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The nervous man started twitching his thumbs. He was nothing like the Dan from my past, with his nerdy appearance—his shirt tucked in a little too tightly, the Marvel shoelaces lacing up his ugly shoes as he shifted his weight from left to right, and the watch that matched. He was twenty-one, at most, and that had me questioning if he’d even know me if I pulled back the hood.
But I took a chance, angling my head from the girls still loitering at the front of the store as I pulled back the hood enough to show my face.
The boy—Danial—stepped back then forward, adjusting the glasses sliding down his nose for a better look.
“Oh, wow! You’re—”
“Just here to treat my girl to something nice, and I’d rather do it in peace.”
“I understand, but the hood policy is strict.”
Above his name sat the words assistant manager, and he followed my gaze to them.
“I could probably make a one-time exception.”
Of course, he could.
“But...”
There it was. He wanted something.
“I’m a big fan!” he whispered.
And I had to fight the urge to say, really?
“My brothers used to play your songs all the time at home!” The biggest smile crept onto his face, lifting his cheeks until the light above kissed his freckles. “I got a secret to share with you, girl with the pretty red hair—”
“Okay, okay!” I raised my hands, needing him to stop singing my song because Cat was nearby. “I get it. I do.”
“Are the lyrics about her?” His head bobbed to Cat, who’d moved to another camera—tiny in size and powder blue. She measured it against her fingers and was fascinated that it didn’t reach the tips.
“This one is cute, but the other is more practical. It prints instantly.” Her smile lit up my life as I looked back at her, pushing the shadows that crept from the gallows in my head back to where I needed them to stay.
“You can have both.” I smiled, and then I looked back to Danial. The smile stayed on my face, but it was one I wished I’d left in my past. False and daring, and only used to get me what I wanted.
Meeting any person who thought they knew me was hard, while meeting fans was harder, and this one caught me off guard, as I didn’t expect this person to be a fan. But there he was, standing in front of me, now with a CD in his hand that had been conveniently sitting on a shelf nearby. A CD—with my face and the few piercings that had since been removed, filled the cover. I looked at the monster I saw—the decoy, which, ironically, was the name of my best-selling song.
The boy was still smiling when he quietly asked if I’d sign it. I swallowed the lump of cluttered words that would leave him feeling deflated and rejected.
I didn’t want to sign it.
I wasn’t the man the world thought I was, not back then. I wasn’t the saint flicking money at every charity that showed interest in him. Maybe that was the suppressed guilt that got drowned out by alcohol and climbed from the gutter of my soul the second I was sober, reminding me what a shitty fucking person I was and making me want to reach for every bottle in sight.
Maybe it was my only way of clearing my conscience.
That was until I started saving the lives of women and men, girls and boys, instead of ruining them.
“Sure.” I smiled, confident he wouldn’t see through the facade of happiness. “Take it to the register, and when she’s done here, I’ll take care of it.”
“Can we do a plectrum, too? The store has some!”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
“Great. Oh, man! My brothers are gonna be so jealous!”
He rushed off before I could tell him I’d give him anything, including additional autographs for his brothers, if I could have a peaceful shopping trip.
Cat was back at the original camera. Its pink lens popped out with the click of a button. The lack of film meant there’d be no keepsakes, no proof of the look of shock on her face as she jumped at the sound. Her back crashed into my chest.
