Page 98 of Nashville Cowboy
Mima twisted the dishtowel between her hands. “What’s that going to give you that you don’t already have?”
He snorted.
Money, for one thing. Success.
“Think of it as a job, like any other. This is my job. Just like Eve’s job is a veterinarian, Daisy is an auto mechanic, Sadie is a teacher, and Lincoln is a rancher.”
“So are you!”
“That’s only part of who I am, Mima. Music fills a part of me that ranching doesn’t.”
“Son, I understand that. But music is one thing. Wanting to befamousis another.”
“That’s just the thing.” Jackson hung his head. “I’d reached the point where I didn’t care about any of that. And now…a big-time producer wants to work with me, and I don’t know how I can turn that down. I don’t know if I want to.”
“It sounds like you have a big decision to make and there’s no better place to do that than outside.”
An hour later,Jackson had loaded the old Ford truck’s bed with hay. He’d be feeding the cattle in the north pasture this morning. He drove a few hundred feet, climbed up in the bed of the truck, lifted and dumped a bundle of hay, then drove another few hundred feet. Repeat. Sometimes two hands did the task together. One to drive, one to pitch. He and Lincoln used to do the job together when they were teenagers. The sun beat down on him as he worked. He felt in the best shape of his life. The work might be taxing, but because of the mindless repetition of the task that required little to no inspiration, it gave him time to think.
There was a lot that he still didn’t miss about his life in Nashville. The lifestyle had many pitfalls. He lived in a cocoon where country music was everything and balance was sadly lacking at times. Because he’d been so ambitious, he’d rarely taken time off to vacation or enjoy the fruits of his labor. He could sometimes still feel the wrenching disappointment of the deals that fell through. It happened several times in an artist’s career, sometimes even after great success.
He didn’t enjoy what jockeying for position and status did to people like Winona. There were only so many slots for artists and more up-and-coming young and talented artists every day. The most successful artists balanced their personal lives well. Even so, too many relationships bowed to the pressure of a crazy lifestyle. Many of his friends had been through marriage and divorce more than once.
Only when a musician had achieved a higher level of success could touring be cut back and he was far from that situation, even if this album really wound up being recorded. Which was another thing. That was still not a certainty, because if he’d learned one thing, it was that a deal could be undone faster than he could tune his guitar.
As he drove the truck back, he realized that he had to talk to Eve. He couldn’t allow a repeat of what happened eight years ago. She would have to know that beyond all else, she was still the most important choice he’d ever made. The best one.
After checking in with Hank at the end of the day, he took a shower, changed, and decided to drop in at the Shady Grind for a beer. Since the Shady Grind was across the street from the veterinary clinic, he would catch Eve as she returned from her appointments. They’d have dinner, a beer or two, and a long talk. He couldn’t put it off. Lincoln and Sadie would be back tomorrow.
Jackson pulled his truck into a parking space in front of the Shady Grind storefront.
He strode toward Priscilla who stood outside the entrance, holding a cigarette between her fingers. “Hey there, cowboy.”
“Hey,” Jackson said as he watched her light up. “Thought you quit. Those things will kill ya.”
“Too late.”
She slid him a look that said she meant it and Jackson froze. Words failed to come. He simply stared at this woman who’d been one of his first fans and greatest supporters. The first to give him a chance to hone his skills.
“How?When?”
“Now, don’t feel sorry for me. I hate that. I’m going to beat this. It’s stupid cancer. Not lung cancer, by the way, which I’m tellin’ myself means I can still smoke these. For now, anyway. Pretty sure the docs are goin’ to kill that fun for me, too.”
“Screw cancer,” Jackson said and meant.
Priscilla burst out into a smoky laugh. “Yeah. Screw cancer. I’m just glad I got to see you again.”
“’Cilla—”
“Don’t give me that face. I don’t mean before I die. Before Imove. That’s why I’m retirin’. They have a cuttin’-edge cancer treatment center in Arizona where my daughter lives and she’s taking me to it. I’m going to beat this damn thing if it’s the last thing I do.” She cackled. “See what I did there?”
He almost chuckled. Almost. But the thought of cutting-edge treatment filled him with hope. People beat cancer all the time. Priscilla was tough and ornery enough to be a survival story. But hell. First, Mima’s broken arm and surgery. Now, Priscilla had cancer and was leaving the state. And the biggest of them, of course, Eve’s ordeal. He’d missed all of this by being wrapped up in his career and too self-focused for anyone to think of reaching out to him. It wasn’t that his family had purposely kept things from him. They just thought he’d been too busy to care.
And God help him, maybe he had been. That had to change, especially when he went back to Nashville.
“You let me know if I can do anythin’ for you. I mean, anything atall.”
“I don’t need anything, especially not after I sell this bar, but I’m not too proud to ask if it comes to that. And you let me know if you change your mind about buying me out.”
