Page 7 of Just Business

Man, I haven’t even got off the plane yet. Ask me again tomorrow.

Ty

Give it a chance. Ok?

Your rental should be parked directly at the front entrance, and I’ve already booked your first studio session for tomorrow to get a feel for things. I’ll send you a pin for the location.

Am I really doing this?

Ty

Looks like it. Hey, try not to do stupid shit while you’re there.

This makes me roll my eyes. Even at our age, Ty still plays the overprotective big brother role well. With a smirk on my face, I shoot off one last sarcastic text.

Can’t imagine why you’d think I might.

Hey, Ty? Can you let everyone know I landed and I’ll talk to them soon?

Ty

Yeah, man. You know I will. Love you, brother.

And hey, I’m really proud of you.

Yeah, yeah. Love you too, bro.

I have to squeeze my eyes shut to keep my emotions at bay. Lately, the tabloids have called me every name in the book—arrogant, cocky, reckless—you name it. I’ve seen headlines about the women I’ve been with, the property damage I’ve caused, and an endless stream of videos showing me messing up lyrics, stumbling around, and slurring my words. TikTok users have stitched the videos, giving all sorts of opinions about my behavior. A shelf full of CMA trophies, Grammy’s, and Platinum hits doesn’t stop people from latching onto the negative. It’s as if they thrive off inspecting small pieces of me to judge my worth, and I come up lacking every single time. It’s all a constant reminder of how very far I’ve fallen.

The media has tried to paint me as a callous, shallow man, and everyone has bought right into it—hook, line, and sinker. Hell, I’ve given them plenty of reasons to believe it. But the picture they’ve painted is a false narrative, or at least I hope to God it is. Honestly, I’m not even sure I know who I am anymore. The old Austin couldn’t pick me out of a lineup if he had to. But hearing Tyler say he’s proud of me after everything I’ve put him through gives me the slightest seed of hope that I might find a bit of my old self if I try hard enough.

Once I’ve gathered my bags and guitar case from the back of the plane, I slip out as discreetly as possible, but the airport seems pretty empty. I head in the direction Tyler said my rental would be parked, double-checking the area and thinking it must not have arrived yet.

Surely to God, my eyes are playing tricks on me after a long day of travel because my email from Tyler reads “Mid-Size Sedan" and that’s clearly not what I’m looking at. As I approach, I spot a sticker with the rental company’s logo on the windshield, and yep, this is definitely mine. An honest-to-goodness green minivan is parked exactly where Tyler said it would be. I snap a quick picture of it and send it to him. His only response is a laughing face emoji.

Inwardly groaning, I haul all my belongings to the back and lift the hatch. The only silver lining is that my luggage and guitar fit easily inside. This feels like a cosmic joke to continue humbling me, and thanks a lot, universe, message received. The van is a far cry from what I’m used to, but it is what it is, I guess.

My GPS leads me to the motel that Ty booked, and I pull into a parking lot full of trucks with expensive fishing boats attached to the hitch. A group of men are gathered by one, and they don’t even glance my way when I walk past. That’s…strangely reassuring?

A bell jingles when I open the door, and a gray-haired woman with her hair pulled up in a severe bun sits at the counter, her eyes glued to a small television. A cigarette dangles from her lips, the ash so long it’s bound to fall to the floor any second.

“Evening. What can I do for you? she asks, not looking up from her television.

“I’ve got a room booked under the name Tyler Kent.”

“No, sir, not here you don’t. We’re all full. Those fishermen out there booked us up months ago.” Still, she never looks my way.

Closing my eyes, I mentally count to ten.I will not snap at this innocent old woman.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, I think you might have it wrong. I have a confirmation email.” I pull out my phone and scroll to the email from Ty, turning it for her to see.

This snaps her attention from her show. Her eyes scan my phone screen and she curses under her breath, looking up at me with an apologetic expression.

“Son, my granddaughter has started covering some shifts here, and she must have overbooked us. You might have an email, but there ain’t a single room available.”

I sigh. “Where else can I stay?”

“We’re it. Not sure what to tell you.”

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