- 3 -

I desperately wished that I could write songs.

The creativity was there and I could think of a solid premise, but when it came to actually putting singable lyrics down onto paper, I was clueless. It probably intimidated me more than anything. That's why all my songs were trash pop written by other people that knew how to appeal to the charts.

Dustin wrote one of my songs. He was passionate about music, much more than anybody I'd ever met. I took pleasure in having him as a fan, since I wasn't worthy one bit.

"Write about ecstasy," Dustin suggested, popping a fish shaped snack into his mouth. "That would be a banger, easily."

I cringed. How much more typical could I get? I was already singing about the usual shit: being famous, losing myself, falling in love (whatever that meant). If I popped out with a song about drugs and twisted them to seem like they were about something else entirely, I'd be like everybody else.

We were en route to Sacramento where I had one show in three days. Then I wouldn't have another show for almost a week in LA. I lived in San Francisco, so we'd probably just go home for a little while until it was time to head to LA.

My phone started ringing cacophonously. It was Joey, but I didn't want to talk to him, so I declined it. I glanced at Dustin, who was balls deep in some stupid vampire series.

The bus was rumbling along. I looked out the tinted window, grazing my eyes along the endless fields of green. That's what it felt like half of America was made of, farmland and grass. The cities were always far between. I eyed a particularly plump cow before it was out of my sight.

A purple spiral notebook sat in front of me dauntingly, the page still blank. The pencil I was chewing the eraser of sat beside it, untouched.

My fame lacked authenticity. Every step I took, every word I sang, every line I spoke, was scripted by someone else. The only time I was by my accord was when I was blacking out with my best friend, and then I was labeled a bad boy with a drinking problem. I wanted so badly to be able to write my own fucking music, at the very least, so I could show the world something they needed to see.

Me. Not Theo Thorne. Me, the kid from Missouri whose mother had a dream.

"Why don't you write about what's-her-face?" Dustin said. I looked over. "Kelsi."

That made me cringe harder than his idea about writing a song for ecstasy. "Kelsi? Yeah, no thank you," I said, trying to rid my tongue of the taste her name left on my tongue. "I'd rather write a song about your mom."

"She'd love that, you know," he grinned. I rolled my eyes. "Look, when I wrote Leave it to Me, I just thought about you. I put myself in your shoes and forced myself to imagine all the pressure you're under and the words kind of just flowed. Just think of something you really want everyone to hear you say and start there."

If only it were that easy.

Joey called again, making me groan loudly. I could just throw my phone out the window. That would certainly get him to fuck right off. I declined the call again, deciding now was as good a time as any for a nap. I grabbed the half-full bottle of gin that was calling my name from the countertop and headed to my room, leaving my phone next to the empty notebook page.

"He's just gonna start calling me and I will not cover for you," Dustin called after me and I grunted in response.

True to his word, about ten minutes into watching a sitcom I'd seen a hundred times and sipping the gin, Dustin walked into my room, phone first. He had Joey on speakerphone and threw it at me before running away childishly. I sighed and greeted Joey gruffly.

"Why do you ignore me?" Joey snapped.

"Because I hate you," I said simply.

He ignored that. "You have a meeting with Ken and Joseph at noon tomorrow after we touch down in Sacramento," he said. I sighed. Those were my songwriters. "They have some songs for you to demo and then you have two days to do whatever until the show on Thursday."

"10-4," I said boredly.

"Glad to see you're excited," he said sarcastically. I hummed and put my finger over the red hang-up button. "And no partying when we get there, 'kay?"

"Yes, Dad," I muttered and hung up.

We eventually stopped driving so we could get gas and my driver could stretch his legs. At some point, we would stop in the middle of the night at a rest stop or a hotel. Likely a rest stop. We had a separate van for crew and equipment that followed the bus and also a car that Joey and Chris rode in most times.

Sometimes Joey insisted on riding with us on the bus, which I tried to avoid. The man talked too much.

Dustin and I got out to get some drinks for the bus. We were almost out of beer and Dustin had a hankering for one of those instant milkshakes that gas stations always had. Not surprisingly, the gas station was packed. It was only ten at night. It was one of those bigger gas stations that also served as rest stops, often attached to a fast food joint.

I was sloshed.

The half-bottle of gin was emptied by me, myself, and I by the time we pulled over. My vision was swayed and I hoped I could keep myself vertical long enough to grab my snacks. Dustin walked beside me, sober as a judge, and watched to make sure I didn't need a supportive arm.

"Excuse me?"

I glanced over to see a teenage boy staring at me and Dustin. He had big, hopeful, puppy dog eyes and I wanted to kick him.

Instead I walked over with a small smile. "Hi," I said, catching him off guard. I wasn't normally this forward with fans, but I blamed the alcohol. "Would you like a picture?"

The kid nodded enthusiastically, running back to a parked mini van in front of the store. He seemed to be vivaciously getting the attention of every patron in the vehicle and was followed back towards us with two other kids younger than him.

Dustin stood off to the side as the kids mom took a photo of all four of us, then one of just me and the original teenager. "Thank you, Theo! I love you so much, you're my idol," he gushed through his braces.

I tried to hold eye contact with him but my inebriation had me fading. Dustin wrapped an arm around me and I muttered some encouraging words back to the kid before I was dragged into the store.

Dustin was muttering something about these kids popping up like flies on shit, which made me laugh a little too loudly. Joey, who was transfixed on the candy aisle, turned to face us with a scowl. I was about to open my mouth to spit something at him but Dustin tugged on my arm to lead me to the beer cooler.

Back out in the parking lot, after being hounded by a few more fans and getting extremely uncomfortable looks from the cashier, Joey stopped me. "Listen, kid," he said with a huff, "I don't want to fight you on this, but you smell like a brothel."

"Okay," I mumbled and took the first step onto the bus.

"Russo agreed to meet with you."

I stopped mid-step, my eyebrows practically flying off my face with how hard they raised. I spun around without losing my footing and stepped back onto the cement. Joey shrugged his shoulders, his hoodie scrunching at his neck as he did so.

"Really?" I asked. "I'm surprised."

Joey nodded. "Harriet said he responded right away, saying he's cool with meeting at your place when we get back to San Fran between shows," he said. I was so confused and honestly too drunk for this conversation.

I just nodded without saying a word and hopped on the bus, cradling my gummy worms and tall boy close to my chest. Dustin was booting up a movie so I sat down on the couch beside him, thinking about what I was just told.

Noah and I hadn't spoken since we were sixteen. We didn't end on very good terms. It was so long ago, I didn't remember what we even fell out over, but I had a feeling there was bad blood between us.

He had gone through a lot. I was nervous about seeing him.

I hoped he didn't hold any resentment over my success. If anything, he could have been up here with me. He had the talent; he had the face, if nothing else. It was his own decision to leave the business.

Dustin heard me sigh and looked over at me curiously. "What's wrong?"

"Joey got Noah to meet with me," I said, biting the inside of my cheek. I heard the driver start the bus, the loud hum of the engine sounding barely behind the intro music of the movie. "It's gonna be ass."

"Kinda awkward," Dustin said thoughtfully. "You know what would be crazy?" I hummed. "Song collab."

I rolled my eyes. Noah couldn't sing. We learned that long ago. Nine years ago, the two of us were thick as thieves. We spent a lot of time together on the set of the movie and kept in touch even after for a few years. As I said, I wasn't sure what went wrong, but we grew apart at sixteen.

Whatever happened between us was probably my fault, but I didn't care. I didn't want to know what he had to say and I didn't want to mend bridges.

-

Sacramento was a riot.

The crowd was incredibly engaged and had me rolling the whole time. I was nearly crying of laughter at some of the signs they'd brought out, all vulgar and not PG. It made me forget why I hated doing it so much.

Dustin was in the crowd and I kept making suggestive faces at him and dancing ridiculously. The lights were so bright, but I found him instantly. He came on stage with me for the song he wrote, even got his own microphone to sing along. My fans ate it up.

"You're too good to me, brother," Dustin cried as we ran backstage. I had such an amazing adrenaline rush, I felt like taking a few laps. We knocked into stage crew and bounced off of the stray chairs scattered here and there, surely pissing everyone off. "That was fucking incredible."

When we made it back to the green room, I was buzzing. I had popped a Percocet before the show and was sure to crash at any given moment, but for now, I was alive.

I checked my phone while chugging a water bottle, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head when I saw that I had a text from none other than Noah Russo, asking when we were meeting. I texted back quickly, my thumbs tapping the screen at an unnecessary speed.

Dustin's voice startled me. "Holy shit, hey, Kelsi."

Resisting the urge to groan out loud, I turned around to see Kelsi standing in the middle of the room, smiling fondly at Dustin. She then looked at me with an unreadable expression, her perfect eyebrows raising as if she were challenging me to say something.

So I did. "Why are you here?"

Kelsi frowned. "I saw the show. You were great."

I sighed and turned my back to her once again. She and Dustin made small talk while I stared at my phone, waiting on a response. It didn't come.

"Theo," Kelsi called, to which I grunted in response, "do you want to hang out after this?"

With everything on my mind, I truly did not have the mental capacity to deal with hanging out with Kelsi Bravener that day. I scowled at her and she pressed her lips in a thin line, nodding in acknowledgement. She ruffled Dustin's hair on her way out and he looked at me in bewilderment.

"I still don't get why you didn't wife her."

'Wifing' Kelsi was the last thing on my mind when I was seeing her. She was a sweet girl, that's for sure. But she was too sweet. Lord knows how she ended up alongside me and my escapades.

She was beautiful, nobody could deny that much. The epitome of a perfect Hollywood starlet: blonde hair, blue eyes, soft voice, striking talent. She didn't land many big roles, but she was working on getting her name out there in the acting world. Kelsi could have been a model, if she wanted to.

I just didn't want a girlfriend. Or a wife, as Dustin so blatantly mentioned.

We hooked up casually for a while. I made it clear to her in the beginning that nothing would come of the two of us, and she was willing to keep going. She never gave any indication that she'd grown attached or expected anything more of me than to dick her down every once in a while, so we kept it going.

Unfortunately, my demons caught up with me one night and I blew up on her when I was drunk. I told her to leave me alone and 'stop following me around,' which she wasn't even doing.

She stopped texting me and I made no efforts to apologize.

But there she was, waltzing into the dressing room like she was welcomed. A part of me did feel guilty because she truly was a nice person. I just didn't care.

"Why don't you?" I rolled my eyes. "You're the one that turns red every time she talks to you."

Dustin's jaw dropped and he gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "I would never," he said. "Bro code, bro."

"I don't care if you ask her out," I said with a chuckle. I decided to raid the mini fridge to see if there was any alcohol, but was disappointed when it was loaded with waters and sports drinks. "She flirts with you, too."

He looked intrigued and was about to say something when Joey walked in. "That was a good show," he said proudly. "I've never seen a vibe like that."

"I know, right?" I smiled genuinely. "I had fun tonight."

Joey grew serious, pocketing his cell phone and sitting down in one of the arm chairs. "Did Russo message you? He asked Harriet for your number this morning to set up the meeting."

"It's not a meeting," I snorted humorlessly. "But yes, we're going to hang out on Saturday at my place. This whole thing is fucking stupid, by the way."

Joey didn't say anything, just nodded with a grin. I could practically see the dollar signs in his irises. Without another word, he left the room, leaving Dustin staring at me in confusion. I hadn't filled him in on the finality of my reunion with Noah.

"Am I invited?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course," I said. I'd actually prefer to have Dustin there to help alleviate the awkwardness. "Joey said he agreed to meet up, which is weird. I don't really know what we're going to do."

Dustin grinned and I could tell he was about to say something stupid. "Make a video reenacting the scene from Road to Serendipity when you two were in the woods and you found the spot? That would be fucking amazing."

I grimaced, squirting some of my water on him from my water bottle. He shrieked and stood from his spot to tackle me in my spot, sending us both flying to the ground.

Even if everything else in my life was sort of shit, I was glad to have my best friend along for the ride.