I gave his hand a squeeze. “Let’s agree neither of us needs additional guilt.”
I watched the show from a chair behind the stage and well out of view. Jackson apologized for the lack of an opening act and played a full three hours himself. Exhaustion took over my body by the second hour, aching all over and ready for more Advil and a pillow. Sheer stubbornness made me stay to prove I was okay, but I was nearly nodding off in my chair by the time he reached the famous second-to-last song.
“This time of the night is dedicated to what’s been on my mind, so it changes a lot. I’ve been thinking about the subject of violence against women lately. I know, it’s totally depressing to bring up, but it needs to be addressed. Any man who could ever lay hands on a woman is the most cowardly piece of crap on the face of this planet.”
Resounding hoots and hollers of agreement met him in return.
“So, tonight I’m going to borrow my friend Keith’s song and play ‘Stupid Boy’.” More cheers of approval for his name-dropping and the popular song. He sat on the stool in the spotlight and gently strummed his guitar; the only other person playing was Ric on the keyboard.
“Stupid boy, what made you think you could take a life and just push it, push it around? I guess to build yourself up so high, you had to take her and break her down.... You stole her every dream and you crushed her plans. She never even knew she had a choice ...”
I told myself I wouldn’t cry over Travis again, but I reasoned the tears silently trickling down my cheeks weren’t really for him. They were for the amazing man on stage that always had my back and always knew just the right song to sing. They were for the faces full of emotion I could see standing close to the stage, no doubt some of them affected by some type of abuse as well.
“Stupid boy, you can’t fence her in, stupid boy, it’s like holding back the wind ... and she was long gone, long gone.”
He looked over to me after the song, and I smiled in spite of the tears and crossed my hands over my heart in appreciation. He mimicked my movement as he stood from the stool. Then, strobe lights exploded and the band jumped back to life for the last song. I glanced back to the hovering-more-than-ever Joe and told him I was exhausted and ready to get back to the bus. He drove me in the Jeep and escorted me inside, where I locked the door tight. I changed into my pajamas and debated between my bunk and Jackson’s bed that I’d quickly grown to love. I sighed and climbed the bunk to my pillow. Better to break the cycle than get in over my head.
I don’t know how he found me, but sometime in the night, I woke up with Travis’s hands around my neck.
Chapter 22
I gasped for air as he loomed over me, cursing me with evil in his golden eyes. I fought, twisted, and kicked, thinking he was not going to allow defeat a second time.
“Lexie! Baby, wake up! I’m right here. Shhh.”
I couldn’t place where I was, or who was talking. I struggled to grasp reality.
The image of Travis faded slowly, and I found my eyes closed tightly. I fought with my sheets. I gulped air and sat up while Jackson turned on the lamp and pulled me close. It took a moment for me to find my bearings. I was in Jackson’s bed, under the covers, with him on top of them next to me in his white ribbed tank and gray sweatpants.
“How did I get here?” My voice betrayed the panic I still felt.
“You’re not sleeping in the bunk anymore, Doc. I’m trading you beds permanently, but I thought I’d stay close in case another nightmare came. I’m glad I did. Are you okay? What do you dream about?”
I cleared my throat and reached for the water bottle he handed to me, gulping it down.
“It’s always his face and tonight he was choking me. Damn him for still having this power over me; it makes me so mad!” I lay down in a huff, crossing my arms defiantly.
He lay down on his side, his head propped on his hand, studying me.
“I want to kill him,” he said flat and serious. It made me giggle, but maybe I was borderline hysterical at this point. He scoffed. “Well, I’m glad baring my homicidal tendencies makes you laugh.”
I turned to him in the dim light. “Thank you for being here. And for carrying me to your bed. I can’t let you trade me. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Well,” he said with a sly smile, “I would be okay with sacrificing to share my bed with you. You’re not a bad sight to wake up to.”
I pressed my lips to stop a wide grin. “You’re not so bad yourself. Plus, you come in handy when a girl has a bad dream.” My gaze followed my thoughts down his body. I had to check myself quickly. “But, I can’t make you stay on top of the covers in your own bed like this every night.”
“Hmm. We could solve that …”
I rolled my eyes at him and plumped my pillow, yawning. “Let’s not go there. I’m glad you’re here, though. We’ll start with that.” I must have been really tired and still hysterical because I added, “Plus, I like it when you call me baby.”
I drifted off immediately and never saw his reaction.
Jackson rose and left before I woke up the next day. I ventured out to find the crew loading equipment and some people eating breakfast, while others remained in their buses. Amos sat with Andy and Jackson in the booth of the kitchen bus, and he waved me over. He was annoyingly careful to be nice to me these days, and I wished he would just be real, even if it meant being an ass.
They filled me in on the plan for the upcoming week, which never ceased to catch me off guard. Turned out, I was going home for a few days, after all. Dr. Gray wanted a follow up appointment and a bone scan at this point of recovery. Jack and I would take the Jeep by ourselves to Knoxville that afternoon, a four-hour drive, to be ready for his appointment Wednesday morning. Jack and Amos would also meet with the reps for the pediatric wing over lunch to start planning the first concert fundraiser for fall. We expected the results of the scan by evening, and if all was clear, we could head to Nashville Wednesday night.
Jackson planned tons of work for Thursday, once we arrived in Music City. The CMA Music Festival would start Friday and last through Sunday. Jack was special in the fact that he was going to play Friday night with Blake Shelton, to perform their duet, and have his own hour slot on Saturday night.
Amos sat back and smiled at me, almost genuinely this time. “It seems y’all haven’t stayed on top of the press during your travels. Jack is extremely in demand right now, top of his game. His song with Blake is still popular, he has the duet with Martina coming up, and Steven Tyler is in the works to record the collaboration and wants him to make some tour stops with Aerosmith in the fall. The press is eating up the changes he’s made with all these new songs on the tour and his change in behavior. The blogs are following the new song choices and betting on what’s behind it—most of them convinced there’s a special lady in his life …” He drawled this out with a wink that literally made me cringe.
“Rumors are flying about celebrity women to whom he may be linked. There are definitely rumors that his physical therapist is responsible for the changes in him. They love to show the video of you in the parking lot of the hospital and of your birthday on stage. Of course, the PR firm says ‘no comment’ when the media asks for information. Anyhow, thought you all should know what’s going on out there in the real world. Keep up the good work.” He tipped his hat and left the bus, headed to his obnoxious SUV.
I furrowed my brows at Jackson and Andy. “What does that even mean? Way to keep the media interested and pump up publicity by doing absolutely nothing on purpose?” They both chuckled and shrugged.
“Whatever.” Jack yawned dismissively. “I’m just glad we’re spared from a lot of the daily media crap in our little tour bubble. We never have the news or entertainment shows on, or have magazines delivered, and we don’t hear all the water cooler gossip.”
“You look tired,” I noted when he yawned again.
He gave me a crooked smile. “If only someone didn’t hog the covers all night.”
&n
bsp; My eyes bulged and I hushed him, glancing to Andy. “This is how rumors get started!”
Andy laughed. “You know I don’t gossip. I sure do hear a lot more of it now that I’m with Kate, though.” His smile stretched across his face as he left the bus.
Jackson stared at me while I picked at the rest of the pancakes on his plate. “What?” I demanded.
“It’s really nice of you to take him under your wing. He’s a good kid but so damn shy, I wasn’t sure if he’d ever date. You’ve managed to land him a cute girlfriend in two months,” he said, and it made me smile as I thought at least one sweet romance would come from his tour.
After showering and packing our overnight bags, we loaded into the Jeep to drive south just after noon. It felt strange to pack luggage to take to my own home. I called Ashley on her lunch break during the drive, and she shrieked at the news that we’d be there by dinnertime. She asked where Jack was staying, and I realized I didn’t even know.
“I, uh, I’m not sure. I’ll find out. Yes, of course I’ll offer. Don’t get too excited.” I hung up and glanced sideways at him.
“I promise it’s not hard to drive. Quit worrying. It’s been months since I drove, but it comes back pretty damn fast.”
I was grateful he had permission to take his boot off for the trip so I could relax in the passenger seat.
I shook my head, chewing on my lip. “No, I wasn’t worried about that. Just wondering where you, I mean, I wanted to tell you … you’re welcome to stay at our apartment if you want to tonight. I wasn’t sure of your plans.”
He grinned back at me. “Thanks, Lexie, I know that was awkward for you. I believe Amos has a suite for us downtown. To be honest, I think he’s looking forward to some bonding time.”
I nodded, able to breathe again. It would be nice to have Ashley to myself, and dish about him, which would be awfully hard with him there.
We arrived late afternoon, and he insisted on carrying my bag in for me. It felt surreal to use my key for the first time in months. I made him wait while I did a quick run through to be sure there wasn’t a mess. Once clear, I let him in and gave the grand tour, which took less than five minutes. He drank it all in but especially focused on the framed photos. Me with Mom, Dad, and Will at Disneyworld before we were a broken family, Will with me at my high school graduation, Cara and me at senior night for dance team, Ashley and me at our favorite Mexican restaurant with sombreros for her last birthday.
“Your place really fits you. It’s classy but cheerful and comfortable. Maybe I’ll make it into a frame one of these days.”
I helped him set the GPS for his hotel, and then he was gone, leaving me to feel like a stranger in my own home. Luckily, it wasn’t long before Ashley texted me three words that made me smile: Wine and Pizza!
She arrived twenty minutes later with her arms loaded down. She threw the steaming, square boxes on the table and hugged me with all her might, then pushed me away as she gasped at my face. Just when I thought it looked so much better.
“I’ll kill that son of a bitch.” She gently touched the battered left side of my face and then abruptly spun me around and yanked up my t-shirt to inspect my back. “Oh, I will murder him, Lexie, I swear it.”
“You’ll have to get in line. Besides, he agreed to plead guilty. He’ll be off the street and hopefully get the help he needs.”
“What he needs is to feel what it’s like to be beat to death.”
“Pretty sure he saw his life flash before his eyes when Jackson got a hold of him.”
She smirked and rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “Oh yes, let’s talk about your hero! I’ll open the wine and you get the plates out.”
Six hours later, it was almost midnight, and we were finally talked out. She quizzed me on every detail of the last few months and knew everything about the cast of characters on the tour. Unfortunately, she hadn’t met anyone she cared to talk about and work was the usual, so I had to answer her serial questioning until my throat was sore.
“Just admit it, for me, please. Admit you wrote off your relationship too soon.” She pursed her lips at me and folded her hands in prayer.
“Brat. You’re not supposed to throw that ‘I told you so’ card at me.” I ran my hands through my hair. I hated to be wrong. I’d been so sure it was the right choice back in Atlanta, but that was several states ago. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway. I convinced him I was right, and now he agrees with me. He even put it in writing.”
“Oh, it’s never too late. If only you had one romantic bone in your body. And, by the way ... I told you so.”
Jackson’s appointment was at 9:00 a.m. He picked me up at the apartment after Ashley left for work. He had his baseball hat pulled down low and sunglasses on—his version of a disguise.
As I slid into the Jeep, his expression was serious. “Did you have a nightmare? It was killing me to think I wasn’t there for you.”
I gulped, deciding whether to lie or not, and decided on the truth, since I knew he’d call BS on me. “I did, but it wasn’t a bad one. I woke up pretty quickly and was able to go back to sleep later.”
“Well, I have a solution I think may help you out. I’ll tell you when we get to my place in Nashville.”
“Oh, I hadn’t even thought about that—”
“Well, stop thinking. You’re coming to my place, staying in my spare room—or with me if the dreams don’t stop—and that’s the end of it. Don’t argue with me. Please.”
So, naturally, I did. We argued during our drive to UT, while we parked, and in the waiting room for Dr. Gray. We only paused our debate when Amos joined us, ever-present to be certain his cash cow met release criteria.
Dr. Gray was as dry and intimidating as ever, but at least he was thorough and attentive. He endeared me to him a bit after he pulled me aside, before even looking at Jack, and examined my face with a frown.
“I heard about this from Dr. Blevins, and I’m outraged,” he said, managing to a slight variation from his normal monotone. “Do you need me to look at anything for you? Are you having difficulty with your head or back or knee?”
His look of affection made my eyes well with moisture, but I choked them back and shook my head. “A doctor came to see me already. I’m getting better every day. Thank you.”
He ran Jackson through a myriad of tests and was satisfied with all the results. He had printed out my therapy notes and highlighted several things, which made me glow. He was happy with the progress and actually sounded shocked.
“I must say, Mr. Morgan, I was not extremely optimistic you would be able to handle touring and still be in this good of shape. I assume it’s due a great deal to your physical therapy.” He tipped his head in my direction.
Dr. Gray sent us to radiology for the bone scan, a VIP bonus, because most patients would only get x-rays. A technician ushered Jack straight in for his scan and told him the doctor would call by the end of the day with the results. Jack and Amos were meeting with the hospital board about the pediatric wing over lunch, so Ashley took me to the apartment over her break. When she left to go back, we hugged tightly, knowing I would be gone for Nashville again when she returned.
A stack of mail loomed on the counter, so I resolved to start the tedious task of going through it all. I had set up automatic withdrawals for my monthly bills and left Ashley blank checks for the utilities. There were a few random bills in the stack of mail I needed to pay, so I logged into my bank account. I stared at the account balance for a long time, thinking something was wrong.
I had more money in the account than I’d ever accumulated in my life.
Chapter 23
I calculated, in addition to my normal salaried paychecks going into the account, the ten thousand dollars had deposited for April, May, and already for June. He was paying at the beginning of the month instead of the end, paying me before I did the work.
As I tore mail open, I came across an envelope from a bank that wasn’t my usual First Tennes
see, and I nearly threw it out, thinking it was an advertisement. The words “information about your account is enclosed” caught my eye, and I opened it warily. There was a new account in my name and the transfers into the account were coming from an outfit called MusicCorp in Nashville. There had been two deposits made so far, on a monthly basis. I tried to read the fine print, which was so full of legal jargon it resembled a foreign language. I did pick out the word “royalties” which added to my bewilderment. One thing was for sure: I had forty thousand dollars in my bank account and another mysterious account with nearly nine thousand.
Just as I finished sorting mail, two thirds of which was junk, and repacked my luggage, a horn honked outside. Peering out the window, I saw a gorgeous man in a red Jeep with aviator sunglasses flashing a white smile. I momentarily wondered who on earth he could be looking for before I remembered, somehow, it was me.
“What’s going on? I thought you were going to call after you heard back about the scan?” I said as I tossed my luggage in the back and hopped into my shotgun seat.
“It was all good and we’re Nashville bound.” We shared a sigh of relief and settled in for the drive. I’d assumed it would be clear, but confirmation was a weight off my shoulders.
“So, what do you know about a crazy amount of money in my account?” I asked as he eased the Jeep onto I-40 West.
He played innocent with a shrug. “I only agreed to the number that was thrown out to me.”
“Yeah, a ridiculous number, plus you pay in advance. You may need to hire a financial advisor full time—just saying.” I retorted. “There’s a whole new account. Any idea what this MusicCorp thing may be?”
He continued with nonchalance. “It’s your royalties. The electronic sales of ‘Cryin’’ and ‘Wonderful Tonight,’ plus the YouTube hits for the concert clips. My portion is going to you.”
Muse: ( Groupie Volume 2 of 2) Page 13