Nash There were places I could be. Things I could do. But I wasn’t in the mood for my friends. Instead, I sat on a wooden picnic table in the park away from the screaming kids and their mothers and stared out at the town while I drank the soda I’d gotten from the Stop and Go across the street. I’d woken up looking forward to spending the day with Tallulah. But she was sick. Her mother actually looked worried and stressed out as she told me about it, so I believed her. Tallulah hadn’t been trying to get out of our date, which was good. Sucked that she was sick, though. “What’s the story with your leg?” a male voice asked me, and I shifted my eyes from the center-of-town caution light to the guy who had quietly walked up on me, or I’d just been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t noticed. The blond hair was the only reason I recognized him from last night. He’d been the crazy-ass pot smoker I’d passed on my way to the field house. “Excuse me?” I was annoyed. This guy was rude. He looked unconcerned by my glare and pointed to my leg. “The leg, your limp—you stood on the sidelines all night. What’s the story?” Was he for fucking real? “Who the hell are you?” I asked him instead. He smirked and shook his head. “I’ve only spoken to two people in this town, and neither of you know who I am. I thought I was going to hate it here. I still may. But this being anonymous thing is nice. I’d forgotten what that was like.”
This was one cocky bastard. “Why would we know who you are? You’re not from around here. That’s for damn sure.” He gave one single nod. “I’m one of the lucky ones. Not born in Mayberry hell.” He was a douche. I looked back at the traffic light and took a drink of my soda. Maybe if I ignored him he’d go away. “Not going to tell me about that leg? Fine. I’ll ask your girl.” That got my attention. “What?” He seemed pleased with my reaction. “The hot loner blonde who watched you all night. We spoke. I don’t think she cares for me either. You southern folks are supposed to be all nice and friendly. I’m not finding that so here. The West Coast has gotten a bad rap. We’re fucking friendly compared to this bunch.” He’d talked to Tallulah. She hadn’t said anything. “What do you want?” I asked him, not in the mood to defend southern hospitality. He leaned against the tree beside him. “You’ve got a story. Possibly the only interesting thing other than your girl that I have seen in this town. I like stories. It’s my thing. Human interest. Entertainment. That kind of shit.” The word entertainment was what brought last night’s overheard conversation back to me. I’d forgotten, since it hadn’t been important. I hadn’t cared. But it was all clicking into place now. Pam hadn’t been wrong after all.
“You’re the You Tube vlogger guy.” As I said it, a slow smile spread across his face. “Surprising. I wouldn’t have guessed you watched vlogs.” “I don’t. But girls in this town do. You were spotted last night.” He sighed and nodded. “Probably shouldn’t have gone to the game. But then Monday they’ll see me. Can’t hide at motherfucking school.” School? He was going to go to our school? Here in Lawton? “Let me get this straight,” I said, finally interested in something this guy had to say. “You are some famous You Tube guy from LA, and you’re in Lawton, Alabama, to go to school?” None of that made sense. These guys got sponsors and shit. They were supposed to be loaded. Why would he be moving from LA to Alabama? Was this part of his vlog shit? “When your mother catches your father fucking your little brother’s college-age nanny in the pool, then shit happens. It was stay with the dick that is my father in LA, or go with my mother to the town she grew up in so she could be near her parents to deal with life. I couldn’t let Lil Jo leave town without me. Mom is a big girl, and she can handle it. Lil Jo is only five. He needs me. So here the fuck I am,” he finished with his hands held out. “Now what’s your story? You got mine.” He was here because of his family. Did he even realize how hard it was going to be on him once the rest of Lawton found out? He wasn’t going to have a normal life here. They wouldn’t let him. This was not LA. Celebrities weren’t walking the streets daily.
“They’ll never leave you alone. You won’t be able to go anywhere without drawing attention,” I told him. He shrugged. “Maybe. Will make for some good vlog action in the beginning I guess. I figure it’ll wear off.” Seeing as I had never watched a vlog, I wasn’t sure what he videoed exactly. “How’s that work? Your vlog shit. What is it you video?” He shifted and pulled something out of his pocket, then tossed it in the air and caught it as if it were a ball. “This is one of the many cameras I use.” It was small. Like a little box almost. He then reached into his back pocket and pulled out something else that, when he unfolded it, was a stick. “This is a stabilizer,” he explained. Then he attached the camera to the stick and held it out. “No school yet. Still trying to figure this place out. There is seriously nothing here. I take back what I said about hell. There’s got to be more action there. Not fair to compare the two.” He was talking to the camera. Then it was directed at me. “This guy won’t tell me shit. It’s the one from last night on the sidelines. He’s got a story. Just haven’t figured it out yet.” I glared up at the small, offending camera. “Get that thing off me,” I grumbled. “He’s got a stellar personality, too.” “He doesn’t want the damn camera in his face,” I said instead. “Just tell us why you limp. I told you about my dad banging the nanny. The least you could do is tell me why you limp.”
Was that camera on? “Are you recording this? You just said the shit about your dad,” I pointed out. I knew he had millions of viewers. He chuckled. “Hell yeah, I’m recording it. They know. I already explained why I was leaving LA. Watch my damn vlog. This shit gets edited. What we’re doing now would be boring as hell without some edits. But every time I can tell the world about my douchebag dad, I will.” I shook my head. “You’re seriously fucked up.” “You’ve not seen anything,” he told me. “Come with me. I’ll show you fucked up.” If I sat and thought about it too long, I’d say no. I didn’t really like this guy. But I didn’t think about it. Instead, I stood up. “Okay. Show me.”