Ryder looked up from the book he’d been scribbling notes in. “A dancer, huh?” He and Norv exchanged a look.
Norv grinned at him. “He must be pretty.”
“Where does he dance? Let’s get a beer there later.”
“Ah-law!” He started laughing, just tickled as a pig in shit. “Y’all don’ know. He’s like high-dollar fancy dancing, not for dollar bills in his garter. He got him a YouTube. Come see.” He pulled up one of Kyle’s videos, eager to show his lover off.
About halfway through the video, Norv nodded. “He’s good.”
“Good?” Ryder gaped at Norv. “He’s fucking beautiful. Jesus, Colt.”
Norv just shook his head.
“Lucky me, eh? He’s like one of them statues, but….” But so alive and fierce and funny and odd and happy.
“But he moves. Wow. Lucky you.” Ryder laughed.
“You ready to play that back, Tim?”
Ryder elbowed Colt with a wink and a grin.
“You know it,” Timmy came right back. “You want to hear it?”
“Y’all ready to hear this back or what?”
“I’m ready. Bring it on, Timmy.” He grabbed his guitar so he could think.
Timmy played the track back, all their ramblings in the beginning leading into something that started to make sense. Ryder bobbed his head along and made notes when he wasn’t tapping his pen on his notebook. Norv just did that thing he always did. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes closed, put his feet up and listened all the way through.
For Norv, this was where the magic happened. He had a knack for taking all their raw creativity and focusing it into something they could sell. The playback had barely ended when he sat up, picked up his guitar and started playing again without letting anyone speak.
“Better get this, Timmy.” Ryder gave Timmy a wave and got a thumbs-up in response.
Colt settled on the floor where he was comfortable, and Ryder joined him, both of them listening to Norv, making notes for the next run-through.
They were still deep into work when the lights in the studio started to flash. Timmy pressed a piece of paper against the glass that read “Food and beer in break room” in weird black bubble letters. He grinned at them.
Ryder leaned into Norv. “Can we eat, boss?”
Norv reached down, hand in Ryder’s hair. “Always hungry, Georgia Boy.”
Lord, wasn’t that pretty?
“That’s a yes.” Ryder grinned, gave Norv a kiss, then popped up off the floor and tucked his little notebook safely into his pocket. Once he was up, though, he stretched, everything creaking. “Oh, man. I’m stiff. Stupid airplane.”
“It’s a long ways from Austin, huh?”
“Austin to Dallas, Dallas to Atlanta, Atlanta to here.” Ryder rolled his eyes. “He’s a cheapskate.”
Norv snorted. “Thrifty. And you like to fly.”
“Not that much. Didn’t Timmy’s sign say beer?” Ryder was the first one to the break room.
Norv clapped him on the back, chuckling softly. “He’s still got a hollow leg.”
“Shut up. I’m a growing boy! Ooh. Cheesesteak.” Ryder snagged a whole one off the counter.
“There’s a couple of subs too. And a bunch of salads. Next time you can look over the menus before you start, and I’ll order what you like.” Timmy grabbed a container of french fries and a Coke and sat down.