Boy Couch

I scream you scream

The restaurant was dark and hazy. It was almost 8 pm, though Jeremiah wasn't really sure. They had been on stage for the better part of an hour, playing a series of slower-paced rock songs. They swayed their way through Nirvana's "All Apologies" as patrons chattered softly throughout the room. Jeremiah caught the eye of their uncle, Nero. He owned the restaurant. He looked very serious, but he gave them a thumbs-up.

Boy Couch had been playing an hour every Saturday at Duke's Palace for two months. Leif's school was back in session, but fortunately, they didn't need as much rehearsal time. They had their sets down, so now Jeremiah and Tiberius's focus was on publicity. They would sometimes get friends or family to film their sets to post on social media. They were trying to get the attention of a record label, but they needed to gain some traction first.

Tiberius primarily controlled their socials, though Leif would occasionally take over and go rogue. This resulted in a profile picture that changed almost daily from whatever nice image or logo Tiberius had put up to a chaotically blurry selfie of the group from Leif.

Jeremiah's coworker, Ruben, and his band, Semi-Precious Treasures now followed them on Twitter and Instagram. They gave them a shout-out when both bands would be playing at a bar one night. The Treasures only had a couple thousand followers, but it was still a huge boost to Boy Couch's profile, pushing them from around 10 followers (primarily made up of the members themselves, friends and family, and a bot) to a few hundred.

It wasn't a massive fanbase, but it did wonders for their ego, especially Tiberius's.

When the trio closed out their set, the restaurant speakers switched back to playing some Pandora station of pop rock, and the group left the stage. Jeremiah approached their uncle with the other two in tow. "Hey, Nero."

He nodded. "Great work, you three," he replied. He pulled out a checkbook and started writing something. "So, Tiberius," he said without looking up. Jeremiah felt him tense up immediately next to them. "Have you heard from Nari lately?" he asked.

Tiberius and Jeremiah shared a look. "Uh, no. She hasn't contacted me since she left..." he drifted off awkwardly.

Nero looked up then and nodded gravely. "We've barely heard two words from her, but we've seen the charges on her credit cards," he said. "She'll probably come back whenever she hits her credit line."

Jeremiah suppressed a snicker. Tiberius laughed awkwardly. "Yeah."

Nero tore along the perforated line on the check and held it out to Jeremiah. They took the paper and tucked it into their pocket. "Do you three have a designated bank account for your group?" Nero inquired, crossing his arms.

Jeremiah nodded, trying not to roll their eyes. "I set one up at Enid's request," they explained.

"Hm," Nero said, nodding, "good idea."

Jeremiah felt a poke at their shoulder and they looked back at Leif. He signed "HUNGRY," and gave them a pointed look.

"What's he saying?" asked Nero, bewildered.

"It's past his bedtime," Jeremiah replied. Leif exclaimed indignantly as a smirk spread across Jeremiah's face. "Thanks for having us."

"Sure," Nero said. "See you next week."
Jeremiah waved as the trio left the restaurant. The air was cool outside, though the Sun hadn't set yet, so the street was still lit albeit dimly. "So what are we eating?" Tiberius asked once they'd got outside.

Leif signed "ICE CREAM," staring at Jeremiah blankly. His eyes were always so big and just a little unnerving, they thought.

They shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Cassie's?" Leif nodded vigorously.