Swoon: A Brother's Best Friend Standalone

“You bet.”

“Her name is Maya.”

The guy hands me his phone, set to record, and I quickly record a birthday greeting, after which he thanks me profusely.

“So, I gotta ask,” the driver says, taking his phone back. “Do you three Goats get along as well as it seems in your music videos?”

I shake my head. “Don’t tell anyone, but we despise each other.” I chuckle along with him. “Nah, the boring truth is that we get along, exactly as it seems. Do we argue, sometimes? Yes, because we’re brothers at this point. But it’s never anything major.”

“Are the other two Goats coming to the wedding? Is the groom a musician, too?”

“No, the groom’s a lawyer. And, yes, the other Goats are coming, but not to the rehearsal tonight. I’m the only groomsman. I’m the one who lived next door to my buddy, Logan, growing up, so we were always the closest.”

“Your buddy won the lottery, growing up next door to you. Can you imagine being some random future lawyer, and it turns out your next-door neighbor best friend grows up to become the drummer in 22 Goats? Insanity.”

I laugh. “I’m the one who won the lottery. If it weren’t for my friend, I wouldn’t be in 22 Goats today.”

“What?”

“In eighth grade, he overheard two kids we didn’t know in the grade below us, talking about needing to find a drummer for the band they were starting. Logan hooked me up, and the rest is history.”

“Holy shit. Your whole life might have been different if he hadn’t overheard that conversation!”

“I think about that all the time.”

“When was that?”

I tell the guy the year and he freaks out that I’m so young.

“You were only in eighth grade back then? Jesus Christ, I’m old. How old are you?”

“Closing in on twenty-seven.”

“Shit! I thought you guys were around my age. I’m thirty-seven!”

I laugh. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, after the rollercoaster ride of the past few years, I often feel thirty-seven.”

The driver snickers. “You’ve had some fun, huh?”

“I’ve had some fun,” I confirm.

“I bet women throw themselves at you all the time.”

“On tour? Yeah, pretty much. Especially now that I’m the last bachelor standing in my band. But not the right kind of woman.”

“Is there a wrong kind?”

“Groupies. Clout-chasers. Honestly, I’d much rather have an amazing girlfriend, than sleep with a succession of groupies. Unfortunately, I’ve discovered that finding true love is a lot easier said than done.”

“What? Dude, you’re the drummer of 22 Goats!”

“That’s the problem. I live in LA. Everyone I meet there is an aspiring model, actress, singer, or influencer who thinks hooking up with the drummer from 22 Goats will somehow boost her career.”

“So what? If a woman wants to use you for your connections or money or whatever, let her try. Doesn’t mean you have to let her succeed.”

I press my lips together and look out the car window at passing traffic. Dudes who’ve never been in my shoes always think that way. But they couldn’t be more wrong about the realities of my situation. The toll it takes on a person to constantly feel like a mark. To never know if you can completely trust someone. Or worse, to trust someone and find out you were wrong to do it. “Let me ask you this,” I say, returning to the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “If getting used by clout-chasers was such an awesome thing, then why would both my bandmates have settled down, the nano-second they found the real deal with someone?”

“Both your bandmates are married?”

“One is and the other might as well be.”

“And they’re your age?”

“A year younger.”

The driver whistles, like I’ve shocked him.

“That makes me the last man standing,” I continue. “And not only in my band, but in my entire friend group. Everyone I’m closest to in the world is all wifed up, or might as well be.”

“So what? If all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you jump, too?”

“Absolutely. I’d be so distraught, I wouldn’t want to live another day.”

He rolls his eyes playfully.

“To be clear, I’d never settle down with the wrong woman, for the hell of it. But, yeah, if I met the right person, someone I trust, someone who loves me the way I love her, and we have awesome physical chemistry too, then why wouldn’t I want to jump in, head-first? Dating sucks, man. It’s exhausting.”

The driver ponders that for a moment. “You know what you should do, Colin? Date another celebrity—someone who’s as rich and famous as you are. That way you’d know she was into you for the right reasons.”

I smirk to myself. “I’ve tried that strategy, as a matter of fact. Recently. And it didn’t work out.”

“No?”

I shake my head. “As it turned out, the woman I’d set my sights on was already in love with someone else.”