Love, Comment, Subscribe by Cathy Yardley

CHAPTER 9

Tobin hated driving into LA. Unfortunately, it was ground zero for YouTubers—there were probably more YouTubers per capita there than in any city in the country. It was entertainment central as well, and technically only a few hours from Ponto, depending on traffic. Still, if he was going to Los Angeles, he was damned well going to make it worth his while, because he didn’t want to make multiple trips if he could help it.

So, even though rigid scheduling was something he rarely submitted to unless it was absolutely necessary, he booked a few different things. He left Ponto super early—like “oh my God, where is the sun?” early—and had a quick breakfast at Tommy’s Diner with two of his favorite podcasters, GameOrDie, before recording a show with them at their house. Then he stopped and visited one of his gamer friends, TwitchyBird, and they did a joint livestream of a quick jaunt through a few levels of the latest Zelda release, yelling and laughing the whole time. While it was fun, it was kind of exhausting, especially since he’d recorded, edited, and uploaded a video the day before and still felt kind of wiped out. His video wasn’t anything special, just a “trying to come up with an idea” skit that he’d kicked around. If he’d been more on the ball, he would’ve done full animation, but he’d already gone several days with no posts, and while he wasn’t as strictly scheduled as Lily apparently was, he knew that at least a marginally consistent release schedule was important. No content meant bored viewers. Bored viewers tended to disappear. He wanted to keep his audience happy. Normally, that meant a sixty-forty mix of game stuff and silly shit—approximately. He probably needed to keep better track of that sort of thing.

He bet Lily had a spreadsheet that mapped that kind of thing out.

Why are you thinking about Lily again?

He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to regain focus. After all, he was slated to have lunch with his agents and discuss his future. Or something.

He sighed. Because the livestream had finished early, he was early to lunch, so he was sitting at a bougie restaurant, drinking Dr Pepper and playing Clash of Clans on his phone. The place was swank—linen tablecloths, well-dressed waiters, the offer of three different kinds of water, for God’s sake—which suggested Jeffrey had picked it out for their lunch meeting. It was probably a place to be seen by people in Hollywood, or something. Tobin was wearing a T-shirt that had Baby Yoda (he would never, ever call him “Grogu”) on it with the word WANTED printed under it, a pair of skate shorts, and his old pair of Chucks. He was not exactly dressed to impress.

On the other hand, he didn’t really give a shit, so there was that.

“Tobin,” Bastian said, greeting him, completely unfazed by his client’s casual attire. Tobin stood, and they shook hands, then did the bro hug, one shoulder and a pat. “Good to see you, brother.”

“Same,” Tobin said with a genuine grin. Bastian might look slick and sleek, but he was good people. Then he held out his hand to Jeffrey, who definitely shot him a judgy look as he took in his outfit. They shook hands quickly; then they all sat down.

“Congrats on the Beacons video,” Bastian said with a warm smile. “I know it took a while to pull together, but . . . shit! That thing took off.”

“Thanks.” It was funny how much more Bastian’s approval meant to him.

“We were talking about how important it is to have a follow-up,” Jeffrey jumped in. Tobin fought the urge to flip the guy off. What a tool bag. “So. What are your concepts? What do you have in mind to capitalize on the traffic? Your subscriber numbers have been growing steadily.”

Tobin gritted his teeth, then pulled out the “cards” he’d brainstormed with Josh, Asad, and Freddie. “Keep in mind, these are just spitballing,” he warned. “It’s only been a few days.”

Bastian and Jeffrey looked at him, expectant.

Tobin sighed, then plowed forward. “Water-balloon jai alai. Or maybe water balloons in a T-shirt bazooka.”

Bastian frowned. “Didn’t they do something like that in Jackass? Also—won’t they break? And I think that’ll hurt like hell.”

Jeffrey, on the other hand, chuckled. “If it hurts, that’ll be gold. People love that shit. Like treadmill-fail videos.”

Tobin grimaced. It was not one of the better ideas, which was why he’d led with it. “Um—this is a bit more elaborate, and it’ll take some time, but . . . capture the flag.” He paused a beat for emphasis. “In the Mall of America.”

Bastian grinned, shaking his head.

“Liability issues,” Jeffrey kiboshed immediately, shaking his head. “God, the lawsuit. Let’s not go there.”

“Also, didn’t you do something similar at University Town Center, in San Diego?” Bastian asked, quirking his eyebrow. “I mean, it was popular, and this would be a step up—but it’s more of the same, isn’t it?”

Tobin had actually liked that idea—enough that he’d done it more than once. In fact, he and the Herd had pulled off something similar in high school, at a mall downtown. And yeah, to Jeffrey’s point, the security guards had been none too pleased by their antics. He let out a slow breath. “Live action Pitfall?”

Jeffrey gave him the thumbs-up. Bastian, on the other hand, wrinkled his nose. “You’ve got to think about it: the vines, the pits, the rolling logs . . . the scorpions and snakes, for God’s sake. How much money and how much time is it going to take to set this up?”

“I hadn’t really worked out the details,” Tobin admitted, feeling like he’d been called on in class and hadn’t done the homework. But the damned thing was, he’d tried. And it was one thing to disappoint that douchebag Jeffrey. Disappointing Bastian felt like . . .

Failure.

Bastian cracked his knuckles, a move at odds with his suave, sophisticated front. It was a gamer thing, one Tobin knew Bastian did before he started playing. “Listen, Tobin, shooting high is all well and good,” he said, “but the best thing about the Beacons video wasn’t the expense, or the scale—it was the fact that it was so unexpected. People value originality, creativity. You’re a smart fucking guy with a twisted sense of humor. Don’t think that you have to go bigger. You’re smart, and you think differently.” Bastian clapped him on the shoulder. “Lean into that.”

Jeffrey frowned but followed the lead of his senior agent.

Tobin nodded, then drank some of his flavored seltzer water, which tasted like chalky sparkling water that had been in the same room as a watermelon at one point. “I’ve been feeling a little stuck.” He drew out the words, unwilling to admit it.

“That’s nothing,” Jeffrey said quickly with a barracuda smile. “You’ll snap right back to it. You just haven’t come up with the right idea.”

Before Tobin could, indeed, snap, Bastian held up a hand. “Have you considered doing another collab?” he asked. “Sometimes working with new blood can shake up your creativity.”

He thought immediately of Lily, showing up out of the blue on Saturday morning when he was viciously hungover and utterly unprepared, asking to work together. “Funny you should mention,” he said wryly. “I have had somebody approach me to collab recently.”

Jeffrey groaned. “Another gamer cross-promo, Bas?” he asked the older agent. “We’re getting really niche here. I don’t know that we’re going to get any kind of series just based on gaming . . .”

Bastian leveled a cool glare at Jeffrey, and the younger man quieted down. “There are plenty of opportunities for you, just as a gamer,” he said to Tobin, but he did also sound a bit hesitant. “We could pitch a series on one of the new streaming networks—some of them are looking for ten-minute episodes. There’s enough of a specialized audience—”

“Wait, no. I didn’t mean . . . this actually wouldn’t be . . .” Tobin chuckled at himself, feeling like an idiot. “She’s a beauty YouTuber, actually.”

For a second, Bastian and Jeffrey just stared at him. Then they both started cracking up, Jeffrey practically braying like a donkey. “You mean, like, makeup and fashion and shit?” Jeffrey croaked, breathless.

Tobin laughed weakly. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I told her no.”

“Why in the world did she suggest it?” Bastian said, gesturing to the waiter to take their order.

“She’s building her stats, just like I am. She’s not quite there yet, but she is determined. Like a pit bull.” Or whatever the cat equivalent of a pit bull was, he thought with a grin, thinking of his dog-and-cat analogy. “She may not be the most creative, but she’s a content machine. And a beast when it comes to consistency.”

Jeffrey was still snickering to himself when Bastian’s eyes narrowed. “What’s her name?”

“Lily Wang,” Tobin supplied, then clarified. “Her channel’s name is EverLily.”

They ordered lunch from the patient waiter, then Bastian whipped out his phone, quickly typing. His eyes widened.

Jeffrey looked over Bastian’s arm at the phone display, then let out a low whistle. “Holy shit. She is smokin’ hot. I’d hit that.”

“Watch it,” Tobin snarled. “She’s a friend. Like, since grade school.”

He could practically see the gears turning in Bastian’s head. “What kind of content did you have in mind with her?”

“Huh? I didn’t have any content in mind with her,” Tobin said, startled. “Like I said, I told her no.”

“I think you might be missing an opportunity here,” Bastian replied, thoughtful. “Jeffrey’s right: there’s something to be said for going a bit more mainstream. Whether she can act or not, you could probably come up with some funny, fresh material. Think about it: a gamer and a beauty guru? What the hell would they have in common?”

“Other than the fact that we grew up together? Um, nothing,” Tobin said, feeling bewildered.

“Well, what kind of chemistry do you two have?” Bastian pressed.

Tobin rolled his eyes. “She’s spent most of her life wanting to kill me, so there’s that.”

Bastian’s smile was like the Cheshire cat’s. “Tension, maybe some dirt from when you were kids . . . hell, she can be straight man to your silliness. And while I wouldn’t necessarily word it the way Jeffrey did, a pretty girl is never a bad thing to incorporate into your content. I sense a lot of potential here,” he said. “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just saying, it might be the perfect way to shake things up without spending a ton of prep time and money. You might work up to a bigger set piece on your own, but that could take months. In the meantime . . .” He trailed off, with a voilà gesture.

Tobin felt for a moment like he might be crazy. “Me. And Lily.” He stared at Bastian, waiting to hear that he’d gotten it wrong, that Bastian was not, in fact, suggesting he work with a childhood frenemy beauty YouTuber who probably had pee breaks blocked out on her planner.

“Just an idea,” Bastian said.

Yup. That’s exactly what he’s saying.Tobin grimaced. Of course, Bastian’s suggestion was just that—a suggestion.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a single better idea.

Which meant talking to Lily. Again. And seeing what they could do.