Outlaw Country (25 page)

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.”
 

A few tense moments passed before Colton laughed. “You set this whole thing up? Man, we were worried sick. You could’ve just said you needed some time or some shit. We thought you’d fallen off the wagon or worse. You owe everyone an apology.”

Kitt nodded. “I know. I know. I just got caught up. You know how that shit goes.”

Colton still had a broad smile on his face\. “He had no idea what he was walking into?”

“Nah, man.” Kitt grinned. “Convinced him to get on the bill by spewing some shit about you trying to pollute Gracie’s mind.”

“Not far from the truth, actually,” Colton said, his mind back in the small room where he and Gracie had fucked before the show. He had sure turned her into a fiery little sex pot.

Kitt shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d knock the little fucker out. Figured you’d just scoop her up and head to a chapel. No complains, though. That turd was an asshole from start to finish. Good on ya.”

“What if things are too far gone?” The darkness of the situation fell over Colton. “You can’t get away with that shit, anymore. He’s gonna press charges; hard ones that will probably stick. Hefty fine, jail time, you name it. Wouldn’t surprise me if Gracie’s mama don’t let her anywhere near me. Hell, wouldn’t surprise me if the label dropped me. I’m on thin ice with them as is. What if I done fucked up one too many times?”

“What if?” Kitt knew that feeling well. Until his brother got him straight, he thought he was too far gone. “What if monkeys fly out of your ass? Man, you gotta risk something for once in your life.”

“For once in my life? I take a risk every time I step on stage. Don't talk to me about risk, Kitt.”

He could hear his brother getting angry, and it made him glad. Kitt wanted to see some passion coming from Colton, “That ain’t risk. You put on a bad show? You lose a few fans. Yeah, you’re right; the label might drop you. Is that the worst thing on the planet?” Kitt put up his hand to stop Colton from replying. “You might think so, but it ain’t. Far from it. You wanna know the worst thing? Even if you gotta work in a goddamn shoe store for the rest of your life, if you got the love of a good woman, all the bad shit in your life don’t mean a thing.”

After a minute, Colton looked up at his older brother. “A shoe salesman?” He laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, I think that is the worst thin in the world.”

“Maybe. But think about this: imagine you get off work at the shoe store. You come home, park the car in your modest garage, walk into your modest one-story, and Gracie’s waitin’ there. The kitchen smells like pie, and there’s some Chet Atkins playin’ softly. Tell me that ain’t fuckin’ livin’.”

Colton had to admit that it sounded good. He wouldn’t miss the fans or the shows. He had barely gotten a taste of money and real fame, but Colton had lived poor for so long that any steady paycheck would do him fine.

“But that ain’t real life, man. Gracie sells a million records a year. She’ll never stop. She’s in it for life.”

Kitt smiled and shook his head. “That’s not what I mean, Colt. I’m not sayin’ go live the nuclear family dream. I’m sayin’ imagine life with her, then imagine life without her.”

Colton didn’t have to imagine life without her. He had lived it, and it had been a dark two weeks.

“That ain’t the only song she’s written about you, and I’ll bet every racin’ horse in Texas that you’ve got new material hidden away in that notebook of yours, even after your two weeks in Gatlinburg.” Kitt watched his brother’s eyes and saw that it was true.

“How close have you been watching us from the West Coast?”

Kitt lifted his shoulders. He leaned back in the booth. “I know she was playing three new songs in her set. One song popped in and then didn’t come back. Four songs in two weeks. If I know you like I think I do, you’ve probably penned about the same. Bring ‘em together, and you got damn near a full album, and oh!” Kit’s eyes went wide. He over exaggerated leaning over the booth at his younger brother. “Ain’t that exactly what the label just said to do?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Yeah, yeah nothin’, Colton. Apologize to the douchebag, tell her just how you feel, release the album, fuckin’ fall in love, and ask me to be the best man. It ain’t fuckin’ rocket science.”