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“Let’s go get something to eat,” José suggested. “How about Thai?”
“Do I have a choice?” Tristan asked with a sly smile.
“Not as long as I’m driving you around.”
After packing their belongings, they left the rehearsal room. Around six o’clock, they reached the restaurant and even got their favorite table by the window. They had eaten here together after band practice—often with Milo, who had set himself the goal of trying out the entire menu. As Tristan scanned the menu, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should continue Milo’s tradition and order Rad Nah.
The waitress greeted them with a warm smile and filled their glasses with refreshing cucumber water.
“Beer?” José asked.
Tristan nodded and continued to study the menu.
“Two Singha,” José said, diving back into the menu. “What are you having?”
“Rad Nah.”
“No curry?”
“Too hot for that.”
Leaf was the one who almost always opted for curry, ensuring there were never two identical dishes on the table.
Shortly after, the waitress returned with the beer, and they placed their order. Tristan didn’t even notice how lost in thought he was until José raised his glass to toast.
“Okay, what’s up? Tell me.”
“Probably too much,” Tristan murmured, taking a sip. “Right now, everyone’s acting like we’ve released the album of the century, while it seems like the lights are going out for us. Ultimately, music is just music. Whether it’s written by Lennon, Morrison, or Cobain. Sure, I always wanted to create something unique, but with all the hype around the album, I’m starting to feel more and more like it’s just a copy of all the crap that already exists. But I love our songs.”
“Isn’t it about being able to distinguish all the crap? From where I stand, we’ve put out an awesome album—something unique. Let someone try to replicate that. It doesn’t matter what the media is saying about you right now; the quality of your music remains unchallenged.”
Tristan forced a smile and let his gaze wander around the small restaurant. The faux stone wall, the red leather bench, the maroon wooden chairs, and the flickering candles on the black tables in the dimly lit room contributed to the cozy place. But from the outside, it looked anything but inviting. Had it not been for Leaf bringing him here, he would never have thought of stepping inside this place.
“We’ve written a masterpiece,” Tristan said thoughtfully. “I expose myself naked to the world, only to realize that the masses would rather buzz around the crap pile I tried to forget.”
“Not all people are like that.”
Tristan sighed and turned the beer bottle in his hands. Since he woke up this morning, he had been carrying an eerie sadness. It weighed more than he did. His heart felt like lead, and his limbs were heavy as rocks. “I’m tired. There are way too many secrets swirling around us right now. That Andrej hasn’t lost his shit yet is nothing short of a miracle. Am I’m the mystery?” Tristan shook his head in disbelief. “Leaf’s a whole pitch-dark cave full of booby traps and dead ends.”
José’s lips curled into a weak smile.
“Tell me something about him,” Tristan urged him. “Something that makes me believe we’ll overcome this chaos.”
“We certainly will. And I’m sure—”
“No, don’t give me that,” Tristan interjected. “Yesterday, for a moment, I thought we could make it, but Leaf blames himself for Milo’s death. One step forward and three steps back.”
José sighed. “He just needs a little time. He loves you. I know that.”
Tristan ran a hand through his dark curls and drew a deep breath. “I’m trying to understand him. But right now, it’s so damn hard for me. How could he come up with such a crazy idea?” He let out a resigned snort. “Maybe we came together for all the wrong reasons. Maybe it’s not enough for the past to remain a secret.”
There was silence for a while. Tristan practiced patience, sensing from José’s expression that he was deep in thought about Leaf and getting more serious by the moment.
“I always thought the past didn’t matter,” José finally said. “But right now, I’m not so sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know about Leaf’s father?”
