Almost Home (NG2)

Cowboy don't like beaches

Nash was back at Haywood's for another party. He wasn't sure why they were celebrating. They had spent the previous evening laying down some tracks on their new song. It was one he wrote while on the road. He didn't even think it was good.

'Cowboy don't like beaches' was about his second love he abandoned for music fame. He wrote about everything he loved about the ocean, but the chorus explained how Cowboys didn't like beaches because sand got stuck in his boots and wild horses couldn't be caught. The Outer Banks had wild horses, which were protected.

He stood with his bandmates, talking to Cayla about their album. She gushed about 'Cowboy don't like beaches'. He hoped it would get lost among the other songs, yet to be written. The mounting pressure was killing his creativity.

"Don't worry. We can use a songwriter. Everyone does."

Tyler teased. "Yeah, because cowboy and beaches are a fucking oxymoron."

Clyde laughed. "The moron knows what an oxymoron is."

They were a cozy group dissing each other. Tyler had been trying to get friendly with Cayla. His arm was around her with his hand so high on her ribs her enormous breasts hid it. Nash had decided he liked them smaller, so he wouldn't suffocate.

A guy looking like a tourist who wandered in off the street stood behind Cayla and put his hand on her shoulder. She didn't flinch or react. There was a possessiveness in the way he caressed her collarbone. Nash would bet money he knew where Tyler's hand was.

Tyler turned to the intruder with his don't mess with me bad boy look. "Excuse me."

The guy stuck out his hand. "Rob Taylor, Cayla's other half. She's the better half, because she's beautiful. Right, darlin'."

Nash bit his lip to keep from laughing. The look on Tyler's face was classic. All week he had been listening to how Tyler was going to do all kinds of obscene things with those 'knockers'. Wesley was all over him like a flea on a dog. His concern was Tyler's dick would ruin their recording contract.

Clyde was convinced their drummer's dick would sabatoge his career. Some days Nash hoped it would. He and Clyde did all the work. Ty just banged on the drums. Sure, he did it well, but he was replaceable.

Tyler shook the guy's hand and stepped back while shooting Cayla a look. It was the 'you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend' look.

Nash stuck out his own hand. "Nash Kirkland. How long have y'all been a couple?"

Nash was known as the boy next door who wrote about the girl next door, but this guy really looked like the real boy next door. He was the only guy not in cowboy boots, except Beau Haywood, with his preppy loafers. The boyfriend wore running shoes, shorts and a polo shirt. Not as preppy as Beau, but not like all the artists in the room.

He smiled, like a man in love. "Five years. Since Vanderbilt."

"We're WVU." Rob nodded. He kept forgetting strangers knew everything about them. Not everything, because he made sure of it. "You sound like a Yankee." He nodded. "Tyler's from the North, but you'd never know it."

Nash kept talking to him and asked if he was in the business. It was rhetorical because he didn't dress like anyone he met in the business.

"Nah, I'm a CPA. Not very exciting, I know."

"Someones gotta do it."

"And I can't sing. I listen though. You guys are great." He liked the guy. He was honest, which was refreshing in this town. The only person Nash trusted was Clyde. Even Wesley and Angel were paid to be loyal. "Hey, I know a kid up north who loves you guys."

"Let's take a selfie then." Nash took out his phone. They stood together and clicked. "I'll send it to you. Here, type in your number."