18. You can have it all
You can have it all
“It was a great set, Colby,” Ford reassured him.
“Yeah. I know.” Colby muttered and then tried to shoot him a smile. It probably looked like a grimace. It felt like one. “Thanks.”
“What is it? Why are you all… emo?”
Colby frowned. “Why do you use terminology from eighteen-forty-two?” He countered and realized that was exceptionally bitchy, especially for him. Colby didn’t do bitchy. “Sorry. I’m just tired. I miss home.”
“Home?” Ford scoffed, and he fiddled with the plastic lid on his bottle of water and relaxed on the small couch in Colby’s hotel room. “You miss stocking shelves at Trader Joe’s? You miss that rundown shit hole in the gayborhood? You were sleeping on a couch, Colby.”
“It’s the best home I’ve had since leaving my parents’,” Colby admitted and really wished Ford would go back to his own hotel room. Why the fuck was he even here? “And don’t call West Hollywood the gayborhood. It sounds weirdly condescending and homophobic.”
“I didn’t invent it,” Ford argued. “It’s a known nickname. Said with love.”
“It’s one of the safest neighborhoods in LA,” Colby argued back for some stupid reason. “And rent controlled. And yeah, I miss it. I miss my friends.”
Ford didn’t respond. He just watched Colby walk around the room, expelling the pent-up post-show energy he had been planning on expelling with Hunter.
They would’ve gone out to get food and maybe walked by the river on the way back to the hotel.
They would have caught up in person, which felt necessary even though they talked and texted all the time.
And then… like maybe… they could have done other stuff.
Colby wasn’t planning on it, but he was hoping for it. Desperately.
“Well tour’s over in less than two weeks, and then you can head back to Los Angeles and that…
safe rent-controlled place and see your friends,” Ford replies.
“Or get a new place and better friends. Because your album has a substantial pre-order, and the number has been bumped up even higher since the studio decided to pre-release the single. When it drops next month, you’re gonna be making decent bank. ”
That did lighten Colby’s dark mood. A little.
He wondered if Hunter would want to get a better place with him.
He’d always wanted something in Laurel Canyon.
He definitely couldn’t buy there yet, but maybe they could rent something.
Lots of those places have guest houses nowadays.
And he remembered once seeing a small seventies bungalow tucked into the side of the hill with a for rent sign.
He’d called at the time, for shits and giggles, and they wanted three grand a month.
He couldn’t swing that then, but with Hunter they should be able to swing that now.
Colby finally sat on the side of the bed and opened his stupid Instagram.
He immediately went to Hunter’s profile.
There was a new picture. He was sitting in a leather first-class seat on a plane, sunglasses on and a Montreal Expos baseball hat low on his forehead.
The caption said: Am I doing this right?
It would have been from his flight last night, the one he took instead of coming to Boston.
Colby understood why, but he was still salty at the universe for cockblocking him.
Ford got up to throw out his empty water bottle and glanced over. “That Hunter? Flying first class? To where?”
“Atlanta. He booked a rom com called Staycation.” Colby let his forefinger slide across the screen, along Hunter’s jaw.
“Magenta is putting that out.” Colby tore his eyes from the picture of Hunter to find Ford on his phone. Clearly, he had Googled the movie. “And it stars Alyssa Foster. She put the bi in my sexual when I was younger. Is he gonna get to kiss her on screen? Fuck I’m actually jealous”
“Wait. What?” Colby's eyebrows lifted. “You’re bisexual?”
“Yep.” Ford’s hazel eyes lifted from his screen for a second and then went back. “I don’t see it. How Hunter is getting all this work. Kid is alright looking, but he always seems so… I don’t know. Underwhelming.”
“He’s not,” Colby said shortly, and then there was a knock at the door.
He decided to get up and get it rather than tell Ford to fuck off.
It was stupid of him to be that offended by Ford not seeing Hunter's appeal. It didn’t matter what the fuck Ford thought, and Hunter had already made it clear he didn’t like Ford.
And Colby didn’t care about that much at all. “Are you, like, out?”
“I mean, I don’t put it on my LinkedIn or whatever, but I’m not closeted,” Ford replied.
Someone knocked again. Colby decided to let the conversation go as he swung the door open, and Hannah was there, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Still high off her own performance, clearly. “Hey baby doll.” She kissed his cheek as she entered.
“Sorry for the late-night meeting.” The voice came from behind Hannah, and Colby realized she wasn’t alone.
Burke Donnell was with Hannah. That was their joint public relations person, the label had assigned them.
He was nice enough, Colby thought, but like anyone doing that job, he was always a bit… Much.
Burke didn’t sleep, rarely ate. He had a nondescript haircut and wore nondescript clothes that never actually suited whatever event he was at.
At concerts, he wore suits. At industry parties, he wore jeans and T-shirts.
He was an odd one, but Colby felt like he knew what he was doing professionally.
Still, he was surprised to see him in his hotel room after a show. And… what meeting?
“I hadn’t had a chance to tell Colby yet,” Ford said to Burke. “I was easing into it because he’s… in a mood.”
Hannah’s big brown eyes got bigger. “What’s wrong? Is it because Hunter couldn’t visit?’
“Hunter was coming? Here? Why?” Ford’s nose scrunched up like someone just passed gas.
Burke noticed Ford’s expression. “Who is Hunter?”
“My best friend and roommate,” Colby told them, and then turned to Hannah. “I’m fine. Ford is being dramatic for some stupid reason.”
“Okay, well…” Burke clapped his hands. “Let’s cut to the chase. The label wants to keep the party going. They booked Hannah a small Canadian tour. Just Montreal, Ottawa, Toronto, and Windsor. But they’re trying to schedule in a couple dates in Detroit too since it’s just over the border.”
“It is?” Colby regretted saying it, but he was fairly oblivious to Canadian geography.
He’d looked up Montreal a while ago because Hunter was born there.
He knew it was the home of bagels they claimed were better than New York bagels, a French fry dish called poutine, and a hockey team that the residents treated like a religion. “Okay…”
“They want Tidal to continue to open for me!” Hannah squealed before Burke could announce it. Ford frowned at her overzealousness, but Burke smiled.
“And there’s more.”
“What?” Colby hadn’t said yes to joining Hannah on the Canadian tour. But he got the impression he wasn’t even being asked. Besides, he wouldn’t say no even though he missed home.
Burke looked at Ford. “This is something that is better when the manager has eased him into it.”
“I told you. He’s in a mood,” Ford replied and turned to Colby. “We can discuss the rest tomorrow. Over breakfast?”
“I’m not waking up until lunch,” Hannah interrupted and dropped down on the bed next to Colby. She put a hand on his knee. “The internet is rumbling. Bullshit rumors about you and me because we’ve been photographed together. A lot.”
“Because we’re on tour together.”
“But it’s always just you and me and not me and Trevor or Kenner.”
“Because I’m just more palatable than Kenner or Trevor,” Colby replied flatly, and he winked so people didn’t think he was an egomaniac.
“Obviously. Yeah.” She smiled at him and nodded, and he decided not to mention that every photograph he’d stumble across on shitty gossip sites or on Hannah’s fans’ Instagram accounts came directly from Burke.
He knew. There were backstage stuff and hotel stuff that no one else could photograph.
Hannah squeezed his knee. “It’s doing wild things for our popularity. People love it.”
“And so… the thing is…We want to play it up.” Burke said calmly. Colby stared at him, confused. “Like more pictures together. Really friendly ones.”
Colby’s stomach turned, and he regretted that post-show sandwich he ate while Hannah was on stage. Ford heaved out a frustrated breath. “I’m tired and don’t feel so hot, so Ford is right, let’s pick this up in the morning.”
Burke looked hesitantly at Ford, who just gave him a quick nod.
Burke moved toward the door. Hannah stared at Colby, and he had the distinct feeling he was supposed to be picking up on something, but he wasn’t.
What the hell was going on? She squeezed his hand and then got up and followed Burke out of the room.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Ford turned to Colby and stared at him like he was a particularly slow-learning child. “They want you two in a relationship. For the press.”
“What? No. That shit happens? For real?” Colby had heard of the “PR Relationship” thing.
Apparently, the entertainment industry paired up people to look like couples if it was mutually beneficial.
Like one needed the other’s star power to gain more popularity, and the other needed to clean up their reputation with a standard, wholesome relationship.
But he didn’t think that was actually real.
Just Urban Entertainment Legend, or something. He swallowed. “Why me?”
Ford shrugged. “I don’t know because people already love the idea? It’ll help sales. For both of you. Hannah’s star got tarnished when she dated that fucking hockey bro. No one liked him. No one in America gives a shit about hockey. And then he got arrested for drunk driving.”
“She’d dumped him well before that.” Colby reminded Ford.