“That’s it! Come stay with us. You seen Norv’s studio yet? And he’s got a sweet boat. We can go fishin’.” Ryder lit up like it was Christmas. Norv sure was good to him.
“Maybe once I’ve done the gigs I have booked, huh? I don’t got to stick around for Kyle’s show no more.” He wasn’t one hundred percent sure he’d be invited to see it.
Now stop it, he told himself.Even though Kyle was mad you was late and don’t want to work with you no more, you’re still worth having sex with. Y’all haven’t broke up. He’ll prob’ly ask you to come see so you can admire.
Still, he could tell Timmy not to book him no more new gigs, head out to Austin, spend some time writing and fishing and sleeping in the sunshine.
“All right, y’all. Let’s focus.” That was Norv. He only had so much talking in him. They were here to work, and as soon as Norv said so, Ryder went right back to it.
“Give me… one… okay. No wait.”
They started laughing, all of them together, just as goofy as they could be.
Time flew by, and they did write a song, and then they went back and polished another, and by the time they were done, they had two songs ready to cut the next time they were at the studio.
Ryder leaned on Norv, looking every bit like he’d just had good sex. Or wanted some. “That was good work, right?”
“It was. Damn fine.” He clapped Ryder on the arm. “Y’all going home, yeah?”
“Yeah. You’ll come?”
“As soon as I finish these gigs, I will. I promised Kyle we’d Christmas together.”
“You think he’ll still want to?” Ryder asked.
He shrugged. “If he don’t, someone will.” Hell, he’d still have a room at Timmy’s bought.
“If he don’t, we will, okay, son?”
Ryder reached over and took Colt’s hand. “He will, though. I bet he will. I don’t get what happened, but he seems like a good guy, and I bet y’all figure it out. I hope you do. He makes you happy.”
“He does.” Colt wasn’t going to worry on it. He couldn’t be more than God made him. He hugged them both, missing them already. “Love y’all. All the way.”
“You too, Cajun.” Norv gave him a nod and saw him out.
He took his guitar and headed to the studio. Everything seemed uglier today, but it didn’t matter. The music mattered. Even his music.
15
Kyle couldhave gone to the bar. He’d been invited half a dozen times by various people after the show. He just didn’t feel like being social.
He felt like calling Colt and asking him to drop everything else and come over and talk. He’d done the best thing he knew to do, after all, for his show and for his lover. He needed consistent and reliable, and Colt needed variety and flexibility. Colt’s calling wasn’t theater. It wasn’t showing up seven or eight times a week to do the same thing over and over on cue. But dammit, the show wasn’t going to be the same without him.
And Colt had looked just awful. Crazy-eyed and pale-skinned. The man that came wheeling into the theater that morning wasn’t anything like the easygoing, free-spirited musician Kyle had fallen for at all. If Colt couldn’t manage to get out from under his commitments on his own, the best thing Kyle could think to do to help him was lift a commitment for him.
Colt’s face when he’d told him had been… fuck. He didn’t regret his decision, but he regretted having to make it. No, he wasn’t going out. He needed to go home. He needed to be sober. He needed to call Colt.
He tried to text in the car on the way but deleted every single one without sending it. He went inside and showered, trying to figure out what to say. None of that did him one bit of good either, so he finally picked up his phone to make the call. He dialed, hoping to hell something came to him before Colt answered.
If he answered.
“Hey, cher. How you be?”
He couldn’t hear anything from where Colt was. Nothing at all. “I’ve had better days. Where are you?”
“Here at Timmy’s. I jus’ got off work.”
“How… uh. How’d it go? Did you get something good down?”Are you okay? Do you hate me? Do you want to come over?