Page 29 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

TRAVIS

Drake, the guy we just auditioned, gives us a two-fingered salute, grinning like he thinks he’s God’s gift to the guitar, and heads out the door without looking back, offering us a perfect view of his party-in-the-back hairstyle. I’m guessing it would give Hannah hives.

None of us say anything for a few minutes—our usual habit after the colonic cleanse guy overheard Bixby bitching about him. Good thing, too. I’ve got the feeling this guy is probably listening in at the door, waiting for us to sing his praises.

I start wiping down my gear. I have a different kit here, so I don’t need to pack it up, but a drummer takes care of his drums.

When it finally feels like enough time has passed, I glance over at my friends. “He wasn’t a good fit.”

“Are you kidding?” Bixby protests, pissed and making no attempt to hide it. “He was awesome, Trav. You’re the one who wasn’t playing right.”

His words hit me like a fist to the gut.

He’s right. My heart wasn’t in it today.

I’d gotten to practice late after heading home to hide the presents, and I’d arrived in a shitty mood.

Drake was already jamming with the guys, and it had felt like I was interrupting something—like they were the unit, and I was the outsider.

A dumb feeling, because it’s my band. They’re my buddies, and he’s a stranger none of us know. But there it is.

The truth? Drake is good.

He knows all of our songs, and he blended well with Rob and Bix, but I wasn’t able to tap into the energy of the practice. I was always a second behind or ahead, wrong-footed.

Before Drake left, the four of us had a drink and a conversation, and Drake practically fanboyed over Rob’s connection to Bad Magic, saying Rob’s the one who wrote all their best hits (true), and that we were just as good (also true), and that within a year, we’ll be going on tour too.

Which was when it hit me…

I don’t want to go on tour. I can’t go on tour. I’m trying to get full custody of Ollie, and even if Hannah by some miracle agrees to go full time, it wouldn’t work. But Rob and Bix both grinned at him as if this were good news and they’d been waiting for it. Working toward it.

My mood took another hit—like a ship that’s torpedoed after hitting an iceberg—but I just nodded.

Willed Drake to reveal he was the kind of closet psychopath who collected guitar picks from all the musicians he’d murdered.

Anything to keep him from joining us and pushing Garbage Fire in a direction I didn’t want it to go.

But the only skeleton he revealed was his slightly douchey personality, and now it’s obvious I’m the only one he bothered.

I tell myself it’s not only because of his comment about touring, but I can’t deny it didn’t help his case.

“Rob?” Bixby says, turning toward him. “Talk some sense into this guy.”

Rob claps him on the back. “It’s a group decision, Bix. All of us say yes, or it’s a no. ”

“Shouldn’t it be two against one?” he asks darkly.

“No, man, because we’re the three musketeers. We all go up or down together. That’s how it’s always been.”

“But not how it’s always got to be,” Bixby says, glaring at me. “You don’t want us to get bigger, Trav. You’re happy playing at the same old bars and breweries. Getting up every day knowing it’s going to be the same old shit. But I’m not. I want to go places.”

“So go,” I say hotly. “Choose some guy you just met over your best friends. See how that works out for you. Maybe you can be the first bassist to successfully go solo.”

He shakes his head, his lips forming a flat line. “You’re an asshole.”

Then he packs up his bass—Bessie, he calls her—and takes off, nearly getting smacked in the ass by the door on his way out.

I run my hand through my hair, feeling like the asshole he accused me of being. Bixby’s not like me. He’d probably be over the moon if someone stalked him in a toy store because they’d watched footage from a show that never got made.

Rob doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me, inviting me to talk. He’s already stowed his guitar.

“I know Drake’s good,” I finally admit, my voice hoarse. “And Bixby was right. I didn’t play well tonight.”

Rob nods. “He’s hot-tempered. Bixby will be fine by the time we set up at New Belgium tomorrow. But how about you tell me what’s going on?”

Where to start?

“Someone posted about me in a Ships Ahoy forum, and now a bunch of my dad’s superfans are coming to our show tomorrow afternoon,” I say, feeling a dull ache in my head.

“If Lilah finds out about my dad, she’s going to think I have a shit ton of money.

She’ll be on the next flight out of Australia to try to extort me, and we both know she won’t think anything of using our son as leverage.

I’m trying to get full custody, and she’ll fight it if she thinks he’s a bargaining chip she can use to get money out of me. ”

“Fuck,” Rob says.

He doesn’t ask if I’m sure about fighting for custody, even though he knows I’ve struggled with fatherhood, and I’m grateful to have a friend who sometimes has more faith in me than I have in myself.

I sit down heavily. “I don’t mind paying her off if that’s what she wants, but she’s going to think I inherited more than I did. She’s not the trusting type.”

“So we’ve got to shut these superfans down without pissing them off.”

I snort. “It’s too late for that. One of them ambushed Hannah and me in a toy store today. I told her to mind her fucking business or something along those lines. I can’t remember. I was seeing red.”

Rob grins at me. “Something broke through your Travis cool?”

“Lately it feels like everything does,” I admit. “Ollie’s been having some trouble at school, most of these people we’ve tried out for the band are shit, and then there’s Hannah…”

I trail off, thinking about Hannah in that dress. Hannah laughing as we made a melody on that floor piano. Hannah tracing my birthmark. Hannah kissing me back like she didn’t want to stop…

He gives me a sidelong look. “How’s it going with her, anyway? Sounds like you’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“She’s great with Ollie,” I say with a sigh. “She’s in our lives for his sake, and that’s how it’s gonna stay.”

“All right,” he says with a smirk. “If that’s how you want to spin it. ”

“It’s not how I want to spin it,” I say, feeling unreasonably pissed at him, especially since I’m the architect of all of my own problems. “That’s how it is. She’s Ollie’s nanny.”

“And single dads never end up with the nanny,” he says wryly, with a knowing look that has me seeing red for probably the fiftieth time today.

“Funny.”

“Come on,” he says. “I’m guessing your mother hired an elderly nanny. I’m thinking thick glasses, floor-length dresses even in the summer. Maybe a knee brace or two. Someone your father’s actual age.”

I have to laugh at this, because it’s like he just drew a picture of Nanny Grace.

“So did Lilah,” I volunteer. “Ollie and I have FaceTimed his old nanny a few times. She looks like Mrs. Doubtfire.”

“But not you, you crazy bastard,” he says, laughing. “You had to hire the only woman you’ve wanted this bad in years. Maybe ever.”

I drop the cloth I was using to wipe down my kit. “What are you talking about? I never said that.”

“It’s all in what you haven’t said, brother. I know you. Just like you knew I was in deep with Sophie before I had any idea.”

I swear under my breath. “Sure. Fine. I should have gone with Mrs. Doubtfire. Hannah drives me crazy. Everything in the house smells like her, and worse, I want it to smell like her.” I drop my head before admitting, “And, yeah, I kissed her the other day, which was a huge mistake, but I can’t stop thinking about it. ”

“I know a thing or two about that,” he says, a sparkle of humor in his eyes.

“I want her, but I’m not going to give into it. I have enough on my plate, and Ollie needs her more than I do.”

“There’s no denying you have a lot to deal with,” he agrees. “ Should we give your fan base a thrill and wear Ships Ahoy T-shirts? Maybe learn some yacht rock?”

“Very funny.”

“Do you want to cancel the show tomorrow?” he asks, and I know he’d do it for me. He’d send Drake away for me too. Which is exactly why I can’t let him do it.

I shake my head. “No, Bixby’s already pissed, and if I cancel, they’ll probably just show up at my door with popcorn and ask for a special airing of the movie.”

“Sophie and I would join you,” he says with a grin. “She hasn’t watched them since she was little.”

“I’ll pass.” I swallow, then admit something that hurts. “Drake’s good. I guess we should give him a shot. He can play with us for Frank next week. See what he thinks of the sound.”

He gives me a crooked grin. “You don’t like him, though.”

I shrug. “He’s cocky.”

“But that’s not your only problem with him.”

I should tell him I don’t like where this is going. That I can’t envision myself going on tour, ever. That I’m not even sure I want to level up, because it might mean people start recognizing me as Travis Thomas, not Ships Junior, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

But if Rob wants the tour and the fame, he deserves them. He’s worked his ass off for this band, and it’s his music we’re playing, even if we work together on the arrangement and melodies.

If I need to step down when the time comes, I will, as much as the thought destroys me.

“Yeah, it is,” I say. “Bixby’s cocky enough—he doesn’t need the encouragement—but let’s give this guy a go if he’s interested. He’s by far the best we’ve seen.”

Rob laughs. “I mean, if it’s between him and the other people we’ve seen, I’m going to have to agree with you. ”

“I’ll make it good with Bix,” I promise. “I’ll Uber him some nachos.”

It’s an in-joke from the first night we met Bixby, when he ate two orders of nachos during a ten-minute conversation.

Rob pats me on the back, but he doesn’t leave yet. He watches me for another long moment, then says, “Be a little easier on yourself. You’re doing the best you can.”

“What if it’s not enough?” I ask, giving voice to the fear that’s been growing inside of me like a sun-drunk weed. “What if I fuck Ollie up?”

I leave the second part of that fear unvoiced— like our fathers fucked us up .

Rob’s had a time of it too. His dad’s a piece of work, same as mine.

He always favored Rob’s dipshit little brother, Jonah, who I now have very personal reasons for loathing.

It gets to me that he had the privilege of touching Hannah and didn’t value it.

It makes me want to ruin him, although Hannah, Sophie, and Briar already did a pretty thorough job of that.

It gives me particular joy to know that he had no choice but to leave his chosen profession and go work for his father, an embarrassing prospect for any man.

Rob smiles at me—a sad, knowing smile. “The fact that you care makes it much less likely to happen.”

“I can’t let Lilah take him away from me,” I say, my voice cracking. “I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t. You’ve got a lot of people on your side.”

I nod, trying to keep the worry from taking over. “Thank you.”

“Go home to them,” Rob says, and I don’t miss the “them.”