Franklin, Tenn. -- Kenny Chesney sits in the sun on the back deck near the pool of his enormous country manor, a weathered red baseball cap pulled tight over his forehead. His island tan is well-displayed in a sleeveless T-shirt, baggy shorts and flip-flops, looking every bit the buff beachcomber that his publicity photos and CD covers suggest.
Still, his brow is creased above his wire-rim glasses, and the serious look turns to a grimace as the sound of a helicopter breaks the quiet. "Uh-oh, we've got company," he says, motioning toward the sky. "I've had four or five of these this morning."
As Chesney, 37, rubs his brow, he shows the strain of a year of crowning achievements and devastating disappointments. The high-flying paparazzi aren't after him because he's the biggest star in country music. After becoming tabloid fodder following his surprise wedding in May to actress Renee Zellweger, just four months after they met at a tsunami benefit, Chesney saw that interest resume with a vengeance in September, when Zellweger filed for an annulment. And he tried to roll with the punches when speculation into the meaning behind the word "fraud" - cited by Zellweger in the annulment filing - zeroed in on his sexual orientation.
