Chapter 85

Liz’s arrival (along with the rest of the group, of course) was entirely welcome.

The paparazzi, thanks to catching me with Rosalita, knew which hotel to congregate at and they followed Jill and me to the private airfield where Liz’s leased jet would land.

We had called ahead and security stopped the gawkers from getting anywhere on the property. Instead, they set up shop outside the chain-link fence and pointed their lenses through the openings.

Sean and the advanced team had brought several vehicles and they had been permitted to bring them onto the tarmac as soon as the jet had landed. There was a week’s worth of clothing and several thousand dollars worth of music equipment coming on the plane.

Ryan, Dom and Brian were the first three down the ramp, followed closely behind by the assembled security teams from the other participants. I had expected the group to descend in order of popularity – with Liz coming off last, of course.

Instead, she was the first one off. She wore a pair of red shorts, a light T-shirt and one of my baseball caps on her head. I doubted any of the photographers even knew who she was until she wrapped me in a tight embrace and kissed me firmly on the lips as soon as her feet hit asphalt.

Lucas and his family were the second group off. It was pretty evident that his kids had been asleep on the plane. The little boy, Bo, was still on his mother’s hip and Abigail’s eyes were still a little puffy as she held her father’s hand as they descended the steep stairs.

She gave me a look when she hit the bottom and I knelt down so I was at eye level.

“Did you talk to Liz about the horses?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“We’ll talk to her this week,” I said with a smile. She gave me a hug and kept her arms around my neck as I lifted her up to my hip. She put her head on my shoulder.

Lucas glanced at Liz and gave his trademark grin.

“I told you,” he said. “You got competition!”

“Be good,” Liz replied.

Having Abigail with me worked out well. I didn’t have to tote or lug any of the bags or instruments to the SUVs. That was left to the other people to do. I noticed that Gwen and Conny also used their children as shields so I didn’t feel bad about it.

I tousled Abigail’s hair after her father got her into her booster seat.

Liz pushed as close to me as she could get when the SUV got moving.

“Where is your sling?” she asked.

“I left it at the hotel,” I said. “I’m feeling better.”

“You’re feeling better because you had the sling,” Jill said helpfully from behind us.

“I’d like for you to wear it until we can get your arm looked at by a professional,” Liz said. She batted her eyes at me and I nodded. “Good. Now, have you set up any promotional things?”

“I did what you wanted me to,” I said. “You got two short radio interviews in the morning and a TV gig right afterward. Tomorrow night you’ll do a phone interview with a blogger from Nashville and the entertainment editor from the paper will come to the suite Wednesday morning at 11.”

“Perfect!” Liz said. “Are the radio shows via phone or at the studios?”

“One of each,” I said. “The first is in-studio during morning drive. We’ll need to be there by 7:30.”

“OK,” Liz said, nodding. “That works out. And the interviews are unscripted?”

I decided to hedge my bets.

“I have not provided any questions to the interviewers,” I replied. But I had gone over their heads and mentioned to the advertising directors and marketing coordinators that it would be very unfortunate if their reporters wandered into territory that was better left alone.

I kept the list of taboo subjects relatively small: No questions about RFN; no questions about McHenry or his pending legal troubles; no questions based on rumor or innuendo. Liz’s personal life was fair game; her professional life was fair game; her plans for the future were fair game. Anything that had a fact attached to it could lead to a question. If it was based on gossip then I would pull the plug – and encourage every other marketing group to avoid the stations or papers.

RFN was buying more airtime to plug Liz’s upcoming DVD. The advertising budget on that alone would be nearly a million dollars and every media sector wanted to see a piece of the pie. I was given assurances that the reporters would be told they were on a short leash – and replaced if they didn’t agree to play along.

Liz looked at me for a long moment before she nodded.

“You’re not meeting with people interested in hard news,” I pointed out. “You’re meeting with the music critic from the paper. The TV interview is with two women that do a morning show. The DJs are the same ones you spoke to earlier. The only real wild card is the blogger and you’ll handle him with no problem. I’m going to be right there beside you and I’ll step in if he veers into territory we don’t want him in. Seriously, Liz, the news hook is the concert. They’re going to stay focused on that.”

“I just wanted to make certain I’m not going to hear the same questions five or six times,” she told me.

“You probably will,” I noted. “They’re going to ask you if you’re excited about the show. They’re going to ask you about future projects. They’re going to ask you about the picture with me and Rosalita.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, dick,” Liz said, relaxing slightly. “I got asked about it before we even left. I just told them that you’re a horn dog and can’t control your urges.”

“That should work,” I answered.

I think Liz was ready to head to the bedroom as soon as we hit the hotel. She pushed her butt against my groin while we rode the elevator and did her best to give me a standing lap dance until we reached the top floor.

Sadly (for me, at least), the others wanted to see and be seen. As popular as the others were in their own rights, they were still getting a huge spike in their Q ratings after the impromptu announcement of their participation in Liz’s show.

Chelsea Rome’s latest single had sold enough downloads that it would re-enter the charts when they were released later in the week. Ben’s album saw the highest sales totals since its first week out. Lucas’s single would very likely have pushed to No. 1 if Liz hadn’t been perched there. Conny’s agent was getting calls from cities all over the world asking if it was possible to book her on her upcoming tour.

Melissa was the only one that hadn’t seen a tangible increase in her marketability. Her next release wouldn’t come until mid-November and she had concluded her latest tour a month earlier. She still had a song in the Top 10 but it was fading and probably wouldn’t rebound. But she had found a way to push her troubled personal life out of the tabloids for the first time in months.

The upshot was that all of the performers were doing press tours while in Dallas and they all wanted to do things as a group.

Liz gave me a wink as we changed clothes for dinner. We made our way to a popular restaurant less than 90 minutes after the wheels of their plane touched down.

“About time I get some decent food,” Jill grumbled. “Jesus, you should make Travis your accountant. Every time I would want to have something better than Arby’s, he’d pitch a fit.”

“I did not!” I protested – although my words were lost.

“But when he decided to impress that woman, you can bet he didn’t worry about how much it cost,” Jill continued.

“Just like a guy,” Conny said with a heavy sigh. It took me a minute to understand that everybody was joking with me.

“That’s what really got to me and Brandon,” Melissa told me. “Every single thing either of us did was magnified a thousand times. If he smiled at a girl on the street, the tabloids said he was having an affair. If I hung out with a guy from my tour to write a song, we were screwing on the couch. It’s tough to put that aside. It’s tough not to let it get to you.”

I nodded my agreement although I really had no clue. The media attention had been focused on my mistakes. Liz had been left alone – but I knew it wouldn’t last. She had been sequestered in her house during most of the times she and I had been away from each other.

“Don’t do what we did,” Melissa urged. “Don’t let yourselves get sucked into separate lives.”

“I work for her,” I pointed out.

“For now,” Melissa said. “You might not always. You’re getting some props in your own right and people are going to start looking to land you on their team – particularly once Liz slows down a little bit.”

I shook my head dismissively.

“You will still have a career in 20 years,” Melissa told me as she gestured to the people around her. “We probably won’t. Can you name any artist that was on the radio 20 years ago that’s still there today?”

I couldn’t ... but that was mostly because I didn’t follow country music very closely.

“There were people a lot bigger than we are,” Melissa pressed. “They’re gone. If you hear them at all it’s on some oldies revival in Las Vegas. The digital age has made everybody with a YouTube account a superstar. We’re completely disposable. Liz has already outlived the shelf life for most of us. This thing with Brandon might be the end of my career. A lot of my relevance is tied to his. Who knows? The public can be fickle.”

I shook my head again.

“A lot of it depends on the optics you put forth,” I said. “If it comes off as acrimonious, the public is going to take sides. If it comes up as a parting of friends...”

I shrugged.

“There are no sides to take,” I concluded. “Do your thing; go your separate ways and ask for privacy and keep yourself cool for a month or so. Don’t show up with a guy on your arm in a week or go on a Twitter rant and you’re going to be fine. Your music resonates with the typical country fan far more than Liz’s does. You’re going to be fine if you keep from stepping on your own feet.”

“See?” Lucas cut in. “That’s what I was telling you. I can guess how your people handled it. They hedged and hemmed and hawed so they couldn’t be blamed if anything went bad. They told you that you’d need to keep a high profile and set the message.”

Melissa frowned but nodded.

“They wanted us to say the parting was amicable and still pretend to be cool with each other,” she said. “The truth is: It’s not cool and it hasn’t been for awhile. We both want out because the pressure is double when we’re together. We rushed into a marriage; hell, we rushed into sleeping together. He was still married when we got together. I think that’s why we have so many trust issues.”

“I’m not a marriage counselor,” I replied. “But, as your potential friend, I would advise you to stay away from casting blame or getting into a public argument with him. I mean, if he says you’re screwing around, let him have it ... unless you’re screwing around. Shit!”

Melissa gave me a chuckle and pushed me on the arm as we entered the restaurant.

“Neither of us is screwing around,” Melissa said. “Or ... I’ve never caught him screwing around. I’m not. There were some rumors a couple of months ago but they were bullshit. I wrapped up my tour and we had a big party. I got wasted and wound up sleeping on a guy’s leg. Of course some asshole took a picture of it and it came off looking like I was blowing the dude. Fuck! I was passed out. He could have stuck it in my ass and I wouldn’t have noticed but he was cool. He was on tour with me and we had a kick-ass time. He just let me sleep. But ... it was like with you and that chick. The photo seemed to show something that wasn’t true. Unlike Liz, Brandon got really upset.

“We hurled accusations back and forth and finally just decided to call it quits. There is enough blame to go around. We both put our careers ahead of our marriage. There was no way it was going to work. But we pretended everything was OK. Truth is, we should have divorced three or four years ago. I’m heading home after the show. He’s coming over on Memorial Day and we’re going to the courthouse on Tuesday morning. We’ve got everything worked out. Our lawyers have already split the property and the money. The only thing left to decide is who gets the dogs. We’ve been splitting time with them for the last couple of years and I guess we’ll keep doing that.

“I’m going to go back to Nashville right afterward and he’s going back to Los Angeles. I’ll probably give you a call when I get back into town.”

“I’m sure you can hang out at Liz’s house if you want,” I said.

“Nah,” Melissa said, shaking her head. “You guys need time together. I’ll just probably want to run my PR stuff past you. Lucas is right. You won’t feed me shit.”

I reached down and gave her hand a soft squeeze.

“Whatever you need,” I promised. “We got your back on this one.”

Melissa grasped my hand for a moment and then turned away.