He gently tilted my head back up, and the concern in his eyes broke my heart. “I really don’t care what happens to me. I will roll those dice. What matters is justice for you. I’ll respect your wishes, but think it through. He’s a sick man.”
I sighed. “What if he does it again to someone else? I know. I can’t let that happen.” The female paramedic broke another ice pack and handed it to Jack, who gently pressed it to the side of my face where my eye would not open.
The male cleared his throat. “I can radio a friend of mine who’s a detective at the station and have him come in an unmarked car. He can keep it discreet, if you’re worried about the media.”
I looked to Jackson, and he nodded in encouragement. I whispered, “Okay, thank you.”
There was a commotion to my far right, and I saw Travis out of the corner of my eye. He was still on the ground, restrained with zip ties and tape over his mouth—no doubt the work of Joe. The female paramedic had ventured over to check on him and gingerly evaluated as he writhed from his injuries.
The ambulance arrived, thankfully without sirens, but still with bright lights that Jack asked them to cut immediately as I grimaced. After more testing, I was able to convince them I was bruised and sore, but not in any life-threatening danger. Jackson was on the verge of physically forcing me to go to the ER when I whispered to him, “I’ve had a bump on the head before. I’ve had a black eye before. I promise I will survive this.”
He wrinkled his brow and ran his index finger along my neck where I could feel a small welt raising from the lanyard.
“It will heal,” I said.
“What if you have a concussion and you go to sleep tonight and don’t wake up? I’m freaked out here. What if there’s internal bleeding somewhere?”
I smiled weakly. “I would know if something was that wrong with me. I’m sore and ready for sleep. Please, let’s go home. Besides, I haven’t even started with you yet. You ditched your crutch and have been completely reckless on your foot!”
He squeezed my hand and choked out a laugh. “Now it’s official. You’re back to yourself, and as always, taking care of everyone else first.”
A Crown Victoria pulled up, and two detectives exited their car. Jack met them, and they took notes as he filled them in on the events. They interviewed Jack first, then Andy, Joe, and the paramedics, and finally came to me. I described everything as I remembered it, though I was really starting to feel the effects of fatigue.
The tall, bald detective said, “You sound like quite a fighter, young lady. Good for you. We’re going to take him in, book him, and interview him. He’ll make bail tomorrow, just so you know, but a mandatory restraining order will be part of it. We’ll be in touch.”
They walked toward Travis, and the thought of seeing him made me queasy. I tried to stand from my seat on the back of the ambulance, but Jackson quickly scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bus, with Andy running ahead to open the door. He surprised me by taking me straight into his room and gently laying me on the bed without a word. Kate appeared, holding pajamas and helped me dress while the guys disappeared. We didn’t speak, as she seemed to understand I was half-asleep already and only needed her warm hug of comfort.
Jackson reappeared with water and Advil. I swallowed and settled down into the cozy bed, scented as heavenly as I imagined it would be. I was so tired, I didn’t even protest having his bed, nor when he lay on top of the covers next to me, holding me close.
He murmured, “Please, let me watch over you tonight. I’ll keep you safe this time.” His hand stroked my hair while I let sleep take me.
The next morning was reminiscent of the day after I was rear-ended in a highway pile-up when I was twenty years old. My brain felt rested and ready to wake up, but my body seemed to protest from head to toe as I gently stretched my limbs. The night before flooded back to me, and I shuddered, curling into a ball. Then, I became very aware of the warm presence next to me. Jackson.
I blinked open my right eye, the left still not cooperating, as I glanced up at his figure propped on pillows next to me. He was fully clothed, on top of the duvet, and his hand clutched his cell phone. He was sleeping soundly, so I studied his handsome face until he seemed to feel my stare. His eyes shot open and he sat up on one elbow.
“Are you okay? Did I fall asleep?” he nearly shouted, making me suppress a chuckle. He flopped back down when he realized I was alive and well, laughing at him nonetheless. He yawned. “I stayed awake to make sure you were breathing all night. The last time I looked, it was five o’clock.”
I looked over to it now, and it said 9:30 a.m. I reached up to brush a curl off his forehead, loving how unruly they were in the morning.
“Thank you for taking care of me.”
He groaned. “No, if I’d taken better care of you, you wouldn’t be beat to hell right now. Damn! I’m so mad at myself.” He sat up to the edge of the bed, facing away from me.
“Jackson, you couldn’t have known. You even made Joe go with me. I just—I was naive. I thought he was gone to the RV park, and the bus wasn’t very far. Then we heard glass and shouting, so I told Joe to go back in. I’m sorry.”
He turned back to me and shook his head. “Don’t you dare apologize—not ever again. For any of this. It is not your fault. And Joe … he’s … well, I fired him in the heat of the moment last night. He really fu—I mean f-ed up. I don’t know, maybe I’ll put him on probation, but that cannot happen again. It just can’t.”
Horrified, I stiffly sat up, grabbing his hand in both of mine. “No, don’t fire him. It was my fault. Crap. I don’t mean to apologize. I’m just saying that I convinced him to let me walk alone. You know how stubborn I can be.”
His steely eyes finally softened, and he let a half smile. “Yeah, I do know. But, his job is to follow orders and … we’ll just see, okay? I don’t want to upset you. You need to rest. Let me get you more medicine and water and round up breakfast. We’re supposed to drive out soon, but I’m sure everything is up in the air.” His eyes locked on mine while he paused. “What … what do you want to do? Go home?”
I blinked at him for a minute, not comprehending. I swallowed a lump. “Only if you don’t want a nuisance like me around anymore.” I would understand. After all, my life was becoming a bad TV movie. I would bring the whole tour down at this rate.
His eyes welled again, and he looked away. “No, it’s not that at all. Selfishly, I would keep you with me all the time. I just want you safe … and out of the danger and drama. I know you hate the attention. It seems to be plaguing you since I came around.”
“Yeah, if you keep this up, I may just decide I like the spotlight after all.”
He scoffed as he stood. “That’s as likely as hell freezing over. I need to check with Andy for updates. I had him on the phone all night with Amos, the label management, and Travis’s manager. If he’s released today, pending a hearing, something has to be done with him. And obviously, he’s not finishing out Cincy with us.”
He raked a hand through his curls, and I felt a pang at the emotions on his face: anger, fear, guilt, stress. Then, he met my gaze and gave me a brave smile as he headed out the door.
I moved gingerly on the pillow and tried to ignore the pain in my body, and even worse, the visions in my head. In them, Travis was so angry that saliva flew from his mouth, the look in his eyes was wild and menacing, and I felt a sheer futileness like drowning. The harder I fought to push the thoughts away, the more I became lost in them. He was everywhere, and I could not make a sound. I was helpless.
Chapter 21
“Lexie! Oh God, I’m here. Calm down. You’re safe. Shhh …” I heard Jackson’s soothing voice, and I slowly broke free of the nightmare. I was stunned to find myself curled in tight ball on my side, sweating and hyperventilating. My eyes grew as I realized the shape I was in, immediately embarrassed. No memory of falling asleep, a panic attack had slipped over me and pulled me under.
Jackson pulle
d me onto his lap to hold me, but I quickly pushed away and sat back. “I guess I freaked out there, sorry. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
He muttered, “I really wish I’d killed that son of a bitch. Look at how scared he’s made you. You could have nightmares for who knows how long?”
“Surely they’ll fade; it’s just fresh right now. How long were you gone?” I couldn’t figure out how quickly I’d succumbed to the nightmare. It seemed like only seconds had passed.
“Just about twenty minutes. I brought food, and Andy is on his way over with an update. First, I want you to see the doctor from the ER. Since you refused to go, I brought him here.”
I sighed in frustration, and he continued with hands folded like a prayer. “Please, just humor me. Your eye is still shut and your head ...”
He was right. I needed to quit downplaying the injuries and get some peace of mind. An older man in classic blue scrubs entered with a stethoscope around his neck and a name badge identifying him as Dr. Stevens. He examined me from head to toe. He was very gentle and sympathetic—and no doubt being paid a fortune from Jack for a house call. Dr. Stevens concluded my wounds would all heal with time. My vision was still normal, my airway was clear, and I lacked signs of a concussion or fractures. He did several simple tests of the cranial nerves and said my brain function appeared normal. This made Jackson chuckle, and I stuck my tongue out at him. The doctor tried to give me a prescription for narcotics, but I politely declined.
Afterward, I tried to nibble on a croissant as Andy filled us in. The label and management were taking the attack extremely serious. Their first thought was to fire him outright and send him packing. The next thought was that he suffered from serious issues and sending him to jail with no treatment was just asking for this problem to get worse and the possibility of other victims to multiply in the future.
The end decision was to put him on a year probation, when he could not have anything to do with music, but would complete twelve months of inpatient evaluation and treatment, followed by six months of outpatient treatment and community service. The label would provide their lawyer to help with the process, and Travis would plead no contest in turn for this year and a half of treatment and service. He would have to agree to it, or else they would terminate him and he would face sentencing. After the year, the board would decide if he continued with the label or if the relationship ended. Any violation of the probation would lead to jail time. Avoiding media was a priority, and any inquiries would be handled as no comment. Travis would cop to voluntary psychological treatment in a press release and quietly disappear.
I considered whether I was on board for this plan for a long while, staring out the window and considering the options while everyone gave me space. He would make bail sometime today, so the decisions needed to be made in haste. In the end, I decided it was the best course of action. If he fought the charge, an endless court battle would ensue and each person may be drug through the mud. If he served jail time, it would certainly be short for a first-time offender and would leave him more scarred than before. This way, he would actually get help and maybe go on to do some good with his life—maybe make up with his poor mother. I told Andy and Jackson I consented to the plan and spoke for nearly an hour on the phone with the detective and the prosecutor. They were faxing forms for me to sign, and I could not wait to finish.
Amos arrived on an early flight, along with Travis’s lawyer and manager, who went straight to the precinct to deal with him. Amos had the decency to act genuinely concerned about me and promised the label was committed to ensuring Travis was punished, but also rehabilitated. When he referred to me as a victim for the third time, I began to feel irritated. It was the last thing I wanted; the pity and attention of others was something I would run from.
I retreated to the comfort of Jackson’s bed when I heard the announcement we were leaving for Cincinnati after lunch—hours later than the original plan. I’d been asked at least ten times if I was ready to travel and still on board for the tour. I was over it.
I took my Advil and ice packs and relished the solitude of his private room. To escape the aching all over my body, I allowed myself to take an afternoon nap for the drive. I woke up with a terrible nightmare once again, but stifled my scream as I sat up straight in the bed. My body betrayed me by sweating and weeping and I had to take several minutes of long breaths. It infuriated me that Travis could still affect my life. I had survived the attack, I had moved on, and yet he was still reaching out to terrify me when I couldn’t consciously stop it.
I opened the wooden blinds and peeked out the window to find us parked in a huge field. We’d reached Riverfront Stadium, the outdoor amphitheater where the show would take place the next night. It was a relief to see new scenery, a fresh start. As I walked around the massive bed, I tried to move naturally but continued limping on my knee, with soreness it seemed in every bone. I left the bedroom to find Jackson and Charlie at the booth, nonchalantly waiting for me to make an appearance. I could count on Charlie to be honest.
“Damn, girl, you look like shit. How about a shower?”
I laughed in spite of myself as I smoothed down my wild hair and tried to use it to cover my puffy, discolored face. “That’s next on my list. Are we hooked up to water yet?”
Jack nodded at me and glared at Charlie, who held his hands up in surrender and said, “I’m sorry. I use humor to deflect my emotions. We’ve all been worried ’bout ya, Lexie girl. You’re one tough cookie, but sure wish you never had to find out. We’re all praying for a fast recovery—body and spirit.” He pointed to his face and then his heart when he spoke the last words.
Tears sprung to my eyes at the endearment, and then he scooted to the side of the booth to show off the enormous bouquet of lilies and roses, and a stack of get-well cards on the table. I couldn’t handle reading the well wishes yet, so I just nodded with gratitude, blew him a kiss, and headed to the shower. There, I let myself cry the one and only time I would give that satisfaction to Travis McCoy.
I didn’t venture out of the bedroom until late Monday morning. By then, I’d been able to talk on the phone to my family, to Ashley, and to Blevins to update them. It took a long time to explain to each of them that I was not leaving the tour. They each only gave in when I expressed quitting and running away would only let my attacker win.
Feeling ready to resume Jack’s therapy, I convinced him to start our sessions after the phone calls were complete. He had never bothered using his crutch again, after the night he overused his foot during his fight with Travis. I was just thankful he kicked him with the cowboy boot and not the walking boot. We talked about how to resume his most normal gait pattern with only his boot and no more assistive devices. He had adapted well but was mildly sore and swollen across the top of his foot from the extra weight bearing.
I finally showered at noon and surveyed the current damage. The left side of my face was still a mess: puffy and three varying shades of purple around my eye and cheekbone, with a cut across my upper lip. The mark on my neck was evident but fading to a pink hue, and my knee had a thick scab. My hair had a nice-sized chunk missing, and my scalp continued to hurt, but at least it wasn’t visible. There was also a knot on the back of my head and the bruise on my back.
The fresh air felt good when I exited the RV with the ever-doting Jackson by my side. I had asked him to spread the word earlier in the day that I was doing fine and didn’t want any awkward behavior.
Kate completely ignored this as she ran up to me and hugged me tight, then gasped and released me, covering her mouth and literally bursting into tears because she thought she’d hurt me. Ric and Lee overcompensated the opposite way by trying too hard to act normal, tossing me the football without warning so that it hit my hip.
“Dammit! Watch what the hell you’re doing before you hurt her.” Jackson picked up the ball and threw a bullet spiral back to them, hitting Ric square in the chest before he could get his hands up. They muttered apologies as
Trina, Jill, Jessica, Stacy, and Annie closed in on me for a group hug.
I gave them a quick squeeze before backing away and insisting, “It’s all good, y’all. Let’s get ready for a show.” I could see the amphitheater a hundred yards away, where the stage was already set and the crew was turning on lights and checking speakers. I sat in a patio chair as if I was observing the set up, but actually, my head and back were starting to pound.
Gloria appeared out of nowhere with a glass of iced tea and quick hug as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, dear.”
I gave a half smile and figured I should get used to it for a day so everyone could get it out of their systems.
Jackson didn’t leave my side until he had to report for rehearsals on stage with the band. Andy drove me over as late as possible, and I did a quick safety check. It would be easier without the crutch now, but I insisted Jackson sit for several songs to keep the weight bearing to a minimum. Joe and Johnny stopped working with the local security crew and came to embrace me.
Joe lingered and asked, “Did you get my card? I wrote a novel in it to try to tell you how sorry I am. I know words won’t really help, and I can’t erase what you’ve been through. I just … I’m furious with myself. I knew better. It was my job and I failed you. I don’t blame you if you hate me and tell Jack to end my probation—”
I cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. “Joe, I should apologize to you. If I had just listened to you and let you do your job, none of this would have happened, and you wouldn’t be in trouble. Please, I don’t blame you and I told Jackson not to fire you.”
He was surprised into silence and shook his head slightly. “It’s not your fault. Please, don’t think that. You’ve been through enough. You let me take the blame, please. The least I can do is take responsibility.”
Muse: ( Groupie Volume 2 of 2) Page 12