Travis
July 2017
Recently, I had come to realize that the women I hooked up with only wanted me because I was rich and famous. Every single person in my life wanted something from me. More platinum albums, more chart topping hits, extravagant gifts and attention in magazine spreads.
But there were a few exceptions to this rule: my mom and my friends, the people I grew up with, the people who knew me and loved me before I was famous.
Her. Becky Miller.
She’d always been a part of my life for as long as I could remember. I’d always thought she was gorgeous, with her dark hair and the prettiest blue eyes that I’d ever seen. But Becky was off-limits. You weren’t supposed to screw your best friend’s little sister, especially not Becky. Becky was special, she’d been through hell and back.
She didn’t deserve to be someone’s secret, and I hated that she was mine for the last several years. I was determined to do it right this time, because Becky wasn’t the kind of girl you got over.
Before I got a taste of her, it used to be easy to forget about loneliness and isolation with the chaos of a tour and the high of performing on stage for thousands of people. It was easy to lose myself in the company of attractive, willing women, but then she sort of fell in my arms and messed me up.
Now, I felt disquieted.
I started feeling this way more and more over the last few years, and that feeling got worse when I was back in the Muskoka’s, back around the people I’d known forever…back around Becky. Nothing beat coming home, even if it was a painful reminder that my life was lacking substance: that it was lacking her.
I found myself heading to Parry Sound whenever I got the chance; even if it was just for a few days between shows. If I got to meet up with her at least once, it was worth the extra time spent traveling.
During our off time, I’d done my best to throw myself back into the casual fling pool. Truthfully? It hadn’t really worked out for me.
In fact, it was damn near pathetic. I hadn’t hooked up with anybody but her in three years. I kept that from her, because I’d worried if she found out she would flip. It was supposed to be just sex between us, and I was supposed to live my life the way I had before.
But one-night stands had lost their allure, and no other woman had since captured my attention the way that Becky had. Early on into our arrangement, I’d had a few one-night stands. After each of those hookups, I’d felt terrible, like I’d betrayed someone. Like I had betrayed her.
She wasn’t the kind of girl you played games with; she was the kind of girl you committed too. But she’d been hurt before…badly.
The irony was not lost on me that she was a lot like my mom. My mother had relationships—plenty of them, I’m sure. She was a gorgeous woman and she was only forty-four years old. But, like Becky, Mom had never let anybody get close enough. She’d never moved in with anyone, had never gotten engaged, and hadn’t even had a serious relationship.
Becky had opened my eyes to what was real and what was an illusion. The women who easily fell into my bed did so because I was famous and had money. None of them saw past that to the man I was beneath it all, and none of them cared to know him.
I played her game and followed her rules because I’d wanted to fill up on her wordless love, but there was no doubt about it; I was committed to her. She’d inspired every piece of music I’d written in the last four years, and I wanted to tell the world who my muse was. But Becky was cautious and I had to tread carefully, or I risked losing her completely.
I stopped the one-night stands, and every time we were together, what I felt for her grew. I thought it was the same for her, and I was working up the courage to tell her. But a few weeks ago, she told me she wanted the arrangement to end.
I met Tasha and Sandra on the plane, and they were “big fans of mine”. They were best friends that looked almost identical, and they certainly played off their similarities.
They had a one-night layover in Toronto, and kept talking about how awesome it would be to see the town I grew up in. So I thought, why the hell not?
If I could get a rise out of Becky, if I could make her jealous, then maybe I could make her see that we could have so much more than our arrangement. And if she didn’t care, at least I had two very willing women as a fallback.
But the unsettled, anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach hadn’t let up since the moment I walked in with Tasha, Sandra, and my bodyguards and saw the devastated look on her face.
I wanted to make Becky jealous, not hurt her, and I didn’t feel any better knowing that she cared, not with the wounded look in her eyes. In fact, I had a sneaking suspicion I’d fucked things up even more.
The jealousy trick might work on most women, but not her. I should have known better.
Still, I couldn’t take back what I’d done. I did my best to disentangle myself from them, sending them off to the bar for drinks the first chance I got. They seemed content enough being the focal point of every male in the bar.
Every male but me. I was busy, surveying the bar, looking for the dark hair and blue eyes that tormented me in my dreams, the ones where I’d be moving toward her and she would just get further and further away with each step I took.
I didn’t see her at the table she’d been sitting at when I walked in, nor was she around the pool tables or bar. My shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t seen her leave, so she was probably hiding out in the bathroom.
Becky retreated when things got complicated. It was something she’d always done. Eventually, she’d have to come out, and I’d be waiting.
“And who are the Playboy bunnies?” the soon-to-be wife of my best friend asked, calling my attention back to her as she arched her pale eyebrow and frowned at me with disappointment. “If I recall, the invitations said plus guest, as in singular, not plus double penetration twins.”
I threw back my head and howled with laughter until tears formed in my eyes. Tossing my heavy arm around Tessa’s slender shoulders, I pulled her close to me. “This is why I love Tessa, because she’s hilarious and witty,” I said, grinning at Brock.
I really did love his fiancé; Tessa was a sweet girl with a whole lot of brains. She was heading to vet school in the fall. But probably the best part about Tessa was the fact that she made my best friend extremely happy, and kept him coming home on the regular.
“Unlike the two high-class call girls you brought home?” Tessa’s best friend, Elle, rolled her eyes. “What Travis, you can’t find girls with IQs in Hollywood? As if you had to bring more trash into this town.”
They weren’t wrong, the girls I’d walked in with where every bit as shallow and sultry as they looked. I hadn’t chosen their company for their great conversational skills, I’d brought them back to Parry Sound with me on a whim.
And I was already deeply, deeply regretting that whim.
“Easy, Elle,” Tessa said, interrupting before I could think of a single thing to say in response. “Play nice. We don’t know what their IQs are.”
“Where’s Becky tonight?” I asked. I was done with the conversation of my guests, and impatient as all hell. My eyes roamed the room again, seeking out her silky hair. I studiously ignored Tasha and Sandra, who gazed at me with star-struck longing.
“She just left,” Elle said through narrowed eyes. “Unlike some people around here, she has responsibilities.”
She was pissed, and I couldn’t figure out if she was mad at me or mad at her ex-boyfriend sitting at the table beside me, but usually Elle’s greetings were a little warmer.
“Ouch,” I drawled, easily hiding my disappointment and regret. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed Becky slipping past me. “She’s feisty tonight,” I added, sending a knowing look to Brock’s younger brother, Braden. He had dated her for the longest time when they were both still in high school. Four years ago—around the time of the first legendary hook-up with Becky—they broke up. I hadn’t seen them together since then, but damn, the sexual tension rolled off them both in waves.
“That she is,” Braden said, his eyes fixated on her. I left them to it, trying to press down on the uneasy swirl of disgust I felt over my own actions. I was laying it on thick, but really—it was a defensive mechanism.
My public persona was an easy going flirt, and I’d gotten used to the mask.
“Let’s go, I think we’ve done enough planning tonight,” Elle said to Tessa, nodding to the door. The two friends looked at each other, seeming to communicate without speaking. I used to call them the terror twins when they were kids.
“Alright, later everyone,” Tessa said, wrapping her arms around Brock’s waist when he stood up. They kissed, molding into one. “Brock, get your groomsman in line,” she warned.
“Yes ma’am,” Brock grinned, kissing her again before they separated. The girls left, and I slid into the booth beside Braden.
“Anybody need another beer?” Grady asked, standing up.
“I need one,” I nodded. “Tell O’Riley to put it on my tab.”
“The whole night’s on your tab,” Gordon joked.
“So be it,” I shrugged, unaffected. I didn’t mind sharing my wealth, but he was just kidding. None of these guys would let me pay for their beers without a scrap. Pride ran deep in this town.
“Alright, let’s plan this shit. What are we doing for the bachelor party?” Grady asked once he had returned to the table with several bottles of Budweiser. He slid one across the table for me, and I grabbed it gratefully, drinking it back.
“We could go to Vegas,” I suggested a moment later, deadly serious. I loved Vegas. Even though I’d just come from there, I’d be willing to go back tomorrow.
“Or we could go to the strip club,” Gordon countered, grinning widely and waggling his eyebrows.
“There’s strip clubs in Vegas, dumbass,” I pointed out with a smirk.
“I don’t want a bachelor party,” Brock cut in, shrugging. “And I definitely don’t want to go to Vegas.” He stole a quick glance at his younger brother. Braden was still watching after Elle like a lovesick puppy, but I caught his reference. I knew Brock didn’t want to make it difficult for him.
“Travis, are you ready to go yet?” Tasha’s singsong voice rang out just as her hand landed on my shoulder, and I fought the urge to wince. I’d forgotten they were still there. “Sandra and I are super tired,” she hinted, biting down on her lower lip and giving me fuck-me eyes. The old me would have found it sexy as hell.
Now, I just found their routine tiring. Tiring and fake.
“Paul will take you back to the hotel,” I told them, flashing them a cheeky grin to lessen the blow a little. I gestured to the burly man lingering near the door. “I’ll join you later.”
I had no desire to go back to the hotel to meet them later, and I wouldn’t. I’d still make sure they got to the airport to catch their flight, and I’d cover everything because I felt like a fucking jackass for inviting two girls I didn’t even want around in the first place, but I definitely wasn’t feeling the hookup vibe.
My thoughts were firmly rooted on someone else.
“If you insist,” Tasha pouted, linking arms with Sandra. Paul stepped toward them and they allowed him to lead them away, and I turned my attention back to my friends.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Gordon remarked, shaking his head ruefully. “You’ve got two gorgeous girls practically begging you to screw them and you’re hanging out with us? What the fuck?”
“I haven’t seen you guys in months,” I shrugged, taking a swig of the beer. I ignored Gordon’s imploring eyes and looked at Brock. “Why don’t you want a bachelor party? It’s a rite of passage.”
“It’s unnecessary,” he responded. “I’d much rather go ATVing or fishing.”
“We can do both,” I told him. “We could go ATVing this weekend, then still throw a wicked bachelor party that will rival all other bachelor parties before it.”
“I’m down for ATVing this weekend,” Grady grinned. “Feels like we haven’t been in forever.”
“That’s because we haven’t,” Gordon pointed out. “Jesus, when did we all get so goddamn boring?”
“Speak for yourselves, Travis is living the life still,” Braden smirked, glancing toward the door where my guests had just left.
“Well he’s a fucking millionaire, so no shit. Some of us have to work real jobs with shit pay,” Gordon retorted, grinning at me to show he was just kidding.
His dig pissed me off a little. I worked damn hard for my money, sacrificed sleep and time with my loved ones to bring albums to life. I spent hours on the road travelling and had paparazzi all up in my business every time I turned around.
When you’re in the public eye all the time, it was very hard to make mistakes, and the rumors that float around are vicious.
Some days, I wish I had a normal job like my friends.
“So Sunday, after the chili cook-off?” Grady suggested.
“Sounds good,” I nodded.
“Let’s make it a group thing. Unless you’re all cool with Tessa kicking our asses for leaving her out,” Braden suggested.
“Smooth, little Miller,” I called out, reaching over to give him a noogie. I was impressed with his nonchalant, smooth deliverance. It was obvious that he was looking for an excuse to spend more time with Elle. I admired his tenacity.
“Shut the fuck up, Travis,” he scowled, hitting my arm away.
I loved the Parry Sound Stampede, I’d been going since I was a little kid. I used to participate in the talent shows, and when I got older they’d set up a small stage and I’d play by the beer tent. When my first album went platinum, I continued playing every summer out of nostalgia and tradition.
The little stage by the beer tent turned into a massive stage that drew in crowds by the hundreds.
The week before the stampede was full of radio interviews and other promotional gigs that would bring in waves of fans from all over Ontario.
I was full of pent up energy. I could barely go anywhere without one of my bodyguards present, which kind of put a damper on enjoying my time back home. It was necessary, though, as a lot of the tourists were fans of mine here to watch me perform at the stampede. I couldn’t walk a foot into town without being spotted.
A few weeks after the stampede, having both Paul and Rob in the Muskoka’s wouldn’t be necessary. But during the height of tourism season, with people coming from all over to attend the renowned Parry Sound Stampede, the label didn’t give me much of a choice.
All of the bridled energy was put to good use during my show; I owned the stage, the crowd, the night.
I would never tire of performing music live. There was something about it—an energy in the air, a magic in the moment. I was in my element on stage.
After the show, I had little time to gather my wits before I headed to the Clayton’s barn for the after party. I didn’t know for certain that Becky would be there, but I hoped she was.
My eyes immediately spotted her the moment I walked in. She was standing up in the loft, leaning against the railing beside Braden, watching the dance floor. It reminded me of the past three summers, how we’d escape this party separately the first chance we got, only to meet up in a hotel.
Our eyes locked, and she stiffened, squaring her shoulders. I made a move toward the stairs that would take me up to the loft, take me up to her, but a hand on my arm stopped me. I turned my head to look, seeing Elle Thompson and a tall guy with dark blond hair I’d never seen before.
“Hey Travis! Great show!” Elle said, giving me a huge hug that I knew was her way of apologizing for the harshness she displayed the other night. “This is my boyfriend, Alex Hastings.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Alex grinned, shaking my hand. “I’m a big fan of your music.”
“Thanks man,” I said, pumping my arm a little harder than necessary. I was tweaking out being so close to her yet unable to see her. We made small talk for a few minutes about the concert turn out and the weather.
Alex wasn’t a bad guy, by any means, but it was obvious that Elle wasn’t digging him as much as she was pretending to. The chemistry between her and Braden the other night had been off the charts. She held Alex’s hand, but she might as well have been on the other side of the room. Her eyes kept going up to the loft where Braden stood.
“Well, we should head on up to see everyone. Catch you later, Travis,” Elle said, leading Alex toward the loft. I watched them go, my eyes raising to the railing. Becky was no longer leaning against it. She’d taken several steps back and was resting against one of the wooden beams that supported the roof, engaged in a conversation with Tessa.
I did my best to keep moving through the crowd quickly, but several more people stopped to talk to me. They were buzzing from the concert still, amped up and excited to talk to me and snap pictures with me. These were the people who got me where I was, and I couldn’t blow them off…even if I wanted to.
Finally, after what seemed like hours later, I was able to break away from the adoring townsfolk. I passed Brock and Tessa on the dance floor, completely enthralled with each other. It didn’t look like they’d be staying for much longer. Chuckling, I made it up to the loft.
Becky was still leaning against the wooden support beam, a drink in her hand that she occasionally sipped from while watching the people dancing below.
She wore brown cowgirl boots, a denim jacket and a sundress, the white lace falling just above her kneecaps. Her dark hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, with soft curls falling just above her shoulder blades. Her outfit was cute and classy, and it made the lust stir acutely in my veins.
“Do you want to dance?” I asked, startling her from her thoughts.
“Travis,” she sighed, her tone one of warning.
“Come on Becs, one little dance won’t hurt. Bet it’d be a lot more fun than just leaning against that beam. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Her eyes darted back to the dance floor. I followed her gaze, watching as Brock led Tessa through the throngs of dancers and out the door. I had a feeling they wouldn’t be coming back.
She looked back at me and bit her lip, debating as her blue eyes searched mine. She could tell that I wasn’t going to so easily give up—especially with both of her brothers gone. Sighing, she tossed back her drink and set it on the bar. “Alright, fine. Just one dance.”
I took her hand and she allowed me to walk her down the loft stairs to the dance floor just as The Zac Brown Band came on with Whatever It Is.
Gently, I placed my hands on her hips and pulled her toward me. She reached up, encircling my neck, her hands resting between my shoulder blades. She kept her back straight and a respectable distance between the two of us. Her eyes skirted across the crowded dance floor nervously.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said, biting her lip, the white of her tooth sinking in to the natural pink flesh. I brought my thumb up, freeing it. “People are staring.”
“People always stare, there’s nothing else to do in this town,” I pointed out. She laughed reluctantly, her eyes softening as she looked at me.
I could very well lose myself for hours in her eyes, but she looked away. For the rest of the song, her head rested against my chest. I didn’t ever want to let her go, but when the song ended…I had no choice.
“Thanks for the dance, Travis. I’ll see you around,” she told me, pulling out of my embrace. I reached out, my fingers brushing against the back of her hand. She paused, looking down at our hands before glancing back at me.
I wanted to tell her that I missed her; that I wanted a chance to prove to her that what we had between us was real and deserved a chance, but I choked.
“It was good seeing you again, Becs,” I said instead. She bit her lip, nodding at me before disappearing into the crowd.