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ChapterOne
DEVYN
I feel the bump first, vibrating through the camper truck I’ve called home for the last two years. But as quickly as it comes, silence follows as the camper rolls down the highway.
“What’s wrong?” My manager Chloe Randall asks through my earbuds after I curse under my breath.
“I’m not sure.” I pump the gas, but it’s as if someone unplugged the engine. “I think my engine just died. Hang on.”
I grip the steering wheel and guide the camper toward the side of the road as calmly as possible, glad I always pick the slow lane during these drives. I’m in no rush anyway, so no sense in staying in the fast lane.
Gravel crunches loudly underneath the tires, everything about the moment somehow magnified in my mind as I mouth the words,I can do thisagain and again. Trucks pass me by, gusts of wind rocking the camper in its wake.
As the camper cruises to a stop, I turn the key. Nothing. I turn the key again. Still nothing. “I can’t believe it. The engine’s dead.”
Chloe’s voice rises in panic. “Please tell me you’re joking. Aren’t you in the middle of nowhere?”
I pump my foot on the gas. I know it’s useless, but I have to try—still, nothing. “I’ll be fine, Chloe, although I can’t say the same about the camper . It’s dead.”
“What are you going to do?”
Behind me, my Siberian Husky mix looks up from the bed and barks. “I have to let Sarge out to pee and then call Roadside Assistance. I’ll be fine. Don’t hyperventilate on me.”
I’ve only had my 1984 Toyota Bandit for two years, and other than driving it to places like Joshua Tree or Moab, it shouldn’t have any significant problems. I’ve had it serviced religiously and never stray too far from the beaten path. Still, it’s a far cry from the Hollywood Hills mansion I once lived in, but that was a different life. A different world.
While all my belongings are in a storage unit in Los Angeles, everything I need is inside the truck camper I’ve christened Taco that I bought from an elderly couple who kept it in excellent condition.
It's been two years since the day I made the decision to go on the road, hoping in the process of discovering the world, I find myself. Maybe even record new music.
But while coming up with new songs has been easy, gaining the confidence to record them--as well as find the right studio space--is a whole other story. Somehow, leaving my old life meant I must have left my confidence behind, too. I know it's not the case, but it's as if something's missing.
I just can't place what it is.
“How can I not get anxious, Devyn? I don’t even know where you are right now. I mean, where are you exactly?” Chloe asks as I grab my phone and the dog leash from the passenger seat and move to the back of the camper to secure the leash on Sarge. “Are you in a safe area?”
“I’m in Taos… or close to it.” I slide the door open and step out, gripping the leash as Sarge pulls me toward the brush and pees. Just a little dribble before he dashes off a few feet away and does the same thing.
“Last time we talked, you were in Moab hiking with Jen and Dave,” she says, referring to a couple I often meet with on the road. “When did you leave?”
“The other day. I thought I’d head south and check out Four Corners, then Shiprock—which I did, and they were all amazing. And here I am.” It’s a haphazard plan, but I thought I’d drive to Taos before heading to New York to attend Chloe’s wedding next month.
“Did you say you’re near Taos?” she asks as I tug on Sarge’s leash, beckoning him to slow down.
“Yup.”
“There’s a music festival going on this weekend. You remember JB. He organized it,” Chloe says. “I can fit you in if you want. I’m sure he’d love to have you.”
I sigh. “We’ve talked about this already. I have no interest in performing again, okay?”
“So says the woman who does impromptu performances on the road that people post all over social media.” She pauses, and I hear her tapping on a keyboard. “On second thought, maybe you’re right about not performing.”
As I wait for her to continue, I exhale. Now, she’s got me curious. “You can’t just offer me something and take it away, Chloe? Why shouldn’t I perform?” I ask, before adding, “Oh, if this is your latest MO to get me to start performing again, it’s working.”
“Harrison is on the schedule with his new partner.”
My breath hitches, and not in a good way. Not when the only good thing about my breakup with Harrison Yorke is breaking free from all his manipulations. “This is his fourth partner, isn’t it?”
“Fifth,” Chloe says. “He fired the last one when their single flopped. Didn’t even make a ripple. She was flat, and they had no chemistry.”
