Rough Country (Tannen Boys 3)

“To remind us all what we’re starting with, here’s why I’ve invited Bobby here.” He clicks Play, and I come to life on the screen, singing my opener song at Hank’s. It’s a cover, and I see a few looks of consideration. The lady closest to me closes her eyes and tilts her head, listening. But I can’t tell whether they like it or not.

Jeremy fast forwards. “And here’s an original. It is, right?” He’s asking me, and I nod silently.

My own song being judged stirs up fire in my belly. It’s one thing if they like my voice. There are tons of artists who only sing songs written by other people. It’s an entirely different thing for them to like my words, the ones I work so damn hard to find in my head and heart to express what I want to say.

“What’s the working title of that one?” a young guy in glasses asks.

“Her. It’s about my mom,” I reply. It’s the song I wrote when she was sick, and I dare him to say one bad word about it.

He frowns thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Good title, catchy but generic. Never tell anyone who it’s about.” He splays his hands wide through the air in front of him. “We’ll say it’s for every woman, a ballad to the fairer sex and all they do to rein us wild guys in.” He smiles at me like that made a lick of sense. It did not. Especially when I bet the wildest thing he’s done in his lifetime is put whole milk in his coffee instead of skim.

Jeremy nods. “I like it. Very of-the-moment with the whole feminist thing being hot.”

I blink. “Feminist thing?”

Glasses Guy laughs. “You know. I am woman, hear me roar. Anything you can do, I can do better. Hashtag whatever. That whole thing, you know?”

I feel like these people are talking a different language. “I guess I don’t. I know my sister can outshoot and outride me on any horse. I know I can lift twice as much as she can. The best mechanic I know is a woman, and I can grow damn near anything you want in my garden or fields. We just have different skills, that’s all.”

Glasses Guy freezes. “Oh, my God, Jeremy. What rock did you pull him out from under again? He’s an absolute find!”

What did I say? Was it good or bad?

I have no idea.

But they’re all smiling, so I’m going with the hope and prayer that I haven’t screwed up yet.

Jeremy claps and moves to open his folder. Everyone at the table follows suit, except for me, since I didn’t get one.

“Let’s review things. We have a few questions, if you don’t mind, Bobby?”

I lean back in my chair, hoping it appears casual. “Open book.”

And thus begins the interrogation of my life. Chief Gibson should take lessons from these people because those little folders of theirs contain my entire life story, from birth to damn near what I had for breakfast this morning—an egg sandwich at the airport—and how often I shit—regularly.

I’m not even sure how they got all this information.

“Who are your musical influences?” Glasses Guy asks, pen at the ready to jot them down on a little yellow sticky note.

“Classics and current stuff, but I try to stay true to myself for my music. Hell, even when I sing Johnny Cash, it sounds a little more me than him.”

Glasses Guy hums and writes down Johnny Cash like that’s some ground-breaking, revealing detail of my inner musician. Everyone they’ve ever seen in country music probably says Johnny, Hank, and Waylon right off the top.

“Let’s do a rundown of your current situation,” a lady in a blue blouse says. It matches her eyes perfectly.

“Like my living situation?” I shrug, not having any clue why that’d matter to them. “I live on the farm I grew up on, though we sold it to the neighbors a while back when times got tough. I’m a farmer, grow fruits and vegetables that we sell at market and that my sister uses to run her business. I can tell you about growing heirloom tomatoes, watermelons, apples, peaches, pears, green beans, carrots, potatoes . . . just about anything that grows, I’ve probably done it if it’s climate appropriate for Great Falls.”

Blue Blouse smiles pityingly and I keep rambling to see if I can find the answer she’s looking for.

“My brother, Brody, still lives in our family house too. His woman, Rix—she’s the mechanic I was talking about—comes over a lot. My brother, Brutal, married his high school sweetheart, Allyson, a while back. They have a boy, Cooper, who’s smart as a whip. My sister, Shayanne, married the guy next door and now she’s a Bennett. But we all kinda got adopted by Mama Louise.”