33. A real fertile myrtle #2
“I ragged on Atlas all the time, Colb. Didn’t you know that? I swear I did,” Brodie argued softly. “But yeah, I could have done more, and I should have.”
For the first time, something in Colby almost accepted his middle brother’s apology.
But nah. “Yeah, you should have.” Colby paused and took a deep breath.
Exhaling slowly, he decided to let go of it all.
At least for now. “Anyway, I guess I’m going home for Christmas too, but only for a couple of hours on the day of.
I don’t have a bedroom there anymore anyway. ”
“You can have mine. I’ll sleep in the pool house.”
“I’ll just come home. I’m not spending another night in that house with him.”
“Fair. I get it. By the way, while I got you on the phone…” Brodie cleared his throat, and Colby bent to get a pan out of the drawer under the stove.
“I wanted to say I’m really fucking stoked about your career.
It’s amazing. You’re really great in that band, and I’m happy for you. I’m proud of you.”
The words had Colby frozen. Not a single person he’d shared blood with had said those words to him about his music. Or anything that mattered. He hated that he cared, but he did, and now there was a warmth seeping through his bloodstream. “Sure. Whatever.”
“You know I’m branching out. Not just an agent to athletes. I moved to Los Angeles too.”
He did what now? Colby froze for a second time. “You live in my town?”
“Yeah. And I rep two models and an influencer, and I’m looking to find some actors and musicians,” Brodie said casually.
Too casually. Colby finally figured it out.
Brodie was buttering up Colby. Either he wanted to rep Colby, or he wanted Colby to recommend him to his friends.
Of course. He didn’t give a shit about Colby’s music. He just wanted a piece.
“An agent needs to have trust with their client, and I can’t trust you.” Colby dropped the frying pan onto the stove with a clatter. If Trevor had been napping, he likely wouldn’t be now.
“No. Yeah. I get that. I wasn’t suggesting… No. Colb, I sincerely just wanted to share my life update,” Brodie said quickly, nervously. “I don’t expect to rep you, I swear. I was just going to say since I’m local now, maybe we can grab lunch.”
“I don’t lunch,” Colby said in stupid defiance. “Gotta go. See you at Christmas, I guess.”
He hung up. He went about making the most sloppy, mediocre breakfast burrito, and all it did was make him miss Hunter more.
And Trevor never bothered to wake up even after being called two more times, so he had to eat two subpar burritos himself.
It was now after six. Surely the stupid video shoot was over.
Hannah has said she would text him when she was done. Did she forget?
So are you happy? Video done and dusted? Did your guest star do good?
He busied himself with cleaning the kitchen while he waited for a response.
In an effort to get his mind off Hunter, he thought about the upcoming performance he and Hannah would likely have to give at the Oscars in the spring.
The nomination announcements won’t happen until next month, but Ford told him they had to figure it out now and that they should already be rehearsing.
Many previous nominees had performed their songs in elaborate costumes, accompanied by backup singers.
Some had orchestras join them. Ford kept hammering it home that they needed a hook, and they needed it fast. Colby had been lying awake brainstorming/stress thinking about that for the last week or so.
Hannah
Colbs, I know you know but that man of yours… Chef’s KISS
Colby's face contorted a whole bunch of ways when he read that. Because Hunter was not his man, and what the fuck did Chef’s kiss mean? Did she kiss him? Oh god, was his fake ex going to be making out on camera with his…
WTF does that mean? Are you kissing him? In the video?
Hannah took an infuriatingly long time to answer.
Hannah
No. We did the whole almost kiss thing instead of making out. Way more tension that way. Looks great.
Colby sent a thumbs-up, which was sarcastic, but she wouldn’t know it. And then…
Can you concentrate on our Oscar performance now? We have to figure out what to do. Are you still with him?
Okay, that last part was invasive and kind of stalkerish, but he hated the idea of them hanging out. Not to be a narcissist, but the only thing they had in common was Colby, and it made his skin feel too hot and too tight to think about them discussing him.
Hannah
Didn’t you just tell Fordy the other day not to worry about it until we officially get the nom?
Argh, why was this woman suddenly so infuriating?
Colby wanted to throw his phone across the room.
Then he heard a noise. A soft squeak of a door opening.
Out came Trevor’s not girlfriend Marley.
She looked wrecked. Her hair was matted and damp.
Her face pale. Her eyes sunken. And she was only wearing hot pink thong underwear.
Colby’s eyes widened and then averted. “Umm. Hey Marley. You need a top.”
“Whatever,” Marley muttered and stumbled her way past Colby to the fridge. “I’ve been full frontal in two movies. Who gives a fuck?”
She swung open the fridge door, her tits swaying with the motion. Her doctored, overly pouty mouth hung wide, and she didn’t seem to be registering the contents of the fridge. “You okay?”
“Whatever,” she murmured. Colby’s phone pinged.
He walked out the open back door to the small patio again.
Hannah
He says hi, by the way. Not right this second, but earlier. His part of the shoot ended an hour ago. Now we’re doing shots with just me. Gotta go, Sunshine. ox
He says hi. Probably all casual and cool. Like, hey, tell that dude who used to live in my apartment hello. Or like tell Colb hey. Hope he found another dick to put in his ass because he’s never getting mine again.
Colby shook his head. Hunter would never say anything cruel or careless.
He cared. That was the problem. They both cared too much.
God, he really wished he could stop. He wanted Hunter back in his life.
Before they’d ever touched each other, they were close.
He didn’t have his brothers anymore, and Hunter had slid right into that empty space and filled it better than Atlas or Brodie ever did.
Except for the fact that Colby always found him attractive physically, which was not at all a brotherly thing.
He shoved a hand into his shaggy hair and huffed out an exhausted breath.
The sky was looking gloomy now, like maybe Los Angeles would get some much-needed rain.
That suited his personality right now, too, so bring it on.
He re-entered the kitchen, closing the doors behind him and twisting the lock.
Marley was still there, but now she was at the small kitchen table.
Asleep. Head tilted back, arms splayed out by her sides.
An untouched glass of OJ was sweating on the table in front of her.
It didn’t appear the least bit comfortable and…
Colby’s eyes landed on the side of her limp arms. There was slightly bloody bruising in the crook of her elbow.
Were those fucking track marks?!
Trevor wandered out at just that moment, looking slightly more coherent than Marley had. He took in the scene and glared at Colby like it was his fault. “Dude, you just eye fucking her while she’s passed out? You seem, like, way too politically correct for that shit.”
“I’m not. I was going to wake her, but her arm threw me.”
Trevor glanced at the marks and then stormed over and, not so gently, shook her awake. “Babe, put on clothes in my house, okay. Colby isn’t into your tits.”
He could say that again, Colby thought.
She got to her feet like a baby deer on new legs. Trevor hooked her under her arms and glared at Colby. “Set makeup. Looks fucking real, I know.”
He hauled her back into his bedroom before Colby could figure out something to say. Marley was on a show about teen drug addicts, so it was possible, right? He made a mental note to mention it to Ford. Ford would handle it for sure. He was hell-bent on keeping their image solid.
His phone buzzed as he entered his room, and he debated whether he should pick up his guitar again.
He expected it to be Hannah or even Brodie trying to continue that heinous conversation from earlier.
Hell, if it was his mom ranting some more, he’d have been less surprised than when he looked down and found Hunter’s name on his screen.
He opened the message.
Hunter
Hannah mentioned you’re freaking over a possible Oscar performance?
Yeah. Hi by the way.
Hunter
Keep it simple. Don’t do some big elaborate thing. Less is more. And you don’t need to. That song is epic. Be different by not trying too hard. That’s my two cents and I know you didn’t ask. Also, Hi.
Thx. I always appreciate your advice.
Hunter
Hope you’re good. Take care.
You too. x
He shouldn’t have added a fucking kiss. That was lame. Ridiculous. He could say it was a typo? He was about to type that when Hunter sent one last text.
Hunter
x