AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 1
Rex
It’s still a strange thing to hear my voice everywhere. On the radio, in movie trailers and commercials, crinkling through gas station speakers.
The last of which, I must say, really doesn’t do my music justice.
It’s annoying as fuck, really. I can’t just wait in line. I have to wait in line and listen to my band’s first single, “Taken Chance”, blasting through the speakers and hope I look enough unlike myself not to be noticed.
I tap my foot in frustration as the older man behind the counter shuffles across the floor to get the guy in front of me his pack of cigarettes. I’ve been trying to quit and I’ve been doing okay, but the longer I stand here, the more delicious a Marlboro sounds.
The song gets to the bridge and I try not to wince at my voice cracking in falsetto. People think it makes it sound emotional and edgy when the truth is it’s just a note I can only hit on a good day.
I turn the candy bar over in my hand. Is a Snickers really worth this torture? The drive from LA to Joshua Tree is less than three hours. I should have been able to make it in one go, but I didn’t clock the gas meter until I’d already been driving for half an hour. And it’s late, almost midnight. I need a nosh.
Finally, the guy in front of me gets his cigs and takes his sweet time putting his card in his wallet before heading out of the convenience store.
I step up to the counter and place the Snickers down. “Evening.”
“This all?” the older man asks.
“Yeah. Wait –” I can’t resist a travel-sized bottle of tequila. I grab two of the little guys. I’ll take them like shots once I get to my cabin and pass the fuck out. “That’s it.”
He starts ringing me up. “You’re not drinking and driving are you?”
I chuckle. “Are you a cop?”
He laughs too. “Just lookin’ out for…” He trails off and his smile fades.
Fuck. He’s recognized me. I run my hand down the scruff on my jaw. Being unshaven helps me blend in usually. “Something wrong?”
“You look familiar,” he says.
I stare at him. The song I wrote is still playing through the speakers. And I shrug.
He shakes it off. “Six eighty-two.”
Thank God. I stick my credit card in the machine. It moves slowly. Purchase pending. Just approve it, come on.
“Wait a second!” he says, a grin spreading across his face. One of his incisors is missing, leaving a black gap in his smile. He sticks his finger in the air. “This is you, right?”
I don’t respond right away which is almost a confirmation.
“Black Flame? That band, right?”
I try to laugh it off. “I get that a lot, but no.”
He waves his hands in the air. “Say no more.” Then he taps his nose. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
I try not to grimace. The second you’re on the cover of Rolling Stone and have a couple of Grammys, anonymity is a thing of the past.
The credit card machine beeps. I jerk my card out of the reader, swipe my stuff off the counter, and wave over my shoulder. “Thanks, man.”
If he says anything, I don’t hear him. I bolt out of the store and over to my bike, tossing the tequilas and the candy bar in my bag. I wanted to eat the candy bar, but fuck that. I just want to get to Joshua Tree and disappear for a few days.
That’s the whole point of this trip. Just a few days in paradise before I have to get back to LA and start rehearsals for my band’s next tour. World fucking tour. Months of touring.
That’s my life now. All the guys I grew up with, they’re settling down. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re over thirty. Settle down. Right? Some are already married, have kids, and have bought houses. I have a house too in Malibu, one I’m never at because I’m always fucking working.
