Or, hell, maybe it’s exactly the thing I need to be hearing.
“Well, look on the bright side,” Keane says, taking the joint from Zander. “At least, you’ll get to enjoy all the attention you’ve been getting from that underwear ad. You’re a hot commodity with the ladies these days, son. Enjoy it.”
Colin nods, still looking miserable. “Yup. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m done having a girlfriend for a long while. I’ve realized if I’m ever going to have one again, she has to be someone like Violet. Someone who can drop everything and follow me ingloriously around the world while I—”
Dax interrupts, “What does that mean? Violet has never ‘dropped everything’ to ingloriously follow me around, motherfucker.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Colin says, rolling his eyes.
But Dax isn’t finished. He says, “Besides taking care of Jackson and me, my wife works her ass off heading up a global cancer charity that—”
“Dax, I know.”
“Helps so many people! And while she’s doing that—”
“You misunderstood me.”
“She’s also designing incredible wedding dresses for women who are willing to pay top dollar for her designs. So don’t you dare—”
“Calm down, Daxy Pants. You misunderstood me.”
“Say there’s anything ‘inglorious’ about a goddamned fucking thing my wife is doing with her life. Violet Morgan does more glorious shit in one day than Colin Beretta, Drummer and Underwear Model, manages to do in a single fucking year.”
Colin rubs his face and chuckles to himself. “This is way too much passion for my stoned brain to process right now.” He comes out from behind his hands and points energetically at me on the floor, the same way he pointed at me when we were thirteen in Daxy’s garage, when Mrs. Morgan caught him with that can of Mountain Dew. He shouts, “It was Fish!” And, of course, everyone in the room laughs at our lifelong joke, even Dax. Because, come on, no matter what tension might precede that particular joke, it always vanishes immediately the minute it’s told.
Dax takes a long swig of his tequila. “Just think before you speak, once in a while, fucker.”
Colin replies, “Dude, I’m stoned out of my mind precisely because I don’t want to think before speaking. I don’t want to think at all. I know Violet’s a unicorn, Daxy. That was my point. What I was trying to say is I don’t have high hopes I’m going to be able find myself a unicorn like Violet. Someone who’s got the kind of lifestyle and career and temperament where she can be a badass in her own right while still following my sorry ass around. I just meant I don’t want a woman who’s got absolutely nothing going on that doesn’t revolve around me, and yet, she can still ingloriously follow me around—”
Zander interrupts, “So, by that logic, do I ‘ingloriously’ follow Aloha around, since I’ve got absolutely nothing going on in my life that doesn’t revolve around her?”
“Oh, for the love of fuck!” Colin shouts, throwing up his arms. “Of course not, Z. You’re Aloha’s personal bodyguard! Your actual job is following her around the world. There’s nothing inglorious about that. My point is I want someone to follow me around the world and be interesting enough for me not to get totally bored with her!” He shakes his head with exasperation. “What’s in this weed tonight? Anabolic steroids? Jesus.”
“Hey, Col,” Keane says, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. “I’m planning to take a bunch of time off work after my baby arrives. Will that count as ingloriously dropping everything for my wife and kid?”
Colin screams in frustration, and Keane bursts out laughing.
“I was kidding,” Keane says. “I wasn’t even listening to whatever bullshit you said. I just heard the word ‘inglorious’ and thought it was kewl.”
“It’s a good word,” Zander agrees. “Use it in a sentence, Peenie Weenie. That’s the best way to remember a new word.”
Keane purses his lips in contemplation. And then, “Despite his rock-hard abs and smolder to die for, the drummer slash underwear model ingloriously went down in flames with his rock star best friend, thanks to whatever stupid shit he was babbling about that I didn’t hear.”
Zander laughs.
“Lemme get you up to speed,” I call out to Keane from my spot on the floor. “Colin didn’t say this outright, but reading between the lines, he basically said he thinks I should be rooting for Alessandra’s album to tank, so she can ‘ingloriously’ follow me around the world, whenever she wants.”
Colin scoffs. “Sure, Fish Fuck. That’s what I said.”
I sprawl onto my back on the floor and moan loudly, suddenly feeling incapable of containing the misery I’ve been hiding from my friends for the past three weeks. “I need help, fellas,” I groan. “I’m freaking out. I’ve suddenly realized the more success Ally has, the harder it’s going to be for us to line up our schedules. If she’s always touring, and I’m always touring, and our schedules are never the same, then when the hell will we ever see each other again?”