Freedom by Storm

Please note; there are two versions of Sam's story.

Freedom by Storm is the modern/realistic version.

There is also a sci-fi/post-apocalyptic version called Storm Ryder.

Ultimately, I couldn't decide which version I wanted to focus on and call my "canon" Sam story, because I love them both so damn much. While the two stories share many of the same characters, they are fairly different from one another in tone, realism, and setting.

Therefore, I am just going to write them both, and they will be considered "alternate universes" from one another.

Thank you for reading, and please enjoy.

The stardom life seemed to suit nobody better than Storm Ryder.

Sam Reynolds—now known far and wide as Storm Ryder—arose to fame from a very young age, coached and guided into the limelight by a pair of strict and pressuring parents, though despite the great stresses of it all, he quite enjoyed singing and dancing, and that hadn’t changed even into his early thirties. Nothing in the world was more intoxicating that the fantastic glamor and euphoria of performing on a stage, of losing one’s self to a free-flowing dance, and of unleashing every raw pain and emotion into every song lyric to explode out of him in the heat of the moment, his ultimate passion in life, regardless of the hardships attached.

Now—he was about to fully enter the acting world, having just landed a starring role in a new movie, and he felt both nervous and excited about the whole ordeal. He’d mostly only ever known the world of dressing with glam and performing his heart out at concerts across the country, mainly in all the biggest and most prolific cities in America—but he was fairly new to acting.

Thankfully, his friend—Benny Roach—was ready to guide him through it, just as his managers, agents, and parents always had in the past. It seemed he was always being tugged and pulled in different directions, always landing him in some form of limelight or another. Still, it was his passion, and he was looking forward to delving into an unexplored realm of entertainment now.

Benny Roach was an older gentleman, almost always distinguishable from a crowd by his dark silver hair that was always combed back, a pair of black rectangular glasses, and he always wore a suit that was some shade of dark. He was confident, slightly large, but ultimately a fantastic director—and, ever since seeing Sam’s performance in his latest music video, Benny seemed insistent that the famous Storm Ryder could do more than simply sing and dance on stage.

Tonight, as Sam and Benny rode together in the back of a long black limo, the director was speaking to him about the upcoming movie, and as they lounged on the rounded bench, the two couldn’t have looked more different if they tried.

After all, Sam was half of Benny’s age, and he was a slender, elegant sort of person whenever he wasn’t lost to a performance, gentle and almost soft in his demeanor. He had thin black hair that draped over his face in wavy bangs, wearing a smooth white leisure suit with the jacket left stylishly open, the shoulders sparkling with rhinestones, his fingers covered with many shiny rings. He had his hands neatly cupped over one knee, nodding quietly as Benny spoke to him.

Benny wasn’t a skinny man at all, stocky and somewhat pudgy, though his dark navy suit seemed to hide his stomach to some degree. He carried a cane, and he was currently hunched forward on the edge of the rounded bench, one hand propped on the cane and the other one gesturing while he talked to Sam.

“Basically—it’s an image guy,” Benny explained. “You’re playing a guy who’s just like you—but he’s gonna be thrown into a world he’s not used to at all.”

Sam barely raised his head, his white trilby slightly crooked atop his head as he gazed out from beneath its brim. He had a pair of large, dark, and luminous eyes, which were narrowed thoughtfully at the director now.

“Hollywood…?” Sam mumbled, his voice lighter than air.

“Yeah—a Hollywood guy, yeah,” Benny affirmed with a nod. “But he’s gonna be tossed into a world that’s not like what he’s used to. The movie circulates around his adventures of adapting. He’s in a witness protection program, and he has a hard time adjusting to the new environment he ends up in.”

Sam nodded mildly, glimpsing down for a second.

“How violent will it be?” he wondered.

There was a pause, the distant nighttime lights of Los Angeles coasting over the windows of the limo, and Benny cracked a smirk.

“It’s gonna have its moments,” the director informed. “I wanna expose this really nonviolent character to some situations he’s not used to. So—yeah—you’re gonna have some fight scenes, but don’t worry. I’ve got a good stunt double lined up already. I just wanna take this image guy and make him deal with some real stuff—gritty, earthy, down-in-the-dirt shit that he’s never had to deal with before.”

Sam nodded quietly again, glimpsing off to the side and pondering on this for a moment.

“I like the idea,” he said softly. “But I am a little nervous… I can’t lie…”

“Well—don’t be,” Benny stated, jabbing a finger at him. “See—you’ll barely even have to act this part, Ryder. All your reactions to those situations will be pretty damn real—because they’re all gonna be things you never have to deal with. You pretty much are this character.”

“Well… I don’t know what you think the music industry is like, but it’s not easy,” Sam replied with a faint little laugh, looking out the window beside him. “There was a lot of difficulty there, particularly early on… for me, anyway…”

“Ohh, I know—I know how the whole entertainment industry is—but these are just different kinds of problems,” Benny clarified. “It’s domestic insanity like no famous person usually ever has to deal with.”

Sam continued gazing out the glass, the city lights fading off behind the limo now as they found themselves cruising through a neighborhood, his smile fading away.

Benny stared at him, his mouth flattening, giving him a troubled sort of stare now.

“And… by the way,” Benny added, his tone lowering. “I know you’ve never really been to one of these parties before… but, um… I feel the need to warn you… just… roll with the punches, all right?”

Sam hesitated for a second, then turned away from the window, squinting curiously at him.

Benny’s mouth seemed to flatten even more, and he let out a sigh, his hand resting atop his leg and his fingers scraping along his knee.

“There’ll probably be a few things there that you’re not used to seeing,” Benny told him. “But it’s just how these circles work. It’s how all these friends, and business associates, and partners all just coincide with each other.”

Sam stared, his pale, beautiful face having fallen expressionless.

“What’re you trying to tell me?” he mumbled. “You’re being really vague right now.”

“Well, it’s just… you’re really shy, and reserved, and antisocial… and I respect all that, I really do,” Benny uttered, biting his lip and sighing again. “But these people… like most other Hollywood people… they aren’t like that. They’re all doing blow, and having fun, and blowing off steam in a bunch of ways you’re probably not very accustomed to. So… if you see anything shocking, or bizarre, or out of the blue… then just roll with it. It’s normal. All right?”

“The party’s at your house, Ben,” Sam replied with a laugh. “How wild do you expect it to be?”

“As wild as it always is,” Benny chuckled. “You’ve just never been there to see it ’till now. Hey… you’ve never met Danny Harland, have you?”

Sam hesitated, blinking and giving him an odd look.

“The kid…?” he muttered.

“Yeah—the child actor,” Benny affirmed. “He’s gonna be there, too.”

Sam stared, his eyes narrowing again, surveying him intently.

“Isn’t he like… nine years old?” he murmured. “Why’s he at a Hollywood party…?”

Benny smiled and scoffed out a laugh, swatting the air and shaking his head. “Ohh, now, come on… I’ve worked with that kid on a million different things. His parents know where he is. He’s used to being around us. Never been a problem before.”

Sam frowned, still staring at him and feeling a subtle nausea beginning to brew inside, though he wasn’t yet sure why.

Benny maintained his smile, though his shiny, beady eyes seemed to harbor a strange, ominous gaze, one Sam had never noticed in him before.

“Like I said,” the director said in a softer, stranger tone. “This is what Hollywood calls normal.”

Sam said nothing, instantly thinking himself paranoid, though he couldn’t help but feel disturbed by the peculiar look on Benny’s face now, as well as the odd, unsettling voice that had just slithered out of his mouth.

He simply turned away, gazing again out the window and seeing that they were rolling past an endless crowd of people on the side of the street, kept away by a divider, all of them yelling and trying to reach out to touch the car. Many of them were screaming, declaring their love for Storm Ryder, and Sam offered them a kind smile, waving at them in passing and wondering how they’d found out about this party tonight, as he was certain that no media outlets were told about the party at the director’s home. Still, he felt warmed by the sight of the super fans under the night sky, yelling and waving frantically at him as the limo cruised past, approaching the extravagant LA home that was surrounded by cars, crowds of people on the front lawn, lights flashing from the windows, and music echoing loudly from somewhere inside.

Sam lowered his hand and sighed once the limo had left the scene of the screaming fans behind, sighing and feeling refreshed by the sight of them.

He nearly forgot about the sick, unsettled sensation he’d felt in the pit of his stomach moments ago.

But after the rest of the night unraveled—he would never forget it again.

The longest, scariest, and most frantic span of Sam’s life came to an end the next day.

After the worst party he’d ever seen or known—and after embellishing in his panic, doing a lot of thoughtless and impulsive things—he found himself driving, something he rarely ever did, and not only that, he was driving a C-Class RV. Technically, the RV belonged to him—it was purchased as a gift from Benny, given to him to use as his personal trailer on the set of his upcoming movie—but now, the RV had long since abandoned the movie set and traveled clear across the country, Sam driving down interstates and repeatedly glancing over at his smartphone, which was propped up in a stand on his dash, feeding him directions to the most remote town he could find VIA Google search.

He found himself trembling harder as he drove, the sun setting on the horizon, afternoon traffic whizzing past him on either side at breakneck speeds, something he’d never paid any mind to before—but, now that he was driving, and he was in control of a small mobile house, he felt incredibly rattled, terrified of making even the lightest mistake. He still wore his sleek white suit and hat to match, jacket open with a stylish white tie hanging down over his dark undershirt, rings sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight as he gripped the steering wheel even tighter. He’d hardly ever driven himself around, and he’d certainly never driven something so big before. Now, he was hovering on the edge of the driver seat, clasping the wheel with a viselike grip as he gazed intensely out at the interstate before him.

Sam drove onward in silence, trying his best to calm himself, trying not to think of all the police, all the people he’d reported, and all the things he’d seen, hearing only the rumble of the engine from outside, as well as the radio softly playing a Johnny Cash song.

“When the man, comes around…”

Sam took in another bracing breath, glancing out from beneath the brim of his hat, and he spotted the exit he needed to take, finally allowing him to escape from the nerve-racking environment of a breakneck interstate.

So, he brought the RV to a gentle cruise to the right, and he eased off the gas, coasting down the long, rounded, and narrow concrete stretch, nothing as far as the eye could see aside from open green fields and expansive woodlands.

He peeked over at his phone, and the navigation app was showing that he was finally within fifteen minutes of his destination now.

He drove onward, the RV rolling smoothly down a narrow, isolated back road now, surrounded on all sides by fields and trees. As the minutes passed, he inhaled, adjusting his grasp on the steering wheel and glancing to the right, seeing a worn wooden sign on the side of the road. In crackled and water-damaged letters, carved into the ancient wood, the sign read;

Hunter’s Hollow.

Sam looked away from the sign and stared ahead again, swallowing and nodding mildly to himself. It truly was the most rural place he could find, far enough away to abscond to, but just close enough to reach before he would run out of energy and crash. It was a barely-heard-of backwoods town in east Tennessee, a place that had virtually no coverage on the internet—so, it was the perfect place for him to lay low after his panicked and impulsive actions in California.

After all—he’d taken a chunk his money out of the bank, and he disabled all location-related apps on his phone before he left, ensuring that his agent, his manager, his former director friend, and everyone else from that circle could not find him. He was prepared to disappear in all the ways he could think of—especially after Benny Roach’s parting words to him before he was arrested.

Yet still—his heart hammered, and his breaths continually fought to quicken in a frightful way, a rising fear consistently battling to take over him, more and more with every hour to pass.

He’d never felt so rattled before in his life—and, he’d never taken on so much before, either. His life of expressing all during performances, then letting his handlers do the rest—that was fully over, very abruptly, all in one swift evening.

Now, he suddenly had to do a lot of things he’d never had to before—like managing an RV, falling off of the radar, and adjusting to a new environment with little to no help whatsoever. He hadn’t the faintest clue of how to do it all, how to function the way normal adults did—but he simply didn’t have a choice.

Not after what he’d seen last night—and not after the threats that Benny and his friend laid out before they were gone.

No, he had no clue how to do anything that he needed to do now—but he most assuredly could not have simply walked away from the scene last night and turned the other cheek.

The thought of that made a whole new wave of fear begin to arise inside, his stomach churning sickeningly as he pondered on it all—on Benny, on Benny’s friends, and even the fellow actors and musicians who were there, all of them in the spacious living room of that magnificent house, bringing the boy into the room and deciding to take turns with him.

Something had exploded inside him last night—a terrible fiery anger fused with a morbid sense of despair—and Sam found himself acting without thought, absconding from the house, calling the police, and watching his former friends get arrested while they hurled threats and insults at him. He’d never acted so recklessly before—and he’d never felt so driven before, either.

Sam Reynolds, Storm Ryder, was a kind and gentle soul most times, only ever breaking his introverted demeanor whenever he appeared on a stage, singing, dancing, and losing himself to his passion. For many years, that was his routine, and he was always one of those two people—the gentle kind soul, or the passionate singer dominating a concert.

Now, as he drove past an isolated gas station with only two pumps, his grasp tightened on the wheel again, and he hadn’t the faintest clue who he was anymore. His behavior now didn’t fall in line with either the introvert or the singer. He had no idea he could be provoked in such a way, driven to such incredible and thoughtless action, quite literally overnight.

And—he had no way of knowing how many contacts Benny truly had. He had no way of knowing if Benny had some other way of finding him, how soon he might wriggle free from the legal system, or if he would somehow show up with a shady goon squad of fellow human-traffickers in order to enact retribution on him. After all, Sam had just blown their dirty secrets wide open—something they promised they would seek vengeance on him for—and he seemed to have poked the hive of the Hollywood circles.

He couldn’t know how deep it all went, or how likely any of these repercussions were—but he also had yet another daunting task hanging over him.

Sam had filmed many of the endeavors that transpired in Benny Roach’s home last night—and, once he was a safe enough distance from Los Angeles, he planned to release all his proof online. He couldn’t know how successful that might be—but it was the only thing he could think to do.

And the thought of it shook him even more.

It was all so much, far too much for a lonesome entertainer to wrap his mind around.

Sam took in yet another heavy breath, trying not to shake and only halfway succeeding. He spotted a few of the buildings of the town, off in the distance in front of him, and to his left, a thin dirt road led off of the pavement, stretching into the trees towards parts unknown.

Rather than driving directly into the town, Sam veered to the left, slowly rolling onto the dirt road and coasting beneath the many canopies of trees, some of the branches scraping loudly against the RV’s rooftop. He drove through the woods for a moment, spotting a single lonely trailer sitting off to the left of the dirt path, a yellow and rain-damaged trailer with a fenced-in front yard, the yard littered with various random items. It had a large rusty pickup truck parked in its driveway, but Sam wasn’t interested in it; he simply pulled onto the grass on the other side of the dirt road, bringing the RV dangerously close to a nearby tree, and at last, he put the vehicle in park, powering off the engine and releasing the largest breath of his life.

As the RV sat in still silence, he hunched forward, resting his head to the steering wheel for several seconds and trying to ignore every pressure that weighed on him now. His hat slid back, and he reached up and adjusted it, just before turning his head and eyeing his phone.

He thumped his head to the steering wheel again, staring down at the phone in his hands and frowning as he scrolled over the Marketplace app for Hunter County. He scanned over the housing section, looking for homes for rent or sale, growing overwhelmed…

Sam choked out a noise, feeling utterly frustrated and tossing the phone aside, letting it slide across the middle of the floor board. Then, he popped the door open and stepped out, greeted by the fresh air as he walked onto the grass beneath the large tree, but he didn’t stop to appreciate the secluded beauty of it all; he simply shut the driver door, paced back and forth for a moment, and cradled his head, hiding under his hat and pressing his back to the side of the RV.

He slowly slid down, sitting on the grass and hanging his head low, and the quick, panicked breaths then returned to him, this time with a vengeance. His head began to spin, and he felt totally at a loss, as if he had no viable options at all, as if he was suddenly stranded on a remote island and left to fend for himself or die…

“Just wait, Theo!”

A distant girl’s voice echoed across the scene, but Sam hardly noticed, still staring downward and clutching his head, feeling as if he simply couldn’t keep the panic away anymore.

And, directly across from him on the other side of the dirt road—a woman exploded out of the worn yellow trailer, the screen door slapping the door’s frame loudly behind her as she did. The woman strode out onto the wooden porch, wearing a tight black tank top and cargo pants, a baggy red flannel jacket draped on over the rest. She had short auburn hair that reached her neck, and she cocked her head to the side, slinging the bangs out of her eyes before wheeling around to the front door.

A man leaned out of the trailer, propping the screen door open and eyeing her pensively. He was a slender, toned man, wearing a camo vest and a dirty tan t-shirt, his hairs a dark sandy color, and styled in a messy sort of fohawk.

Contrary to the girl’s crystal blue eyes, the man’s eyes were equally expressive, but a shiny hazel rather than cerulean—and those intense eyes of his narrowed astutely at her.

“What’re you doing?” the man uttered, his voice a faint rasp.

The girl folded her arms and huffed out a breath, glancing over at the RV, then back. “I’m gonna go see who they are before you up and blow somebody’s head off. Ain’t no reason for that, Theo.”

The man, Theo, simply stared at her for a moment.

“You best tell them this ain’t a campground,” he growled seconds after.

“I am,” the girl retorted. “Get your ass inside—and don’t be runnin’ up on people waving a shotgun in their face, either.”

“Oh—we’re gonna see,” Theo uttered, nodding and sinking back into the trailer, jabbing a finger at her as he did. “They put hands on you, and it’ll be the last fucking thing they do, Audrey—watch.”

“Shut up,” the girl named Audrey griped, rolling her eyes and thumping off the porch. “Fuckin’a, with your dumb bullshit… go the hell on somewhere…”

She strolled onto the dirt road, slowing to a stop in the middle of it, and she gazed across the way, surveying the RV and the man sitting outside of it. The first thing she noticed was how very out of place he looked—a skinny man in a spotless white suit, jacket open, hat to match. The second thing she noticed was that he appeared to be stressed, simply sitting on the ground beside his RV and holding his head.

Audrey broke into a stride again, stepping onto the grass toward him.

“Hey,” she called, easefully moving closer, slowly approaching him from the side. “You good? Who are you…?”

Sam hardly thought himself capable of focusing on her, much less looking up at her; his breaths sliced rapidly between his gritted teeth, head spinning terribly now, one of his hands lowering and clamping onto his knee, fingers coiling tightly around the fabric of his sleek white pants. His heart thrashed, and as the frantic seconds passed by, he began to feel incredibly faint, trying to look up, but only managing to rest his head back against the RV. His face soon began to fall numb, which sparked up his panic even more.

Audrey examined him closely, slowly sinking down and sitting on her knee beside him.

“I can’t breathe,” Sam choked breathlessly, his hand trembling as it closed around his pant leg even tighter.

Audrey gulped, giving him another once-over and quickly assessing the situation. Then, she sat down on the grass properly, reaching over and gently wrapping her hand around his, grasping it warmly.

Sam’s eyes shot down, chest still rising and falling with every quick breath, staring at her soft hand encompassing his.

“You gotta slow your breathing down, sweetheart,” Audrey told him kindly. “You’re breathing too fast to get any actual air… and that’s gonna make you pass out. Just… breathe… slow.”

She tightened her grasp on his hand, and Sam focused on it, his eyes fixating on her hand and nowhere else. Then, everything inside him shaking, he forced his next breath to enter him in a slow, smooth manner, swallowing roughly before inhaling another deepened breath.

This continued for a long, solemn moment, neither of them moving, Audrey simply holding his hand as he forced his breaths to slow.

Then, Sam seemed to regain control, leaning his head back and not minding how crooked his hat had become. He stared up at the sunlight, washing over the earth and sending beautiful beams of light between the branches just above them, and he paused for a moment simply to savor this sense of peace. It was a beautiful, isolated place, and someone was here, holding his hand, making him feel as if he wasn’t entirely alone… a feeling he desperately needed now…

Finally, he inhaled and turned his head, meeting her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said in his soft, light voice. “I j… just had to stop somewhere…”

“Yeah… I can tell,” Audrey replied with a smile, her round, beautiful face seeming to brighten. “You can’t be driving with a panic attack goin’ on.”

Sam breathed out a faint little laugh, looking forward again, only just noticing that the yellow trailer’s porch was no longer empty. Now—the slender man stood there, leaning on the balcony, holding a shotgun propped up on his shoulder, puffing on a cigarette, and watching both of them attentively from a distance.

Sam swallowed again, staring at the man and feeling another wave of anxiety.

Audrey followed his trail of vision over to the porch, then rolled her eyes and leaped up.

“Oh my God—put that shit away!” she hollered across the dirt road, swatting angrily at Theo. “Get back in the dayum house!”

Theo glared at her for several tense seconds. Then, he shook his head once, lowered the shotgun, and marched back into the trailer, grumbling several curses under his breath before swinging the screen door shut behind him.

Audrey scoffed, turning around and sitting in the grass beside Sam again—and, to his surprise, she quickly took hold of his hand again, holding it steady there.

“I’m sorry—my brother’s just being paranoid,” she said. “We don’t usually get strangers rollin’ up on us out here.”

Sam gulped once more, making a nod and glimpsing at her hand, just before meeting her eyes again. He was still shaken, the panic fighting to claw its way out of him, but he felt considerably less numb and lightheaded now, most assuredly comforted by the girl’s company.

In fact, with her hand so insistently keeping hold of his, it seemed as if she knew that her presence was helping him.

“I had a friend in high school who had panic attacks a lot,” Audrey explained, as if reading his mind. “Usually, you just need something to ground you… y’know… whatever brings you back to the real world. Most people tell you to just hold an ice cube, but I don’t have any on me, so…”

Sam nodded, feeling a great surge of gratitude toward her, and he flashed a contented half-smile.

“Thanks,” he exhaled. “I’m sorry, I’m… just… really overwhelmed…”

“I hear you,” Audrey replied, giving his hand a slight shake. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Sam opened his mouth, and his stage name nearly escaped him without any forethought. He paused and cleared his throat.

“Sam,” he said wispily.

“M’kay… well, I’m Audrey,” Audrey told him. “You wanna tell me what you’re so overwhelmed for? What’s a’matter…?”

Sam stared, his mouth drifting agape, and suddenly, he felt entirely overwhelmed all over again.

So many problems tottered on the tip of his tongue, so very many, and he couldn’t know where to begin—and even beyond that, he knew that telling anyone was a steep risk. It was all incredibly sensitive information, and if he told the wrong person, then it could very well land him in hot water. How could he simply tell it all to a random stranger?

But—as his heart began to pound harder, and as the panic waged war with his conviction inside—he resolved that he simply had to.

He knew for certain he couldn’t handle it all alone.

Here he was, clear across the country in a backwoods town he knew nothing about, expecting people to come after him, and he had to adapt to a new life that he had no clue how to manage, or even start. His life of riding in limos, letting his handlers manage everything, and working on song lyrics before attending his concerts was suddenly gone forever—and now, he stood at the threshold of countless new dangers and challenges that he couldn’t hope to even comprehend, just like a fish out of water.

He couldn’t know if this girl was trustworthy or not—but she seemed like the first genuinely kind soul he’d come across in a very long time, and he would simply have to hope that she was just who she seemed to be.

Namely because—he needed help.

He had no one else, nowhere to go, no one to turn to, and no other options at hand; he needed any help that he could possibly get right now.

“I, ahm…” Sam stammered, feeling his breaths quickening, and he paused for a second, forcing them to slow again. “I’m in kind of a… precarious… s-situation…”

Audrey nodded, watching him and patiently waiting for him to continue.

“I… had to… get someone… away from an abusive situation,” Sam told her, his voice trembling even more. “And I think… they might… come after me. So… I drove… as far as I could… as far away as possible.”

Audrey nodded again, squinting at him curiously. “Where from…?”

Sam sighed. “California…”

Audrey blinked, her brows raising. “Whoa. Okay… so, really far away…”

Sam nodded mildly, staring vacantly across the dirt road.

“They’re not normal people, though,” he said softly. “They might have a way of… they might have a way of…”

He began to breathe fast again, and then he abruptly held his breath, forcing down the panic as much as possible.

Audrey clutched his hand tighter. “Don’t hold your breath, sweetheart. Just go slow.”

“I jus…” Sam uttered shakily, grimacing and biting his lip. “I just… can’t… calm down. I can’t go to anyone… the cops took the kid, and I had to get… I had to get…”

He sealed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth and shaking his head in dismay.

“I don’t know what to do,” he breathed weakly. “I don’t know what to do…”

Audrey gazed into him, wearing an empathetic visage and adjusting her grasp on his hand.

“Well,” she said. “I think you already did all the hardest parts. Now you just need a place to stay… but there ain’t no RV parks around here…”

She glanced aside, pondering on this. Her eyes wandered upward, landing on her trailer, and she let out a deep cloud of breath, staring at her home thoughtfully for a moment.

“I wouldn’t mind you just staying parked here,” Audrey mumbled. “But I don’t know if my dad and my brother would throw a fit or not…”

Sam stared at her, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Audrey turned and het his gaze again, reading his questioning expression.

“What?” she asked.

Sam opened his mouth, making a slight shake of the head at her.

“I just… I don’t… know,” he murmured. “I’ve just never heard anyone… do that…”

“Do what…?”

“Just… offer help for no reason like that…”

“Oh… hun, that’s just what you do,” Audrey laughed. “Somebody needs help, you help ’em.”

Sam breathed out an astonished little laugh. “Nobody I ever knew…”

“Well… then I’m glad you left where you were,” Audrey told him. “Sounds like wherever you came from was just Godawful.”

“Oh yeah,” Sam sighed, lowering his head, his hat drooping slightly. “Yeah… all the Godawful hidden behind glamor…”

Audrey paused, studying him intently.

“You said something about… getting someone away from abuse? A kid? What was going on?” she wondered. “If… you don’t mind me asking.”

Sam hesitated, glancing past her at the RV’s driver door.

“He’s only nine years old,” he uttered softly. “I only just met him last night… and all those people were… I just stepped out for a minute, and then they were… making him…”

Sam shook his head and sighed shakily, holding his forehead and blowing a strand of his wavy black hairs from his eyes.

“Oh God,” Audrey breathed, now looking aghast. “Okay, well… I can’t blame you for calling the cops, then. Jesus…”

“His parents just let him go there,” Sam mumbled grimly. “So many people around there were apparently in on it… so I just… the only thing I could think to do was just…”

“Good God… where were you?” Audrey exhaled.

“Hollywood,” Sam muttered.

“Oh.” Audrey’s tone flattened. “Well… there’s your problem, right there…”

The two of them fell silent for a moment.

Then, Audrey gave him another interested look, this time seeming to scan him up and down—the stylish hat, two chains handing from his neck, white suit and dark blue undershirt, observing every inch of him rather closely.

“Oh hellfire,” she gasped, her eyes widening. “Ohhh, I’ve seen you before…”

Sam suddenly turned to her, feeling his heart jolt.

“Yeah—I have definitely seen you before,” Audrey knew, waving a finger at him. “Aww, I remember, I’ve seen you in a bunch of music videos on YouTube—ahh, man, I can’t remember the name for the life of me—Stormy something?”

“Jus—d—don’t,” Sam stuttered, sitting straighter upright and turning more toward her. “Don’t—please—don’t tell anyone. They said they’d come after me—I don’t—”

“Oh—hey—calm down,” Audrey said gently, adjusting her grasp on his hand again. “I’m not gonna tell anybody—but people are probably gonna recognize you if you keep dressing how you look in all your music videos.”

“Well… I haven’t… gotten that far yet,” Sam sighed. “I’ve just been driving all night… and… all day today…”

Audrey took back, then reached into her pocket with her free hand and checked her phone, seeing that it was nearly six-thirty in the evening.

“Hey… the thrift store’s still open,” she informed, stuffing her phone away again. “You wanna go shopping for some normal people clothes?”

Sam stared at her for a second, again falling momentarily speechless.

“Ah… well… yeah, I need to,” he admitted, nodding sideways. “But I really… I should figure out where I’m gonna stay tonight first…”

“You’re gonna stay here tonight,” Audrey told him, shaking his hand once. “I’ll talk to my dad and my brother—and trust me. If they know you’re hunkering down here because you saved a kid from a bunch of pedophiles, then they’re not gonna argue with me on this one.”

Sam gave her another perplexed sort of look.

“My family’s a bunch of stubborn jackasses—but they’d do the same damn thing you’re doing,” Audrey laughed. “Nobody puts up with that kinda shit ’round here.”

Sam made an uncertain glance toward the worn yellow trailer.

Audrey giggled again. “My brother’s not gonna shoot you, either. I promise. He won’t.”

Sam met her eyes, his chest aching, feeling truly indebted to her now. He reached into his jacket’s inner pocket, pulling out a thick collection of hundred-dollar bills, and he began to pluck a few out of the handful.

“I can pay you,” he said, offering her five of the bills. “Here.”

Audrey stared, her mouth drifting open in surprise, ogling the five bills in his hand and the many more in his other.

“Holy crap… okay,” she breathed, grabbing his left hand and lowering it. “Put that away somewhere. You really shouldn’t carry that much around on you…”

“I have plenty more,” Sam assured, missing the issue. “Here.”

Audrey stared at the five bills as he held them closer to her, and she sighed heavily.

“No… listen,” she said, shaking her head and gently pushing his hand away. “If we work out a rent deal here, then that’s one thing… but right now, I’m just helping you out. Okay? I didn’t ask you for money… so… don’t give me none.”

Sam lowered his hand, wearing a conflicted expression. “I really feel like I should…”

“Well—we can work that out later,” Audrey said, reaching her feet and offering her hand. “You need to get settled in and get the first steps taken care of—then you can worry about all the other stuff. Okay?”

“Okay… okay, I jus…” Sam muttered, planting a hand on the RV and standing as well. “I don’t… I don’t want them to know…”

He nodded sideways over at the trailer.

Audrey perked her brow at him. “You don’t want them to know…?”

“Who I am,” Sam clarified. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m Storm Ryder.”

“That’s what it was!” Audrey grinned, snapping and jabbing a finger at him. “Storm Ryder! Oh, dude, your dancing is freaking amazing! Aww—and you have a gorgeous voice, y’know what?!”

Sam paused, choking out a laugh and flushing slightly. “Thank you…”

“Yeah! No problem! I mean it!” Audrey beamed. “Oh—but I’m gonna have to tell them something. Like—any details that you can actually share about your whole situation. If it sounds too vague, then my dad and my brother are gonna be suspicious as hell. I need to know exactly what to tell them about you and this kid. Do you mind me telling them all that?”

“No… no, I don’t,” Sam replied honestly. “It’s just… it was a bunch of people from my old job. Work friends. They invited me to a party, and I didn’t know what they’d be doing at that party… until I saw it. I got them arrested, and now they’re out for blood…”

“Okay… I gotcha,” Audrey said. “What should I tell them your job was?”

“Just… working in entertainment,” Sam shrugged. “Like a designer, or a coordinator, or… just… something more normal than…”

“Than being a star,” Audrey smirked. “Aw… man… I still can’t believe I’m looking at a famous guy right now. Honestly, I can’t believe you can sing and dance your heart out that much when you’re just… so…”

“Yeah… I’m not like that in real life,” Sam chuckled. “I wish I was…”

The two of them paused, Sam glancing back up at the RV, sighing and making a face at its darkened windows.

“What?” Audrey asked.

“I jus… I don’t know how to turn the power on in there,” Sam muttered.

Audrey blinked. “The generator…?”

“I don’t… know… where it is,” Sam mumbled. “I always had a guy for this…”

Audrey smirked, turning on her heel and strolling around to the other side of the RV. Sam watched her go, then moved to follow her. When he reached the other side of the vehicle, he found Audrey knelt down in front of the first hatch on the bottom-right side, opening it up and revealing the small blue generator concealed within.

Then, she pressed a button on it—and the generator revved to life, just before she let the hatch swing shut overtop of it. The windows of the RV all lit up at once, indicating that the interior had sprung to life just as intended.

She then stood and wheeled around, facing Sam.

“M’kay—you’re all good,” Audrey told them. “I’m gonna text my brother and tell him what the whole deal is, so he shouldn’t come out here causing any problems.”

“Thank you,” Sam said gratefully.

“No problem,” Audrey replied, clasping her hands together and nodding at him. “Okay—first of all, after today, no more carrying hundreds of dollars around. That’s just not a good idea, no matter where you are.”

“I know… I always had a card,” Sam said. “But I thought using a card would…”

“No—you did the right thing,” Audrey quickly assured. “Using cash makes you untraceable, and that was smart—but you have hundreds of dollars of cash now, so that needs to be in a safer place than your pocket.”

“I actually have… thousands,” Sam murmured.

Audrey stopped, staring at him blankly. “How many thousands?”

Sam met her gaze, cracking a smirk and biting his lip.

“Lots,” he said sheepishly.

“Oh, Lord help me…” Audrey muttered, pressing her fingers to her temples and shaking her head at the ground. “M’kay… you know what else we’re gonna do? We’re gonna hit my brother’s shop tomorrow, and we’re gonna get a safe. I’m gonna have him affix it to the wall inside your RV, too. A thief will just run off with a safe and open it later, but they can’t do that if it’s fixed down…”

“Well… the rest of my money’s in a duffle bag in the hall closet in there… so… I’m not just carrying it all on me…”

“Yeah, see… that’s the kind of thing you don’t just tell a stranger.”

“I know, but…” Sam paused, sighing and shrugging, still wearing a content little smile. “You’re not really a… normal… stranger.”

“Okay—then don’t tell other strangers,” Audrey ordered, planting a finger to his chest. “And I ain’t no stranger anymore—okay? I’m gonna help you out all you need.”

“Thank you so much,” Sam said gratefully, feeling genuinely blessed to have met her.

“Don’t worry about it,” Audrey replied, patting him on the shoulder before sauntering past him, waving for him to follow. “C’mon.”

Sam smirked, adjusting his hat and strolling off alongside her.

Truly, he felt more out of his element than he ever had, so very far gone from the night lights of the city, the incredible rush of dancing and singing his heart out in front of hundreds of thousands of people, the smooth peace he enjoyed during his longer limo rides—but, despite feeling as if he’d been thrown into an entirely different world, he somehow felt far less stressed about it than he had a short while ago.