Page 30 of Country Music Cowboy
“I won’t let him.” He wrapped his sister up in a big hug. “But don’t worry too much about his voice for now. Knowing Margot Reed, she’s doing most of the talking.” But he picked up the tray and made his way to the back of the house. After years of constant renovation, the house was a mishmash of style. The entry and formal living room still had the white marble tiles shot through with golden metallic veins, each room sporting an oversized golden chandelier dripping crystals and a multitude of gold chains. The furniture was post-modern—that’s what Momma called it. To Travis, that meant boxy and uncomfortable furniture. Every time he walked through the front door, he felt like he was in a confused airport or waiting room.
Travis kept right on going, down the hall, through his father’s “man cave” and out the wide-open doors on to the back porch.
Margot was chattering away, sitting opposite his father in one of two large wicker rocking chairs. Loretta was sitting on the edge of the porch, her feet resting on the lower step. She had Krystal’s three-legged dog, Clementine, at her side. Loretta was crooning softly to the little dog, earning her a ninety-mile-an-hour tail wag from the internet famous Chinese crested dog.
“Lemonade?” He handed out glasses, saving the last for Loretta.
Loretta eyed the glass but shook her head. “No, thank you. But you can point me in the direction of the washroom.” She stood, smoothing the skirt of her lavender polka-dotted dress.
Travis gave her directions and took her spot on the top step.
Clementine burrowed into his side, wiggling.
“I know.” He chuckled. “You’re getting a whole heap of extra loving today, aren’t you?” Clementine promptly dropped onto her side, then rolled so that all three legs stuck up into the air. Travis laughed and gave her a good tummy rub.
“That was some meeting today,” Margot was saying. “I tell you, Lori-girl needs a break. Not that she’d ever let on, mind you. Life has made her a little tough.”
“She reminds me a little of my Krystal,” his father said. “Holding the world at arm’s length.”
“It can get awfully lonely.” Margot sighed. “But sometimes the risk isn’t worth it.”
There was that word again. Risk. It seemed to be Ethan Powell’s—the self-inflated prick—favorite word. And every damn time he’d used it, he’d been looking straight at Travis.
As if he needed to be reminded that he was still considered a wild card. Or that he was damn lucky to be sitting across the table from him. Hell, that he still had a record label at all. One incredible performance with Loretta Gram didn’t erase the years of scandals and headaches and fires to be put out—fires he’d caused.
Living life in the public eye meant there was no escaping the past. From photos to fan videos to television interviews, Travis had grown up with the whole world watching. He’d been barely eighteen when Three Kings started drawing serious attention. After that, the world was at his feet. A dangerous thing for a boy that age. Had it taken him a hell of a long time to get his shit together? Yes. There had been nothing subtle about his fall from grace. One minute, he was a charmer with a minor drinking problem, the next he was an alcoholic with rage and control issues. There were videos and countless photos to prove it.
He’d been relieved the whole video nightmare thing hadn’t been mentioned. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that night would be forgotten, but hopefully that meant they were, all of them, moving on.
Moving on enough to trust him to carry a duo with Loretta Gram. That was damned flattering.
Loretta might want nothing to do with any of this—him included—but Travis hoped she’d take time to think this through. Ethan Powell had worried aloud over where to put Loretta—until they hatched this collaboration. There was doubt Loretta understood the message. This was all Wheelhouse Records had to offer her.
And what an offer.Travis sighed, giving Clementine a scratch behind the ear. “I feel for her,” he said to the dog.
A recovering alcoholic partner, sharing the spotlight and tour billing, a record with her recovering alcoholic partner and, just to keep her placated, one or two solos. After being half of a fairly high-profile duo, it was a pretty pathetic offer. “It was a damn insult, is what it is.”
Clementine’s little head cocked to one side, her tail thumping against the wide-planked porch.
Where was Loretta? He’d been sitting here, lost in thought and talking to the dog, for a good ten minutes. She’d be fine. It’s a big house, but not so big she’d get lost poking around inside. Still, he felt compelled to check in on her anyway. “I’ll go see if Jace is here with the food,” Travis said, before heading inside.
He checked the kitchen first. While he knew Krystal wouldn’t be out-and-out rude to their guest, he also knew his little sister wasn’t the best at schooling her features—or keeping her opinion to herself. And since Krystal had made it clear she was still on the fence about Loretta, he’d rather not leave the two of them alone too long. Lucky for him, Loretta wasn’t there and Krystal was too caught up in a phone call with Jace to do more than wave him away.
After searching the living room, his sisters’ offices, the media room, and the new home studio, he found her in his father’s office—staring at the framed news clipping and photographs decorating the walls.
“You’ve spent your whole life onstage, haven’t you?” she asked, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “I didn’t even know they made boots that small.”
Travis crossed, shaking his head. “That was Momma. She’s always made sure we all looked the part. She’s always understood the importance of branding—hell, without her I wonder if Daddy or Three Kings would be where we are today.” The admission left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stared at the photo, wishing he could remember times like this. He was maybe three, sitting on his father’s lap. Daddy’s arms were wrapped around him, placing Travis’s pudgy baby fingers on the strings of the guitar Hank was holding. Momma sat on the edge of the stage, smiling and so pretty he didn’t wonder why she’d caught his father’s eye. “Got to the point where that’s all we were doing, though. Onstage and off. Playing a part. Staying on brand.” He sighed, turning away from the photo and running his fingers through his hair.
“This one.” Loretta didn’t comment. She moved on, leaning in to inspect another picture. “You three were adorable.”
He, Krystal, and Emmy Lou were all sitting on the back of a massive draft horse. All three in boots and hats. All three grinning from ear to ear. “Past tense? Some would say we still are adorable.”
That earned him one of her razor-sharp glares so fast he had to laugh. For a minute, he thought she might smile, maybe even laugh, but she caught herself. Instead, she sighed—all exasperation.
“What do you have against smiling?” he asked, studying her. “Or is it the idea of smiling with me that rubs you the wrong way?”
She faced him. “Or maybe it’s that you’re not as funny as you think you are.”
