Page 3 of Just Business

“What about the band we hired? This will leave them all jobless until they find another gig.” My thoughts drift to Frank and the rest of the guys, looking on with disgust while I stumbled around on stage. There’s no telling what they think of me.

“We’ll have to make sure they’re available for the rescheduled concerts, but they’ll be paid either way. Doug assured me of that.” He speaks like it’s that easy. Hell, maybe it is. They’re probably wishing they were out of this dumpster fire anyway.

“Sounds like y’all thought of everything, leaving me in the dark.” I turn to face him, resting my hands on my hips, hating that I sound like a petulant child. But this is a lot to wrap my head around. “How long do I have to think on it? This is a huge decision,” I ask, moving back to take a seat on the couch.

“Will you actually consider it, or do you plan on drinking yourself stupid again tonight?” He locks his eyes onto mine. “I need you to listen to me. You’re like my brother, and I’m pretty damn worried about you. I wouldn’t do anything that would ruin you—you trust me, right? You might not be in the right headspace, but lucky for you, I’m thinking clearly enough for both of us.” He taps his temple and leans back, arms crossed across his chest.

Well, shit. He went and played nice while I’m still gearing for a fight. But he’s right. Not once in my thirty-four years on earth has he ever steered me wrong. Ty is two years older, and even though he’s not my brother by blood, he embraced that big brother role wholeheartedly after my sister and I moved in with my aunt, uncle, and him when I was ten.

I cannot believe the words that are about to leave my mouth. “How long would it take to get things booked in Alabama?”

A few seconds of silence stretch between us, and I glance up. Tyler's face has gradually morphed from stress to relief. I hadn’t truly grasped just how much concern he’d been carrying until I saw it melt away just now.

“I can start working on things tonight. Kate can get busy on a story we all agree on and get it out to the media. Forty-eight hours should be plenty of time, and then you can head to Alabama. I’ll book you a private flight tonight to get everything packed up. You wanna go to your condo or back to Texas?”

“Texas.” My response is instant. My condo in Nashville is the exact opposite of what I need right now. At least in Texas I’ll have some peace and quiet to prepare for this trip.

“Okay, flying tonight to Texas, leave in forty-eight hours. Am I driving or flying to Alabama?” I hope to God I’m flying. I’ve had one too many run-ins with paparazzi snapping pictures of my blacked-out G-Wagon to know it would be far too conspicuous for this situation.

“Flying. Definitely.” Clearly, he’s thinking along the same lines. “All right, I’ll get on it. Flight, rental, lodging, studio…that’ll cover it,” he adds, relief still evident in his voice.

“This town better change my life, Ty.” Slumping back in my chair, I let out a long, exhausted sigh and drape one arm over my eyes. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

After a red-eye back to Texas, I breathe out a sigh when we finally veer off the highway down the familiar gravel road. The tension in my shoulders loosens—not all the way, but enough to feel the difference. We pass my aunt and uncle’s house, the same light burning above the kitchen sink, just like always. Other than that their house is dark. Leaning forward, I ask the driver to cut his headlights so they won’t wake up and wonder who’s pulling up in the middle of the night. When we pass the small pond separating our houses, the roof of my secluded cabin comes into view and my body sags in relief.

The moment I step inside, I toe off my shoes, drop my bags onto the kitchen floor, and trudge upstairs to my bedroom. After a quick stop in the bathroom, I drag myself to my California King.

While this might be a weight lifted, I still have no idea what to expect. This is supposed to be a fresh start. A reset. But right now all I feel is lost. For years, my life has been dictated by recording schedules and endless touring, so this blank space of time stretching out in front of me has me feeling unmoored.

Lying on my back, I stare up at the ceiling, overwhelmed and restless with my thoughts spinning, spinning, spinning.You’re falling behind. Everyone’s disappointed in you. You don’t deserve any of this. All you’ll ever be is a drunk fuck-up.That last one sounds an awful lot like the voice of my father.

I jump out of bed and storm downstairs, heading straight to my liquor cabinet. Since I’m not here often, it's pretty bare, but there are a couple of bottles of Jack Daniels. Not even bothering to grab a glass, I pop the cork and head to my front porch, taking a long pull of the dark amber liquid as I throw open the door.

The fresh night air instantly grounds me, and I inhale deeply, sucking in as much as my lungs will hold and blow it out slowly. With the bottle still clutched in my hand, I lower onto my front step, tilting my head up to study the night sky. It’s a clear summer night with no light pollution out here. My eyes adjust and the stars begin flickering to life through the darkness until the whole sky is lit up by them.

“Is there a version of me somewhere out there looking up at these same stars who’s got his shit together?” I say the words aloud, even though there’s no one around to respond. Or maybebecausethere’s no one around to respond.

After a few more swigs, I set the bottle beside me and close my eyes, attempting to shut off my brain and focus on the sounds around me. An owl hoots in the distance and I hear toads croaking by the pond, but despite the nighttime sounds, it feels like silence.

On the road, there wasn’t a single quiet moment, not even when we slept. We tried to get hotels as often as we could, but most of the time the tour bus was my home away from home. Road noise and the rumble of the engine became the soundtrack of my life.

Finally, my eyelids start to feel heavy. Dragging myself up to stand, I turn to head inside, leaving the open whiskey bottle sitting where I left it. I was able to stop.That’s progress, right?Right before I’m to the door, the shame sets in. Maybe I didn’t down it all in one sitting, but it hasn’t even been four hours since Tyler and I talked and I’m already failing.

In two steps, I’m back glaring down at the bottle sitting there. I snatch it up, hurling it with all I’ve got at the gnarled oak tree by my driveway. It hits the trunk with a crash, liquid and glass going everywhere.

“FUCK!” I roar into the night.

After a few deep breaths, I turn and head back to my bedroom, stripping down to my boxer briefs. Finally, I’m so exhausted that my eyes have no choice but to close.

* * *

The sound of my phone ringing jolts me awake and my hand shoots out, fumbling around for it in my bed. Before even glancing at the screen, I know it’ll be Tyler’s name flashing back at me. He hates texting. In fact, he was the last person I knew to even get a smartphone, and he only did because it came free with his phone plan. Half the time when I text him, he immediately calls me. I punch the button to answer and before I’ve even said hello, he dives straight into the details.

“Got you a private flight like last night. It doesn’t leave until four tomorrow afternoon. That way you won’t have to rush in the morning. A car is also lined up. I’ll send you the email from the rental company with all the information you’ll need. Oh, and I’m having all of your mail forwarded to my apartment while you’re gone.”

“Morning to you, too.” My voice is scratchy from sleep.

“Except it’s not morning. You get caught up on your beauty rest?”

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