Love Songs for the Road

by Farrah Taylor

  Marcus had begged Alex to schedule an extra day after the tour’s final concert, in New Orleans. It was his favorite city in the states, if not the world, and he wanted a little more time to enjoy it. As they walked down Royal Street, from the French Quarter Hyatt to the funky Faubourg-Marigny, a twenty-something kid lumbered by on a rickety-looking vintage bicycle, a tuba strapped to his back with nothing more than a length of twine. Somehow the guy managed to take a chomp out of a Po’ Boy sandwich without crashing, and to Marcus, he seemed a suitable symbol of this great city—everywhere you looked, you could count on finding great music, delicious food, or both.

  Marcus glanced over at Ryan, who held Charlotte’s hand. The time they spent together with the kids was amazing, but he wanted her all to himself for an evening, or part of one. Tomorrow would be their free day, before setting off for Atlanta. He would ask Serena to take the kids for an evening, and take Ryan out to Vaughan’s, one of the oldest clubs in the city. Or maybe they’d go see his old friend Kermit Ruffins play at the club he’d opened a few years ago in the Lower Ninth.

  As the quartet strolled back toward the hotel on Canal, Marcus bought them each an umbrella to block out the intense sun. Miles complained bitterly, but Marcus knew a pitstop at the Café du Monde would put a stop to that. And sure enough, by the time he had lit into his third beignet, the boy settled into a blissed-out food coma. Ryan shook her head at Marcus, and he shrugged––their wordless agreement that they would cut the kid off after this last pastry.

  Since the hearing, the tour had become the most blissful and confident of Marcus’s career. He played to capacity crowds every night and found out that, despite Alex’s protests, the world didn’t come to a crashing halt if he cut his press schedule in half or skipped the occasional VIP event (Smitty could charm a crowd twice as well as he could, he’d learned). And ever since the hearing, there’d been a calm ease in every moment he shared with Ryan and the kids.

  In the suite, they’d settled into a pattern. Ryan would return to her own room after they tucked the kids in, leaving Marcus after a makeout session that was brief, but very hot. As a younger man, Marcus wouldn’t have been able to handle that brevity, but now, he thought it was sexy that, for Ryan and him, the best was yet to come. With a woman like this, he didn’t feel the need to rush. He wanted to take his own sweet time.

  …

  Back at the hotel, Ryan had just finished putting Miles down for a much-needed nap. Marcus started to ready his stage clothes for the evening’s concert, while Charlotte watched cartoons.

  Suddenly, with an intensity that Marcus had rarely seen in her, Ryan came back into the living area and said, with no explanation whatsoever, “God closes one door as he opens another.”

  “What?” For one instant, he thought she might have been choosing this moment to reveal to him that she was some brand of super-Christian.

  “Your ‘lock the door’ song. ‘Six of one, a half dozen the other. God closes one door as he opens another.’ That should be the last line.”

  Marcus looked askance at Ryan for a second, but he put down the pair of leather pants draped over his arm and opened his notebook, humming the lines to himself. They worked. Of course, it was perfectly natural that Ryan would emerge from naptime with a new line for the song that he’d continued to play throughout the tour, despite the bored reaction of the audience. Of course, she’d simply spoken the couplet to him, after not mentioning the song for weeks. Not that the two lines made logical sense together, but somehow in the context of the song, they worked perfectly. Now the whole song worked so much better––what a gift.

  He rushed over to her and gave her a big kiss, right in front of a surprised-looking Charlotte.

  “Slow down, bub,” Ryan said, pushing him away playfully. He looked guiltily in his daughter’s direction, but Charlotte was positively beaming at him.

  Feeling like an absolute fool, Marcus, who’d always thought of himself as an agnostic, gazed up at the ceiling, thanking this “God” character for all the blessings that the woman next to him had brought into his life.

  Ryan’s school—he now had no confusion over the location, in Ann Arbor, Michigan—was only a couple of weeks away now. What was he going to do when she left them at the end of the tour? Could she find some place to continue her studies closer to Bigfork, or if that didn’t exist, LA? Or should he move to Michigan? They had to figure something out, because what was happening between them was too good to put a stop to now.

  …

  Marcus had come to New Orleans many times since Katrina, and every year, the city had seemed a bit better off than the year before. New bars and restaurants were opening everywhere, the music scene was thriving, and there was so many film sets around, NOLA was starting to feel like a mini-Hollywood. But the newly renovated Superdome, complete with fancy Mercedes Benz branding and a truly dazzling light display that, tonight, featured shimmering gold and green hues, symbolized to Marcus the city’s resurgence better than any other landmark. With a capacity of more than 70,000, this would be, by far, the biggest venue he’d play on the tour, and Marcus considered it an honor to do so. At the same time, the show hadn’t quite sold out, and he hoped that most of the 50,000 who had bought tickets decided to show up. To a rock star, there was nothing worse than a half-empty arena.

  But as soon as the show started, Marcus got into his comfort zone. Just have fun, he said to himself. Stay loose. He looked in Smitty’s direction. His old friend was wearing an ancient straw cowboy hat tonight, one of those floppy things with a big hunk of turquoise sitting on top of the brim, which he’d probably owned for close to two decades. Marcus wondered what he would do without that real-life angel, Smitty, here. He wasn’t just the bedrock foundation of the band; he was the soul of the entire tour. Marcus was glad that both the real Smitty and the imaginary-projection version that had sat atop Marcus’s shoulder for much of June and July, warning him against involvement with “the nanny,” as they’d both thought of her before she’d become a trusted member of the crew, had seemed to approve of his new, promising relationship with Ryan, the real, flesh-and-blood Ryan for whom Marcus had fallen so hard.

  During the band’s break, Marcus tried “I Lock the Door” with the new lyrics, adding them to the end of the song as a sweeping, anthemic coda. What did they even mean? “Six of one, a half dozen the other/God closes one door as he opens another.” To Marcus, they meant two things: admitting that he couldn’t micro-manage his life, or really, control it at all; and embracing the new beginnings, the relevatory possibilities offered by his life as a parent, but also as a…what—lover? romantic partner? boyfriend? These titles didn’t seem to fit his feelings for Ryan, and his musings might have been silly. But he felt like a new person, and the song felt to him like a perfect expression of his rebirth.

  When he finished, the crowd response was surprisingly good. Marcus didn’t kid himself—he knew no audience in the world would go ballistic for a song they’d just heard for the first time. But at least, this time, no doofuses yelled out, “Stick to the hits, Troy!” the way they had in so many of the previous cities.

  “You like that one?” he called out. The audience screamed louder, maybe out of politeness, sure, but Marcus thought the new ending drove the song home. He looked stage-left for Ryan—he wanted her to hear the new coda in action—and nodded in her direction. She smiled back, and so did the kids. As the set wound to a close, Marcus got ready to introduce “Love of My Life,” and bring Ryan and the kids onstage. Over the last several weeks, he had come to think of Charlotte, Miles, and Ryan as a unit, and it no longer made sense to just have the kids. He had cleared it with Ryan first, of course, and now that things were going so smoothly with them, she seemed game. So Marcus decided to take it one meaningful step further: he would introduce Ryan to the audience as his girlfriend.

  “You must be nuts,” she’d said. “After all we’ve been through.”

  “Trust me,” Marcus said. “I know how these thin
gs work. Once we show the press that we’re just going to be a boring, monogamous couple hanging out with the kids, they’ll lose interest. This’ll be the last image of us, before the tour ends, and we can start building…”

  “What? Don’t be shy, come out and say it.”

  “Start building a life together. What do you say?”

  She’d taken a little more convincing, but Marcus was a persuasive guy, and he knew how PR worked. One wholesome photo-op onstage, followed by a post-tour disappearing act, would do the trick. Sure, there would be grumbling by a few haters, but that wouldn’t last long, and eventually, his fans would accept Ryan, even embrace her.

  “Everybody, this is the song I like to bring my kids out for,” he said from the stage. “But tonight, I’d like someone else to join them. Will you please welcome Charlotte Troy, Miles Troy, and my girlfriend, Ryan Evans, to the stage?”

  Miles appeared right away, joining his dad on cue to the audience’s roaring approval. But Charlotte and Ryan weren’t at his side. Marcus squinted in their direction but couldn’t make out what was going on. He hoped she wasn’t having second thoughts.

  But soon enough, Charlotte emerged, with her nanny in tow. As Ryan shielded her eyes from the lights, she looked a little awkward, but he would fix that by charming her the way he’d been charming audiences for most of his adult life: with his own brand of zesty, hard-driving showmanship.

  As soon as she reached his side, Marcus put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her.

  In front, a couple guys hooted in amusement.

  “Marcus, are you sure about this?” she shouted, but he still had to lip-read to understand her.

  “It’s all over—she can’t hurt us now!” Marcus said, close to her ear.

  Of course, the audience mistook the conference for a sexy, intimate gesture, and a few more people in the front started whistling and hollering, while Ryan continued to blush like a maniac. But Smitty had already counted off for the rest of the band, and Marcus didn’t have time to resolve this mess before launching into the familiar first verse.

  “I really hope you’re right about that!”

  Marcus nodded. He knew he was. He started the song.

  Came into this world a frightened little boy

  Never knew I’d know nobody who could give me any joy

  But a man can climb a mountain if you give him enough rope

  And a hopeless soul can fall in love if you give him enough hope

  While the crowd bellowed, Marcus slung his acoustic guitar over his back and grabbed Ryan’s hand, dancing a little Texas two-step and, with his eyes, inviting her to join him. And, thank the living stars, she did, smiling at last as the audience encouraged her. She wasn’t a bad dancer, either.

  As Marcus’s sweaty hand clutched her sweaty hand, he could feel the rhythm of Ryan’s pulse. He looked at her and smiled, and the world around them seemed to fall away. He was just Marcus, not some big rock star, and everything he’d just sung to Ryan had been straight from the heart. And she was enjoying herself, he could tell.

  “People!” he yelled into the microphone. “Are you falling for this woman, just like I am?”

  He pulled the mic out of the stand and gripped it with both hands, falling to one knee with a flourish just like his heroes Elvis and Bruce used to do. As he sang the lyrics, they seemed to be written for her and her alone.

  You’re the love of my life, and the reason I try

  To be a better, kinder man

  Never want to go back to the life I lived before

  Sure hope that’s not part of the plan

  Yes, she did make him want to improve himself, to grow and change. And thankfully, he’d broken her open a little bit, too. As the band soared through the final chorus, Ryan sang backup, a little wobbly but with great spirit, right along with the kids.

  Marcus didn’t want the moment to end. He’d never experienced such joy, on stage or off. Finally, his life felt good and right and meaningful again. Ryan had brought him back to himself.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Crane House

  A door swung open and slammed. Ryan woke with a start just as Miles climbed up on the bed.

  “Miles,” she said, pulling the sheet up to her neck. “You scared me.” She glanced at the clock. It was 6:15.

  “You’re in Daddy’s bed,” Miles casually observed.

  Ryan’s T-shirt and underwear were within arm’s reach, thank God, and as Miles, who’d quickly lost interest in her, padded around the room, she scrambled into them. After the concert, Ryan had gotten lost in the moment, and let Marcus talk her into staying the night in his room. How could it matter, he’d asked. The kids loved her, and their budding relationship. Plus, she would only be their nanny for a few more days. Soon, they’d get to know her in a whole other context.

  Still, Ryan wished they’d held off. For now, she was still Marcus’s employee, and being busted like this made her feel like a jerk.

  “Do you know where your dad is, sweetie?” Ryan asked Miles, eyeing her jeans, slung over a chair near the door that she calculated she could reach in about 2.5 seconds. She made a mental note to add sprints to her training regimen.

  Miles didn’t answer, distracted by an action figure he’d left on the couch—Ryan remembered it digging it into her back as Marcus, ever the adventurous one, had made those comfy pillows the first destination of their around-the-room romp, post-Superdome—so she made the dash while the boy was no longer staring not into her eyes, but into those of Spiderman.

  “Good morning!” A fully-dressed Marcus bounded into the room as if the sun had been up for hours, rather than minutes. “Couldn’t sleep. Got us a couple lattés downstairs.”

  Ryan scooped her butt into her jeans just as Miles turned and stared at her. Great, now both Troy men have seen me in my underwear this morning.

  “I don’t want a latté,” Miles said.

  Marcus put the tray on the coffee table, and swept his son up in his arms, cradling him upside-down and blowing kisses on his bare stomach as Miles arched his back and cackled. “That’s why I got OJ, toast, croissants, eggs, fruit salad, and a few slabs of juicy bacon, just for you, buddy.”

  “Wow, a real feast,” Ryan said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Marcus, come here for a sec, will you?”

  “Good morning, my dear.” Marcus plopped next to her and kissed her on the cheek. Ryan was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, while Marcus looked like he’d just swallowed a fistful of happy pills. She couldn’t help but smile, but still…

  “Marcus, Miles woke me up. He saw…well, pretty much everything. I wish I hadn’t stayed over.”

  “And I’m glad you did.”

  “Are you sure? It just feels irresponsible.”

  “Why? Because you’re their nanny?” He pulled off his shoes and tossed them on the ground. “Well, the tour’s over. Why don’t I just fire you, and then we can do whatever we want?”

  Ryan laughed. “Nice try. But you need cause for that. In forty-eight hours, we’ll be back in Bigfork. I’m their nanny till then.”

  “That’s right. Just two days until you go your way and I go mine.”

  That took Ryan by surprise. “Is that…the way you want it?”

  “Of course not.” He pushed her hair back behind her ear. “Which is something I’ve wanted to talk to you about. Are you sure about this Michigan thing?”

  Marcus was always moving too fast for her. But she was starting to get used to it.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Do you have any idea how hard I worked to get in?”

  “And you know the winters are rough out there, right?”

  Ryan laughed. “You do realize I grew up in Montana, don’t you?”

  “Out where?” Charlotte said, still in her PJs as she grabbed a piece of bacon from the coffee table.

  “Michigan, sweetie,” said Marcus. “Where Ryan’s going to go get her PhD.”

  “What’s PhD stand for?” asked Miles.

&n
bsp; Marcus didn’t hesitate. “Permanent head damage.” Ryan and the kids laughed.

  Ryan didn’t know whether this impromptu family meeting was the best place to get into all of this, but as usual, Marcus wasn’t giving her much of a choice. “So, anyway, I’ve chosen Michigan as the best place for me to go and get my head messed up, yes.”

  Marcus walked over to his bedside table, picked up his tablet, and woke it up. “What do you think of this?” he asked, handing it to Ryan.

  On the tablet’s screen she saw a slide show featuring something called the “Crane House,” a midcentury modernist home designed by a guy named Robert C. Metcalf. Surrounded by century-old trees on a grassy hillside, it looked contemporary but not cold, and was filled with beautiful furnishings.

  “Marcus…” Ryan said.

  “What? You don’t like midcentury? I’m a fan myself, but I’m easy, architecture-wise. What do you like?”

  “What are you talking about?” she whispered. Miles was clueless, but Charlotte always had an ear trained on them; that was just how she was wired. “Living together?”

  “Hey, relax,” he said. “I’m just talking about getting a place near you, so I can visit. I looked up Ann Arbor properties, and this place was one of the first listings that came up. It’s available, and reasonable. And best of all, it’s two minutes from campus.”

  “But what about Bigfork?”

  “I’ll live there, too, and have the kids there. But Kalispell to Detroit? It’s just a three-hour flight. A piece of cake.”

  “You’re crazy. You’re actually going to buy this place?” Ryan had been trying to get used to the possibility of a long-distance thing, but if Marcus was going to have a house just around the corner from campus, it’d sure make it easier to be together. More importantly, it would mean, without a doubt, that he was for real about the two of them.