Outlaw Country

by Davida Lynn

  Behind her, The Guilty Party —including Kitt, apparently— stood perfectly still at their instruments.

  The lights began to rise, and Roy Boy kicked in with a simple four count on the hi-hat. Just like in rehearsal, Colton looked up after letting the first few chords of “Arms at Your Waist”.

  Gracie’s fingers plucked the strings of her acoustic guitar, adding dashes of color here and there. As the lights came to their full brightness, Gracie looked over at Colton just as he stepped to the microphone. He looked so in command and under control. It was no wonder the women loved Colton Wade. He was an absolute rock star, one that had Gracie hook line and sinker.

  “Been a year now since she threw me out,

  Been a year now since I took a chance

  Been meanin’ to dust off my good boots

  Been meanin’ to ask you for a dance.”

  Colton turned to Gracie, the audience still hushed over the low music and dark lyrics. She heaped on the foundation to combat the bright lights, but her cheeks still flushed, and Gracie was sure the world could see it. Nothin’ to be done about it now. Just sing, girl.

  They came in together, the minor chords suddenly brightening as Al’s smooth organ sound crept in.

  “Why don’t you ask me why I came here tonight?

  Why don’t you drop in that dime?

  It’s been too long since I felt right.

  Have you been holdin’ out for the right time?”

  As all the instruments came crashing into the chorus, the rush of adrenaline took over Gracie. She lived for the stage, and for moments like those. Stepping away from her microphone, Gracie strummed her acoustic harder, building to a crescendo. Just as the cymbals crashed in, she and Colton pressed together and sang the chorus into the same microphone.

  “I’m just looking for a taste, baby.

  We’ve got all the time to waste,

  Maybe if we’re still here when last call cheers us home

  You’ll have your arms around my waist.”

  For a song that was only two weeks old and barely rehearsed, it sounded like a staple. It had a classic feel that everyone could love. Like he was never gone, Kitt stepped forward and played a heartfelt torch song of a guitar solo. Colton stepped out of the spotlight while his brother played. A lump came to his throat as Colton listened. Kitt probably listened to the song on Kevin’s phone once or twice before going on stage, and he was nailing it from start to finish.

  Pride, confusion, anger, and happiness all poured from Colton. He didn’t care what happened or why Kitt had left. The important thing was that he was back, and he was back on stage with his brother. It was a big moment for the Wade brothers, just as it was a big moment for Colton and Gracie.

  Another verse about two lonely people realizing they were there for each other the entire time, a chorus, and a bridge about a wedding in a waving field of wheat. They all came and went with the power of the changing seasons. Even before the last notes and harmonies rang out, audience members towards the front of the house were up on their feet screaming and clapping.

  Gracie had emotion in her throat, too. She had already lost track of just how many shows she’d played, but that one was something special. Gracie took Colton’s hand, damning any consequences about what the rumor mill might cook up. Raising both their hands up, the two stars drank in the applause before the lights dropped away.

  With racing hearts, the entire band left the stage. Gracie had a smile on her face that she thought would never leave. She had her man, a song that would rocket to the top of the charts, and the unbeatable rush of blowing an audience away. Then she heard Shepard’s voice…

  “Another hand for Gracie Hart, Colton Wade and The Guilty Party!”

  She froze just offstage. That voice. His smooth, buttery, deceitful voice. What in the hell was Shepherd doing at an awards ceremony for songwriters? It was like the world was trying to build Gracie up just so they could break her down a little harder. Colton turned around when she stopped.

  Seeing her face, he immediately stepped back to her. “Babe, are you okay? You look whiter than a bale of cotton. What’s up?”

  She tried to shake it off. “Nothing. I could just use a little water.”

  “Okay.” Colton watched her close, hearing something off in her voice.

  Back on stage, Shepard’s winning smile and handsome face was turned toward backstage. “Why don’t we get them out here, huh?”

  The audience went wild, still surging from the song. They were in a frenzy, and they wouldn’t be denied their stars. Gracie’s hand found Colton’s, and she squeezed it hard. He thought that she'd pull him on stage, but when Colton started to move, she didn't budge. Her eyes were wide, and she shook her head back and forth. He knew something was up, but the producer was already pushing them back out on stage.

  Colton didn’t recognize Shepard’s voice, but he recognized his face. The smarmy asshole was standing at the podium, waving them towards him. Waving Gracie forward, that is. Shep never met eyes with Colton. His eyes were only on the beautiful nineteen-year-old singer; something that didn’t sit well with Colton one fucking bit.

  Despite being on edge, Colton kept a polite smile on his face and even waved to the crowd, tipping his hat, too. Gracie gave a cute little curtsy once they reached the podium. Neither singer wanted to be there or wanted to be smiling.

  Shepard raised his hands, pulling even louder cheers from the audience. Colton could feel the adrenaline. It had already been surging through his veins during the song, but now it wasn’t about feeding off the audience’s energy. Now it was in response to the bastard standing in front of him. Shepard had some trick up his sleeve, and Colton was on live TV. He couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  “I think I speak for everyone when I say that was a moving song, Gracie.”

  One that we wrote together, asshole. Colton struggled to keep the smile on his face. All he wanted to do was pull his girl offstage and away from this Hollywood pecker.

  Shepard turned, his smile focused directly into the camera dangling a few feet from him. “A beautiful song about that someone that might have gotten away, and speaking of that, Gracie…”

  Gracie squeezed Colton’s hand even tighter. She didn’t like where Shep was going. He had that smarmy tint to his voice that she hated. It was his Hollywood voice; he was acting. She couldn’t let go of Colton’s hand for fear that Shep would try to take her if she did. Gracie hated the spotlight. She hated the cameras, she hated every member of the audience on the edge of their seats to hear what Shep was going to say.

  She even tried to shake her head, hoping that maybe he would get the clue that some grand gesture on national television wouldn’t mean anything. Shep always thought that his shit didn’t stink, and if she had to, Gracie would plug her nose in front of the nation.

  “I know you and I haven’t had the easiest of times, and for that, I am truly sorry.” Someone in the audience actually went aww. “But I promise that from here on out, things are going to be different. Come back to me, sweetheart. I miss you, and watching you perform almost broke my heart. Come back and be my rock again.”

  A few more people joined in, and soon a scattered clapping made its way through the audience. Gracie was frozen, her hand still in Colton’s. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know where to start.

  Shepard stared at Gracie while she stared past him, and the audience stared at the two, begging for some resolution. No one moved for a few seconds. No one moved until Colton pulled Gracie behind his back.

  “Look, pal, I think this one’s a lost cause. You’ll probably do best to quit while you’re ahead.” It took every bit of his nerve to keep his voice on an even keel.

  Shepard flashed Colton his Golden Globe nomination-worthy smile. “I actually wasn’t talking to you. Let the girl say her piece.” He turned away from the podium, and everyone in the first few rows leaned forward.

  Colton shut his eyes tight, hoping that when he opene
d them, there would be no one in front of him to unload on. It wasn’t the case. “She’s not a girl, you metro.”

  Shepard had anticipated something worse at the end, and he pushed the narrow podium microphone away.

  “Gracie Hart is a woman, and a damn good one at that. She’s already made her choice, you stuck-up prick.”

  Shepard’s smile cracked. “Fuck off, you trailer trash dirtbag. If you think for one second that a treasure like her is going to stick around with you, you’re dumber than you look.”

  He tried. Colton really tried. A year earlier, and he would’ve bashed the fucker’s face in after just a few seconds. He was making progress, and that was what he’d say in his public apology.

  Colton threw a right hook that flew like lightning, connecting solidly with Shepard Green’s jaw. The Hollywood star spun, his body giving out. He grabbed onto the podium, knocking into the microphone and sending feedback and screeches throughout the historic theater. The cameras caught the whole thing from multiple angles in HD. It was on YouTube in less than ten minutes.

  “There’s always something so satisfying about knocking an asshole out cold,” Colton spat as Shepard struggled to keep himself from sliding all the way down to the stage floor.

  Turning, Colton grabbed Gracie’s hand and tore off stage. He barely had time to look at her face before they were enveloped in the darkness behind the curtains. Audience members were still murmuring, and people backstage were going bananas. The stage manager was on his headset screaming, “Please tell me you cut to a fucking commercial!”

  Gracie had to rush to keep up with him. She jumped ahead, planting a hard hand at his chest. “Colton, wait. Wait!” Her voice trembled.

  He tried to push past, but Gracie wasn’t letting him go anywhere without talking to her. “Where are you going?”

  “Don’t know. Can’t stay here, though. Something tells me this ain’t gonna go over so well.” Colton’s fists shook at his sides. Everyone was staring at him, and it wasn’t helping anything. His heart thrashed inside his chest.

  “You got that right.” She tried to force a smile on her face. “Thank you, Colton.”

  “For what? For fucking things up? Again? I ruined everything.” He looked past her, knowing that the consequences were going to be real bad. Rich assholes like Shep always loved pressing charges. Charges that had a tendency to stick because they were famous. Oh, and an audience of one million as witnesses didn’t help, either.

  Colt looked up to see Roger and Kathleen standing next to one of the sound boards. Colton didn’t even register their faces. He knew they’d be pissed, and the last thing he wanted to see was that disappointed face from Roger. All the ground he had made with Kathleen was probably out the fucking window, but he didn’t give a shit. Colton was seething, and all he wanted was to be out of the theater. He moved past Gracie, still in control enough to turn around for one last, adrenaline-fueled kiss. Hell, who knows? It might be the last time I get to do it. He leaned forward, his arm around Gracie’s back.

  She let out a soft whimper as her body bent backwards. Colton could feel her knees go weak. Colton could make her feel like the strongest woman in the world, but he could also take it all from her in a beautifully, sexy way. From the punch to the powerful kiss, Colton was sure Gracie was about out of strength.

  He righted her, turning from his beautiful Southern flame.

  The event’s producer, Shane Something-or-other, stood in front of the door to the loading dock. “Just where do you think you’re going, Wade? You really think I’m going to let you walk out of here after that flagrance?”

  Colton didn’t slow down. The bald, little man couldn’t have sounded less menacing. Between Colton’s height and the producer’s lack of, there were nearly two feet between them. As the singer got closer, the producer craned his neck upwards, his eyes widening. Colton was fully prepared to barrel through the man, but he didn’t have to.

  Shane dove out of the way just as Colton slammed against the crash bar. The metal door swung wide and fast, clattering against the brick wall on the other side. There was still a faint hint of dusk light in the sky, and the cool night air rushed over Colton’s body. He stopped, realizing just how hot he was. Between the stage lights, the performance, and the infuriating Hollywood asshole, Colton was drenched in sweat.

  “Colton!”

  Kitt’s voice made him turn around. His older brother rushed towards him, everyone backstage moving aside for the muscular figure.

  Colton was still too fired up to really think. He hadn’t spoken to his brother since the fight almost a month earlier. He had almost come to accept the fact that Kitt was dead somewhere from an overdose. Then he shows up just in time to go on stage and play. Jesus, we are a pair of fucked up brothers.

  Stepping outside and into the coolness, Kitt looked at his brother, “Let’s blow this joint.” They may not have grown up together, but the two shared a connection. It was the exact thing that Colton needed to hear. He nodded, and the two Wade brothers headed for Colton’s pickup.

  The place looked like a diner straight out of the ‘50s. Chrome, neon, a jukebox loaded with classics by Hank, Loretta, and Bill Monroe. “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” came from a tiny speaker above the Wade Brothers.

  “I know I’m not the kind of guy you go to for advice. Hell, Colton, I know I’m not the kind of guy you would go to for anything as you've so eloquently pointed out in the past. I’ve been a shitty older brother. I live with that, and I’m doin’ all I can to make it up to you.” Kitt’s drawl was disappearing. He was baring his soul.

  “I had love once, and I let it go. Don’t you go and do the same thing, Colton. She’s a beauty, and she’s on fire right now. She can’t do wrong. You heard her latest, right?”

  “The hell you listening to Gracie Hart’s music for?” Colton thought he knew his brother, but that caught him off guard. Kitt hated anything that wasn’t “real” country, as he called it. It even took him a while to get used to Colton’s music, but he told himself that a paycheck was a paycheck. Kitt grew to understand that Colton could channel the sadness of Hank Williams with the energy and power of Hank III.

  Kitt shrugged as he dug for his phone. “Just because I don't like it doesn’t mean I ain’t gonna get familiar with it. I listened to all three of her albums back to front. Memorized ‘em, can play ‘em all by heart.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Colton had learned Gracie’s hits, knowing they would play them on the tour together, but all of her songs? He never would have expected Kitt to act so...so professional.

  “I am not kidding. It’s called being a musician. I hated half of that faux-country shit we played when we were a cover band, but a job’s a job." After a pause, he added, "Her songs are damn catchy, too.”

  Colton watched his brother jab his fingers at the screen for a bit. When Kitt turned the phone to Colton, YouTube was pulled up. The title was “Sad Songs Live - Gracie Hart.” It wasn’t one that they had recorded, and Kitt must’ve seen the surprise on Colton’s face.

  He hit the screen, starting the concert video, “She only started playing this after you two got into your little spat. Immediately after, Colton.” Kitt punctuated each word, tapping his finger against the bill of his little brother’s cap.

  Colton slapped the hand away. “All right, fuckin’ let me watch.” He had done everything to avoid the Internet and social media. He knew rumors were flying, and Colton didn't want to feel any worse than he already did.

  Gracie was at the microphone, looking like a honky tonk angel with her guitar. The strap had her name embroidered on it; an homage to the classic country stars. The lights were low, bathing her in hints of blue and pink. She began to strum.

  “All the songs sound different,

  Somethin’ wrong with my radio.

  I tried to hum along,

  Ain’t the way they used to go.

  Sad songs, there’s nothin’ but sad songs playin’

  Nothin�
� but sad songs playin’ now.”

  Colton listened as she sang the ballad. The audience was quiet and respectful. The band behind her played a sparse arrangement that added just the right emotion. He loved the lyrics, even though they twisted at his heart. It was about him, and he knew it. Hell, everyone probably knew it. She didn’t call him out, but the line about hearing bad news from the bathroom was the final nail for Colton. How had they not recorded that one? It was a real heartbreaker.

  He paused the video and slid the phone back across the table. Knowing his voice would betray him, Colton simply said, “It’s good.”

  Kitt shrugged. “It’s not bad, but that’s not the point. That woman will stand by you through thick and thin. She’ll paddle down Shit Creek alongside you. Fuck, man. Go get her. Consequences be damned. That shithead had it coming. Got what he deserved, thanks to me.” Kitt raised his glass of iced tea in a salute.

  Colton had been staring at the creamer swirling in his coffee, but he looked up at his brother’s statement. “What you going on about?”

  Kitt was never good with words the way his brother had been. His fingers did the talking when he was on stage. He wouldn’t have been able to convince Colton with some speech, so he had to do the next best thing. “Oh you think that actor dick was there by coincidence?” Kitt didn’t want Colton to live with the regrets that he did. There wasn’t a day that went by that Kitt didn’t regret half of his life. Colton was too big a star to start racking up regrets. There was too much depressive Hank Williams in Colton for that shit.

  “I spent my little vacation tracking that dick down, because I knew you would pussyfoot around until you realized just what you had to lose.”