Page 66 of Worst Nanny Ever
I noticed her checking Travis out earlier, but I figured she was staring for the same reason his ex-girlfriend keeps going to his shows and pushing her way to the front of the crowd. Namely, he’s pleasant to look at. But now she’s giving off superfan stalker vibes, which is strange because I’ve been to a lot of Garbage Fire shows recently, and I’ve never seen her before.
“You heard the man,” I say, bristling. “Want to tell us who you are?”
“Oh, sorry,” she says, then stuffs a hand into her purse with intent.
“Whoa, what’ve you got in there?” I ask, trying to shield Travis by stepping in front of him. He frowns at me, then sidesteps the motion, trying to place his much bigger body in front ofme. It’s like we’re doing a dumb slapstick dance, which proves totally unnecessary when the woman pulls out a crinkled receipt and a child’s marker.
“Can you give me your autograph?” she asks Travis, her eyes alight.
Travis gives me side-eye before glancing back at her. “Why? Are you a fan of Garbage Fire?”
“We’re going to your afternoon performance tomorrow,” she gushes. “We can’t wait.”
“Is that the royal we?” I ask, trying to maneuver in front of Travis again because the stalker lady is still holding out the marker and receipt. “Or are there other people who are obsessed with Travis?”
She flushes. “I wouldn’t sayobsessed, but we’re all avidShips Ahoyfans. We couldn’t believe it when we heard Evan Thomas’s son is living here in Asheville.” Her smile widens. “Ships Junior himself. We’d been saving up to go to the museum in Upstate New York, but when we found out you live here, in our very own state, we decided it would be a better use of our funds.”
I look over at Travis. He seems to be at a loss for words as he studies the woman, but after a moment, he collects himself enough to ask, “Who told you that?”
She squints at him. “Itisyou, isn’t it? I recognize you because of the birthmark. You were so cute in those little sailor suits you used to wear. I loved that outfit with the suspenders too.”
He clenches his jaw, because that was obviously the worstthing she could have said. “Yes, but I won’t be signing any autographs. I wasn’t in those movies.”
Her mouth purses into a disappointed pout. “But you’re Ships Junior!”
“They never made that show,” he mutters.
“But we came all this way…”
“How far?” I ask, letting curiosity take the wheel.
“Well, I’m here from Charlotte, which isn’t very far, but Garrett’s from Raleigh, and Jeanie came all the way from Wilmington. You know, Jeanie met your dad at a fan event back in 1990, and she said there were some real sparks. Maybe she could have been your mother if things had gone differently. Wouldn’t that be something? It was right before he met your mom.”
“It sure would have been,” he murmurs. “And you are?”
“I’m Alice,” she says brightly.
“Four of you drove all the way to Asheville because you heard a rumor that the son of an actor you like was living here?” I ask in disbelief.
She looks a little embarrassed now. “We’re superfans,” she says. “Those movies changed our lives. We just wanted to show Travis our appreciation.” Turning toward him, she adds, “And we were hoping you might be willing to tell us some stories about Evan. You know, the inside scoop that fans wouldn’t know about the great man.”
Her gaze shifts to our shopping cart, abandoned just in front of the floor piano, before rising again. “Do you have a family?” she asks, then turns to me. “Are you his wife?”
“No,” I say with a snort.
Travis’s entire body looks tense, his hand curled around the handle of the shopping cart. “That’s none of your fucking business, Alice, if you’ll excuse my language. My father might have enjoyed parading his family around, but I don’t allow otherpeople access to my family or my friends. I realize you came a long way, and I’m sorry for that, but I didn’t ask you to. I’d prefer to keep the past where it belongs. Let’s go, Hannah.”
He grabs the cart and heads toward the front of the store without pausing. Without grabbing the adorable drum set either, not that I’m surprised.
I hang back and ask, “How’d you hear that Travis lives in Asheville?”
Alice is watching him with a slack expression as he walks away, either because he just ripped her a new one, or because the mandoeshave a very fine ass. I snap my fingers in front of her face, and she jolts out of her trance.
“Who told you?” I ask again, keeping my tone pleasant. She’s vaulted over several boundaries, but I don’t think she has bad intentions.
“Oh,” she says. “Do you think maybe he’ll change his mind?”
“No,” I say, “he’s a pretty private person.”
