Page 12 of The Prodigal Son

Theonlydownside, and I’m going to chalk this up to beginner’s stress, is that I haven’t written a word all week. In fact, since that day in the bathroom, when I stared into themirror and wondered if I’d be a slutty loner for the rest of my life, the words just stopped coming.

No music. No lyrics. No feelings whatsoever.

Someone passes me a water bottle and I quickly chug it down, dousing the last third over my head. Lola and I make our way to the tour bus out back while the rest of the guys hang back. The tour bus is big enough for all of us, but they like to stick around and make sure their instruments get packed up correctly.

All I have to do is pass my guitar to the nearest roadie. As he takes it from my hand, he looks into my eyes and smiles. “Got it, boss,” he says with a wink, and I hesitate.

He has dark-brown hair that curls from the front to the back, cropped shorter on the sides in what I like to call a country mullet. He has nice eyes too, something I’ve noticed nearly every night of this tour.

“Thanks,” I stammer after clearing my throat.

Lola would have my head if I tried hooking up with one of our roadies. As he walks off with my guitar, my eyes follow him, and Lola notices.

“Don’t even think about it,” she barks, grabbing the back of my arm and hauling me toward the backstage door.

“What?” I ask, feigning innocence. “I was making sure he had my guitar.”

“Right,” she replies, unconvinced.

“Then let’s go out. I need to get laid, Lo. It’s been a week!” I complain as we reach the door. The moment the security guard opens it, I hear the fans screaming. The short distance from the door to the bus, I turn and wave to them as they snap photos of me and beg me for an autograph.

Lola passes me my cowboy hat, and I slip it on quickly before jogging over to the crowd of mostly ladies to sign what they have.I sign pictures, hats, shirts, and one pair of breasts. I wink at the girl as I hand her back her black marker.

“I’m never showering again,” she says with a sigh.

Gross.

“Hope you enjoyed the show,” I reply with a laugh.

After the tits, I move down the line to a younger woman who is staring at me with wide, tear-brimmed eyes. I smile at her and she starts to cry. Just when I expect her to ask me to sign something of hers, she reaches out her hands and clutches onto mine.

“Your lyrics saved my life,” she says with a sob.

I freeze, staring at her as emotion burrows itself in the back of my throat.

“You have no idea how powerful your music is,” she continues. “I ran away from home because of your songs and they’ve gotten me through the dark times. You’re amazing.”

A tear slips down her cheek and I scan her features, trying to discern how old she is. Does she know that I ran away too, or is it a coincidence? Does she have any support, or is she sleeping on the streets?

My heart swells as I stare at the young woman. I don’t know what the fuck to say. I’ve had interactions like this before on my indie tour, but never this intense. My music reaches further now. More ears. More fans. More exposure.

“Thank you,” I stutter. “Take care of yourself. I’m proud of you for putting yourself first,” I say, and she cries more. Then she puts out her arms, and I let her wrap them around me, engulfing me in a hug as my security guards in their yellow shirts approach.

“That’s enough,” one of them says, but I let the girl embrace me a few moments longer.

Finally, when she pulls away, she whispers, “Thank you, Theo.”

“Uh…you’re welcome,” I say as I let the guard pull me away and guide me to the bus. The girl’s voice echoes in my ears.

Thank you, Theo.

I want to tell her that Theo didn’t do shit. He didn’t run away or write those words. He might have performed them, but it was Isaac who shed the blood, sweat, and tears in those songs.

“Everything all right?” Lola asks as I climb aboard the bus. She’s already pulling out her clothes for a shower. I always let her go first.

“Yeah,” I reply, shaking off the interaction.

“The driver said we’re not leaving until five,” she adds as she rummages through her stuff.

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