One
QUINN
“So, how are the plans going for your big party this weekend?” She asked the question all my clients had been asking for the last several weeks. My mum, in her infinite wisdom, had decided that I needed to enter my thirties in style.
“I’m pretty sure Mum’s invited all of Hartwood Bay.” I laughed.
“Nan has even booked Mum’s favourite singer from when she was at school,” my twelve-year-old son, Max, added in.
“Really? Which singer?” Rae asked.
“Oh, just Mason King, the son of the venue owners. He was a couple of years ahead of me at school.” I played it down because Mum and Max were making a huge deal of my birthday, and I was a little uncomfortable about it.
I haven’t had a big birthday celebration since I used to share them with my best friend, Wade, when we were kids.
Wade’s birthday was two days after mine, and from our first dance class when we were five, we were inseparable.
We did jazz, tap, and hip hop together until halfway through high school.
That’s when he concentrated on his newfound love of the guitar, and started hitting the gym.
A math nerd who took dance classes was a prime target for bullies—until he started filling out and playing gigs with Mason King on weekends.
Mason’s mum was a music teacher, and even though Wade and I were a few years younger than Mason, Wade’s natural talent meant that he often jammed with Mason at the Valentine Cove Resort restaurant.
Mason left Hartwood Bay to study music at university, and Wade continued to experiment with his guitar, joining various garage bands.
Everyone either had a crush on or hero-worshipped Mason when I was at school, so Wade became cool by association.
I left school at the end of year ten to start my hairdressing apprenticeship.
Wade stayed on at school, determined to go to university, but mostly to get out of Hartwood Bay.
Even though the number of girls at school crushing on him grew, and so did his muscles, there were still some backward bogans who still couldn’t forget the boy who took dance classes.
“I know who Mason is! The Monarchists were my favourite band back in the day.” Rae got excited. “I’d heard he was from around here.”
“Mason is also the brother of Bella’s best friend, Chelsea.” I pointed to my boss, Bella Steele, who was sitting at the reception desk doing some business administration. Rae had lived in Hartwood Bay for almost two years, but she was still getting used to just how small this town was.
“He also used to play gigs with Uncle Wade before they were both famous,” Max continued. “But Uncle Wade is still famous, and only old people like Mum remember Mason.”
I rolled my eyes at my son’s ramblings as he sat doing his homework on the lounge in the waiting area.
With all the aches that come from working on your feet all day and the arthritis developing in my fingers from the repetitive movements—I felt like I was closer to eighty than I was to thirty.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt young.
“Wait…who’s Uncle Wade? Don’t tell me there’s someone else who’s famous from Hartwood Bay?
” Rae’s expressive face was shocked, her blue eyes wide.
“I mean, I knew Connor Moran was from here before I moved. I am a huge Rebels fan, but the number of famous Bay ex-pats seems to be disproportionate to the size of the population…”
“Uncle Wade is my best friend, Wade Honeyman.” I replied, and even before I could continue my explanation, Rae interrupted me.
“YOU MEAN FORMAX?” Rae practically jumped out of the chair. I moved my hand before I could have hair colour spattered on me.
“How do you even know Formax?” I laughed.
“Because that man is a thirst trap,” Rae replied.
“Oh…I mean because I’m a responsible adult who thoroughly researches the things that my friends’ kids like to watch when I babysit them…
” We both laughed, knowing full well that Rae probably spent hours scrolling his videos.
Formax probably had more adult fans than kid fans, thanks to his heavily tattooed, muscular arms. More than a decade after he’d started a YouTube channel of him singing and dancing nursery rhymes for me to show Max, his following was still strong.
I heard the chime of the salon door open and turned my head, only to almost spill hair dye for a second time that afternoon. Why? Because the man we’d just been talking about was walking in the door with a bouquet in his hand and a small paper bag in the other.
“Uncle Wade!” Max leapt up to greet him, forgetting for a minute to act cool because he wasn’t a little kid anymore.
His words, not mine. My heart beat so wildly at the sight of Wade, I expected it to leap out of my chest. A huge part of me wanted to drop everything and leap into his arms, too, but I was a responsible adult and he was just my friend. My hot AF friend.
Wade handed the brown paper bag over to Max, who loudly proclaimed, “Yes!” pumping his arm up and down before looking over at me for permission. I nodded, knowing that it was probably some sweet treat from the Bean and Bushell cafe.
With Max now indulging in a brownie, Wade looked at me over the top of my son’s head, and my heart melted at his lopsided grin. The world saw him as Formax, but to me, he would always be my goofy sidekick. The person who was always by my side until time and life separated us.