"Dude, what happened to your hands?"
Colt looks down to his palms still wrapped in bandage and gauze. "Cooking disaster. I can still play. It's fine."
As he hears himself so easily tell the lie Colt is instantly taken back to the practiced lies of his childhood. He remembers rehearsing them with his mom and dad and telling the EMT's or the social workers or his teachers at school -- anyone who would ask after a bruise or a cut or a broken bone. He was always the clumsiest kid around.
Here he is, history repeating itself.
Except it's not, right? Marc isn't as cruel as his dad was. Colt isn't either of his parents.
Sam has been speaking to him and Colt hasn't heard a single word. He's blacked out into his own head space for a moment. He used to do that a lot as a kid and into his teens, even for some time after he left home. This is the first time it's happened in awhile.
He only realizes that Sam was speaking to him when the guy places a hand on his arm to get his attention.
"You with us, Colt? You need to take the night off?" Sam asks.
"No, I'm good. It's just been a long week... a long few weeks, actually." Marc isn't sure that Sam completely buys it or not, but he's thankful when his friend moves on.
People always move on.
"Alright. Well be careful of the hands, eh? No more cooking disasters. Those are the money makers, am I right?"
Colt forces a smile and nods. "Definitely."
The gig goes smooth as it always does. Every member of the band is ridiculously talented. It's really an honor for Colt to get to play with them.
It takes awhile for Colt's heart to get into it tonight though. By the last set, he's finally there and playing his heart out. It's that sweet spot that every musician has where everything is the music and anything else is noise.
They're about three-fourths through the last set when he sees Marc arrive at the pub they're playing. There are two people with Marc, the trio stands at the bar and orders drinks.
As the set goes on, Colt realizes that the two other men are Sebastian and Rodrigo.
The last few days since the accident (was it really an accident?) Marc has been very sweet around Colt. He's doted on him. He's apologized for what happened again and again. They've made out multiple times. Everything has been good and calm.
Seeing Rodrigo and Sebastian, Colt worries that something bad is about to happen again. He tries to tell himself that there's nothing he can do about it right now, but still, he worries.
He continues with the show, thankfully putting himself back in the right mindset when Sam throws to him on the last song and he gets the spotlight. He plays his heart out, hitting every note and feeling really good about it.
It's startling to him to find that he doesn't have that same flying feeling he usually has when a show ends. That bothers him but he doesn't know what's wrong with him and how to fix it. The absence of that natural high feels as if he's lost a part of himself.
To the side of the stage, he puts his instrument away and hefts it onto his back.
He looks over to Marc who grins at him and waves him over. Colt puts on a smile and heads that way. The moment he's close enough, Marc hands him a shot.
"Rodrigo bought us some shots to celebrate your show." He says. "He wanted to come hear you play."
The older man is looking Colt up and down and then nods. "Most impressive, Colt. I quite enjoyed it."
"Thanks." Everyone is holding shots and looking at him. Colt decides not to argue about one shot. Marc knows that he doesn't drink when he's out so maybe he'll stop more from happening. "And thanks for the shot. I'll have just one."
"A toast, to undeniable musical talent." Rodrigo toasts and everyone takes their shots, including Colt.
Colt responds with a token answer that he gives random fans. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show."
"Of course, the fiddle is no violin."
"No, it's not. It's a completely different animal. Although anyone with some talent can make a violin rip with a rock band just as well as a fiddle does." Colt only realizes then that he's been drawn into actual conversation with Rodrigo Fiarri.
"Do you have that kind of talent?" Rodrigo asks.
Colt shrugs. "Maybe."
"How modest of you."
Marc bumps Colt's shoulder with his own. "He's got the talent. He's that good, uncle."
Colt feels heat rise into his face that makes him feel like he's blushing. Marc's support means a lot to him in front of Rodrigo, who makes him every kind of uncomfortable.
"I don't doubt it, Marco." Rodrigo turns back to speak with the bartender.
"Hey Colt. Good show, man." Sebastian claps a hand down on Colt's shoulder. "Who ever thought of putting a fiddle with a rock band?"
"Lots of people are doin' it these days. And think back to a lot of the classic power ballads. They're full of stringed instruments." Colt says. "Sam, our lead singer, he's the guy who writes most of our music, he's wanting me to play violin in a song he's workin' on now."
"That's badass." Sebastian says.
Four shots are lined up on the bar and Colt looks over to Marc trying to silently communicate with him. Marc leans over to whisper in his ear. "It's okay. I'll take care of you and get you home."
Colt takes the shot that Rodrigo offers him. Together, the four of them shoot more whiskey and he's relieved when the bartender says it's last call for drinks.
They're out in the parking lot and Marc is guiding Colt toward his sports car with a hand at the small of his back.
"I'm not drunk. I can drive myself home."
"I want you with me." Marc answers before turning back to Sebastian. "Hey, Seb! You'll get Colt's bike home sometime?"
"You bet! Toss me the keys."
"May I speak with Colt for a moment, Marco?"
"Yeah. Give me the keys, Vanilla."
Colt is already worrying over what Rodrigo might have to say to him as he deftly gets his bike keys out of his pocket and hands them to Marc who then proceeds to carry them over to Sebastian.
"Colt, I understand that you saw some things recently that concern you."
