Muse: ( Groupie Volume 2 of 2)

by Susan Daugherty

  My lips spread into a smirk. “I’ll take the bet, Jackson. And, you better put your best game face on, because my reward is going to be the notebook.”

  His forehead wrinkled and he immediately looked at it and back to me. “Well, you do play hardball, don’t you? I said anything, but hell if that’s not the one thing I should have omitted.”

  I saw panic in his eyes; he genuinely worried about it. I felt bad for a minute, but my morbid curiosity took over, and I replaced my pity with determination. I had to read it.

  “You better try your hardest, then. And no dictionary for the game, and you better not mess with any of those pages in the meantime,” I said, taunting him.

  “Oh, it’s on, Doc. Don’t you worry. I’m not a cheater, and I’ve never wanted victory more than I do now. Remember, no backing out on me when I win.”

  “I would never. Just so you know, I believe your theory was right.” I hopped off the barstool and headed into the shower, leaving his mouth open as he put together my admission.

  Chapter 29

  Show preparations took over the afternoon. We rode the buses to the arena at 4:00 p.m. and checked out the stage the crew had been working on all day. There was no opening act until the next show in Biloxi, so the band and dancers were able to rehearse early. The now-familiar buzz of anticipation began in my belly while we rehearsed and played with different ideas for our breakout portions. Instead of the booty shake tonight, we were going to do Shakira hip shaking, before throwing the spotlight on Jackson again.

  He approached me backstage, just before he was set to go on. “How about we have the real kiss now and get it over with, instead of the good luck kiss?”

  I wagged my finger at him. “Mr. Morgan, that would mess up our superstition entirely.” I leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Besides, you underestimate how much I want to read the notebook.” We had each played one word so far with painstaking focus.

  They called him out to stage, and he ducked to the elevator, rising up in fog and strobe lights. It was another amazing show, and the new song went over perfectly again. The fans had really caught on by now, after all the publicity over the last week. Jack made us laugh again by busting out the Shopping Cart move when we gave him his turn to solo. The select song of the night was now “This Love.” He told me while in Nashville, the executives had already assigned producers to work on recording it as soon as the tour was over. A live version would be released on iTunes in the meantime.

  After a blissfully abbreviated time in the VIP lounge, we were able to escape back to the bus. We each took excruciating turns to play our second word of the game, in the midst of therapy. He mulled his turn over while I worked his manual treatment, and then I took my turn after I got him settled with an ice pack. Twizzlers were totally called for, and I lay back into the couch, chewing absentmindedly while I assessed my options. It must have taken me ten minutes to eat just one, and I reached for another, still unsure of my best move.

  “That’s extremely unfair.” I heard Jackson pipe up from across the couch and looked over to see him entranced by the candy pressed to my lips.

  I gave him a confused look and then caught on. I batted my lashes. “Does this distract you? Hmm … I’ll remember that when it’s your next play.”

  He looked dangerous as he sat across from me, smoldering eyes, clenching his jaw muscles as if willing himself to stay in his seat. I had to swallow while the tables turned and now I was distracted. “The look on your face is not fair, either,” I whispered.

  His intensity slowly turned into The Grin, and I threw my hands up in exasperation. “No way, I’m out of here! Take your ice off in five. I’ve got to concentrate.” I hopped up before he could protest and pulled the curtain to my bunk, put my earbuds in, and labored over my play for another twenty minutes before sending it and crashing into my pillow.

  Sunday brought Biloxi, just over three hours to the Mississippi Coast Coliseum. The air smelled like the gulf, and it was hot and humid this time of year. It was hard to believe places were stickier than Tennessee, but it was even worse on the shore. There was a nice ocean breeze, at least, and we had a great area to park the buses right next to the arena and the coast.

  I spent the evening with the girls, exploring the area, to avoid being too close to Jackson. The heat between us felt unbearable at this point. The five of us ate dinner at a quaint seafood shack and asked a stranger to take our photo during sunset on the beach. I even dared to post it to Facebook, finally getting over my super-privacy fears. I had people posting on my wall or sending me messages to say they’d seen the footage of the CMA festival or heard I was dancing on tour now and wanting to get the scoop. I never replied, thinking the story was too long and complicated, and I definitely did not want to be construed as bragging.

  We headed back at dark, noticing a smaller bus had joined our row and Trina remarked that the Belles had arrived. The next opening act to join the show was a brother-sister duo from Oklahoma who burned onto the scene last year with witty, tongue-in-cheek songs. I couldn’t help but have Delilah flashbacks and said a quick prayer the sister was not an old conquest of Jack’s.

  Relief came when we approached the group, hanging out in lawn chairs, to find she was late forties, and her husband had accompanied her and her older brother on the trip. Natalie Belle had a thunderous voice and a sarcastic sense of humor I immediately liked. Her brother, Nathan, was more reserved and pensive, which was a nice change for the rowdy bunch on tour. Natalie’s husband, Eddie, was also their manager and drummer. He stayed on his phone most of the time. Okay, all of the time.

  We all hung out and told funny tour stories until people started to drift off to their beds. Jackson got a call from Amos and headed inside to talk. When I came in, he was absorbed on the computer, going over some emailed documents with his manager on the phone, so I changed and headed to my bunk. It was my turn to play a word again. We had each played twice that day and were neck and neck. I had no high value letters to play, so I had to blow this turn and hope he had the same problem next time as well. Not that losing would be a bad thing either.

  The Belles added a much-needed distraction and were easier to handle than Delilah or Travis. They had a cult fan following, which gave more variety to the crowd during the show. The vibe in the lounge felt like family. I felt a pang when I realized my temporary gig was well over halfway through, and one day I’d be back home. Life was going to seem so dull after this.

  Jackson was suddenly at my side. “What’s wrong, babe?”

  I looked up, startled out of my thoughts and realized the crumpled look on my face must have alarmed him. I shook it off. “Oh, nothing, sorry. I zoned out there for a minute. Um, ready for therapy?”

  He nodded, and we grabbed Joe to escort us back to the buses a few blocks away. He walked a few steps ahead of us, surveying the area. Jackson and I strolled slowly, both lost in thoughts. Our hands brushed twice, sending chills up my arm and making my heartbeat race. The third time it happened, he grabbed hold of my hand and laced our fingers, never breaking stride. I stopped breathing for a minute as our arms swung gently with each step.

  He cleared his throat. “Would it be okay if I held your hand?”

  It was such a sweet and innocent thing to ask, as we were courting in the old days. I tried not to betray how this simple gesture affected me. “That would be nice.”

  It felt good, natural, safe. He didn’t let go until we reached our door and he ushered me up the steps in front of him. I was glad for the distraction of the package on the counter. The delivery arrived earlier in the day, but I hadn’t had time to dig through it yet. I had requested Blevins send more advanced supplies, now that Jackson was nearly out of his boot. The box held a variety of rehab toys—a foam balance pad, higher levels of resistance bands, marbles, ankle weights, and cones.

  Jackson laughed at me as I delighted in pulling out the lot. “You look way too excited, and that means I should be nervous.” I gave him
a smirk and shrugged innocently.

  As we added in the new treatments, he continued his exceptional progress. I documented all of my findings and sent Dr. Grey an update. I put ice on his ankle and checked our game. The board was over halfway full now, and he was up by three points, but I had added a Q to my tiles and needed to make it count. Jackson wound up nodding off on the couch while I pondered my move, so I covered him with a blanket and tucked a pillow under his head before retreating to my bunk and finally playing a forty-eight-point word.

  Over breakfast on picnic tables, I was happy to discover we had another day in Biloxi before moving to Mobile. We would get there Wednesday for a Thursday show, and then go to Montgomery and Birmingham to complete the Alabama circuit. Amos arrived by lunch and was going to occupy Jackson’s time all day with interviews and photo shoots. I didn’t see him until bedtime, when he trudged through the door and flopped on the couch, exhausted.

  “Hard day at the office, dear?”

  He looked up just enough to glare at me and throw a pillow in my direction. Then he scooted closer to sit next to me. He could now see that I’d found Grown Ups on cable. “Ah, but at least I come home to Adam Sandler on TV.”

  He struggled with his boot and dropped it to the floor along with the Nike from his other foot. “I can’t wait to be without that damn thing. Oh crap, I haven’t got to play a word all day.”

  He grabbed for his phone, and I made a tsking sound. “Now, Jackson, don’t drag this out forever.”

  He shushed me as he leaned intently toward his screen, analyzing for at least ten minutes before I finally gave up and headed to bed. He was not going to be any fun tonight until he got his play finished.

  Helen greeted me the next morning as she prepped us for travel once again. Mobile, Alabama was only an hour up the Gulf Coast. Amos arrived again, and I realized he’d stayed in a hotel overnight and was going to drive his rented tank of an SUV to Mobile as well. He wanted Jackson to ride with him to talk more about upcoming plans. Amos and I had been on decent terms since the Travis ordeal, so it had made life easier. But, Jack still wanted to be sure I would be okay on the coach by myself.

  “It’s totally fine. I was actually hoping to try another yoga video en route, and I sure can’t do it with a Peeping Tom like you in the bus.”

  He snorted out a laugh and then tried to look wounded. “Hey, I’m human … and you were doing the splits halfway undressed! Anyway, Amos was filling me in about Travis, and he asked if you wanted regular updates. I wasn’t sure if you’d rather hear all the news, or try to forget about him as much as possible.” I could tell by his voice that he hoped I’d choose the latter.

  “Since there’s no punching bag on tour, I better stick with just hearing things I need to know. If he skips out on treatment, goes to jail, or when its release time, otherwise, I’ll just assume it’s all going smoothly and he’s being rehabilitated.”

  He brushed a wavy strand of hair out of my face and sighed. “I’m so glad you’re all healed on the outside ... but I worry about the inside.”

  I gave myself a moment to think, so I could respond honestly. “You know, I think boxing really helped. And, I always feel safe with you. I truly don’t think about it much anymore. And the whole hair thing … I think you cured me.” I flushed and had to look away.

  He grinned and stepped closer to pull my hair over one shoulder. He twisted it in a spiral, then traced a line down my exposed neck with a finger. I shivered obviously and rubbed my lips.

  “By the way, it’s your move again. Play a damn word today, will you?” I said, needing to break the moment somehow. The topic seemed related, since it would have been a perfect moment for a kiss.

  He closed his eyes for a moment and tipped his head in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll get on it. See you in a little bit.”

  Once settled at another beachside RV park, I took my shower and met the group outside. I tossed a Frisbee with Charlie until he looked beet red, had a coughing fit, and needed to sit. I brought him water and sat close as he wheezed and puffed for air.

  “Charlie, look, I try not to be the annoying Debbie Downer on this tour, but seriously, your health is declining. I see you lose your breath often now, and your endurance is worse. Are you having pain?”

  He groaned. “Yes, I’m looking at her right now.”

  I rolled my eyes at his joke. “Are you using the electric cigarette? Have you cut back at all?”

  “Yes, dammit. I’m down to one pack a day instead of two. And, I’m trying to switch to this light beer shit that tastes like damn water. Now, give me a break.” He huffed but then reached over and patted my hand. “I know you mean well, I’m just an old man set in his ways.”

  I grimaced and said what was on my mind, “I know, Charlie, but you’re also really selfish. You’re family doesn’t need to lose anyone else they love. Not this young and not when it’s preventable.”

  He looked like I slapped him, and I felt instant remorse. Maybe I had crossed the line. He looked down at his lap for a moment, and back up with tears in his eyes.

  “You sound like Caroline. She told it like it was, but she did it out of love. I miss her. I need someone to keep me in line. Thank you for caring enough to say what you did.” He patted my hand again and then headed off to the gray bus.

  I felt sad after thinking about Jackson’s mom and found myself looking for solace as I headed down to the boardwalk to watch the activity on the beach. Jackson found me there two hours later and leaned against the wooden rail next to me.

  “Charlie told me what happened. I walked onto his bus while he was on the phone with his cardiologist, making an appointment to see him when we go back to Nashville in a week. I can’t thank you enough. You’re always helping me, it seems.”

  I looked up at him sharply. He had to be kidding. “It’s completely the other way around.” We gazed at each other for a long minute until a squeal from the beach broke our concentration. We looked down to a little boy chasing his sister with a crab, making us laugh.

  “It’s your play by the way. Ready for dinner?” He put a hand on my back to lead me toward our site. The simple gesture made butterflies fill my stomach.

  Dinner featured the comedy of Natalie Belle, who may as well have been a stand-up act. I whispered to Jackson that he should give her fifteen minutes before each show to do a routine with the crowd, and he smirked in agreement. With a bonfire constructed, as it got dark, a ghost story contest began while beer guzzled and marshmallows roasted. I had flashbacks of Girl Scout camp, minus the alcohol of course.

  Also, minus the iPhone in my lap, where my attention glued, slaving over my next play. I knew we were nearing the end, as the board was getting full, and I was up six points. I prayed he didn’t have a letter Z held back for the perfect timing. Finally, I settled on a twenty-four-point play I wasn’t super happy about, but it would have to do. I glanced up to see him watching me, and I gave him a thumbs-up with a wink, as if I had it in the bag. He shook his head and pulled out his phone, knowing it was his turn now. He gave me an impressive nod when he saw my addition and then set hard at work to figure out his next move.

  I turned my attention back to the group all around us and realized they had all been looking at me. The startled look on my face made everyone laugh and tease me.

  “What did I miss?” I asked cautiously.

  Lee snorted. “Apparently the whole conversation. What on earth are you doing with your head buried in the phone, anyway?”

  Ric chimed in. “And Jack, too, man, what’s up with that? Y’all got some secret going on we should know about?”

  Heat crept up my neck, and I looked at my shoes while it was Jackson’s turn to realize he was missing the conversation and they laughed at him too.

  “Anyway, Lexie,” Trina drawled, “if you’re back with us now, it was your turn to tell a ghost story from your childhood.”

  I grimaced. “Uh, I’ll pass. Someone else want to go?”

  Finally, Andy jum
ped in to save me, and I mouthed “thank you” to him and took my chance to escape while he started on some urban myth about a hitchhiker. I changed into pajamas and debated on going to bed at ten o’clock or turning on the TV when my phone rang.

  “Ashley!” I screamed so loud they probably heard me outside.

  “I got your messages and have been abso-freaking-lutely dying to call you back!”

  I filled her in on the new bet and how it consumed these last few days. Of course, her advice was to screw the game and just kiss him when he walked through the door tonight. However, she understood how amazing it would be to get to read his inner thoughts in the notebook, too.

  “Okay, so win, read the notebook, and then immediately lay a huge kiss on him. Actually, by then, you need to go ahead and lay yourself on him. Really, you all have been a looong time coming. Time to skip all the rules and just get naked.”

  I laughed until I cried, so glad to have her humor to alleviate some of my anxiety. I crawled into my bunk and talked to her until I fell asleep.

  Chapter 30

  The next day was show day. After breakfast and therapy, Andy knocked on the door to tell us the new shipment came from Lucky. He divvied out the goods in all the correct sizes he’d ordered for the whole group. The girls and I went to the kitchen bus to try on our new outfits. It was like Christmas! There were jean skirts we all agreed were short enough to move well in but classy enough to pass our modesty test. Well, my modesty test, as I was the most conservative of all. There were new red strapless tops with ruching at the sides that we paired with the skirts and new black cowgirl boots with red accents. I had to admit, we looked hot.

  I rode on the girls’ bus to the Mobile Civic Center and went through our usual pre-show prep. Jack rehearsed first and then broke down their set so the Belles could rehearse. He found me side stage, where I’d been scoping the set while they played, checking cords and moving stray tripping hazards, and having the crew move a light kit. He charged toward me with such command that I backed up a few steps at the top of the stage stairs. He grabbed the tops of my arms and his ocean eyes glared into mine.