42. We got this
We got this
God, it felt good to be back on stage. It was one of those things he knew he missed but didn’t understand how much until he got to do it again.
Now it felt like someone had just injected a much-needed nutrient directly into his bloodstream, one he didn’t know he was deprived of.
He was sweaty and exhausted after the encore as he made his way off stage, the crowd roaring at his back.
Trevor was smiling beside him, also sweaty and looking equally as exhausted, but that was a great thing.
It meant he wasn’t hopped up on anything.
He’d also gained a little weight and was smiling a smile Colby didn’t think he’d ever seen on his face before. It was gentle and authentic.
“Well, that didn’t suck!” Trevor said, high-fiving Romaine as he walked by. Yeah, the babysitter was still on the payroll for now. Label’s insistence. He also administered weekly drug tests to all of them. That was Colby’s idea to keep it fair.
With Kenner leading the way, the trio made their way back to their private room behind the stage.
The organizers in Portland had followed the rider to a T, and the room had a table filled with chopped fresh fruit, non-alcoholic beer, Gatorade, pizza, and Sour Patch Kids.
Ford was sitting in the corner of one of the couches, his left foot on his right ankle and his face buried in his phone. “Sounded great. Did it feel great?”
It was a little hard to believe he gave a shit when he didn’t pull his face out of his phone, but no one seemed to care. “Awesome. I can’t wait to do it again.”
“Ditto,” Trevor said, going straight for the non-alcoholic beer.
“Colby, I need you when you have a second,” Ford said.
“Give me a minute,” Colby said, looking at the door.
“Could take him a while,” Ford muttered. “Sold-out crowd and all that, and someone might recognize him. They know to look for him here now.”
Colby bit his tongue. Ford’s statement wasn’t a dig, it was fact.
This was the fourth stop on their twenty-stop tour, and Hunter had been at all of them so far.
And in the month before the tour, nosy photographers had caught them together around Los Angeles at restaurants, attending a play Brendan had directed, and walking Zeus down the block at Hunter’s with his dad.
Speculation was more rampant than a wildfire, but not a single journalist had the balls to ask anything point-blank.
And although Colby and Hunter weren’t hiding anything, they weren’t handing over details of their private life on a silver platter either.
Tidal had done a BuzzFeed piece, and when the reporter asked: “You seem very close to the actor Hunter Law, like he’s your best friend or something.
” Colby had nodded. “Yeah, we are! Best friends and something.” Not a lie.
And the reporter hadn’t caught the slight word twist or hadn’t had the balls to follow up, but boy had the comments section blown up on that piece.
Everything from this has to be true because they’d be the hottest couple ever to This a-hole is going to hell to even joke about such sinful garbage.
Hunter had finally picked a new project that would start filming next month.
Andi, the director of the superhero project, brought it to him directly, which was good because Hunter was agency-less at the time.
He’d told Lorne flat-out that he was in a relationship with Colby, one he wouldn’t be hiding, and Lorne had advised him against it.
Hunter had said, "Thank you for your concern, but I won’t be taking it under advisement.
” Lorne had said okay, and the next day the agency’s termination papers arrived.
To his credit, Hunter hadn’t panicked too much.
And just as importantly, he didn’t entertain the idea of shoving them in the closet or worse, breaking up.
Last week, Hunter had called Margo and asked her to take him on again.
She’d made a big fake dramatic deal about what a pain in the ass it would be and then said, “Welcome back, kid. I can’t wait to get you an Oscar. ”
He’d shared the script with Margo, who negotiated the hell out of the smaller production and gotten him a good chunk of the back end. The movie would be filmed in New York and Toronto. He’d be on set for six weeks, and they’d already figured out when Colby could visit in between tour dates.
The door swung open, and Hunter appeared, wearing his trusty Tidal shirt and smiling brighter than the glow stick around his neck. Colby laughed when he saw it. “Where did you get that?”
“Some girl gave it to me. She’s your biggest fan,” Hunter explained. “But she wanted a selfie with me, so I’m not chopped liver in her book either.”
He let the door swing shut behind him and crossed the space to Colby. They kissed softly, and Colby wrinkled his nose as one of his hands touched the back of Hunter’s neck and came away damp. “You’re almost sweating as much as I am.”
“I’m a hardcore fan, dude, we don’t just glisten like a part-time fan,” Hunter replied, mocking offense. “It’s hard work screaming the lyrics and yelling your name. I sweat.”
Colby kissed him again, this time playfully. Kenner groaned. “You two are making me sad that I’m single.”
“Colby. That word.” Ford had stood up and was crossing the small room.
Hunter pressed his mouth closed tightly.
Hunter and Ford just kind of orbited each other without acknowledging each other.
When they had to speak, they kept it cool but civil.
Colby broke free of Hunter and walked out of the room with Ford.
They crossed the hall and stepped into the opening act’s room since they’d already left to go party somewhere.
The band was two girls and a male drummer.
Ford had also put them together. They were great.
“The label got back to me.”
“About the solo album? The songs I gave them?” Anticipation and hope swirled through his insides. Ford nodded, but the tight line of his mouth had those feelings turning to dust. “They’re passing?”
“They are,” Ford replied, and Colby felt anger rise like bile in his throat. “And before you say another word, know I’m in your corner. Those songs are amazing, and when this tour is over, you should shoot your shot. You have a solo career in you. I know it.”
“What did they say, exactly?”
Ford heaved in a heavy breath and, on a long exhale, blurted it out. “They didn’t think that your new image would be one that would gel with your current fanbase, and they didn’t have the resources at the moment to take on another artist from scratch and build you a new audience.”
“Right. So, in layman’s terms, you wanna be gay, and we don’t got time for that.” It was happening. Everything that had scared him and Hunter to begin with. It was real. There were actual consequences.
“Revolution isn’t the only label,” Ford reminded him.
“And for the record, I’ve sent your demo to Ideology and a new indie label called H&A, which stands for Haight and Ashbury.
They’re looking for bluesy folksy rock stuff like this.
And don’t let the indie label fool you, they were formed by industry veterans and successful ones at that.
So let’s not give up. I’m gonna make this happen. ”
Colby nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Ford said and nodded. Then he flashed a rare, silly smile. “Now get back to Hunter before he explodes. He’s like a kid after a day at Disney after you perform. He needs to recite every detail of his experience and bounce up and down while doing it.”
Colby laughed. “Thanks, Ford.”
Six months later, it happened. A reporter on the red carpet for the premiere of Hunter’s new movie asked it. Clearly and precisely. “You brought your dad and Colby Keaton to the premiere.”
“I did. I would have brought my cat too, but he doesn’t like crowds,” Hunter had quipped, feeling over the moon.
This movie was great. Andi had directed the hell out of it, and Hunter had poured his lifeblood into it.
He was funny and poignant and angsty and heart-warming.
He had never been more proud of his work.
“Is Colby Keaton your boyfriend?”
“We have to keep moving it along,” Courtney, his new publicist, had said firmly with a tight but friendly smile that only publicists pulled off. She swept her hand out, motioning for Huner to keep walking.
“Yes.” The reporter blinked. Courtney’s smile wobbled. Hunter grinned. “Have a good night.”
News of the movie, his impeccable acting, the brilliant script, the artistic directing, the breathtaking cinematography, and the movie soundtrack were all eclipsed by one stupid word out of Hunter’s mouth.
It was all that every outlet, every site, every news show—entertainment-based or otherwise—was talking about.
Hunter woke up, saw everything, and promptly threw up in Colby’s bathroom.
Well, his bathroom too now since he basically lived in the Laurel Canyon house with him.
The lease on his Spaulding Square home was up next month, and they were in the process of caging in one of the four tiny patios that surrounded Colby’s property so Manuel would have his own outdoor sanctuary.
Colby got out of bed and stood behind him, rubbing his back and running fingers through his hair. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s a lot. And it’s fucking terrifying. I get it.” Colby walked over to the vanity and filled the beveled-glass cup with water, then handed it to Hunter on the floor.
“But you aren’t sick with stress.”
“I don’t have an anxiety disorder,” Colby reminded him. He picked up Hunter’s toothbrush and squeezed toothpaste onto it. “Have you heard from any of the cast? Andi?”
Hunter shook his head. “My phone was eerily message-free when I woke up.”
As if on cue, it began to buzz on his nightstand. But he already had the toothbrush in his mouth, sawing away, so Colby walked over and looked at the screen. “Chris Westchester.”
Hunter spit into the sink and rushed to the phone. He put it on speakerphone. “Chris. Hi.”
“Hello to you too.” Chris laughed. “Oh, and Marc says welcome to the club. Officially.”
“What club is that? The one where my career floats down the sewers of Los Angeles?”
“Maybe. But maybe not,” Chris replied. “It’s a new day. A new world. A… well, the same bullshit, but I gotta tell you, I’ve seen a lot of positive supportive comments.”
“Yeah?” Hunter had seen some, but his spiraling brain had focused more on the Gross, and why did you have to ruin this with your politics? Unfollow. Because to those idiots, sexuality was a political choice.
“Yeah, totally. I mean, in my day there wasn’t any social media, and maybe that was the problem,” he lamented. “But also, you’re far more talented than I was. And you were honest. So whatever happens, Hunter, I want to say congrats. You’re a star in my books.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” Hunter replied and sighed. “Got any roles you wanna give me?”
They laughed.
Later that afternoon, as Hunter pretended to be perfectly fine and absolutely normal, he read the first review of his actual movie.
It used words like "masterpiece" and "must-see".
And Colby and Briar read out all the positive comments they found on articles as he grilled chicken for their dinner.
Margo sent rainbow-dyed roses with a card that read, "Whatever happens, I got you. "
That night, as Hunter pretended to watch a movie and Colby snored with his head in his lap, he realized that the world hadn’t ended. Whatever came next, Colby would be there with him. It was okay. He woke up his boyfriend. “I think we need to have sex.”
“Mmm…” Colby murmured sleepily, but he started pulling his T-shirt over his head.
Hunter laughed. “I love how you placate me.”
They fucked on the couch, slowly while Colby woke up, but then he was begging for harder and faster and sucking on Hunter’s neck like it was the meaning of life.
When they had both come, and it was stuck to their stomachs, because they were a heap of galloping hearts and tangled limbs, Hunter whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And the next morning, as Colby prepared Manuel’s breakfast and Hunter prepared theirs, a text lit up Hunter’s phone. It was Margo.
Margo
You’re too much work Hunter Law. I’ve got seven new script offers to sort through and two new brand ambassador offers and about forty interview requests. Did you not hear the part where I wanted a simpler life?
Hunter’s eyes watered, but he blinked them away while he smiled. Colby walked over, read over his shoulder, and then squeezed him tightly in a hug from behind. He wrote back to Margo while Colby kissed his neck.
Too bad Marge. I’m not the brightest bulb but I don’t make the same mistake twice. You and Colby are both stuck with me.
He put his phone down and turned around to face the love of his young, crazy life.
“We got this,” Colby announced with a dimpled grin.
“You bet your sweet ass we do,” Hunter agreed and kissed his boyfriend as if his life depended on it. It didn’t. He could live without Colby, he just refused to anymore. And there was no going back.