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“Hey, cool. Nice to meet you.” Zade’s smile was odd, or maybe awkward. I couldn’t tell if he was going for seductive, casual-friendly, or creepy. But maybe he was simply out of his element and feeling uncomfortable. He wore baggy jeans with a chain hanging on the side from belt loop to back pocket and a Midnight Hunt T-shirt that was two sizes too big and faded, but not enough that I couldn’t tell what it was—our old logo—but enough to be super comfortable and soft.
“Yeah, Zade. Thanks for coming, man.”
His face flushed, and I thought he was going to say something else, but he didn’t.
Marcos did. “Yeah. So, got a minute, Zig?” He nodded to the side like he wanted privacy to talk, but it was more like he wanted to make our transaction, and so did I.
“Yeah, come on. Zade, make yourself at home.” Zade nodded and Marcos followed me into the shower room. We weren’t technically supposed to be in there, but no one stopped us, either. “Got something for me?”
“Yeah, good stuff. Two bags. Purple is the sativa. Before shows, right. Give you a good buzz. And this one with silver tape leans more to indica. Before bed. Put you out.”
“Quality?”
“You know it’s there. I don’t let you down. Ever.” He shook his head and handed me the bags.
We’d already agreed on price over text, so I handed him more than he’d asked for out of my wallet. “Dude…” he said, still shaking his head and acting like he was giving some of it back, but it was an act. We both knew it.
“Nah. You always come through, dude. Keep it.”
“Cool, man.” We did the hand slap—fist bump. I stuffed the bags under my shirt until we got back to the main dressing area.
I dumped the bags into my duffel, but not before I pinched some out of the purple bag and rolled it up. But I couldn’t light up in here since I had security tailing after me. Well, they worked for us, so I wasn’t going to sweat it. In fact, I was going to make Drake complicit. Marcos and Zade trailed after me as I went and found him. It wasn’t too hard. He was like a head and shoulder taller than everyone else in the room.
“Dude, Drake! I need your help, dude.”
“What can I do for you?” The words felt like it pained him to say them.
“We…” I gestured to Marcos and Zade. “We need to go outside. Like a back door or something.”
“I don’t think—”
“It’s a pre-show requirement for me, dude. It’s going to make this show go a hell of a lot smoother. And there’s no threats. It’s still early.”
“Fine. Give me a minute.” Drake stormed off, tapping that earpiece.
“That’s new.” Marcos bumped his shoulder into mine. We’d known each other since Midnight Hunt had been playing dives. “Ya’ll sure have come a loooong way, dude.”
“No lie. We’ve been lucky. Twice.”
Zade scoffed. “Lucky my ass. You’re talented. All ya’ll.” He motioned around, and I had to assume he was indicating the band.
“Thanks, man. It’s a group thing, for sure. We’re all better together. Except maybe Jinx.”
“Nah…” Zade rolled his eyes. “His solo stuff wasn’t near as good as the Hunt.”
I gave him a cheeky smile. I couldn’t deny I liked hearing that.
Drake walked back over, motioning for us to follow him. He led us through a few back hallways in what looked like a service area and out to a loading dock. We found a more secluded space, and I lit that bad boy up. It wasn’t a big one, but we passed it around until it was only a roach.
All things in my head settled. I bounced on my toes. “This is what I’m talking about. Yeah.”
Marcos said, “For real.”
Zade added, “This is so cool.”
We grinned at each other like a troop of monkeys. “Let’s get back in. The show’s gonna start. Ya’ll staying to watch?”
Marcos nodded subtly, but Zade grinned ear to ear. “Wouldn’t miss it for anything, man.”
