Jack suddenly felt my presence and looked over, startled. “Well, hi there. Addicted to the high from kicking ass?”
“How did you know?” I asked as I strode to the corner and put the gloves on, ready to beat on something.
He smirked. “’Cause I know I can’t wait to get back to it when you give me the green light. I’m glad it’s helped.”
I warmed up on the speed bag. “Yeah, it has. No nightmares since I’ve been here. I saw a lot of people stare at my colorful face last night, but no one felt the need to ask me about it, so it’s definitely looking better.”
I glanced in the mirror to examine the fading light purple and green marks. I’d been able to cover them pretty well with makeup the previous night.
He moved to sit on the bench and began overhead presses while watching me in the mirror. His expression was grave. “I’ll never forget that night as long as I live. I’m so sorry.”
I moved to the punching bag and gave it several good jabs before I answered, “Please don’t apologize.” I grunted as I kicked the mat. “Let’s move past it. It’s time to focus on our killer show.”
He finished his set and put his weights back on the rack. “Yes, ma’am. Reporting to the shower.” He mock-saluted me and left the room, grinning.
The day flew by at record speed. The dance rehearsal went smooth as we picked right back up and nailed the routine several times. Jessica complained she wanted the skimpy outfits back, but she was outvoted. We settled on our skinny jeans with cowboy boots and fitted, sparking silver tank tops.
The night brought Jackson’s duet with Blake at the festival. I was able to do safety checks for the stage and veto Jackson’s use of raised platforms on the set. Andy and I were star struck to meet Blake and watched the show from backstage. We hung out in the lounge afterward, as if it were any Friday night with old friends. I briefly felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole into a strange land. How had I ended up here?
Too much fun meant we didn’t get home until midnight and managed to do a short therapy session. “We can do the minimum tonight, Lex. I gave you the night off to enjoy the show. Let’s pick it up tomorrow.”
“Good idea. We’ll do a real one in the morning, okay?” Tired from the long day, I lay my head back on the couch and closed my eyes. I heard him saying my name, but I was already halfway gone.
I woke up in the guest room and realized he must have carried me once again. I decided to forego the punching bags, since I’d apparently worn myself out yesterday. I needed to save my energy for the show. We knocked out a formal round of therapy while Jack fielded never-ending calls from Amos, Andy, publicist groups, and of course, his grandma.
The other interesting call was from Dr. Blevins herself. She informed me Jackson had sent couriered legal documents to the hospital. They spelled out that, under my signed contract, I was able to negotiate terms with my patient about regular working hours. He also stated in my off-duty hours, I would be allowed to partake in any legal activities I so pleased. He advised them I would be taking advantage of another opportunity to be of service by working on choreography and dancing on the tour and it should be none of their concern, because it was outside of the normal working hours. By her tone, he’d been fairly harsh, and she was reluctantly agreeing to the terms. Even with the allotted free time, she reminded me that the media did know UT employed me. She asked me please to avoid scandal.
I covered my mouth to keep from gasping in surprise while she explained the documents and then pressed my lips firmly to keep from laughing at her obviously wounded pride. He had trumped her, and she knew it. I grinned wickedly at Jackson when I hung up and he shrugged innocently.
All he said was, “So … that won’t be a problem again.”
Andy was already in the car when Joe and Johnny picked us up at five o’clock. We had the male and female dressing rooms next door to each other and craft service everywhere you looked. The girls and I nibbled nervously as we dressed and primped with Annie and Stacy. I was grateful their skills with makeup allowed them to cover my injuries with barely a trace. Trina tried to convince me I needed to do all the dances with them, but I absolutely refused. Not only did I want to avoid the spotlight, I knew my Achilles tendon would disagree with many of the high-energy moves they performed. I would be side stage until the second-to-last song, when we would premier “Dance Like No One’s Watching.”
While Jake Owen finished his set before us, we all met backstage to get last-minute directions and have a quick pep talk from Charlie about giving our all for an epic show.
Jackson wasn’t shy about looking me over from head to toe in my dance outfit, and I arched one brow as if offended when he finally made it to my face. Completely unapologetic, he leaned in for his good luck kiss. I complied but gave him a mock glare for his behavior. He laughed.
“You can’t expect me to keep my eyes off you. That’s a compliment.”
I allowed myself to smile and pushed him toward the stage on his cue, then sat back to enjoy the next forty-five minutes until it would be my turn. The girls joined me side stage while the band performed “Cryin’” just before our debut. I took a deep, steadying breath as the song ended. Jack stood up from his stool as the background screens changed along with the tempo from Lee’s drums.
“Time to debut my new release tonight, y’all. I’m so excited to share it finally!” Jackson announced to the crowd, who roared with anticipation as the five of us trotted onto stage and took our places in a line next to Jack and his mic stand. I froze shortly as I looked out into the sea of fans blanketing the entire floor of the football field and every seat in the stadium surrounding us.
The night sky faded, nearly black and dotted with twinkled camera flashes. Stage lighting glowed around us. Signs floated throughout the crowd with a constant hum of voices highlighted by hoots and hollers. My senses were overwhelmed and I thought I might faint until Kate grabbed my hand. I glanced at her while she waved her other hand to the crowd with a huge smile plastered across her pretty face. I mimicked her, snapping out of my panic. I could do this— I used to live for this kind of thing.
Jack continued talking and I tuned back into him, “- so, in the spirit of this song, we really want everybody to get out of their seats and dance. No worries, no wrong way to do it- just like the song says, ‘Dance Like No One’s Watching.’ To further give you no excuses, I asked the lovely and talented Ms. Lexie Travis to choreograph a line dance to go with this song. Just follow along and learn the moves as you go. Let’s do this, Nashville!”
The crowd roared to life, and the band kicked into full gear as the music started and we began to rock our hips in unison.
“Five, six, seven, eight,” I counted out, and we began our routine. It felt so natural and easy by now, I was able to relax. A sincere grin spread across my face, replacing the fake smile from a moment ago, and I let the music take over. Jack put energy into the words and tapped along with us in his awkward walking boot.
“I don’t care if you’re young or old, you’ve all got the right to be bold. Live a little, let it go … and dance like no one’s watching …”
He finished the first chorus and entered into the instrumental as we finished our eight count, and he announced, “Now, it’s time for a little break down, people. Stand in your row, form a circle, I don’t care what you do, you each just need to get on down with your own personal favorite moves. Show ’em, girls.”
I took my cue to step up from the line and began to bust out my favorite running man old school move, to which I heard shouts of approval. I stepped back after my eight-second window, and Kate stepped up next, breaking into the Charleston. Jill followed with her Jay-Z shoulder brush, then Trina with her famous robot, and Jessica with the twist. As we cheered for each other, I took a minute to absorb the crowd and flooded with relief. They were completely bought in. Not a person, within my view, sat down in their chair.
The second instrumental, featuring Fitch on the fiddle, had us fo
rm a semi-circle open toward the crowd and take our turns in its middle. We each chose a new move this time and then returned to the line at the next refrain.
Unfortunately, I noticed the Jumbo Tron screens focused on close ups of the dancers. I knew it made sense, so folks seated far away could see exactly what we were doing, but at the same time, I felt another surge of panic at seeing myself thirty feet tall. I swallowed it down quickly.
For the last break down, I saved Jack a small surprise as I faced toward him and busted out his favorite booty shake move. His booming laugh echoed into the mic. The other girls joined in with me on the move, as we’d planned, and with the last twenty seconds of Ric’s keyboard solo to go, we all pointed to Jackson.
He froze and dropped his jaw, realizing we were giving him a turn to bust out a dance as well—completely on the spot. He didn’t move for a few seconds and then lamely pointed down to his boot and shrugged helplessly, as if it would limit his moves. I knew time was winding down, so leaned over to Fitch’s microphone behind me and said, “Come on Jack Morgan, show us how you dance when no one’s watching!”
He finally chuckled and said right into the mic, “Damn you, Lexie.”
He promptly threw himself into the cabbage patch, rolling his arms out and around in a circle as he bobbed his neck the opposite way with a lopsided grin on his face. It was perfect. Those of us on stage, and what seemed like the whole crowd, erupted into cheers and laughter at his classic, goofy move. However, naturally, he looked hot doing it and probably made it the coolest move on the planet again.
The song ended with Lee’s last beat of the drum, and the stadium burst into applause. We waved to the crowd and clapped for the band and Jackson before we retreated off the stage and into a huge group hug of triumph.
“That was the best!” Kate shrieked.
Jill nodded in agreement. “It could not have gone any better.” We high-fived and laughed while Jackson tried to quiet the crowd for his last song of the night.
“I know, I know, my dancers are so talented. I’m so glad y’all liked the song and the dance. Since you’re the first people to see it, your job is to teach everyone else you know and spread the word. Now, for the last song of the night.…”
Immediately, people surrounded us backstage—everyone from crewmembers to other dancers, to managers who wanted to see if they had the moves correct or wanted to congratulate us.
We eventually made it to the dressing room to freshen up and then into the lounge. The room was spacious and swanker than any of our arena shows. There were red drapes on all the walls, crystal dishes for catering, and an impressive ice sculpture, and decadent sofas and chairs creating several different gathering areas. I knew Jackson and the band should be right behind us, but I never even saw him enter. Greetings came quickly by the other acts in the lounge who had watched the show from the big screens around the room. I lost track of who had introduced themselves and couldn’t believe how many nice compliments we received as people brought us drinks from the bar.
Kate pinched me and we looked at each other in disbelief when Toby Keith’s entourage and Luke Bryan’s dancers asked for help mastering the dance. Before we knew it, we were leading a tutorial for them. Finally famished, I headed toward the buffet line.
Over my shoulder came a familiar voice, “It’s hard to get a minute alone with the most popular girl in the room.” I turned to see Jackson’s blue eyes dancing a few inches from me.
“Hardly, but I sure am glad to see the dance went over well.”
He raised his brows. “Went over well? Lexie, it’s okay to be proud. Just admit it’s an f-ing hit. You’re a damn genius and the crowd loved you. I could also kill you for the stunt you pulled.”
I bit my lip. “But, I knew you’d come up with something brilliant and win over even more hearts, and that’s just what you did. You came across as both humble and ridiculously sexy.” Wow, the vodka and tonics had stopped the filter between my thoughts and words.
He gave me The Grin, and my heart skipped a beat. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Better than the good old days in the hospital when I berated you on a consistent basis?”
He leaned in closer and whispered, “Way, way better.”
People calling our names pulled us apart again. I moved around the room, having casual conversations with celebrities, who all seemed to know who I was, too. I glanced around the room periodically, looking for Jackson, always finding him immersed with VIPs, taking pictures with fans, or chatting with Kenny Chesney, who had headlined the night and finished his set at eleven o’clock. The night started to blur sometime before midnight. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and I was ready for my bed.
Chapter 27
A wonderful aroma stirred me awake the next day, so I pulled on a robe and wondered out into the kitchen to find Jackson at the stove.
“French toast?” he asked as he flipped his spatula.
“Mmm … yes, please.” I plopped on a barstool at the counter, where he had orange juice poured for me. He joined me with heaping plates a minute later and we gorged ourselves.
I took a break to speak. “So, was I dreaming, or was last night really that awesome?”
He grinned at me as he swallowed. “It really was that awesome. You were the guest of honor—I couldn’t get within five feet of you all night. Everyone wanted to find out what your dance background was and why you chose a different career.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right. No career dancing here … but, seriously, Jackson, I want to thank you.” I put down my fork and wiped my mouth with my napkin as I turned to face him. “I feel like, I don’t know, like I got to redeem myself. My life of dance ended so abruptly and was such a terrible memory. It … it left me cautious and insecure. You gave me this chance and believed in me more than I did in myself. I was able to conquer a huge fear and prove something to myself. I can’t tell you what that means to me.”
He stopped eating as well and stared back into my eyes. I hoped they were full of my sincerity.
He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome. I just want you to see what I see when I look at you: a talented, determined, strong woman who can do anything and deserves everything.”
I opened my lips in surprise at his eloquent words and quipped, “You should write for Hallmark, you know that?”
He rolled his eyes dramatically. “I need to add hilarious and sarcastic to the list of adjectives, don’t I?”
I cleaned the dishes while instructing his stretches on the couch and then joined him to work out the minimal edema and more substantial tightness in the ankle. As I mobilized the joints of his foot, he reminded me to check my phone for messages.
“I’m pretty sure you lined up gigs to choreograph for Luke’s next video—some luau theme—and to help Miranda with moves for her upcoming Pepsi commercial. You gave your number to them, so I’m betting you have messages.”
My eyes rounded as I remembered more of the night. I honestly thought I dreamed some of it. “I doubt if they’ll call … but, it would be cool to do some consulting on the side. It will have to be limited to low-key things; my Achilles is throbbing today after dancing and being up on my feet for so long.”
His eyes creased with worry as I changed to deep tissue massage on his calf muscles. “So,” he said casually, “you may just be hanging out in Nashville from time to time, eh?”
I rubbed my lips back and forth in thought. “Maybe. And, you’ll be in Knoxville to work on the charity from time to time I guess.”
He nodded. I couldn’t hold his gaze. What was he getting at? The end of the tour wouldn’t be good-bye forever? How could it be? How could he go from being the all-consuming part of my every day to never seeing him?
“So, maybe we won’t be rid of each other for good after the tour?” I asked softly.
“Just try to keep me away.”
I couldn’t hide the relief on my face. After finishing passive range of motion, I let hi
s foot relax, when he surprised me by grabbing my foot and pulling it up onto his lap, dragging me closer down the couch cushion.
“What in the world?” I sputtered and then I realized his intention as he began to massage the length of my sore tendon.
“I’ve learned a few moves from all these sessions. Let me know how I’m doing.” He caressed up and down and back and forth with just the right pressure to relax the tightness. He stretched my ankle each way, just like I did with him, and I laughed at his earnest expression.
“Hmmm. I have taught you well.”
He scoffed. “Well, I do need you ready to perform at all the rest of the shows on this tour. You officially have time off PT for all the concerts. Think I’m ready to decrease the treatments?”
“Probably. We need to treat at least every other day, but we could start with taking show day off for now and see how you’re doing. It won’t be long until the boot is gone for good. By the way, feel free to keep going as long as you want.” I sighed and leaned back onto pillows while he continued.
“This reminds me, I sure have missed the back massages. Maybe it’s time for another bet.”
I groaned and put my arm over my face. “Oh no, not Words with Friends again, it’s so stressful.”
“Well, you could just volunteer instead of making me win it.”
“Or, you could.”
“I think we’ve reached a stalemate. I’ll start a game today with a back massage for the winner.” He released my foot and stood up to stretch. I glanced at the clock, surprised to find it was already noon.
“I’m heading to kick some more ass and then to the shower,” I announced as I went to my room to change.
“Okay, but we’re leaving for the stadium around three—got passes to watch Lady Antebellum and Carrie Underwood tonight.”
Muse: ( Groupie Volume 2 of 2) Page 16