Concealed

“I still don’t like this,” Tim said, watching as I packed up the last of my dishes.

“Well, it’s a good thing this is my life and not yours,” I said, “isn’t it?”

“Do you know how much money you’re losing out on?”

“Look around you, Tim!” I said, spreading my arms out. “This flat is way too large for me. I have over 9K in my account, and I’m still earning from my CDs. I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m not stopping completely.” I shook my head. “I need to be able to leave my house without worrying about stumbling over a fan or having cameras shoved in my face. And I definitely need to be away from tours for at least a year.”

Tim shook his head. “I can’t stop you, Cameron,” he said. “Just remember: your fans aren’t going to like this.”

I shook my head, too. “I told you: I’m still making music. I’m just leaving the suffocation that is LA and going to a nice, small town in Oklahoma. It’ll be just fine.”

He sighed heavily. “Well, I can see you’ve made your mind up. Do you need me to follow you there?”

“No, that’s okay,” I said and gave him a brief hug and pat on the back. “I’ll keep in touch, I swear.”

“All right,” he said. “Safe travels.”

I smiled at him and lifted the final box into the U-Haul truck waiting outside of my flat. People were going insane outside of my home, taking pictures and demanding where I was going. We had been very careful about where I was going. I would take special routes to blend in with other U-Haul drivers until, to the average person, I was just another random moving to a new home.

Being Cameron Drake was a pain. When I was 20 years old, I published my first single. It was a hit immediately. After that, everything sky-rocketed. I went from recording and producing in my dorm room to getting my own studio and back up musicians for when I went to concerts.

Concerts were great. I got to meet my fans, shake their hands, letting them know how much I appreciated their support. Then, two months ago, I was practically shoved into my limo when a fan showed up with a gun. The news report said he thought I had plagiarized his song and lost out on royalties. The court battle was short but grueling. The man ended up in jail but the fact still weighed heavily on my mind. It was then I decided it was time to stop touring for a while.

The drive from LA to Oklahoma was at least three days if you drove nonstop. I wasn’t stupid, though, and stopped three times to rest before moving on. I was excited about my new home. I had visited it once and it was great. I had neighbors but the realtor, who we made sign a disclosure agreement, said they were an older crowd and hadn’t heard of me. She said the only risk of someone recognizing me was when I went out into the town for shopping or anything else I would want to do.

A couple people recognizing me I could handle. Just as long as one of them doesn’t have a gun hidden in their belt buckle….

-

When I finally got to my neighborhood, I pulled into my driveway and hesitated. This was the first time I had moved outside of California, let alone away from my parents. Even my studio was just a mile from them. I was lucky to have a good relationship with them. They were going to be flying out tomorrow to help me unpack. I knew my mother was coming to see the house and obsessively go over all the information she had drilled in my head. It didn’t matter that I was 26; she was still paranoid.

My dad was a little more understanding and gave me some space. However, he insisted on doing the heavy lifting as we were packing up the U-Haul. I planned on getting everything in today.

I took a deep breath and stepped out. A picket sign was on the edge of the lawn by my mailbox with ‘SOLD’ in big red letters. I took that off first and went around to the back to open the U-Haul truck. I used the remote to open the garage door and smiled. Per my request, Tim had driven my car out here so that I didn’t have to drag it behind the U-Haul; that would have made my disappearance harder to keep secret.

“Hello,” a voice said and I jumped.

I turned. An older couple stood behind me. They were both grinning and the woman was holding a plate of cookies.

“We were hoping you’d show up today!” she said. “We made these for you.”

“Well thank you very much,” I said. “I’d offer you something to drink but all I have is tap water.”

She laughed. “Don’t you worry about it, dear,” she said and held out her hand. “My name is Kari Peterson.”

“And I’m Jimmy Peterson,” the husband said. “It’s great to meet you.”

“Cameron Drake,” I returned. “And it’s wonderful to meet you, too.”

“Would you like help unloading?” Jimmy asked.

“Thank you but I’ve got it.”

“In other words, you’re too old,” Kari lectured and I laughed a little.

“Of course he’s not,” I said but Jimmy was laughing.

“Ah, she’s right. Maybe you could come for dinner tonight. We live just across the street.”

I smiled and followed his pointed finger. “You know, I’d love that.”

“Great!” Kari said. “Our son and daughter just moved back here, too. They’re about your age so you could make your first friends!”

Jimmy laughed again. “Come on, Kari. I’m sure this young man is perfectly capable of making friends on his own. We’ll see you at six.”

“Thanks again for the cookies and invite,” I said and Kari laughed.

“You’re sweet. Bye!”

I waved and unlocked the door that went from the garage and into the house. I looked around and nodded in satisfaction.

It looked just like it had last time with a few changes. My countertops in the kitchen were now grey and black marble. The appliances were all silver and the floor tile. My dining room was pretty small with just a six person table. The front hall had a hat stand and coat closet. I had a few pictures of my parents I would hang up on the walls in the front hall; they would look great there.

Upstairs was where my bedroom, guest room, studio, and bathroom were. I planned on just sleeping on the floor tonight. My mother absolutely loved decorating homes and she had a great eye so I was going to let her tell me where to put things.

I finished getting the boxes in around 5:30 and went upstairs to shower. I didn’t want to go to the Peterson’s sweating like a pig. My black hair was short and naturally messy. I’ve tried everything over the years to fix it but I eventually gave in. My father’s hair was the same, anyway. I liked the way it looked. My blue eyes I got from my mother. I managed a tan over the years. Living in LA, it was practically impossible to not be tan, though.

I grabbed a bottle of wine I had bought quickly from the nearest liquor store. I noticed someone watching me at the store so I left as soon as I got my debit card and ID back.

The neighborhood was really nice. Everyone’s lawns were perfectly manicured and I remembered the lawn mower my father gave me. I would have to ask him about it. Admitting I didn’t know how to mow my lawn would be incredibly embarrassing.

Making sure my graphic t-shirt was nice and straight, I knocked on the door.

A man opened it and cocked a brow at me.

“What?” he demanded.

“Er…. Kari and Jimmy invited me for dinner.”

“Oh. The new neighbor.”

“Don’t be rude,” a woman snapped from behind him. “Let him in; it’s hot out there.”

The man just rolled his eyes and stepped to the side. I walked further in. The layout of their house was similar to mine, something I had anticipated. It was like that in LA, too.

The man and woman had to be the siblings Kari told me about. Like their parents, they had brown hair. The man had brown eyes like Jimmy, but the woman had hazel eyes like Kari. Judging by the looks on their faces, neither of them were happy. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my presence or not, though.

We stood in awkward silence until Kari poked her head around the corner to see where her children had gone.

“Cameron!” she said happily. “Come on in!”

“I brought this,” I said, holding out the wine. “I hope that was all right.”

“Of course it was,” she said and laughed. “You managed to get Jimmy’s favorite label. Well? Why are we all just standing here? Let’s eat!”