Runaway Rock Star

by C. J. Anthony

  “Listen, mate, I really appreciated the tour. I know you have to hit the road, but would you be able to hang around a little longer and come to my show tonight? I’ll leave you a ticket, backstage pass, the whole bit, yeah?”

  Brandon was still a bit tongue-tied from the unexpected handshake. Over Lucas’s shoulder he saw Madeline—who had overheard everything—giving him “the look.” He knew he would hear from her on Tuesday if he dared turn down Lucas’s invitation.

  “Uh, sure, yeah, that would be awesome. Thank you.”

  Lucas grinned. “Great, see you later. Cheers, mate.” He turned around and headed back to Madeline and his tour manager. Brandon watched Madeline introduce herself and begin to talk with him. Brandon shook his head unbelievingly and headed upstairs to his office to grab his things and close up his computer. And to call his mom and tell her he’d be late getting home.

  Chapter Two

  TWO HOURS later Brandon found himself in the first row at the front of the stage at Quicken Loans arena, his eardrums shattering from the screams of thousands of girls and women behind him. The opening act had played, the roadies and techs had readied the stage, and now the arena was darkening once again. Brandon couldn’t believe he was here. He should have been pulling into his parents’ drive right about now, happy to be done with the drive and ready for the requisite hug from his mom, and a dish of one of her home-cooked meals warming in the oven. Instead he was still in Cleveland, at a Lucas Black concert. When he had called his mom earlier, she had tried to convince him to just stay the night and drive home in the morning, but he swore he would be okay to drive home after the concert. He’d load up on coffee or Red Bull and drive with the window down to keep himself awake if he needed to.

  The backing musicians entered the stage and settled in with their instruments, starting the opening notes to one of Lucas’s numerous number one songs. The screaming behind him got louder as the final person to walk out on stage was, of course, Lucas himself. His signature glow-in-the-dark guitar was slung across his body, and all that could be seen at first was a guitar bobbing forward on stage seemingly by itself. Once Lucas had reached the microphone, the lights came up. The guitar changed colors, LED lights on it flickering and moving in a preprogrammed pattern. Lucas was dressed in tight jeans, a stretched-out V-neck T-shirt, and a battered leather motorcycle-style jacket that he abandoned three songs into the set.

  Although the songs were not to Brandon’s personal taste, he had to admit Lucas was a mesmerizing performer. He was full of energy, running all around the stage. He acknowledged the fans and talked between songs, bringing them into the performance, at least as much as one could be intimate with twenty thousand people. Visually, his stage show included an impressive amount of lights and strobes, and there was one huge video screen that stretched across the entire back of the stage. Preprogrammed video clips were intercut with a live feed of what was happening onstage for everyone in the cheap seats to have a better view.

  Brandon strictly focused on Lucas, ignoring the pop songs that all sounded the same (to him anyway). He knew why Lucas had such a female following. The man was sex on legs, swaggering and flirting his way through the performance. His T-shirt was so drenched with sweat by the end, his nipples showed through the wet fabric.

  After the final encore, as Lucas and his band stood at the front of the stage waving their good-byes and appreciation to the fans, Lucas broke away and bent down to shake hands with some of the fans in the front row. When he got to Brandon, he gave Brandon a big smile and reached out to shake his hand. Brandon felt awkward since they knew each other in a professional manner and Brandon was not there as a fan, desperate to make contact with an idol, but he reached his hand out as well and when he pulled back, he realized that Lucas had slipped a piece of paper into his hand. Brandon unfolded it, barely able to make out the scribbled scrawl of blue pen on the paper.

  Come backstage mate, hang out for a few. L.

  Brandon sighed. He really wanted to get on the road, but of course, he didn’t want to rock the boat and ruin any relationship between the museum and Lucas, so as the rest of the fans around him were leaving their seats and heading toward the exits, Brandon walked around to the side of the stage, not sure exactly where he was going. He told the first burly, muscled security guy he ran into that he was with the Rock Hall and had been invited backstage by Lucas. The mammoth guy’s tight expression slackened, and he let Brandon by.

  Backstage was a madhouse. Brandon had to jockey around an obstacle course of people and equipment and navigate a confusing maze of hallways. Finally, someone wearing a laminated badge and holding a clipboard pointed him in the right direction. He approached a security guard standing in front of a door with a “Lucas Black” placard in bold capital letters, but he was surprised to find he didn’t even have to announce who he was. As soon as the guard saw him, he knocked on Lucas’s door. After a faint “come in” from the other side, the guard opened the door for Brandon.

  Lucas walked out from the bathroom rubbing a towel over his wet hair. He was in a different pair of jeans, but barefoot and shirtless. Brandon couldn’t help but glance at his naked chest and then felt awkward for doing so. Lucas was lithe and fit. His biceps were slight but looked strong.

  He smiled at Brandon and threw the towel toward the bathroom doorway. “Harris, you made it!”

  Brandon smiled back at him. “Yes, thanks for getting me in. It was great.”

  Lucas snorted. He sat on a couch, pulled some socks on his bare feet, and then shoved on a pair of black Chuck Taylors. “I know you thought the music was shit. You don’t have to lie about it. If I were in the audience, I probably would have thought the music was shit. But the show was a’right, wasn’t it?”

  “The show was really good. You work the crowd well.”

  “Yeah, well… there’s nothing like playing live in front of people, ya know?”

  By this time Lucas had thrown on a clean white tee and was running his fingers through his hair. His other hand was tugging on the hem of his shirt. Next he began pacing erratically, his normally smooth swagger off. Brandon began to wonder if he was hopped up on something.

  “So… you probably have to get going, right? I mean, you’re still driving to your mum’s?”

  Brandon looked carefully at Lucas. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I’m actually heading down tonight, as soon as I leave here.”

  “Cool. Cool.” Lucas wasn’t even looking at Brandon as he spoke. He was peering out a small window. Just as Brandon was going to make his good-bye and hightail it out of this weird situation, Lucas spun around to face him.

  “Could I come?”

  Brandon’s eyebrows shot up. Those were the last words he expected to hear from the rock star. “What?”

  “Can I hitch a ride, mate? My next show is in Cincinnati.”

  Brandon scratched his head. “You have a multimillion-dollar tricked-out tour bus. And you want to bum a ride?”

  Lucas sighed. “The loo on the bus is broken. It’s really nasty. And I’m stuck on there with Nate, my tour manager, and he farts up the most toxic gas storm. Come on, help a poor down-on-his-luck rock star out, eh?”

  This is unbelievable, Brandon thought. Lucas still seemed agitated as he looked out the window again.

  “Are you on something?”

  Now it was Lucas’s turn to give Brandon a confused look. “What? You mean drugs? Hell no! I never touch the stuff. What the fuck, mate?”

  “Well, you just seem really on edge, not like the guy I met earlier.”

  “Oh it’s just… you know… the extra energy from the show. So come on, Harris. What do you say?”

  Against his better judgment, Brandon agreed. “Sure… okay, I guess.”

  Lucas lit up at his answer. “Super, awesome!” Lucas turned and bent over the couch, rummaging around for something. He finally came back up with a handful of items. Brandon watched in confusion as Lucas put on a baggy black shirt that said “SECURITY” acros
s the back in bold yellow letters. He threw on his Ray-Bans and a black trucker hat that also said “SECURITY” on it.

  Lucas looked at Brandon. “Disguise, Harris. Easier to get by the fans this way. Trust me, I’m an expert by now.” He grimaced. Nodding toward a steel gray door, he motioned with his hand toward Brandon. “Come on, we should go.”

  Brandon pointed toward the door he’d entered. “But what about—”

  “No, this is easier. More private. Are you parked in one of the garages?”

  “Yeah, East.”

  “Cool.”

  Brandon followed Lucas out the mystery door and down two long hallways, their steps echoing loudly in the empty concrete tunnels. “Where exactly are we going?” he asked slowly.

  “These empty right out into the garage. It’s the secret entrance they bring us in and out of to avoid fans and media.”

  Occasionally, the plain walls were interrupted by a gray door like the one they had come from. At one, Lucas stopped abruptly, Brandon almost running into him. Lucas opened the door, which turned out to be a small supply closet, and pulled out a large duffel and a beat-up guitar case. Once he had the duffel hitched over his shoulder, he glanced down both ends of the hallway before continuing on.

  Finally they came upon a door with a red exit sign above it. Lucas pushed it open, and a rush of cool air hit them, along with the cacophony of car horns and human voices. They were in the parking garage. Lucas turned to him. “Where’s your car, Harris?” He kept his voice low and his head down slightly.

  “Fourth level.” They hit the stairs and started up. Several people gave them looks, but for the most part everyone passed by them as if they were nobodies. Well, Brandon was a nobody but Lucas certainly wasn’t, and yet not one person suspected that rock star Lucas Black was the person walking by them in the security shirt and hat.

  Once they hit level four, Lucas let Brandon take the lead to his car. Luckily his blue Jeep wasn’t far from the stairs.

  “Nice, Harris, very cool!” Lucas said when he saw the Jeep.

  “Um, thanks.” Brandon unlocked the doors and got in. Lucas stowed his bag and guitar in the back and then got in the front passenger seat. Lucas buckled himself in and slouched low in the seat, head down.

  Brandon looked at him, amused. “You know, I think you’re good. If all those people we passed didn’t realize it was you hiding under that trucker hat, I don’t think anyone will.”

  “I’ll still feel better once we get out of the parking garage.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s going to take a while.”

  There was a buzzing of a cell phone three times in a row. Lucas reached into his pocket, frowned when he saw the messages, and tapped around on the phone before shutting it completely off. Then he pulled a second phone out of his other pocket and started tapping on it.

  “Two phones?” Brandon asked.

  Lucas grimaced. “They can track me on the other phone. This one I bought myself.”

  “‘They?’ Are you wanted by the FBI or something?”

  “Funny, Harris. ‘They’ are my tour manager and my dad.”

  “Wait a minute!” The car was only creeping along with the other cars, but Brandon hit the brakes. “Don’t they know where you are?”

  Lucas dipped his head lower and played with his phone silently. Brandon stared at him unbelievingly while trying to decide what to do. Horns blared behind him, followed by shouts and curse words.

  “Mate, get moving. They’re going to riot on us!”

  Shaking his head, Brandon stepped on the gas, then had to slam on the brakes again once he caught up to the car ahead of him. Lucas put his hand on the dash to brace himself.

  “Shit, Harris. Watch it. You can drive, can’t you?”

  Brandon glowered at him. “Maybe you should have asked before you jumped into a stranger’s car.”

  “Fuck, I’m going to die. Ah, well. All the best rock stars die young.”

  Brandon clenched his jaw and said nothing more as they wound their way through the rest of the parking garage. As they made it out to the street, traffic picked up and once they were on Ontario Street, Brandon was relieved to see the signs for 90 West / 71 South. It was a straight shot down 71 all the way to Cincinnati, and he knew the route well by now.

  Lucas was more aware of his surroundings than Brandon realized because once they got on the on-ramp heading toward the interstate, he finally sat up and took the trucker hat and the sunglasses off. Brandon glanced over at him but chose not to say anything. Barring any traffic delays, in just four hours they’d be home and he could offload his unexpected stowaway. If it were four hours of silence, that would suit Brandon just fine.

  Lucas, however, was not in line with that plan. He leaned out the open passenger window and looked backward at the road and cars behind him for several long seconds before collapsing heavily against the seat with a very audible sigh of relief.

  “Feel better now?” Brandon couldn’t help asking.

  “Sooo much!” Lucas grinned broadly, bigger than any smile Brandon had ever seen from him before. “Thanks again, Harris, for letting me hitch a ride. This is going to be epic!”

  Brandon frowned. “I can promise you there’s nothing epic about the ride to Cincinnati. It’s just one boring interstate drive.”

  “Ah, but this is your first time with Lucas Black navigating!”

  “Navigating?” Brandon sputtered. “There’s no—”

  The glow from Lucas’s phone lit up his face. He was agitated as his head popped up and he pointed with his finger. “Right, mate! Stay right for….” He checked the phone again. “I-90.”

  “90? No, we need 71.” They were approaching a fork in the on-ramp Brandon knew well. Straight ahead would take them to 71 South. Or the split off to the right to head west on 90. That would be west across northern Ohio—completely the wrong direction they needed to go.

  “No!” Lucas reached over and grabbed the wheel. “It says 90. We have to turn right.”

  The car lurched right from Lucas’s grab, and behind them a car horn sounded. Brandon’s heart leapt into his throat, and he let the wheel continue to the right to avoid any accident.

  Once they were on the ramp heading to 90, Brandon turned on his passenger, furious. “What the hell was that? You have no idea where the hell we’re going, and now we’re heading in the fuck wrong direction! We’ll have to find another exit to turn off on and hope we can get turned around.”

  Lucas, still looking at his phone, pointed to the screen. “Calm down, we’re right on track according to the Google Maps directions.”

  Brandon wanted to scream. “I think I know the route. I’ve driven it half a dozen times, not to mention I’ve lived in this state my whole life!” His voice was rising.

  Lucas looked up at Brandon finally with a calm look on his face. “Great. So you know how to get to….” He paused to glance down at his screen again. “Cedar Point?”

  Brandon blinked at the road ahead. He counted to ten and took a deep breath before he opened his mouth again. “Cedar. Point.” He swallowed. “We’re not going to Cedar Point.”

  Lucas grinned. “We are now.”

  Brandon took another deep breath. He was determined to remain calm. “But you have a concert in Cincinnati—”

  “On Sunday night.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Until then, I’m a free man.”

  “So… you thought we could stop by… Cedar Point? Do you even know what Cedar Point is? Do you even know where it is?”

  “There was a brochure at the hotel that said it was the ‘Roller Coaster Capital of the World.’ I looked up their site, and it looks amazing! So many rides and shows and food! Have you ever been?”

  “Yes I’ve been there before. But see, Cedar Point is on the north shore of the state. Cincinnati, where we are actually going, is on the southwest border of the state.”

  Brandon got no reaction from Lucas.

  “North. South. Opposite directions.”

 
; Still a blank stare. Brandon sighed inwardly.

  “Like, completely opposite directions. As far apart as you could possibly be!”

  Lucas tapped around on his phone some more before looking back up at Brandon. “Google says it is three hours and fifty-four minutes from Cedar Point to Cincinnati. Isn’t that the same time it was going to take us from Cleveland?”

  Brandon cursed the invention of GPS apps under his breath. “Well, yes, if we head south like we’re supposed to. But Cedar Point is hours west of Cleveland. Huge detour! And besides, it’s—” He checked the clock on the dashboard. “It’s after midnight. Cedar Point won’t even be open!”

  Lucas tapped again. “Google says it is only one hour and eight minutes to Cedar Point.” He grinned triumphantly at Brandon. “And besides, Cedar Point will be open tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “I booked us a hotel room, no worries, mate. My treat.”

  Brandon’s brain nearly exploded with all of this new information. Going to a simple concert had somehow landed him getting carjacked (okay, sort of) by a rock-star runaway who wanted to go ride roller coasters.

  He slowed the car and pulled off onto the shoulder, turning his hazards on.

  “Why are we stopping? Do you have to take a piss already?”

  Brandon put the car in park and turned toward Lucas.

  “You never actually answered me before, so I’m going to ask again. Does anyone know where you are right now? Your manager? Anyone from the tour?”

  Lucas’s cheekiness faded from his expression. “No.”

  “Was the ‘loo’ on the bus even broken?”

  “No,” Lucas said quietly. “But Nate really does fart up a storm. Seriously. We’ve already gone through an entire case of air freshener spray.”

  “Why are we here? Why are we on our way to an amusement park instead of on our way to your next show?”

  Lucas looked down then and fiddled with a loose thread on his jeans. He was silent for several minutes before finally answering. “I just needed a break. Wanted to have a little fun, do something normal on a weekend off.”