want to read the lyrics, they’ll Google them like every other person, he had said. Instead, the booklet had been filled with photos of Seth. Shirtless photos. “So how do I get north, buddy?”
The attendant looked down at the map Seth had set on the counter and started drawing instructions on it with a pen. Good thing he had planned on buying this one, Seth thought. The clerk added a few more directions and handed him the map. Seth looked down at the chicken scratches and hoped Frank would be able to make better sense of them than he could.
“Thanks, man,” he told the cashier. “How much do I owe you?”
“It’s on the house.”
Seth unfolded his wallet. “No, I insist.”
“Tell you what.” The man pulled out a greasy napkin from a McDonald’s sack and slapped it down on the counter. Then he pulled a pen from behind his ear and handed it to Seth. “You write my girl a nice autographed note, and that should settle it.”
He had been asked more times than he could count to sign an autograph for a fan. He used to enjoy it. Now it seemed…phony and pointless. “Sure. What’s her name?”
“Darlene. And say somethin’ smooth that you singer types like to say to chicks.”
“Somethin’ smooth.” Seth tapped the end of the pen on the counter, trying to think of something that would make the Randy Travis look-alike happy. Then he scribed the autograph and handed back his pen.
The clerk read the message. A smile wide enough to cover half of Texas formed on his face. “Oh, you’re good. She’s gonna love this.” He folded it up and tucked it into his back pocket.
The bell rang again, and Frank walked inside, stomping the snow from his boots.
“I’ve got directions,” Seth said, holding up the map. He headed toward the door, looking back to thank the attendant, when something hard slammed into him. “What the?” He turned to find a man with curly brown hair standing in front of him. “Oh, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
“It’s no problem,” the man said. “I should’ve been watching where I was going, too.” Seth looked down at the little boy by his side, and it hit him. It was the same father and son who had stood near him at the airport, the ones who had given him the idea to rent a car. Seth smiled down at the boy.
The man placed his hands on his son’s shoulders and pulled him to the side away from Seth.
“Listen, man, it was an accident. I just wasn’t paying attention.”
“Daddy, isn’t that—”
“He’s no one, son. Just a guy who should really watch where he’s going.”
“Is there a problem?” Seth asked.
The man sneered. “No problem. In fact, why don’t you let me buy you a drink? After all, you are a drunk, right?”
And there it was. The new look of recognition that Seth had been receiving lately.
“Is there a problem?” Frank asked.
“No problem. But your friend should really watch where he’s going. That’s how people get hurt.”
Seth’s jaw tightened. Enough was enough. Threatening e-mails and a mailbox full of pissed off “fan mail” was one thing. But standing in front of a judgmental prick who knew about as much about him as the paparazzi did was all he could take.
Frank set a hand on Seth’s shoulder and pulled him back. “He’s sorry. It was an accident. Won’t happen again.”
Seth looked down at the little boy, a spitting image of his narrow-minded father and as innocent as his own little girl. He forced a smile. “Won’t happen again.”
Frank and Seth took a few steps back before turning to the door and exiting the gas station. Seth’s face cooled from an angry one hundred and fifty degrees down to ten in an instant, waking him from the rage, from the shame that had become his life. They made their way through the blinding snow, now blowing horizontal due to the high winds, to the car. Seth took one last look at the gas station before getting inside.
“Did you know that guy?” Frank
The attendant looked down at the map Seth had set on the counter and started drawing instructions on it with a pen. Good thing he had planned on buying this one, Seth thought. The clerk added a few more directions and handed him the map. Seth looked down at the chicken scratches and hoped Frank would be able to make better sense of them than he could.
“Thanks, man,” he told the cashier. “How much do I owe you?”
“It’s on the house.”
Seth unfolded his wallet. “No, I insist.”
“Tell you what.” The man pulled out a greasy napkin from a McDonald’s sack and slapped it down on the counter. Then he pulled a pen from behind his ear and handed it to Seth. “You write my girl a nice autographed note, and that should settle it.”
He had been asked more times than he could count to sign an autograph for a fan. He used to enjoy it. Now it seemed…phony and pointless. “Sure. What’s her name?”
“Darlene. And say somethin’ smooth that you singer types like to say to chicks.”
“Somethin’ smooth.” Seth tapped the end of the pen on the counter, trying to think of something that would make the Randy Travis look-alike happy. Then he scribed the autograph and handed back his pen.
The clerk read the message. A smile wide enough to cover half of Texas formed on his face. “Oh, you’re good. She’s gonna love this.” He folded it up and tucked it into his back pocket.
The bell rang again, and Frank walked inside, stomping the snow from his boots.
“I’ve got directions,” Seth said, holding up the map. He headed toward the door, looking back to thank the attendant, when something hard slammed into him. “What the?” He turned to find a man with curly brown hair standing in front of him. “Oh, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
“It’s no problem,” the man said. “I should’ve been watching where I was going, too.” Seth looked down at the little boy by his side, and it hit him. It was the same father and son who had stood near him at the airport, the ones who had given him the idea to rent a car. Seth smiled down at the boy.
The man placed his hands on his son’s shoulders and pulled him to the side away from Seth.
“Listen, man, it was an accident. I just wasn’t paying attention.”
“Daddy, isn’t that—”
“He’s no one, son. Just a guy who should really watch where he’s going.”
“Is there a problem?” Seth asked.
The man sneered. “No problem. In fact, why don’t you let me buy you a drink? After all, you are a drunk, right?”
And there it was. The new look of recognition that Seth had been receiving lately.
“Is there a problem?” Frank asked.
“No problem. But your friend should really watch where he’s going. That’s how people get hurt.”
Seth’s jaw tightened. Enough was enough. Threatening e-mails and a mailbox full of pissed off “fan mail” was one thing. But standing in front of a judgmental prick who knew about as much about him as the paparazzi did was all he could take.
Frank set a hand on Seth’s shoulder and pulled him back. “He’s sorry. It was an accident. Won’t happen again.”
Seth looked down at the little boy, a spitting image of his narrow-minded father and as innocent as his own little girl. He forced a smile. “Won’t happen again.”
Frank and Seth took a few steps back before turning to the door and exiting the gas station. Seth’s face cooled from an angry one hundred and fifty degrees down to ten in an instant, waking him from the rage, from the shame that had become his life. They made their way through the blinding snow, now blowing horizontal due to the high winds, to the car. Seth took one last look at the gas station before getting inside.
“Did you know that guy?” Frank
Similar Books
