Page 49 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

TRAVIS

“The answer’s no,” Rob says firmly. He, Bixby, Drake, and I are sitting in a circle of chairs in The Missing Beat, discussing the Ships Ahoy crap. It feels like we’re a bunch of toddlers having circle time, and given the energy flying around, I wouldn’t be surprised if it ended in a brawl.

I nearly got into one yesterday, although I haven’t told anyone. When Ollie was at school, I swung by Jonah’s office to ask him if he was behind the Ships Ahoy BS. He was outside, smoking a cigarette of all things—a new habit—so I got to sneak up on him and catch him off guard.

He’d stood up to the interrogation about as well as a rain-soaked cardboard box.

“It wasn’t me,” he said. “What makes you think I care about you or your stupid band? Every woman in town thinks I have herpes, and I’m working for my father. I’ve got enough fucking problems.”

“No, not enough,” I sneered. “You deserve for your dick to fall off for what you did to Hannah and her friends, you spineless piece of shit.”

I had plenty more to say, but it wouldn’t help anyone if I stood around taunting him, so I left him there to dwell on his poor decisions.

Bixby makes an incredulous sound, and I return my focus to arguing with my bandmates. “Why does it matter how we get attention, as long as we do? If they want us to wear sailor suits and sing about maritime law, I say we do it, and once people know about us, we can do whatever we want.”

“I’ve got no problem with that,” Drake says, shrugging. “My rent bill that doesn’t give a shit about personal integrity.” He and Bixby bump fists.

Guilt takes root in my gut, because money’s not a problem for me. Hasn’t been for most of my life.

It doesn’t matter, though. Even if I wanted to give them what they want, I can’t.

“It’s not happening,” I say. “If my ex finds out about this, she’ll fight me for custody of Ollie and use him as a bargaining chip.”

“Which is why this discussion is at an end,” Rob says curtly. “Now, this Frank guy was interested in us before all of this crap, and he’ll still be interested if we play well at our next concert. We don’t need some gimmick. We’re good enough without it.”

“But does it really matter if Lilah gets custody?” Bixby asks, giving me a hard stare.

“Yes, it fucking matters.”

“You didn’t even know this kid existed a couple of months ago, Trav, and you were better off not knowing. How are you supposed to go on the road anyway, if you have a kid at home? You’ve already stopped staying late at the shows, and the fans expect us to interact with them.”

He might as well have punched me in the gut, because it’s nothing I haven’t thought of myself.

“I think you do plenty of interacting for all of us,” I grumble.

He laughs as if it was a compliment—it definitely wasn’t—and nudges Drake’s shoulder. “Travis is dating that redhead now, and Rob’s got Sophie, so you and I will get all the women.”

“Fine,” Rob says. “But you won’t be doing it in a sailor suit.”

“We need this,” Bixby objects hotly. “I need this, Travis. I think I’m about to get laid off at work.”

More guilt gnaws at me.

Rob gives me a hard stare and shakes his head, silently telling me not to cave. He wants to protect me, obviously, but he doesn’t know everything about my situation or what my plans are for the band.

It’s time he did.

“I need to talk to Rob for a minute,” I say.

Bixby snorts. “Oooh ho, Mom and Dad need to have a talk.”

“Grow the fuck up,” I say, then storm out the door.

Not my usual move, but I don’t like the bad vibes filling up the room.

Rob shuts the door behind us, then walks several paces down the corridor to the large picture window. I join him, and we stand there for a moment, gazing down at the scenic parking lot. We’ve always joked that it adds to the curb appeal.

“I’m going to quit the band,” I say.

Rob sighs. “I knew you were going to say that, but why does that make any sense? If you quit, then we wouldn’t be able to do the stupid Ships Junior publicity anyway.”

“It’s not that. Bixby made a good point.

” I sweep my hair out of my face. “I don’t want to miss Ollie’s childhood.

I don’t want to hand him over to other people to take care of him.

If we go on the road, I’d need to leave him.

I’m not going to do that…and if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I want it anyway. After what happened last week…”

I trail off, not sure where I’m going with that, just sure that it sucked.

He whistles, shaking his head slightly. “Do you really want to quit, or are you worried you can’t handle the attention?”

I rub the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t want to endlessly be on tour either,” he says, turning me toward him. “There are plenty of bands that do just fine without it.” He pauses. “I’m going to marry Sophie, Travis.”

“You proposed?”

“Not yet,” he says with a smile. “So maybe don’t tell her before I get around to it. But I’m going to. I want to have a family too.”

I try to process this, to consider what the future might look like for us. But there’s a sound of approaching footsteps—running footsteps—and then Hannah turns the corner, her hair a mess around her face.

My heart stops. She looks devastated, and there’s no sign of my son.

“Where’s Ollie?” I ask, fear filling up every molecule of my body. Did Lilah grab him? Is he lost? Was he hurt? The possibilities spiral through my mind my whole existence on pause until I know the answer.

“He’s okay,” she says, lifting a hand, panting slightly. “He’s okay! I’m sorry. I left him with Dottie. I didn’t want to scare you, but I have to talk to you alone.” She shifts her attention to Rob. “Actually, this concerns you too.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, crossing the remaining distance to her, my heart racing now.

She glances at the closed door bearing our sign— The Missing Beat , with a musical note replacing each I. “Are Drake and Bixby in there?”

I nod, reaching for her hand, needing the reassurance of it under mine. “What’s going on? Did Lilah come by?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head so hard her curls spin out.

“No, not that. Eugene’s son is some kind of genius computer expert, remember?

And he figured out who MaritimeLaw69 is…

” She captures her bottom lip in her teeth, and I already know it’s bad.

If it weren’t, she wouldn’t hesitate to tell us. ”

“Just say it,” Rob says quietly.

“He’s not one hundred percent sure, but the person who set up the email address linked to that MaritimeLaw69 account used the name of someone we know.” She glances at the door again and whispers, “Chance Bixby.”

Rob swears loudly.

I press my palm to the wall, whether to help myself stay upright or convince myself not to punch it, I’m not sure.

This is what it felt like that night in Nashville, when Lilah climbed onto Roland’s lap.

This is what it felt like having my father tell me I was a genius, the best son ever, only for him to tell me I was the worst disappointment of his life when I refused to do the show.

This is what it felt like every time my mother handed us over to Nanny Grace the second we acted like we might need something.

I want to sit down and grip my hair and rock back and forth, and I also want to storm in there and beat the shit out of the guy I thought was one of my closest friends.

Bixby’s always been immature and impulsive, but I believed he cared about me. I thought he, Rob, and I were a unit. A band. Brothers.

But he did something that could risk my custody of my son, and that’s unforgivable.

I’m practically vibrating with rage, so deeply immersed in it that it’s the only thing I feel. The only thing that matters. But then Hannah burrows herself into my chest, wrapping her arms around me, and the worst of it fades away.

“We don’t know that it’s him,” she whispers. “We don’t know yet. It’s still just a possibility. ”

Part of me wants to walk away so I can preserve the hope that it’s not true for a little while longer.

Hannah has made me stronger, though, and I don’t want to run from uncomfortable things anymore.

“So let’s find out,” I say, bending to kiss her forehead before I release her. Then I turn to Rob, who looks like he’d enjoy bludgeoning Bixby with his own bass guitar.

“We’re going to ask him,” I tell him. “Talk it out.”

“I’m going in with you,” Hannah insists hotly.

I meet her gaze, smiling. Feeling lucky that this incredible force of a woman thinks I’m worth her rage. “Are you going to listen if I say no?”

She lifts her chin. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Don’t kill anyone for me, Hannah.” I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “Ollie and I don’t want to have to visit you in jail.”

“I make no promises.”

“All right,” Rob says, nodding to the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I can’t play with him anymore if he did this,” I tell Rob. “His reasons don’t matter.”

“No,” he says, looking sad. “They don’t.”

The three of us walk in together. I’m still holding Hannah’s hand, partly because I’m not certain she won’t stalk over and kick Bixby in the balls if I let her go. Partly because I don’t want to let go. Ever.

They stop talking the second we walk inside, then Bixby lifts his chin, indicating Hannah. “Can’t go a minute without your new girlfriend, Trav?”

She gives him a furious look that makes me glad her hand is still tucked in mine.

I consider what to say, then figure fuck it, might as well pull a Hannah and not try to dress up a flaming bag of shit and call it a sundae. “Were you the one who posted in those Ships Ahoy forums, Bixby?”

Guilt flits across his expression, but he glares at Hannah. “Did she tell you that?”

“Did you do it?” Rob asks. “We need the truth.”

Drake looks uncomfortable, but I don’t care about him. My attention is on Bixby.

The look on his face says it all. I still need to hear his side of things, though. I want to understand.

“We just needed a little attention,” he says after a few seconds. “A little press. I knew that’s all it would take for us to level up. Get some national attention.”

Rob swears loudly.

“You know how I feel about my father,” I say coldly.

“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head, summoning some anger of his own.

“And what I would give to have my shitty dad leave me a fortune and a platform. You act like you’re so high and mighty, Travis, but you’re not above using your money.

You basically bought this place for Rob, so he’d have a purpose, and I know you poured money into it. ”

“We offered you a job here,” I say evenly.

I can feel Rob staring at me, but that’s a conversation for a different time.

“I didn’t want a job at this stupid fucking place,” Bixby says, standing up. “I wanted our band to go places. That’s why I did it. I knew all it would take was a little push, and?—”

“We didn’t need it,” Rob says, his tone hard. “Frank was interested in us before all this dumb stunt, but now he wants us in sailor suits. You made us a joke.”

“I didn’t know that would happen.” He starts pacing. “I did it before we met him, and then I forgot about it. I erased the posts after the show. ”

“You forgot that you betrayed me?” I say dryly. “Well, at least you did it for the good of the band.”

“Yeah.” He stops pacing. “That’s all I care about, and I used to think that was all you cared about too. But you obviously have different priorities.” He turns his glare on Hannah again. “Ever since that kid got dropped off at your doorstep and this bitch started working for you?—”

That’s all it takes. I’m no longer thinking about the fact that this guy was my friend until fifteen minutes ago.

I’m not even thinking of the way he buried a knife in my back.

All I’m thinking is that he just insulted my son and the woman I care about.

The woman I love . I rush forward and bury my fist in his face. His nose gushes blood.

“You don’t fucking talk about them like that. You don’t talk about them at all.”

I haven’t punched anyone since I was twenty-one, and it feels awful, but I don’t have time to cradle my hand, because Bixby punches me back hard, clipping me in the shoulder.

I see Hannah coming toward us with a look of intent in her eyes—a distraction that gets me punched again—but then Rob physically lifts her and plants her behind him before rushing forward.

He’s yelling something, but I don’t hear him, because the blood is beating hard in my ears as I punch Bixby again. He tries to get his arm around my neck, hitting me in the side this time, probably nearly taking out a rib, and then suddenly Rob’s pulling me back. “Not worth it, man.”

Drake pulls Bixby back, too, though Bix is staring murderously at me. Still just as pissed off as I am, even though he’s the one in the wrong. The one who used me.

“You’re out of the band,” Rob tells him.

Bixby actually laughs. “Out of the band? There is no more band. Screw this. ”

He shrugs out of Drake’s hold and storms out of the room.

Drake stands there for a second, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Uh, does that mean I’m out, too?”

“Yes,” Rob says as Hannah steps out from behind him and runs over to me. “Obviously.”

I almost laugh, but I don’t. I can’t.

I wrap my arms around Hannah, needing her warmth. My blood feels like ice in my veins. Because Bixby’s right. Without a rhythm guitarist and a bassist, we’ve got no band. We’re cooked.