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.
Whatever you call it, it appears that Mr. Beau Tanner and I have a connection unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I just wish I knew what to do about it.
*****
“Come on, we’re heading out tonight,” Corie says from my hotel room doorway.
“Uh, we are?” I ask, eyebrows raised sky high.
“Yes, we are. You, me, Ben, and a few others. We’re going to a club down the street. It won’t be a late night since we have early morning fittings,” she says. “Change your clothes. You look like a mom in those sweats,” she adds with a wrinkled up nose as she takes in my gray sweats and my Chicago Blackhawks t-shirt.
“I am a mom,” I mumble as I move to let her in.
“I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to dress like it,” she sasses with a pointed look.
“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere so I’m in my comfy clothes,” I defend, mirroring her stance with my arms crossed firmly over my chest.
“We’ll we’re going dancing and to have a few drinks. Come on,” she says as she pulls open my closet.
Thirty minutes later, our small group is making their way to Club Vogue, within a short walking distance of the hotel. After paying the ten-dollar entrance fee, we make our way to the bar. They’re two deep the entire length of the bar which reminds me of home. Chaser’s usually has them wrapped around, two, sometimes, three deep. Nights like this are the nights I love; live for. They keep you hopping and pouring. I’d take a busy night over a dead night anytime.
“What are ya havin’?” Ben asks, pressed firmly against my shoulder as we all are jostled towards the bar.
“Just water tonight,” I holler over the heavy dance music pumping through the speakers.
“No way. One drink.”
“No, I really shouldn’t. I have an early morning fitting before a whole slew of rehearsals.”
“One drink. I’ll get you in bed safely tonight. I promise,” he adds with a little smirk and wink.
God, why can’t I be attracted to Ben? He’s obtainable, for starters. Yet, I feel nothing for him. It’s sad, really.
“Okay, one drink. Jack and Coke, please.” I try to dig money out of my pocket, but Ben waves me off.
With drinks in hand, we make our way to the far end of the club where we spot a vacant table. Maxwell agrees to watch our drinks at the table as the rest of us head out to the dance floor to get lost in a song or two. It feels great to laugh and let loose for a bit. With the sadness that has surrounded me these last few days as I struggle to deal with homesickness, and the soap opera drama with Beau and the show, it feels unbelievable to smile and shake my ass. Even Ben’s continuous wandering hand doesn’t seem to bother me as much as it usually does.
“Drink,” Corie says as she fans her flush face.
As I sit down in an empty chair at our table, my phone vibrates from my back pocket. At first glance of the initials on my screen, my heart gives a little flutter. Beau.
BT: What ya doin?
A simple text message, but one that makes me smile none the less.
Me: Club Vogue with gang.
It doesn’t take but a few moments before his reply is waiting for me.
BT: Sounds like fun. Who’s the gang?
Me: Corie, Ben, Maxwell, Jess
BT: Ben as in the Ben who is always lookin’ at you like you hang the moon?
His reply catches me off guard. I know that Ben has a little crush on me, but is it that apparent to everyone else, too? What’s more alarming is the fact that Beau’s reply seems to have a little underlying jealousy in it.
Me: Jealous?
BT: Of Ben being there with ya right now n not me? Hell yes!
Okay, now that response I wasn’t expecting. Beau is jealous of someone he has no need to worry about. As much as Ben might be interested in something more than friendship, I am not, and I’ve made that clear to Ben. But before I reply, another message appears from Beau.
BT: I want to be there right now with your body pressed against mine as we dance. I want to be there to watch you let yourself go and enjoy the nite. It kills me that I’m in Atlanta and you’re there. With Ben.
Me: I’m not with Ben. He’s not the one I want to dance with and let go with.
BT: Who do you want to let go with, darlin?
Me: You
There. Sent. Without even batting an eyelash, I told him exactly what I wanted. Of course, he’s miles and miles away and not staring at me with those intense eyes, so it’s easier to say the things I’d probably never say if we were face to face.
BT: If I were there right now, I’d be kissin you.
“Hey, what are you doing over there? You’ve been so engrossed in your phone that you missed your shot,” Corie says firmly. I glance down and see the full shot glass sitting in front of me while everyone else’s is empty.
“Oh, sorry,” I reply as I place my phone back in my pocket without replying. As much as I’d prefer to talk to him right now, Beau is going to have to wait.
I quickly down the shot, which I discover is Fireball, and allow Corie and Jess to lead me back to the dance floor. We laugh and dance, moving our bodies in rhythm of the upbeat music. Every few songs, we slip back over to the table to enjoy our drinks or take a shot. Ben and Maxwell sit around the table, talking sports and girls.
Well after midnight, we head out of the club and towards the hotel. My phone vibrates in my pocket, which instantly makes me think of Beau. I never replied to his earlier text.
BT: Did I lose you?
Such a simple text, yet so full of underlining meaning.
Me: Nope. Got distracted at the club. Heading home now.
BT: Did you have fun?
Me: Yep. Probably more to drink than I should have. ;)
BT: That’s ok. As long as you’re going home by yourself.
Me: Definitely. There’s only one cowboy I’d be heading home with.
BT: God, I so fucking wish I were with ya right now.
And because I can’t seem to help myself, I ask the burning question.
Me: What would you do with me?
His reply is instantaneous.
BT: Whatever the fuck I wanted.
It vibrates again in my hand before I can even process his words.
BT: I’d start with that sweet mouth of yours and work my way down your entire body.
Holy shit! My entire body spasms with excitement. His words are like an elixir, a drug that I crave.
Me: Aren’t you at a concert? Shouldn’t you be working, not hitting on me?
BT: I just finished my show and waiting to pull out to head to the next stop.
Me: I’m almost back to hotel.
BT: Will you keep me company?
Me: Sure.
When we reach the hotel, I have barely pulled my nose out of my phone. He tells me all about his first gig when he was a green rookie straight out of high school, playing at a dive bar with a cage around the stage. His cocky attitude was quickly given a gut-check as he realized that breaking into the music scene wasn’t as easy as just showing up and getting a record deal. Beau’s story is fascinating, to say the least. Nothing came easy to the award winning country powerhouse that we all know today. Back then, Beau struggled and considered giving it all up on many occasions.
BT: That’s when James Rollins walked into the club I was playin. He offered me a shot and I’ll forever be grateful to him.
Me: Sounds amazing.
BT: Can I call you?
I’m throwing on my pajamas as his latest text message arrives. I quickly scrub off the remnants of my makeup and type out a quick reply.
Me: Aren’t we talking?
BT: Yes, but I need to hear your voice.
Well, then…
Before I can reply, the phone sitting next to the bathroom sink is ringing. Sharing my life with Beau has been easy all night, but now to hear his voice? My heart rate kicks up a few hundred beats per minute before I even pick up the phone.
“I didn’t say yes,” I tease in way of greeting.
“True, but this way, ya don’t have the chance to say no.”
“I would never say no,” I tell him, knowing that I mean so much more than just referring to his offer to call me.
“That’s good to know. So, what are ya doin’ now?”
“Getting ready for bed,” I tell him as I take my phone and plop down on the mattress.
“Well, I should probably let ya go,” he quips with a yawn.
“Sounds like you could use a bed yourself,” I reply, yawning myself since yawning is always contagious.
“I could. I’ll be back on Sunday afternoon, and I’m thinkin’ I might need a few moments of your time. In private.” The underlying meaning is so obvious that a deaf man could hear it.
“Aren’t we supposed to be staying away from each other in private?”
“Yep, but sometimes I just need a quick little fix. You know, like a hit. A shot. Somethin’ to tide me over ‘til I can get my next fix of you, which won’t be too far off since I can’t seem to control myself around ya.” The honesty in his statement is like a gut-check. My stomach flops around like a fish out of water, and it’s good to know that he’s feeling the same things I feel.
“Your words are making it so hard to stay away,” I whisper honestly.
“Darlin’, you have no idea what hard is.”
I gasp loudly at his statement. Never before have I been so seduced by a few simple words. Even for someone who is affected by song lyrics on a daily basis, I’ve never been so intoxicated by words before in my life.
“I dream about you,” he confesses softly into the phone.
“You do?” I whisper as if concerned who might overhear.
“Yeah. Almost every night,” he adds after a pause. His confession rocks my very foundation.
“I dream about you, too.”
“Really? What do you dream about?” he encourages, a hint of a smile laced in his words.
“Stuff,” I reply vaguely.
“I dream about stuff too. Stuff like your lips and your mouth and the things I want to do to them. And then there’s your hands. I dream a lot about how your hands feel against my body. I wake up so fuckin’ hard, I have to jack off in the shower to images of your beautiful face.”
I gasp at his confession.
“I’m sorry. That was probably too much information,” he says.
“No,” I say quickly. “Actually, you’re not alone on the dreams.”
“Do you touch yourself, Layne? What do you picture when you close your eyes and touch your body?”
His words ignite something deep inside me. My body yearns for his. “I think about you. I picture you when I touch myself.” My confession takes me by surprise, but feels freeing to say the words aloud.
“Fuck, that is the hottest thing ever. Every time I see you now I’m going to picture you with your hands all over your beautiful body.”
“You have to stop that. I have a hard enough time concentrating when you’re in the room. The last thing I need is to think about other things in your presence. I’ll never be able to sing without blushing.”
“I promised that I would try to control myself when I’m around ya, and I will. But sometimes, I’m going to fall off the wagon. Especially when I imagine you lying on your bed in sexy lil’ pj’s and touching yourself.”
“But I’m wearing sweats,” I counter with a smile.
“A guy can dream, sweetheart, and right now, my mind is working overtime. Just let me have my thoughts. It’s all I have right now.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
There’s silence as we both absorb our conversation. I want him. He wants me. Yet, neither of us is able to do anything about it. So, we’ll dream. Until this show is over, our dreams are all we’ll have.
“Go to sleep, beautiful.”
“You can’t say that, Beau.”
“Why? You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” he tells me. His honesty courses through the phone, zapping me straight to the core.
“Because I can’t be distracted by your words. I need to focus on this show so I can provide Eli with a better life.”
“Eli has a better life just by you being a part of it, Layne. You are the reason he has an amazing life. You are the reason he is loved beyond his ability to even recognize it. And you are the reason I can’t stop thinkin’ about returning to Los Angeles. Not the show, Layne. You.”
I have no idea how to respond to that. If I was able to produce sounds at this moment, I’m not ever sure they’d be actual words.
“Go to sleep. Have sweet dreams. Dream of me, and know that I will be dreamin’ of you. Even though I’m not supposed to, my dreams are all I have right now,” he adds before telling me good night.
I mumble something incoherent and sign off. My head is a mess right now, his words affecting me in more ways than I ever could have imagined. Mostly because for the first time since I’ve been here, the competition is placing a distant second to what I’m feeling for Beau. He makes me want to throw caution to the wind and say forget it to this entire thing.
But I owe it to Eli and my mom to finish this out. I owe it to myself, and I even owe it to Beau. He has worked hard to prepare me week after week for the cutthroat competition that is Rising Star. I owe it to him to give it my all. And, unfortunately, giving it my all means no distractions.
Beau is a distraction.
So, for the thousandth time in the past week, I tell myself to forget about our attraction and concentrate on the prize at the end of the road. The record contract. The cash. It’s all there, just waiting for me to grab ahold of it.
I just pray that I don’t trip and fall on my ass on the way to the top.