A low groan.
“Answer the door or I’m coming in.”
“Fuck off, Travis.”
“There’s no chance of me fucking off, Vaughn. Get up or I’m coming in, I mean it. Roxie’s been working on this for months. I don’t want to do it either but I’m here, showing up.” That’s me, the reliable one, the easy-going one, the stable one. Except that right now I feel less stable than I ever have. “Let’s just get it the fuck over with.”
Nothing.
I bang again.
“Leave me alone,” he groans. “I need sleep.”
I open the door. Vaughn’s in bed and there are two girls in bed with him, barely covered with a sheet.
“What the fuck, Travis?” My brother’s black hair is wild and his eyes are ridiculously bloodshot.
“Get up and take a shower,” I tell him. “I don’t really want to fight with you or drag you out myself, so just do it. Without the drama.”
He glares at me. “Where have you been? Kade was looking for you last night. You weren’t answering your phone.”
I glare back at him. “I bought a house.”
“Another one?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“Outside Nashville. Out in the country.”
“No shit.”
“I’ll show it to you later.” Maybe it’ll be enough. If I drag him out of this non-stop bender, maybe he’ll be able to take a step back from his own self-destruction. My brother has never been good at saying no. Everyone wants to hang out with him because he’s always the life of the party, to say the least, but if he could just get some space he might be able to gain some perspective and see how out of control he is.
He climbs out of bed, keeping the sheet wrapped around his waist. Which means he pulls it off of the two naked girls, who squeal in protest.
“You’ve got ten minutes,” I tell Vaughn, ignoring the girls.
He slams the bathroom door.
The girls pick their clothes up off the floor and partially cover themselves. “Hi, Travis,” one of them smiles at me coyly.
Seriously?
I walk out and go into Vaughn’s shamble of a kitchen to try to find some coffee. I was running late this morning and floored it all the way into the city.
I manage to find some coffee and figure out how the espresso machine works, making two double shots. By the time it’s brewed Vaughn is out of the shower, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt that shows off his muscles and his ink. He’s got a few new ones.
The dark circles under his eyes are so bruised-looking they look like shiners and he hasn’t shaved but at least he’s relatively clean. I hand him his coffee. “Let’s go.”
Vaughn follows me down to my Shelby and we drive over to the address Roxie gave me, of the studio where we’re being interviewed. “Where’s the new house?” he asks.
I describe the route. “There’s a stone Civil War-era wall that borders the east wall of the property, like a landmark, just before you get to the turn off.” I hand him my phone so he can scroll through the photos I took. “Check out the barn.”
“This looks amazing.” I’ll take encouragement from that. Maybe I really can convince him to take some time out.
Roxie looks wildly relieved when we walk in. “I said get here early. It’s nine fifteen on the dot.”
“At least we made it,” I say, and she stands on her toes to kiss my cheek, whispering thank you.
To Vaughn: “You look like shit.” He picks Roxie up in a bearhug and twirls her around. “Put me down!” she squeals. “You smell like someone dipped your Irish Spring in Jack Daniels.”
“But you love me anyway.” Vaughn sets her on her feet and she introduces us to Alana and Fergus. We start recording and they ask us the usual questions about how we got our start and how does it feel to have so many number one hits and has the fame changed our lives and blah blah blah. I’m over it. Why do none of them—even the so-called successful ones—even attempt to shake up the playbook every now and then?
Vaughn is talkative and funny, probably because he’s still drunk. But it’s a good thing because I’m distracted and Kade hardly says a word. That scheming little rich chick he’s been seeing has obviously barnacled herself onto him in a way that’s new. I overheard someone say she’s some kind of heiress which explains the bitchy, entitled vibe she gives off. Another reason I’m glad I bought the new house. Both my brothers need a getaway as much as I do.
But not yet. Not today.
I’m in a terrible mood. Partly because I’m here and also because I can’t stop revisiting the moonlit curves of a certain angelic little neighbor’s crazy-as-fuck body in excruciating detail like a video replay in my head that won’t stop. I want to see her. But I don’t want to want to see her as desperately as I fucking do. She’s probably playing my piano as we speak. Maybe she’s wearing her bikini. Maybe she went for a swim and she’s all wet and—
“Travis?”
“What?”
“I asked if your fame has had an impact on your relationships … if you have a current relationship,” Alana’s asking me. “Are you dating anyone right now, in other words.” She’s extremely groomed-looking, in an uptight, citified way, with short dark hair and a flouncy dress. She’s blinking at me like they all do. With a carnal longing that’s more than a little lewd. Women melt under my gaze like butter and this one’s no different.
“We’re here to talk about the music.” I grin at her not because I’m friendly but because I just realized she’s banging Fergus, whose face is getting red because his secret lover is lusting after the lead singer of her favorite band. Alana glances at him and blushes despite all her attempts not to.
But she’s a New Yorker. They don’t have manners. “Your fans are dying to know if there’s a special certain someone in your life right now. Who are you dating? Our sources tell us you didn’t sleep at either of your Nashville properties last night. Who were you with? We want details.”
As if I’d tell you about the girl at my piano. She’s sweet as fuck, ready for an adventure and she’s about to be taken on the ride of her life, as soon as I can get the fuck out of here. There’s an edge to my voice that’s new, go figure. “There are a lot of special certain someones in my life. A hundred thousand, every night.”
Vaughn lights a cigarette. Alana ignores this, even though smoking is obviously not allowed in the studio. Fergus glances up at the sprinkler system that’s set into the ceiling.
“I have a relationship right now,” Vaughn drawls. “Actually two. Ask me.”
Alana takes the bait excitedly. “You’re dating someone, Vaughn? Do tell.”
He exhales a smoke ring. “‘Dating’ is probably overstating it. But I’m considering calling back these two girls I fucked last night. Damn, those girls could do the most amazing things with their—”
“This show is nationally syndicated,” blurts Fergus, in a huff. To some minion standing out of shot, “Edit that out.”
Alana is undeterred. “What about you, Kade?”