Love, Comment, Subscribe by Cathy Yardley

CHAPTER 2

I am amazed that I get to do this for a living.

Tobin Bui grinned. It had taken six months of planning, a lot more money than he’d anticipated, and a shit ton of coordination, but now he—or rather his YouTube alter ego, GoofyBui—was ready to pull off his most epic “goof” yet.

His house was in a decent development in Ponto Beach, and like most of the houses in the area, it had a seven-foot fence surrounding the relatively small backyard. Unlike most of the houses, his home had two things: a tree house, and a fifteen-foot scaffolded platform.

He was in the tree house, next to his friend and cameraman, Hayden. “Everybody ready?” he said into the walkie-talkie he held in his hand. “Over,” he added absently.

“Ready!” a chorus of voices crackled back through the tinny-sounding speaker.

“Okay . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . go!”

Tobin held his breath, staring at the platform and hitting the remote control. Then, slowly, like a majestic phoenix rising from the ashes, a red form unfurled, curling up toward the sky.

Well, less a phoenix and more a big red tube.

With a smiling face.

And . . .

“WOOT!” Tobin yelled, as the tube man’s arms started flailing wildly.

He looked past the flailing arms, over the crisscross of fences parceling out his neighborhood, only to see in the distance, a second later, another tube man emerging with fiery-red flailing arms. He vaguely heard the cheer of triumph. Then, yet another tube man sprang up, farther on the hilltop. Pretty soon, there were seven tube men, dancing and wiggling along the ridge of the neighborhood.

It was glorious.

“How’s the footage?” he yelled into the walkie-talkie.

“It is fucking awesome!” his friend Asad answered, laughing. “Drone’s picking up everything!”

Tobin stuck his head in front of the camera. “The beacons of Minas Tirith are lit! Gondor calls for aid!”

“And Ponto Beach will answer!” This came over the walkie-talkie, from his other friend and frequent collaborator Shawn, a.k.a. Skeptic Sketcher.

Tobin felt downright nuclear, happiness radiating from him in what had to be a maniacal grin. Hayden’s answering grin was ear to ear. There were seven tube men, covering miles, all within eyesight of each other.

It was epic.

Hours later, they reviewed the footage. Asad had controlled the drone while his boyfriend, Freddie, drove through the corresponding roads, getting an aerial view of the domino of tube men. So far, the video looked awesome. After driving around town collecting the tube men to return to the rental place and thanking the people who had donated their time (and their backyards) to help pull off the prank, Tobin celebrated, popping open a few Newcastles with Hayden, Freddie, and Asad.

“That,” Asad said, lifting his bottle in a toast, “was legendary.”

“Gonna take all night to edit that thing, but I’ll post it by the afternoon, latest,” Tobin answered.

“Bet this one goes viral,” Hayden said sagely. “Seriously. I mean, your playthroughs are fun, and I laugh my ass off at your skits and that stuff where you do movie dialogue with crazy chat filters, but this? Instant classic. LOTR nerds are gonna eat this up.”

“I thought I was gonna choke when that first tube man popped up,” Asad added.

Tobin took a little mock bow before settling down into his patio chair. Now that the filming was over, he felt the endorphins and adrenaline that had been fueling him all day start to ebb . . . the crash after the high.

Which sucked. Back in the day, when he’d been haphazardly loading videos in between engineering classes in college, he’d been able to ride that giddy sensation for nearly a week. He hadn’t really been doing it for the money back then, of course. Now that it was his career—one that he’d quit college to pursue full time—things had changed. Exhaustion seemed to club him as soon as the camera stopped filming, which was going to suck when it came time to edit. He should probably be switching to Red Bull, not drinking a beer.

“What’s next?” Hayden asked.

“Next?” Tobin repeated, feeling irritated even though he knew his friend didn’t mean anything by it. “I literally just finished that ‘legendary’ video, and I haven’t even edited it. Give me a minute to enjoy the afterglow, okay?”

Hayden grinned unrepentantly. “Speaking of afterglow . . .”

Tobin groaned, covering his face.

“Still seeing . . . what was her name? That cutie, with the long hair. Jessica? Angelica?”

“Nah,” Tobin said quickly. “That was just casual. We haven’t hooked up in a while.” He frowned, thinking about it. A couple of months. Actually, more like six months, now that he thought about it.

Huh.

“Seriously? Man, you need to get out more,” Hayden said.

“What? I’m social.”

Hayden looked at Asad, who grinned by Freddie’s side. “Dude. Online gaming with your friends on their Twitch stream doesn’t count as social.”

“It’s important for channel promotion,” Tobin protested. “And it’s fun.”

“Clearing your head is important too,” Asad said. “Do you even feel relaxed?”

“Et tu, Asad?” Tobin said, narrowing his eyes.

“Just sayin’. You have seemed kind of stressed lately.”

“And the answer is . . . sex?” Tobin suggested with a small smile.

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Asad said.

“I might’ve implied that,” Hayden added with a smirk.

“I mean, you’re under pressure.” Asad’s expression was concerned. “Self-care is important.”

“Sounds like all he’s doing is ‘self-care,’” Hayden said. Tobin and Asad both ignored him.

“I’ve been working out. Regularly,” Tobin said, knowing he sounded stubborn and defensive, and hating it. “I got that meal-service thing, so I’m eating healthier. I even tried meditating.”

That had gone laughably wrong, but he got the feeling he didn’t have a particular aptitude for sitting still while spa music played in the background.

Asad looked skeptical. “Well, at least you’re trying.”

Tobin pulled his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the time. “Okay, I gotta get going on these edits. Thanks again for all the work, and for just being awesome.”

“Anytime,” Asad said, clapping him on the back as he and Freddie headed out.

“Let me know the next time you want to go out,” Hayden said in the doorway. “Oh! That reminds me. You’re going, right? To the reunion?”

“Shit.” Tobin grimaced. He’d been so wrapped up in this shoot he’d lost track of time a bit. “Is that soon?”

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Hayden shook his head. “Doesn’t matter—I’ll remind you. You really need an assistant, you know.”

“Heh. Bad enough that I’ve got an agent,” Tobin joked, then corrected himself. “Two, actually, now.”

“How’s the coagenting thing going?”

“It is what it is.” He’d liked his original agent, Bastian, but Bastian had signed on a slew of new talent, and some of his clients had exploded in popularity. Tobin knew he was still a priority—he’d recently hit nine million subscribers, which wasn’t nothing—but he wasn’t pushing for big endorsements, and he didn’t embody the hustle that a lot of other YouTubers seemed to have in spades. The agency had then suggested Bastian split some of his agenting duties with a new “coagent,” Jeffrey.

Tobin got the feeling Jeffrey didn’t quite get him. Or YouTube, really. Jeffrey wanted to do TV and movies and streaming services. It wasn’t that Tobin had anything against any of those things; he just didn’t see where he fit into that picture.

“Seriously. If you want to go hang out, see people IRL, hit me up,” Hayden said, reminding Tobin that he was lucky he had the friends that he had. “Couple of the Herd townies are gonna get together anyway—sort of a prereunion thing. Maybe in a few weeks? Game a little, hang out. Let me know if you’re in.”

“Sure,” Tobin said, then shut the door behind him.

Tobin rubbed at the back of his neck, then tossed his bottle in the recycle bin and headed for his office. He still had footage to download and compile, editing to do. He could hire an editor and usually worked with several he trusted, but he wanted to play with this video particularly before he made final cuts, see what worked best. It would probably take all night.

You ought to get out more.

He grimaced.

In the end, it had taken all night, and he’d fallen asleep watching TV on his couch while it was rendering, which was stupid. The thing was comfortable enough to sit on but too short to really accommodate his whole body. Now, he had a crick in his neck as he uploaded the video and retreated to his shower.

He spent the day watching movies and catnapping. After a quick workout and meal, he found himself wandering back to his computer. Tomorrow would be a video prep day. Then, he’d probably record a playthrough of a video game—he wasn’t sure which one yet. He had a loose content calendar, but he didn’t like being tied down to anything.

Maybe I’ll do a farm sim.He hadn’t done that before, he thought, scrolling through Steam, looking for new indie releases. Maybe he’d see if there were any new horror games. Those were always popular, although he was getting a little bored with . . .

He’d opened his YouTube account on his second monitor, and he glanced at the views in the corner of his screen. Then he blinked and focused on it again.

Wait.

That wasn’t right. Was it?

He called Hayden. “Dude, have you—”

“Holy shit,” Hayden said, all but singing with excitement. “You’re awake! Are you seeing this?”

“This can’t be right,” Tobin croaked. “Glitch, maybe . . . ?”

“Damn right it’s right!” Hayden shouted. “Your viewers went nuts. Shared it everywhere! I am seeing this all over social media. Buzzfeed’s sharing it, big YouTubers, it’s all over Twitter. Hell, I think Peter Jackson’s shared it!”

“Are you kidding?” Tobin leaned back in his gaming chair, suddenly feeling light headed. “But this is . . .”

“Congrats, buddy!”

“Thanks,” Tobin said and hung up, still staring at the screen.

One. Million. Views.

He ought to be thrilled. He ought to be shouting, dancing (badly—he knew his skill set), screaming out of his windows. Opening champagne. Well, buying champagne, then opening it.

But he didn’t feel that. He felt . . . numb.

He took a deep breath. Then he kept quietly scrolling through Steam, wondering if maybe Asad had a point about his stress levels.