Take all rumor as truth. For the sake of argument and thought, take all rumor as truth. So we accept that Buckaroo Bobby was putting the spurs to my golden-shanked filly Ms. Donna Jean right under Keith’s coke-ruined nose. (We hope. The possibility also exists that Keith was involved somehow, perhaps like that crippled foreign guy making his wife do sex in that movie: orchestrating things, directing, discreetly applying the necessary lubes and balms while rubbing himself. i choose not to believe that possibility.)
So, anyway, even Keith isn’t oblivious enough not to notice what’s going on, especially when Ms. Donna Jean keeps leaving notes on their hotel room door reading, “Gone Bobby Banging.”
And now you’ve got to go onstage and sing love songs written in the letters of your name as Keith cries the quiet tears of a cuckold onto his piano keys.