by Lacey Black
As Becker wraps up the broadcast, I chance a quick glance over at the coaches. My eyes instantly connect with those deep gray ones that I think about 24/7. Beau doesn’t make any movement except a quick wink before returning his eyes to the front of the stage.
When the red light finally goes off, we all take off to gather our belongings and to wait for our rides back to the hotel. Before I get much further from the stage, though, big arms pull me into an even bigger body. I’d know it anywhere.
“Hey, doll. This is Patti.”
“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you face to face, Layne. Troy has told me so much about you. He feels like you’re a little sister to him,” she says with a warm, friendly smile. I instantly like her. If we lived closer, I could even picture her as a friend.
“You, too, Patti. I’m sorry that Troy was voted off tonight,” I tell her honestly. “He deserves to be here til the end.”
“Yes, he does, but that’s okay. I’m still proud of him for coming out here and trying. Even if he didn’t win, he’s still a winner to me,” she says as she wraps her arms around his waist. “I love him just as much today as I did the day I met him in high school,” she adds with smile.
“You better get in back and get your stuff gathered up. I know we’ll all need to catch the vans back shortly,” Troy says before disentangling himself from his wife. He wraps himself around me one more time. “You got this, Layne. You’ve got what it takes to make it to the end and win it. Don’t listen to what everyone is saying,” he says with the raise of his eyebrow.
I blush slightly as I reply without making eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know. Don’t play coy with me. Beau. Them jealous girls are gonna run their mouths. Just ignore them and sing your heart out. I better come back at this finale and see you standing on that stage.”
“I’ll try my hardest,” I tell him, giving him one final hug.
“Do it for Eli,” he whispers before kissing the top of my head.
And that’s all it takes. The tears I’ve felt hovering at the tip of the levee burst through. I smile as I think about my son back at home in Chicago with my mom. It doesn’t take me long to realize that once the tears start, it’s impossible to get them to stop. I wipe and wipe, to no avail, they continue to fall.
“Look at what you did,” Patti chastises her husband as she pushes him out of the way.
“I’m sorry, doll. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he says as Patti wraps me in another fierce hug.
“It’s okay. It’s not you. I’ve been emotional the last few days. I just miss him so much,” I mumble as the hiccups start, and the true mortification starts to set in.
When I glance around, I realize we’re still standing in the middle of the stage. I’m wearing thigh high boots, a bustier, and can feel my makeup deteriorating underneath the weight and wetness of my tears. The crew, contestants, and a handful of family and fans linger…all watching me have my mini-emotional breakdown.
Awesome.
Note to self: Wait to have emotional breakdown until you’re behind closed doors. Preferably after a trip to the liquor store.
I use the back of my hand to blot away wetness and the softened face putty before I say goodbye to Troy and Patti one more time. They are a beautiful couple, inside and out, and I hope we’ll continue our friendship long after this competition is over. St. Louis isn’t that far from Chicago. I could definitely make a weekend out of it and travel south for a visit. Besides, I realize as they walk away and head over to chat with Ben that I’d love to introduce Eli to him. Troy is the most unique person I’ve met in a long time with his big warm heart and his caring demeanor. He’s someone who makes me feel like a better person just by being around him.
As I make my way towards the backstage area, I’m headed off by a tall cowboy wearing a concerned look on his face. “You okay?” he asks, those all-knowing eyes searching my face as if looking for the answer.
“Yeah,” I reply, offering a hint of a small smile.
“You were cryin’,” he retorts and takes a step closer. Not too close, but close enough that I catch a whiff of his cologne. It’s spicy with a hint of the outdoors, and I’m instantly hyperaware of his presence.
“It was nothing, really.”
“Layne, I -” he starts but is cut off by the camera that’s practically shoved in our faces. It’s amazing how you can be followed 24/7 by a camera, your entire life filmed for the world to see, yet you don’t even know they’re there anymore. I think I’m just so used to them lurking in the corners that you become completely oblivious to their presence. Crazy, right?
“I’ll see you at rehearsal in the morning. Thanks, Beau,” I say as casually as possible as I head back behind the stage to gather my stuff.
Right now I need to be alone. I need a moment to wallow in my own solitude and just process. First off, there’s the weight of my loneliness sitting on my chest. Not loneliness from people per se, because I definitely have friends here–even if Troy went home tonight. No, my loneliness stems from my home life that I miss terribly. What I wouldn’t give to help Eli with his bath or sit next to him while I sip coffee and he devours pancakes at the breakfast table. Then there’s my mom. I never would have thought I’d miss her as much as I do, but I really do miss her. She’s as much a part of my daily life and routine as he is.
And then there’s the competition. I’m learning really quickly that everyone has their own agenda, and if you don’t fit into it, well back the fuck up. Women are catty creatures who are manipulative and conniving, and while I can’t blame them for looking out for number one, throwing me under the bus with vicious rumors and lies isn’t the way to go about it.
Note to self: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Since we’re discussing rumors, that brings me to my next dilemma. Beau. Gorgeous, sexy, sweet, caring, and completely unobtainable Beau. He’s my coach. A show representative. And he’s forbidden.
How am I going to stay away from him when my entire being is telling me to run and leap into his arms? I’ve worked too hard, endured weeks of Shawna’s crap, to throw it all away for…for what? We aren’t anything. He says he’s attracted to me, so what? What happens after this show? I live in Chicago and he’s a Nashville recording artist with a current tour schedule taking him from one end of the country to the other. I’m sure he doesn’t have the time or the energy to deal with a long distance relationship with a woman who has a kid.
So where does that leave me?
Nowhere.
As I slip under the bedspread after talking to Mom for the night and washing the show off me with a quick shower, my mind returns to Beau. Why I keep torturing myself by continually bringing up the topic is beyond me. Apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment.
Note to self: Work harder on finding a hobby.
My mind keeps replaying the kiss. Kisses. I think that if I didn’t feel the electricity in those kisses, then I could move on, knowing that a relationship with him wouldn’t work out. But the fact still remains that there was something more–something deep and meaningful–in those kisses. I felt it, and I know he felt it. Those intoxicating words he said to me only cement that little sliver of hope that we could really have a chance if we were allowed to.
But we’re not allowed to.
Not now.
Maybe not ever.
I’m nowhere closer to the answers I’m looking for an hour later. As I toss and turn and look for that comfortable position to fall asleep in, I conclude that I’m going to do whatever it takes to make it until the end. Well, everything within reason. I’m not about to take lessons in manipulation from Cold-Hearted Barbie. But that does mean that I have to stay away from Beau. No more flirting. No more kisses. No more closet rendezvous. Focus. Focus on the competition. Be professional, be courteous, and for the love of God, behave!
I just hope my heart actually listens to my head this time.
; Note to self: Practice Hard. Play Harder.
“Are you going to tell me what happened last night?” Beau asks from his stool across from me.
“Nothing happened. I just had to say goodbye to a friend. That’s all,” I reply, studying the music sheet in front of me.
“I’m sure that was difficult, but those kinda tears? That was something else. I could feel it. I could see it all over your face. Talk to me, darlin’,” he says, gently prodding me into submission. I look up and am instantly pulled into those amazing eyes with his sincerity and compassion.
I stare at him for several heartbeats trying to decide how much of my life I want to give up. I want to share everything with Beau the man, but I’m scared to dive into it all with Beau my coach, the country superstar. Before I can open my mouth, he jumps up and moves his stool around the music stands and sits right next to me.
“What is it?”
I sigh deeply knowing that he won’t let me go without spilling the reason for my emotional breakdown last night. “Tell me why you picked this song.”
“What?” he asks, confused about how we jumped from my personal problems to the song I’m singing this week. “Joan Jett? Because she rocks. Even a small town cowboy like me can respect her ability to rock out better than most men from the eighties. This song is classic. Sassy. Take no shit from a man. He did her wrong and she’s lettin’ him have it. Besides lovin’ the song, I think you’d kill it on stage and it suits you well. Why?”
I take another deep breath before I continue. “I have a son. His name is Eli and he’s three-years-old.”
“You have a kid? What’s he like?” he asks, his surprise instantly transforming into genuine interest.
“He’s perfect. He has dark brown hair and matching eyes. His smile lights up the entire room, and his heart is bigger than anyone’s I know. He’s at home with my mom while I’m here and it’s slowly killing me inside every day. I miss him a lot,” I say, my words dropping down to just above a whisper. Beau reaches over and wipes at the tear on my cheek. The tear I didn’t even realize I was shedding.
“He sounds like an awesome kid,” he replies with a sideways smile.
“He’s the best.”
“So, he’s at home with your mom? Where’s his dad?”
Colton. There’s a subject I don’t like to talk about, and especially with someone like Beau Tanner. The last thing I want is the reminder of my stupidity or the fact that it’s possible to give one person so much control over you–over your heart–that they leave it in devastated, shattered pieces when they give it back.
“That’s a long story, and I think you have a plane to catch shortly,” I reply trying to buy a little more time.
“I have time, and you’re my last rehearsal this morning. So? Tell me about his dad.”
“His dad. Well, Eli never met him. Colton was my high school sweetheart. We started dating our senior year, and were inseparable. You know, all that sweet and sappy young love stuff where you think you’ll be together forever and live happily ever after. When we graduated high school, Colton went off to the Air Force and was stationed at a base in Missouri. We did the whole long distance relationship thing for as long as we could. He came home as often as possible, but it wasn’t as much as I thought it would be.”
I look up, gauging Beau’s reaction to my story thus far. His face is tight like he doesn’t like the direction that it’s heading. I haven’t even gotten to the good parts yet. “He had just been home for a weekend, celebrating my twenty-first birthday. It was a little late since he was at the mercy of the Air Force, but we were able to spend time together nonetheless. That next week, he was involved in a training accident. The helicopter he was in went down. Mechanical failure. There were six men onboard. All gone.”
“God, Layne, I’m so sorry,” Beau says as he places his big, warm hand over mine. Warmth and comfort spread through me like a summer breeze, instantly settling my racing heart. I still haven’t even gotten to the really good part yet.
“Yeah, well, that was a horrible time in my life. Even worse when his fiancée showed up at the funeral.”
The words hang in the air like an anvil, ready to slice and dice the first person who moves. I’ve always kept my past with Colton to myself because I never wanted anyone to know the shame I carry. The embarrassment. I don’t want to see the looks of pity. I don’t want to see the looks of astonishment. I don’t want to see it written all over their faces when they start to wonder what I did wrong to drive my boyfriend into the arms of another woman. I don’t want to see it because I live with it every day.
“Jesus. This song. Wow, I’d say it suddenly takes on a whole new meanin’,” he mumbles.
After several seconds of silence, I finally look up at his face, but I don’t see pity. I don’t see shock or even disappointment. I see rage. I see anger. I see a fierceness I’ve never experienced from another man before. Like he’s upset for me, not at me.
“That man was a coward. I’m sorry he’s gone and I’m sorry you had to endure what ya did, darlin’, but that man isn’t a man. Anyone who can lead two different lives without so much as battin’ an eye isn’t worth it.”
“Oh, trust me, I know. It took me awhile, but eventually I was able to see that. At that moment, though? All I saw was what I was lacking. All I saw was how I failed. I failed myself. I failed him. I failed my son.”
“When did Eli come into play?”
“About a month after the funeral, I was ill all the time. At first, my mom chalked it up to the emotions of the situation and depression that I was diagnosed with. It was nearly impossible to get out of bed half the time, and when I did, I didn’t make it past the living room sofa. Mom convinced me to go back to the doctor and get checked out. He had put me on an antidepressant a few weeks before that, but she felt like I needed to get checked again. When the doc checked me more thoroughly, it was quite the surprise to all of us.”
“I bet. You might be the strongest person I’ve ever met. Not everyone can go through that kind of drama and come out on the other side.”
“It was a long road, that’s for sure. But I wanted to be the best person–the best parent I could possibly be for my son. He’s the best part of me and the one person that makes me feel whole again. Holding him in my arms gave me a sense of purpose for the first time in so long. It’s the hardest thing in the world to be halfway around the country and only be able to see his face on a small phone or computer screen,” I confess as my emotions lodge themselves in my throat again.
I look up when Beau doesn’t respond. I find his eyes searching my face, so many emotions parading through his crystal clear eyes. Neither of us says anything more as we continue to have a conversation without words. The way we communicate without speaking is a heady feeling, like we’ve connected on some deeper, much more meaningful level than ever before.
“Beau, your car is waiting,” Gabby says from the doorway, pulling us out of the quietness we were bathed in.
“Oh, right,” he answers before clearing his throat. “I guess I need to head out. We’ll pick back up on rehearsals Sunday night. I’ll be back around three and Gabby has your schedule for the next few days.”
“Sounds good,” I respond.
Returning our conversation back towards the competition and away from my personal train wreck of a life is for the best. Because when this is all said and done, I’ll be heading back to Chicago, and Beau will be heading back to Nashville.
He gathers up his stuff while I do the same, trying with everything I have not to glance back up at him. “Hey,” he whispers, stepping close to me. My questioning eyes lock with intense gray ones. “Are you okay with this song choice? I can switch it if ya need me to. Somethin’ that doesn’t quite strike ya straight in the chest like a knife.”
“No, I’m okay,” I reply adamantly. Besides not wanting to be difficult, I truly do love this song, with or without the reflection of my past in part of the lyrics.
“Well, if
you’re sure, then we’ll keep it. At least something rockin’ for this week. I’m workin’ on something great for ya for next week.”
“Sounds good, boss,” I tease, though I don’t miss the reference to me still being here another week.
“Hey,” he says, locking eyes with me again as he steps closer and drops his voice. “I want to talk with ya this weekend. Is it okay if I text ya?” he asks with a smidge of uneasy in his voice.
“Yeah, um, sure. About the competition?”
“No. About anything other than the show. I just want to get to know ya better, and I feel like we just barely grazed the surface. Besides, I didn’t even get to tell ya about how I charmed my teacher in the third grade into givin’ me an extra recess with the older kids,” he says with a crooked smile and a wink.
I don’t answer; I just offer a small, friendly smile back at the gorgeous cowboy next to me. Beau exits the room, leaving me in solitude once again. He wants to get to know me? That’s the impression I just got. Maybe Beau and I have more similarities than I originally thought. Maybe Beau could use a friend outside of the industry, outside of the show. Lord knows I enjoy spending what little time we’ve had together, conversing and sharing. Even if what was shared was some of my darkest secrets and insecurities. The simple fact that I want to share that part of my life with him is something in and of itself. And those kisses…don’t get me started on the kisses.
I gather up the rest of my stuff and head towards the door. I have sessions tomorrow with wardrobe and the show vocal coaches to practice my next song “I Hate Myself For Loving You.” Nobody rocks like Joan Jett and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into this song. The fact that he picked it before I shared my past doesn’t go unnoticed by me. As cheesy and childish as it sounds, it’s like it was fate or destiny. He picked a song for me without knowing my past, yet it describes me, and my relationship with my ex, better than most could possibly understand.