“Why do you say that?” Loretta accepted her white robe from Bree. “Thank you.”
“Turn onTNM. Don’t look at me like that; turn it on.” Margot believed there was always some truth to what was reported. At least, that was the excuse she used.
Loretta turned on the television, putting on the closed captioning versus turning on the volume. She wasn’t a fan ofTNM. They’d been relentless in their coverage of Johnny—most of it had been fabricated and none of it had been nice.
“They’re doing a greatest hits sort of thing. They’ve gone back through the last twelve months to see if any of tonight’s nominees had a scandal,” Margot said. “They’re talking about Travis King now.”
Travis King. Pictures of Travis playing pool, in boxer shorts, with a bunch of bikini-clad or naked women. Images of Travis King’s various trashed hotel rooms. The transcript of his drunken drive-through visit where he ordered everything on the menu and left a two-hundred-dollar tip for the drive-through attendant. And his bizarre tackling of a Christmas tree because one of the bulbs was out.
The segment culminated with that night—thenight—and the video that twisted his party-boy image into someone on the edge and threatening.
“I can’t watch this again.” Juliette frowned and turned away from the television. “I don’t care what people say, I know this family and I know Travis. If he’s going to have a fresh start, this sort of thing needs to stop.”
He’d already blown the whole fresh start thing; Loretta had seen it herself. It was sad…but, more than that, it was infuriating. Why did Travis King get afresh start? What made him more worthy than Johnny?
The moment the footage of that fateful night started, Loretta couldn’t look away. She’d seen it before—you’d have to live on a deserted island not to have seen it before. The camera recording from someone there at a rodeo. They’d caught the large, in-your-face guy heckling Travis until the heckling got out of control. And the look on Travis’s face when he was finally goaded into taking the first swing. The fight didn’t last long and, honestly, Travis was getting his ass kicked, but security—Travis’s bodyguard—managed to break it up. Cut to ten minutes later, this video from a phone in the gravel parking lot of the rodeo. A visibly stumbling Travis, baseball bat in hand, breaking headlights and denting the crap out of the body of a parked red pickup truck. A couple of young teens were laughing and filming—all sorts of expletives beeped out as Travis continued to decimate the truck. The kids were filming Travis—filming each other filming Travis—and having a great time. But one boy got too close, tripped, fell, and Travis spun around, baseball bat raised over his head.
The video ended there with the image of Travis, looking furious and ready to use the bat on the teen lying helpless on the ground.
Loretta wrapped her arms around her waist, putting herself in that kid’s position long enough for her heart to lodge itself in her throat. He was terrifying… And totally out of control. For months afterward, that picture had been everywhere.
It was hard reconciling this image with the man who’d offered up his handkerchief to her.But that was Travis King.So handsome and charming it was hard to believe he was capable of doing something like this, even with the damning proof right in front of her.
ButTNMwasn’t done with the Kings yet.
Next up, Hank King. And CiCi King. Rumors of their impending divorce. CiCi’s work as a guest judge on this year’s season ofNext Top American Voice. And the relationship between her and the show’s runner-up, Kegan Scott.
“If they keep things going at this pace, there’s no way this will last four hours long,” Margot said.
“Four hours?” Loretta frowned and turned off the television. “Margot, you can’t watch this for four hours.” She couldn’t stomach another five minutes.
“Why not? It’s not like I have anything else to do. Might as well entertain myself up until the red carpet fashion show starts.” Margot blew kisses. “Remember the label is sending you security for tonight; they insisted. I asked for Gina again. You liked her, didn’t you? Now, you have fun tonight. Listen to Juliette on the whole posture thing. I’ll be on the lookout for you. Not that I’ll have to look that hard. That princess dress is a showstopper.”
Juliette sighed, saying, “Princess,” like it was the worst sort of insult.
Loretta smiled, her confidence more than rattled byTNM’s bit. “I’ll blow you a kiss.” The call ended.
“You look great,” Bree offered.
Juliette glanced at her assistant. “Great? No. Fabulous? Yes.”
Great was fine. Fabulous? A showstopper? Not words she was comfortable with.
Juliette glanced at her watch. “Hair and makeup are coming? In ten minutes?” She waited for Loretta’s nod, packing up her pins, needles, thread, double-sided tape, and other bits into her large work tote.
“I’ll leave a few pins,” she said to Bree, pointing at Loretta’s chest. “And use the tape to keep things in place. The dress is too sheer to wear undergarments.”
Loretta eyed the tape.Lovely.Nothing like having to tape your boobs into place. But she didn’t want to think about the alternative. She vaguely remembered a costume malfunction of a performer years back—during the halftime show of the Super Bowl. Not the sort of media attention she wanted tonight. Or any night, really. “Tape me up.” She tried to sound enthusiastic.
Within an hour, her suite was overflowing with people. The expected hair and makeup crews were well-oiled machines. Wheelhouse Records had sent a masseuse too—to help her relax. But being touched by a stranger, naked, wasn’t exactly relaxing, so she politely declined.
And then the bodyguard arrived. So far, Loretta had managed to avoid hiring her own personal security detail. But maybe it was time to rethink that. The idea of having someone watching over her every second of every day was unnerving.
“It’s nice to see you again, Gina. I’d get up…” Loretta trailed off. Here she sat, in her fluffy white robe, with hot rollers in her hair, several nail technicians working on her hands and feet, and a makeup artist unpacking a tote full of brushes and sponges and who knows what else. It was too much and, honestly, a little embarrassing. But if she wanted to stay in Wheelhouse’s good graces, she’d play her part in this dog and pony show.
“No need.” Gina didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the flurry of activity underway. She’d worked with Gina a handful of times but she’d forgotten just how intimidating the woman was. From her steely-eyed assessing gaze to her well-muscled arms, crossed over her chest. Loretta was five foot eight, relatively tall for a woman, and she wasn’t exactly a waif either, but she was comfortable with her curves. Next to Gina, Loretta seemed tiny.
“You can sit, if you’d like?” Loretta paused. “Or can you?”
