9. This best friend shit was kinda great
This best friend shit was kinda great
“Holy shit,” Briar said with a sigh. “That was…”
“Incredible,” Hunter finished for her.
They were leaning against the bar, in the corner closest to the stage, near a long hall that led to the restrooms. Colby just finished a new song.
It was fast and upbeat, but the lyrics were a punch to the gut, all soulful and angsty.
And the bridge really drove that home because it slowed, and Colby’s whole voice changed and, yeah, it was incredible.
The song was about wanting to be something you’re not because what you are isn’t what everyone wants.
And dying inside as you failed at pretending.
Hunter didn’t know what exactly Colby had in mind when he sang that song, but for Hunter, it resonated with his current career situation.
All he wanted was to act. To be successful and respected and desired in the field he’d given up everything to pursue.
But lately it felt like giving up everything wasn’t enough, which meant he wasn’t enough.
“Everyone fucking loves it. Look at them. Listen to them,” Briar said, her voice raised because everyone around them was clapping so loudly.
Colby and the rest of Tidal stand to leave the stage, but the open mic director motions for them to stay. “I think we might wanna hear one more from these guys? What do you all think? Does Tidal deserve an encore?”
The room roared. Briar and Hunter joined in.
Colby looked stunned. Keller looked excited.
Trevor looked smug. That pretty much summed up the vibe Hunter got from them, too.
Colby was always shocked that the band got so much love.
Kenner was invigorated by it, and Trevor acted like it was about time.
They played one more song. One of the first times Colby had ever played for Hunter was months ago.
It was less deep than the new one but just as catchy and enjoyable.
There really wasn’t a song of Colby’s that Hunter didn’t think was epic.
He’d heard them all because Colby played his guitar in their apartment every day.
Hunter loved it, especially on mornings when neither of them had anywhere to be, and Colby would play while Hunter made them breakfast burritos and coffee.
That would be tomorrow morning. God, he couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning when it was just the two of them.
Hunter had never really had a best friend.
He’d had friends, but none of them felt super close until now.
Briar felt the same way about Colby, clearly, since she’d been his friend since high school.
Maybe Colby was just the type of person who made people feel special.
“They’re not doing another song. Two is more than enough. If the venue wants another, they can pay Tidal and put them on a proper night,” Ford grumbled beside Briar as he sipped his whiskey neat.
Hunter tried not to glare or frown, but Ford actually had a point. He was making sure Tidal wasn’t taken advantage of. Still. “You should find the manager and have a chat.”
Ford looked over at Hunter with a cold, flat stare. “So you don’t just bartend, you advise talent managers now too?”
“It’s his side hustle,” Briar replied before Hunter could think of what to say. “Mine is bullying show runners.”
Ford’s eyes moved to her, and she winked, and he smiled. Then a woman walked by carrying a clipboard, and Ford peeled himself off the bar, leaving what was left of his whiskey, and called out. “Anita. Hey. Ford from Range. I also manage Tidal.”
She smiled brightly at him, and they walked off together.
“He’s doing a decent job,” Briar said, and Hunter wasn’t sure if it was to convince him or herself. “I just wish he could find a way to be likable while doing it.”
Her brown eyes met Hunter’s, but he shrugged. “That’s my boss now, so I plead the fifth.”
Tidal finished their song, and the crowd was once again deafening. Colby stepped back from the mic, pushed his guitar behind his slender hip, and grinned out at the crowd. He looked so fucking adorable. “Thanks, everyone!”
“We fucking love you,” Kenner added before they all stepped off the stage.
Hunter couldn’t take his eyes off Colby as he left the stage. He was immediately approached by about a dozen people, all leaning into him and smiling, probably gushing about his songs. Briar nudged Hunter. “Wanna go wait in the smoking area? You know that’s where he’ll want to go.”
Hunter nodded, but for some reason, it was torture pulling his eyes off Colby, who was smiling at two girls chatting to him.
Hunter forced himself to turn away and follow Briar.
Unfortunately, Ford had finished talking to Anita and was now following them to the side door leading to an alley where the bar had roped off a section for smokers.
When they got outside, Ford leaned against the wall next to Hunter. “It’s gonna take him a while. Chicks always flood him after a set.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow at Ford in a WTF way because why the hell was he saying this out loud? Hunter knew what happened at Colby’s gigs. He’d been to more than he could count now. “Yeah. Cool.”
“They’re so wasting their time,” Briar said and sipped her cocktail. “He’d never mess with a fan. He’d be too worried it would be a social media scandal or something.”
“He could use a little social media scandal. At least then there’d be something about him online,” Ford muttered.
“I’m working on him,” Briar replied.
Hunter looked around the alley. Other than the three of them, there was a man and a woman a few feet away, and a bouncer at the door to make sure no one snuck in through the smoking area, but that was it.
Hunter’s eyes went to the scuffed metal door again.
“Colby still doesn’t want an Instagram or TikTok? ”
“Not for fans, no,” Briar said. “He’s got that super locked-down one he posts on like once a year, but that’s it, and he won’t make it public even though he barely uses it and the photos on there are harmless.”
The last post Colby had made was an off-center, out-of-focus shot of me that Hunter didn’t know he took.
They were at a coffee shop a couple weeks ago, and Hunter ordered a blueberry muffin to go with his latte, and Colby posted him taking an obscenely unrefined bite with the caption I know the muffin man.
Colby appeared at the side door. He was beaming, dimple on display from his broad smile, skin dewy from giving everything onstage, eyes wide and bright. They seemed to get brighter when they snagged on Hunter.
Hunter grinned back, his chest expanding as he breathed deeply, like drinking in the shared air was medicinal. This best friend shit was kinda great, Hunter thought as Colby reached the group and wrapped him in a hug. “Great job, dude. A second song? That’s rare, right?”
“At this place on open mic night, yeah totally. They once cut the power to stop a guy from playing a second song, so the fact that they asked us for it is definitely a compliment,” Colby replied. He looked so happy and proud that Hunter had to hug him again. That’s what best friends did, right?
Colby’s body was warm and solid against Hunter’s, and damn, that was nice.
He was used to hugging women more than men, and it was much less…
solid. Less warm. Colby let off a heat that seeped into Hunter, warming his own blood.
He kind of loved it. Ford bristled beside Hunter.
He clocked it in his peripheral and promptly ignored it.
Colby stepped away from Hunter, not because he wanted to but because he knew it would look weird if he held the hug any longer.
He smiled as Briar jumped in front of him and wrapped her arms around him.
He squeezed her tight and eyed Ford, chin up, as if to say “relax, I hug chicks too.” Ford hadn’t come out and said he was homophobic, but there was a vibe coming off him recently, and it wasn’t warm and fuzzy when Hunter was around, or when Colby and Kenner hugged, or when Kenner mentioned his ex-boyfriend.
“So Anita, the manager here, wants to give you guys an official slot. On new music night next week,“ Ford announces. “Downside, it’s a Wednesday. Upside, she’s never given a solo time slot to an open mic act right out of the gate, but she’s doing it for you.
And it’s fifty-fifty on the door. So paid. ”
“That’s great. But can we fill the place? Tricky to get people out in the middle of the week,” Colby muttered.
“I’ll tell everyone I know,” Briar announced.
“Me too,” Hunter added, and Colby grinned at him because it was sweet, but an empty promise.
Hunter had once explained that most of his friends were shared with Leandra, and since she left him, he was avoiding all of them.
He just assumed they’d choose a side and it wouldn’t be his.
He had two guy friends named Brendan and Will, who had gone to UCLA with him, and Hunter still hung out with them every now and then.
But one was an aspiring screenwriter and the other an aspiring director, so Colby would bet neither had cover money for a Wednesday night show.
“Kenner and Trev can put it on their socials. They have solid followings. It should do the trick,” Ford said, lighting a cigarette and offering a light for Colby, who’d pulled one out from behind his ear.
Colby only smoked after a show to calm his post-performance nerves. Only one. Never more. Because yeah, it was bad for him, but there was nothing that soothed him like a smoke after a set.
“Is this another subtle dig at me to start an Instagram or whatever the fuck?” Colby asked when he was done with his first drag.
Ford frowned. “Okay. Yeah, we need to talk about your social media presence.”
“Quick convo. I don’t have one. Next subject.”
Colby knew that Kenner and Trevor both had Instagram and TikTok accounts, but he didn’t want anything to do with them.