Grant returns to the stage and does a cover song by Elton John, “Born to Run” by Springsteen, and one by Bruno Mars. He also does a Lady Gaga tune and something by The Fallout Boys. During his performances, he stares at Toby from his stage, winks a few times, and grins at the blogger, noticeably having an attraction to him.
Before Toby realizes it, the gig is over and it’s time to leave. He separates from King and Bea, who are going back to King’s apartment above his gym to mess around and spend most of the night together, or until King tells Bea to leave, being done with her, just as he has treated other women in his life prior to this evening’s date at The Whiskey Club.
The night is warm and what Toby considers cozy. He thinks about taking a cab back to his Colonial, but a walk will do him just fine. The moon is almost full, there’s a slight wind that is tepid, and the prequel of summertime seems soothing.
Just as he’s about to leave The Whiskey Club, he’s approached by Grant Stevens. He surprises Toby by reaching out and grasping his right shoulder from behind. Toby immediately stops, spins around, and sees the musician behind him, smiling as if it is Christmas morning. Grant wears the same outfit that he performed in on the stage. His face is somewhat damp, probably because he has just rinsed it off in the nearby bathroom that he shares with the patrons of the bar. And Toby listens to him ask, “Did you get my drink?”
Toby hears, Did you get my twink? and shakes his head. In the process, confused and embarrassed, he asks, “What do you mean?”
“The drink I sent you. Two fingers of whiskey. Did you get it?”
Now Toby correctly hears him and nods. He feels like a fool, but whatever. Shit happens, right? “I did get it. Thank you. That’s your favorite drink, right?”
“My vice,” Grant explains. “I need to cut back or I’ll turn into an alcoholic. My father says I drink too much. He’s always lecturing me about it. Maybe someday I’ll pay attention to him.”
It’s Toby who is currently paying attention to the singer. His lips are slightly parted and his eyes are unblinking. The temperature inside the club feels as if it is over two hundred and fifty degrees Fahrenheit. Truth is he feels as if he is going to pass out, half stunned that Grant Stevens talks to him in person, and purchased a drink for him. He surfaces from his state of confusion and says, “We all have vices, Mr. Stevens.”
“Grant. Call me Grant. Stevens isn’t really my last name at all.”
“It’s Chapman. My friend told me a few weeks ago. He’s addicted to you and is probably one of your biggest fans. All he does is talk about you and your music. This week I learned that you have a younger sister and an older brother, and that you live in your parent’s basement because you’ve been traveling from city to city so much.”
“Impressive,” Grant says. “Your friend has done some homework on me. I commend that.”
“He told me tonight that he has a man-crush on you, which is kind of funny since he’s straight.”
Grant keeps the wide smile on his pretty boy face and says, “You’re rambling, which tells me you’re nervous around me. Don’t be. I crap in the toilet just like everyone else.”
“But you’re famous,” Toby mumbles. “You have over three million followers on Facebook.”
Grant shakes his head. “None of that matters to me, Toby. Life’s a little more important than fame, singles, and money.”
Toby’s face turns a sheet white, disbelieving that Grant knows his name. He wonders why and how, perplexed by such a menial and strange detail concerning the musician. He asks, “How do you know my name?”
“From your Bear Blog, which I read daily.”
“You read my Bear Blog?”
“I do. Faithfully. Just like the cover I sang tonight. Frankly, I know a lot about you because of your writing, which I enjoy.” Grant holds out his right hand and says, “Nice to meet you, Toby Cartwright. The pleasure is all mine.”
Toby pumps hands with the stranger. What slips out of his mouth is a surprise even to himself, “The weather is nice tonight, Grant. Would you like to take a walk with me?”
The handsome musician nods. “I think I’d like that. Thanks for asking me.”