“Uh huh. I’d like to see some of those books. That was fifty shades of kinky.”
I giggled, all the tension of the day and the tour and record contracts magically carried away by the big O. Several of them, in fact.
“I like it when you take charge like that.”
“Funny, I pegged you for alpha male all the way. It’s good to know you have a little bit of submissive in you after all.”
“Only with you, baby.” He rolled half on top of me, pulling the sheet away from his body so that we touched skin to skin. “You are so sexy when you get that determined glint in your eye that says you’re going to get your own way come hell or high water. It suits you.”
“You make me sound like a spoiled brat. Wait, I think princess was how you termed it.”
“That was before I knew you. Now I’d say you’re closer to ‘diva’.”
I smacked at him. “I am not. I hardly ever get my own way.”
“Oh right. Name one thing you don’t get your own way about.”
“Well, my wardrobe, for example. I’ve been wearing the same glitzy cowgirl type thing forever.”
“So change it up,” Shay said as if it was just that easy.
“Do you have any idea how many thousands—tens of thousands of dollars I pay stylists and branding professionals to make sure those outfits fit my stage persona a ? I approve the final fit, but it’s already sort of locked in by then, except for minor details.”
“What would you do if you called the shots?” Shay pushed up on one elbow and looked down at me.
What would I do and who would I be if I could be anything I wanted on stage? That was a heady question and one I hadn’t asked myself in a very long time. I was what had made me famous. I’d managed to change my name but not my persona and to be honest, I’d never really tried. I had just taken the easiest path, went the direction the people around me steered me without bucking authority or insisting on a direction of my choosing.
I wasn’t Shelly May and I wasn’t sure I was the Michelle I wanted to be now. Maybe that was the real reason my last couple of albums had tanked. My heart just wasn’t in it.
“Well, what’s your dream set-up? Leather and lace? Whips and chains?”
“That’s your dream,” I said, elbowing him.
“I’m not gonna to lie.”
“If I could change things up, I think I’d go for casual and real with a touch of glitz. Sexy but not trashy. Refined but not stuffy.”
“I don’t speak fashion. You’re going to have to translate.”
“Jeans. Tight jeans. Boots. Maybe a small heel, but more or less authentic. A top with some a little bling to catch the stage lights, but nothing that looks like it would have come out of Conway Twitty’s closet. Clingy but not too revealing. Maybe a few casual dresses, also tasteful but a little sexy. Gretchen Wilson’s earthiness mixed with Reba’s dramatic flair. That’s what I would do.”
He grinned down at me as if I’d just given him the winning lottery numbers. “You know what you want. Why not do it?”
“Because…” My mind stalled. Because why? Why couldn’t I change things up? I’d never bothered to question it before because it was working for my label and my career and my fans. Only now it wasn’t. And hadn’t been for a while.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Maybe I can’t change. Maybe this is all I am. Was.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“What is?”
I looked up at Shay. All the playfulness was gone, replaced by a fierce scowl. “You have more talent, more ability, more musical instinct and more passion than anyone I’ve ever met. I think it’s just been hidden under the weight of your “career” for way too long. You need to break out, let it fly, ‘cause when you do, baby, it’s a beautiful thing.”
It was the most genuine one I’d ever received and I blinked back tears.
“I hope you get that contract. I can’t wait to see what you’ll do next.”
Shay told me how it was, whether when I was being a snotty princess, or a control freak, or when he liked what I did to him in bed or whether I needed to rethink my career. He saw me, all the sides of me, and liked me anyway. Not because I was paying him to, but because he just did.
And I was going to have to give him up in just a few more days. A bargain was a bargain and I wasn’t going to push Shay for something more than he was willing or able to give. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t the type to worry about the care and feeding of anything, not even a pet. He just wasn’t in that place and I had to respect that. I wasn’t going to ruin what was between us with talk of anything more, even though I was beginning to be able to see myself with Shay for real. I could see him at my ranch and see him with me on tour, sharing a bus this time.
But we were Nashville bound and there was no getting around that, no turning the bus around, no extending this little fantasy we’d built for ourselves, insulated from all of our real-life pressures. We still had a handful of long nights ahead and I knew just how I wanted to spend them.
Chapter Fourteen
When you’re on the road, the people who travel with you become like family. You work with them every day. You rely on them for your safety, security and to help you put on a great show, whether it’s running the digital screen behind you or setting up the stage or getting you lunch when you’re too busy to eat. Everyone from the crew that unloads the truck, to the promoter who fills stadium seats to the road manager who makes sure everything is humming along as it should play a key role in making a tour work. Sometimes you fight, sometimes you laugh, sometimes, when something goes wrong, you comfort one another. And at the end of the tour you’re sad to part ways.
Although I felt a huge responsibility to the support staff that made my career possible, I’d always insulated myself from most of them on a personal level. When I was starting out, it was my age that set me apart. I was just a kid and didn’t really have anything in common with people twice my age. And of course Daddy kept an eagle-eye on me every second I wasn’t on stage. I knew my crew and band from a distance and I guess it sort of became a habit, even as I got older.
Shay, on the other hand, was on a first-name basis with everyone who was on the road with us. He talked and joked and hung out with them when not working. He asked about their families, knew their kids’ names and remembered good times from previous tours. They were employees but friends, too. I cared about my staff in a distant sort of way, making sure they had steady jobs and received their paychecks on time. Shay got right in there and shared blood, sweat and tears.
As a thank you gesture, Shay always threw a big end of tour wrap party for all of the crew and the band. It was a blow-out, according to Shay — -- a great way to cap off the tour and let off some steam. He’d rent out a club or bar for after the last show, invite everyone from the coach drivers to the sound guy to his lead guitarist to attend, serve beer, chicken wings and nachos and then get rowdy with the roadies into the wee hours.
This time, though, Shay said he was going to have to scale back or even cancel. He wouldn’t say it was money-related but I knew it had to be. He’d admitted that this tour was his lifeline and that he’d sunk everything he had left into it. I wasn’t going to let him break a long-standing tradition that was so close to his heart over something as trivial as money, so I offered to foot the bill. It took a little convincing, but eventually he agreed.
If I was honest, if wasn’t just for Shay and the crew. This was our last night together, the end of the road. Maybe I wanted one more magical night to remember when I got home to my big empty house and my even emptier bed. For us, time ended when the tour rolled into Nashville. There was nothing after. No plans to meet up, no talk of contracts or Robert or what would happen when we went our separate ways.
As the miles slipped away bringing us closer to Nashville, and we played our last few shows, I tried to push those feelings of loss to the back of my mind and live in the moment. Spending the days on stage with Shay an
d the nights in his arms made it easy to forget that this was all temporary, a time out from our real lives.
During the day we’d work. We’d do the promo tasks Rayna set up for us, we’d rehearse, we’d do sound checks and all the other little things that needed to be taken care of. We’d play the show, alternating who was going on stage first and who closed out the show. And afterwards we’d snuggle up and discuss the day, and just talk.
He talked about growing up in Oklahoma, the beauty of the wheat fields in late summer, the smell of the earth there and his father, who Shay had never seen eye to eye with. He talked about his fear of ending up a used and bitter old man, stuck in the oil fields or a dark, smelly factory for life, just like his father, and how music had been an escape.
I talked about how lonely it had gotten on the road as a teenager and young adult with no friends and no one my own age to talk to. I told him things about myself that I’d never shared with another human being. Things I’d never admitted even to myself. And then in the quiet hours of the night we’d make love and laugh and wake up in the morning to do it all over again.
The morning we rolled across the Cumberland River and into Nashville was bittersweet. We’d accomplished what we’d set out to do—revive our flagging careers. We’d both gained new crossover listeners and the duet we’d recorded a few days earlier was already poised to hit the singles chart. Rayna had said Robert was happy, but not happy enough to extend both our contracts, apparently. Even if the duet charted. One of us was still on the outs and we didn’t know who it was going to be. That was the one thing we didn’t talk about. I guess it was too real and we didn’t want reality intruding on the little fantasy world we’d built for ourselves.
The last show of our mini tour was at Fontanel, the former home of country legend Barbara Mandrel. It was a 27,000 square foot log cabin on steroids that had everything from a pool/atrium, to a shooting gallery to a 50’s style soda fountain. And where the alfalfa fields used to be, they’d built an amphitheater that had hosted legendary acts like Willie Nelson, ZZ Top, Big & Rich and a host of others. Among the trees and fields and all the friends and fans we had in Nashville, it was the perfect place to end our tour.
It was a chilly night at the outdoor amphitheater, but people packed in to see us. We sang our duet together on stage to a standing ovation and two encores. Everyone was on a kind of high after the show and people were in a great mood by the time the official post-tour party started on site in the atrium and pool area Fontanel usually rented out for wedding receptions.
Kaylee had done a great job coordinating everything. She’d gone with a Mexican Fiesta theme and the tables were covered with red, white, green and yellow table cloths. Paper lanterns swayed on strings above our heads and images of hot peppers, sombreros and tissue-paper flowers were everywhere else. The sloped sides of the atrium were outlined with twinkling lights and the pool had been covered by a plexi-glass Plexiglas- type flooring, allowing guests to walk freely around the space. Lit from below, the pool gave off a blue glow that added to the magical feel of the night.
Blue Moon Catering, an outfit that did all the big gatherings in town and was known for its costumed servers, was doing the food. A lot of singers in Nashville had worked gigs at Blue Moon before getting their big breaks. Waitresses in brightly colored senorita-style skirts and elaborate flower headdresses circulated with trays of tiny burritos, jalapeno poppers and some kind of shrimp and avocado hors d’ oeuvres. Along one side of the room was a salsa bar and chips. The margarita station was doing a lot of business, too, since tequila was a close runner up to Bud Light and Jack Daniels with this crowd.
A local band was jamming on the small stage, playing covers of George Jones songs as well as more recent stuff and a few of their own numbers. People were laughing and eating and seemed to be having a great time.
“Not bad, huh?” I said as we stood at the doorway taking it all in. Stars twinkled on the other side of the atrium’s glass walls, reminding me of the night we’d spent on the shore of the lake making love.
“This is amazing. Way better than the end of tour parties I usually do.” Shay took my hand and led me into the crowd. People greeted us by name and thanked us for the party. Since we were so close to home, many of the crew members had invited their families. It was nice to see that side of some of the people I’d gotten to know on the road this time around. I realized I was not just going to miss what Shay and I had carved out for ourselves. I’d miss the people who had travelled with us, too.
“Let’s dance,” Shay said, when we got a free minute.
I didn’t argue. Any excuse to be close to Shay was a good enough one for me. As if on cue, the band’s next song was a slow one and Shay pulled me close, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“You planned that.”
“Hey, what’s the use of hiring a band if they don’t play what you want sometimes?”
I laughed as the room spun around us, the light sending little sparks of color dancing across Shay’s hair and eyes. The way he held me, the way he was looking at me, the way it felt to be wrapped up in his scent, I was going to miss this.
“So we made it,” I said, trying to keep it light. “We made it to the end of the tour without killing each other.”
“It was close there for a while.”
“You have no idea.”
“Once you admitted you wanted me and had always wanted me, we were good,” Shay said, teasing me. His eyes were soft and warm and I committed to memory the way he looked at me.
“No, once you accepted that I wasn’t falling for your country boy charm and devastating good looks, we were good.”
“Hmm. Agree to disagree.”
I slid my hands around his waist and down to the back pockets of his jeans. Giving him a little squeeze I said, “I think I’m right on this one.”
“You win,” he said, his eyes going dark.
“That’s what I thought.”
We danced silently for a moment and I closed my eyes, soaking it all in. I was going to miss this. Miss Shay. If someone had told me I’d feel this way about him a few weeks earlier, I’d have thought they were crazy. But he was a good guy. A little rough around the edges, sure, but deep down, he cared about people. He just showed it in a different way than I did.
“Are you ok?” Shay asked me after a moment.
“Yeah. Why?” I shook off my melancholy moment. This was a party, after all. A party to celebrate a successful end to what had started out a very rocky tour.
“You just seem…quiet.” He pulled away to look into my eyes. “I’ve had a good time these last few weeks,” Shay said. “It’s been really good getting to know you.”
“You, too.” Then why did I want to cry? This was our goodbye, though I didn’t want to admit it. We’d agreed that things would end when the tour did and there were no more dates. We were at the end.
The song ended and the crowd applauded the band. They were actually pretty good. I’d have to get their information in case I wanted to use them as an opening act on the next tour...assuming there was a next tour.
“Michelle,” he said, tension bracketing his mouth. “I was thinking. We don’t have to—I mean I’d like to—” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m not ready to let you go.”
Hope flared in my chest and I gripped him tighter. “I’m not ready either.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “This has been good. I mean, it’s good for our careers…people seem to like us a couple.”
A shadow darkened his expression. “Is that all?”
“The sex isn’t bad,” I said, trying to keep it light. I knew what he was angling for—some confirmation that I cared for him. Whether it was pride or fear of getting hurt or just a reluctance to admit to myself that I was falling in love with him, the words would not pass my lips. Still, I was relieved that I’d have time to work on that. Shay wanted to continue this thing between us and so did I.
“We can date for a w
hile, see where it goes,” I said and kissed him, hoping all the emotion I couldn’t put words to would shine through in my actions.
"Thanks, everybody!” the lead singer of the band shouted over the mic. “Now how ‘bout we get Shay and Michelle up here to jam a little?”
Everyone cheered and Shay looked at me with a half-smile on his face. “What do you say? Once more?”
“Sure. Let’s do it.”
*****
Shay took Michelle’s hand and led her to the stage, the hoots and hollers of all their friends and staff following. The lead singer of the band thanked them, then handed the mic over to Michelle. “Go ahead. We’ll back you up,” he said. “We know all of your songs.”
Without a word they looked at each other and Shay knew instantly what song they would do: the first duet they did together on stage. The one the ended in a kiss that had changed everything.
The band was true to its word and with a few directions from Shay the boys picked up the intro to the duet. As always, Michelle and Shay’s voices blended perfectly. He loved singing with her, he realized. For the past couple of weeks, he’d looked forward to this part of their show more than any other. He liked being close to her, touching her, performing with her. At this point he couldn’t imagine walking away and never doing it again. Shay was glad she’d agreed to give him more time to convince her she needed him, too. But he could tell she wasn’t at the same place as he was.
She was cautious in everything in life. Hopefully she was just being cautious with her heart, too. Maybe she needed more time to see what he did—that they belonged together despite their differences in personality and in backgrounds. He wanted to prove to her that he was worth it, that he wasn’t some the same beer-swilling, skirt-chasing jerk as he had been in the past.
Tension crackled in the air between them as they flirted their way through the number. Michelle was looser than she had been the first time they’d performed this song together, more comfortable, more herself. He loved the way she moved, the way her voice wove around his when they sang the lyrics to her song. But he loved the way she looked at him most of all. There was something in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. Fire, yes. But more.
Nashville Boxed Set #1-3 Page 45
