crutch and just in the boot.”
He threw his arms up and yelled, “Hallelujah!” in dramatic fashion, making us all laugh.
>
Charlie chimed in, “Watch out world, when this guy can chase after the girls again, it may not be pretty!” The other guys all chuckled, but Jack ignored him and went back to tuning his guitar. My heart thumped despite my efforts to control it. Now that we were officially just friends, would two good legs change him? Make him feel like he was ready for Girls Gone Wild again?
The concert went perfectly well, once again, with the new lineup of songs making it barely recognizable from the show I witnessed in Knoxville. I relished a cold beer in the lounge with Kate as the after-party wound down. I was nearly brave enough to tell her about the line dance but made myself wait. I was also tipsy enough to be annoyed with the Ball State sorority crew of brunettes who had occupied all of Jackson’s time. Even worse, he didn’t seem to mind a bit. I tried to get his attention at midnight and then again at twelve-thirty. Finally, I had to play my nursemaid card and break into their little party to tell him it was time to go.
He begrudgingly followed me out to the dock, and as he unfastened his boot inside the bus, he said, “Ya think we can do a short version if my ankle looks okay? I was thinking I may go over to the after-party for another hour or so … I’m kind of wired tonight.”
I was extremely grateful to be facing away when he said it. I had time to wipe the look of horror off my face and compose myself enough to turn around. “Sure, yeah, let me just see how it looks here and we’ll do the most important things.” I finished in thirty minutes and strapped his boot back on, unable to look into his eyes as he thanked me and nearly danced with excitement out the door.
There was a change already, and I had to repeat a mantra telling myself not to be jealous and not to think about what was going on over there. I eventually fell into a restless sleep with the words still on my lips.
I drug myself out of bed, feeling like a good night’s sleep had cheated me. We had another full day in Muncie and wouldn’t leave until evening, when we’d head to another RV park for a few days near Columbus.
I took advantage of the arena and snuck back in to use an empty dressing room full of mirrors. I recorded myself doing the dance with the changes and worked on the timing. It had taken shape quickly. It finally hit me after two hours of rehearsing and watching it back: we needed the breakout circles. Just like we’d done at the piano bar, everyone could take turns busting out their favorite old school moves during the instrumentals. They could either all stay in their lines and choose different moves or form into circles and go in the middle one at a time, depending on whatever they wanted to do. Fitch’s solo was thirty seconds, and I timed out various scenarios. It seemed a good amount of time to get three or four people into a circle, and plenty of time for everyone to break it down in their rows. Even better, I hoped during live shows they could add another thirty seconds after each chorus and give three breakout sessions during the song. I imagined how fun it would have been back in the clubs or at a party to think of what move to showcase next and to watch one another. People could really express themselves, and I suddenly loved the entire dance. It was now perfect.
I nearly skipped back to the buses as everyone else was just rising and coming out due to partying the night before. I ran into Trina and Jill at the closest table and caught their conversation.
“It’s been forever since Jack’s joined a party,” Trina noted, “but he was still tame compared to the old days.”
Jill gave her a knowing look. I decided I didn’t want to know any details but I would assume that tame meant at least he didn’t sleep with anyone. I was still a little sore on the subject, though, so I was sure to bang around loudly as I entered the bus with trays of breakfast food. He came out of the bathroom with one hand holding his temple, the other holding his crutch.
“Ow, my head. Easy with the noise, Doc.” He slumped into the booth and chugged water, ignoring the omelets. Served him right.
“It’s nearly eleven o’clock. Get your ass in gear, Morgan.” That was it. I refused to address the actual party. I would simply play hard ass. I made him go through a full hour of therapy before heading to the shower.
“By the way,” I said before I shut the door, “I have the dance choreographed and I think you’re gonna love it.”
Chapter 14
Later that evening, during our three-hour drive east to Columbus, Ohio, I presented him the latest version of the dance I made that morning. I could hardly make myself peek at his expressions while he zoned into the iPad, but he appeared to be enjoying it.
When it finished, I bit my lip in suspense and until he said, “I knew you would nail it. I’m just wondering what it is that you can’t do.”
I snorted in response to his absurd comment, causing him to retort quickly, “Oh, there’s one: can’t take a compliment.”
I couldn’t help but giggle as I met his grin. “Touché. So, if you’re happy with it so far—”
“Happy? I’m damn giddy over here. You captured exactly what I was talking about with the essence of the song. I mean, this dance will make people smile, reminisce, make them get up and dance. I love the throwback moves you incorporated. There’s something in there with meaning to every person out there.” He was glowing, and it caused my heart to skip a beat with his sincerity. It sunk in that this man truly believed I was talented.
“Wow, thanks,” I stammered, sounding like a schoolgirl. “Um, so the other thing I was hoping to piece into this …” I told him about the break-out dances I wanted to do during the solo, and I wanted to add more of them to the live performances and video if possible.
He seemed to contemplate for a long moment while I held my breath and thought I’d pushed my ideas too far. Then, he finally grinned and said very seriously, “I f-ing love it.”
I groaned and released a huge breath, collapsing back onto the couch dramatically. “Don’t do that to me!” Then, I added softly, “Really? You love it, or you f-ing love it?”
He gave me what I waited each day for, The Grin, and met my eyes with his electric blue ones. “F-ing love it, Lex.”
We settled into an RV park on the outskirts of Columbus around nine p.m., putting us about thirty minutes from the venue. During therapy that night, we decided to present the new line dance to the girls in the morning and start rehearsals. Then, Jackson would work with the band on adding instrumentals about thirty seconds long after each chorus. We hoped by the end of the week we could try it out together. I talked Jack into playing emcee when the musical breaks started. He would announce something like, “Time to break it down now, y’all. Break out your favorite moves in your lines or in a circle. It’s your turn to do what you feel and show what ya got. Take some time to just bust a move,” or some version of those words at each of the interludes.
Just before we turned in for the night, Andy confirmed that the videographer would shoot footage after we had practiced the next few days. He was also going to arrange for us to have a room to practice in at the arena.
A smile played on my lips all night. I sensed contentment I hadn’t felt in years but couldn’t put my finger on it. Having dance back in my life, travelling around the country, making new friends—I wasn’t sure of the reasons, but I knew I was happy.
After our morning therapy and breakfast on Tuesday, Andy rounded up the four dancers and asked them to meet Jack and me on our bus. Jill and Jessica had purses and car keys dangling, as if we’d caught them on the way out.
Jessica pouted as she took a seat on the couch. “We were going to the outlet malls. Will this take long?” Jill nudged her leg and gave her a look as if to remind her that Jack was her boss. I thought it was better than swooning like most girls did around him.
He ignored her comment and stood tall, barely leaning on the camo crutch and commanding attention. “We have an exciting change coming up, ladies. Y’all know the new song ‘Dance Like No One’s Watching’ is going to debut in June. I asked Lexie to create a line dance to go with it, and she’s done an amazing job.”
I watched their eyes widen
into saucers as they looked from him to me and back to him. Kate looked genuinely pleased, Trina looked astonished, Jill was excited, and Jessica appeared irritated.
“We want to show you the dance on video and we’ll set up practice this week. The band and I are making some changes to add instrumental time to the song, and then we’ll all practice it together—hopefully several times before we hit the festival. Oh, and the videographer will be around to catch a lot of this for the music video when it debuts at the same time.” Jack stopped and took a deep breath, deciding if he missed any details. “Any questions?”
Jessica asked, “Why did Lexie get to choreograph for us? She’s not even a tour dancer.” She turned to me. “I mean, no offense, it’s been fun to have you help out, but—”
Jack just shrugged her off. “It was my call, since it’s my tour, and I pay the bills. I think we all know she has the talent to do it. So, I’ll leave you to it while I fill in the band.” He grabbed his guitar case in one hand and crutch in the other as he headed out and left me nervously addressing the girls.
“I, uh, I hope I didn’t step on any toes. His vision for a line dance surprised me, and honestly, I had no idea if it would turn out well. I hope you all like it and can be on board.” I tried to make my voice stronger with each word.
Kate smiled encouragingly while I fumbled to set up the iPad and they gathered close to get a better view. I watched their eyes slowly taking in the video, and one by one, they all bobbed their heads and moved to the beat. The video ended, and I was shocked that all four actually applauded and Trina hopped up, shouting, “Let’s get this thing going!”
Andy arrived, announcing the preparation of a large dressing room with mirrors for us at the arena. We had access from nine to noon each day until the show. We’d have four more days, including the concert day on Saturday. Everyone agreed to the times to rehearse, and Andy promised we could use the Jeep as our transportation.
Muse: ( Groupie Volume 2 of 2) Page 8