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“I don’t know. Things really are great.”
“Dating someone in this industry is tough,” he continues as if I didn’t even speak. “I’ve lost more than one good woman following this path. It takes a special kind of person to deal with the kind of lifestyle we live.”
“Special or crazy?” I blurt.
“Maybe a little of both.” Laughter dances through his words.
“Can I ask you something?” I stop abruptly and he quickly follows suit, turning to face me.
“Shoot.” He gestures for me to continue.
“When you tour with other artists, how much time do you actually spend with them?”
I know this is the last thing I should be talking about with someone like Travis but if anyone knows it would be him, right? Besides, the moonshine flowing through my veins makes me not really care if it’s something I should or shouldn’t ask.
“I guess it depends on the artist. I’ve toured with some really good buddies of mine and we’re together after every show, drinking beer and jacking around. I’ve also toured with groups that I’ve barely spoken to. I’m guessing this has to do with a certain southern bell that just so happens to be co-headlining your man’s tour?”
“Maybe.” I play coy.
“She giving you trouble?”
“You could say that.”
“Not surprising. Anna lives on competition. Works well for her music career. Her personal life not so much. She probably set her sights on Hudson the minute she learned you existed.”
“I take it you know her well?” I ask, following Travis when he resumes walking.
“I’ve worked with her a couple times. The label likes to partner artists. She doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to working with male artists. It didn’t take me long to figure out why.”
“You totally slept with her,” I blurt, reading his expression and based on his reaction to my statement, reading it right.
“I don’t kiss and tell, Lennon.” He smirks, giving me my answer without confirming or denying anything. “But I can tell she’s getting to you so I will say this; I doubt you have anything to worry about considering how crazy Hudson was over you the last time I saw him.”
“Thank you.” I give him a soft smile before turning my gaze forward again.
It’s strange. I feel oddly at ease talking about something so personal with someone I’ve only spoken to one other time in my entire life, yet I can’t seem to open up to someone I’ve been dating nearly nine months.
It’s not that Hudson doesn’t know how I feel on the matter or that I’m uneasy about all things Annabelle, but I don’t think he realizes how deep that unease runs. And it’s not just about Annabelle. But she’s just the thing that stands out the most right now which is why I’m so focused on her.
I spend the next several minutes in easy conversation with Travis. He tells me about his upcoming album and the tour that will follow and I tell him a little about what I do–which he finds way more interesting than I would’ve expected him to.
By the time we loop back around to his bus nearly a half an hour later, I feel like I know him so much better. It’s weird. When I first met Travis I didn’t expect him to be quite so... normal. But he really is just a normal country boy who drinks beer and loves to fish and hunt when he has breaks in his schedule. To be honest, other than the hunting part, he reminds me a great deal of Hudson. It’s easy to see why the two got along so well on tour. They also have very similar styles, both physically and musically.
“You staying for the full three day festival?” Travis asks, leaning his shoulder against the side of his bus while I stand a couple feet in front of him next to the door.
“Yeah, figured we might as well enjoy it.” I shrug.
“What about Hudson?”
“He’s only here for tonight. They have a show in Nashville tomorrow.”
“I knew his schedule was tight but that’s pushing it. My vocals don’t hold up well when I have back to back shows. I had to cancel three shows on my very first tour because I lost my voice two weeks in. After that, I refused to do back to back shows. It’s just too much strain on my chords.”
My cell phone pings in my back pocket and I immediately reach for it, a little surprised that Hudson only tried calling twice after I had hung up. In a way I expected him to blow me up until I answered. Maybe in a way I wanted him to.
“Hudson’s here,” I say, reading the text message that pops up on the screen.
My heart rate picks up speed despite the fact that I’m still pretty irritated with him at the current moment.
