Page 32 of If the World Was Ending

“What? Really?” Colby suddenly felt dumb for never even thinking that was a possibility.

Briar pulled her phone out of her purse and opened Instagram. “Watch. I’ll type Colby Keaton into the search.”

As soon as she was done, Colby watched in amazement as the screen filled with video clips. All of which had been taken at various shows he’d done over the last several months. He ran a hand through his hair and tucked his locks behind his ear on one side as he leaned in. “I don’t even notice people have their phones up. This is…”

“Cool, huh?” Briar finished for him and smiled. “And this is just your name. There are even more videos if you search the band name.”

Colby wasn’t sure cool was the word he was going for. Freaky? Insane? Scary? Those words were probably a better fit.

“You’re the band member with the most search results on your solo name,” Ford interjected. “I started a band account, but it would be good for your future endeavors if you had your own account like Kenner and Trev.”

“So, I agree with Ford because people get actual record deals from TikTok accounts nowadays, Colb.”

“I will not be going anywhere near TikTok,” Colby said flatly.

“Instagram is just as good,” Ford said, and he lit another cigarette, which made Colby flash him a wry smile. He was always on Colby to try and quit, yet he smoked way more. “Better even. More label execs are on that. Less controversial.”

“Okay…” Colby knew they were making sense, but he also knew he would suck at social media. He’d either post shit no one liked or songs before they were ready for public ears because he’d feel pressured to share. Or he’d simply spend hours in… what was it called? Doom scrolls? “I mean, I can think about it, but if people are already posting my shit, can’t I be discovered from that?”

Ford shook his head. “They aren’t just buying a band or a sound anymore. They’re buying a brand, and you have no brand if you aren’t out there showing them what your brand is. Plus, followers mean sales. If you’re on there and you got like a hundred thousand followers, then that’s a hundred thousand sales if they make you record.”

“Not necessarily.”

Ford frowned at him in frustration. “Dude, they don’t care about reality. Just what they can pretend to guarantee.”

Colby wanted to list the ways that were a stupid business strategy, but Briar interrupted by shoving her screen in his face again. He blew out a cloud of smoke and blinked as it dissipated. There was an Instagram account on her screen. The name was ColbyKeatonMusic, and the profile pic was one that Briar had taken at his apartment in West Hollywood a couple weeks ago. It was Colby, in a white tank top on the couch, hand thrown up over his head, hair fanned out around him. He was smiling but looking at something off-camera. Something to the left. That something was Hunter, who had just come back from the gym, sweaty and ripped, using his shirt as a towel. Nobody would know that, though. They’d just see the dark, feral expression on Colby’s face and like it.

“Shit, that’s a great profile pic, Briar. Good job,” Ford said, and Colby wanted to blush.

“I decided to start this for you,” Briar announced what he’d already figured out. “A bunch of people have already found it, see!”

He squinted at the screen. He already had over two thousand followers. Shit. He swallowed. Okay. So he was gonna have to do this.

“I don’t know how often I’ll remember to post,” Colby muttered as a warning. “Or what I’ll post. You’ve all seen my private Insta. It’s bare bones.”

“It’s just you and him,” Ford muttered, the cigarette caught between his lips making his words slightly muffled. He jerked a thumb toward Hunter, just so everyone knew what he was saying. And yeah, it was true, Colby’s locked-down private Instagram mostly had photos that included Hunter. “Briar’s there too. But most shots don’t have people.”

Colby felt like it made things a big deal if he defended himself, yet he couldn’t help it. And it was true Briar was in a few photos too, and he did have more random shots of sunsets and sunrises and his guitar than he did of anyone.

“I’ll remind you to post and even suggest what you should post,” Ford said, changing the subject back to the new account. “But at least I won’t have to monitor you like I do Bowerman.”

Ford sounded disgruntled, and Colby decided to check out Trevor’s Instagram later to see what chaos he was causing.

Colby flicked his cigarette butt to the pavement. “Fine. Whatever.”

“I can help you with it if you want,” Hunter said. “I mean, I have one I don’t do anything with, but like we can remind each other to post.”

“Okay, so, I took a bunch of shots tonight,” Ford interrupted and squeezed his way between Hunter and Colby to show Colby the photos on his phone. “I sent the best ones to Briar to post for you, unless you want to post.”

“I mean… I will. Eventually.”

Ford frowned. “Yeah, but right now… like in the moment. Fans love that shit.”

“He’s right,” Briar agreed and started doing something on her phone. “I’ll give you the password and everything later, but for now… allow me to do the honors. Three staged shots and a candid, because the fans love the real shit.”

“I don’t have a candid,” Colby said like a total idiot. Even Hunter chuckled under his breath.

Colby looked over at him. His roommate and best friend, with movie-star looks and just as much ambition as Colby. He wished they could leave—just the two of them—and chill at their apartment. He liked alone time with Hunter. It’s where he felt most comfortable lately. He pulled a second smoke from behind his other ear and lit it, breaking his own one smoke rule, but he was still antsy or something, so fuck it.