Page 71 of Nashville Lights

“I’ll give you a call as soon I can.”

“Okay. I know it’ll all go well at the meeting. I’ll be thinking of you. Talk soon.”

We end the call and I go check myself out in the mirror to make sure I don’t look too hot and flushed because I love him and miss him so much.

Then I head down to the warehouse to see how my brothers are getting on with the next album they’re supposed to be working on.

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Our expansive warehousecomplex in central Nashville takes up almost an entire city block. It has six apartments, a recording studio, an open area for hanging out, offices and meeting spaces, a large practice studio set up with most of our gear, and a roof garden. It also has a garage underneath it that’s big enough to fit many of my brothers’ cars and various motorcycles, cars they’ve bought for me, my pick-up truck, and even a tour bus.

The warehouse has been the beating heart of the Tucker Brothers Band operations for years now and is our headquarters and sometimes our home.

It’s less busy than usual, because we’ve just come off of a tour and a lot of our crew are taking some time off. And there are fewer hangers-on now that Vaughn and Travis areboth in serious relationships. Kade has always been a one-woman-at-a-time man and, since he apparently has a new one, there’s not a single groupie in sight.

In fact, the place is empty except for loud music coming from the practice studio.

It’s a miracle. They’re actually practicing. Like they’re supposed to be.

I walk past the main open area, with its walls covered in framed platinum and gold records, along with framed photography of the band and tour posters.

It always feels a little surreal, the juxtaposition of these symbols of success casually scattered amongst worn old furniture we've dragged along since those early, struggling days. It’s an eclectic blend of superstar-level expensive furniture and hand-me-down thrift store purchases from long ago, mismatched armchairs and mid-century sofas that have seen so much traffic but tonight are empty.

We’ve kept it this way deliberately. Our apartments and homes might be glam and luxurious, but the main space in the warehouse has always been a reminder of our roots.

There was definitely nothing glamorous about our upbringing. We like having at least one space that spans from then until now, so we never lose sight of where we came from and how hard we’ve worked to get here.

It’s one of the reasons we’re so close. And why I can’t be too mad at Travis and Vaughn for their dedicated interest in my well-being.

And now I get to see how Kade is going to react to thenews of his childhood, teen and early-twenties best friend shacking up with his little sister.

Of all my brothers, Kade and I are probably the closest. We talk to each other about stuff I wouldn’t talk about with Travis or Vaughn. We have a lot of heart-to-hearts. And it was him—or how he might have felt about it at the time—more than anything else, that kept Nate and I apart.

I open the door.

The cavernous room vibrates with music. Twinkling string lights crisscross the dark-beamed ceilings. A large industrial-looking window runs along the top third of the far wall. It’s tinted on the outside so no one can see in from the buildings around us and it lets in a muted light. Lamps are strewn around the space and Persian rugs are all over the floor. Someone once told us they were good for the acoustics so we’ve been collecting them ever since.

Vaughn is on his drums, banging away like the powerhouse he is, Kade’s spinning out a new riff I haven’t heard before and Travis sings along to its melody as his guitar harmonizes with new, intricate notes.

I notice Gigi sitting on a couch in the corner, reading a book—although I don’t know how she can concentrate. Her long strawberry-blond hair catches light, like it always seems to do.

I’m a little surprised to see her here, but then I remember that the four of them were coming back here last night to see a gig.

They all look up when I walk in.

They play the last chord of the song, holding it. And then they stop.

All eyes are on me.

“Hi,” I say, sort of amused that they’re all staring at me like that. “Hi, Gigi.”

“Hi, Roxie.”

It occasionally strikes me when I see them, after not seeing them for a little while, that my brothers are stunning-looking men. Theylooklike the rockstars they are. I’m their sister, so I don’t think about it often, but when I look at them with fresh eyes every now and then, it’s easy to see that my brothers would be considered extremely hot to most of humankind.

Vaughn spins one of his drumsticks. “See?” Maybe to Kade. “She’s got a glow.”

But they are, in fact, my brothers. And they annoy me as much as they endear themselves to me. Possibly more. “I do not have aglow.”

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