Amidst the chaos of Los Angeles ablaze, Silver hosted his farewell party, a quintessential Southern-style gathering. Pacing the kitchen, he stopped to meticulously lay the salami on a wine glass to distract himself from crafting further texts to his overthinkers anonymous group chat. 

Questions flickered through his head arranging the cheeses: Were the flames destroying incriminating evidence for Diddy? Silencing unimaginable horrors hidden in the basements of opulent hillside mansions? Or was it all a calculated ploy to overhaul urban planning in preparation for the 2028 Olympics?

His friends were restless, and he was determined to bring a semblance of normalcy by throwing a party with his wifey, whom cultivated the man he’s become. Despite some family members trying to ensure he married her, he decided against it; conversion therapy simply doesn’t work. The charcuterie board was set, the alcohol generously stocked, and Kendrick Lamar’s music videos flickered across the flatscreen. It was time to celebrate, Bronson style (well, as much as the limited budget would allow).

Little did he know that the date he had invited would succumb to a panic attack and vomit on himself at the afters. He’d been on medical leave since December following a stroke, evidence, perhaps, of how grueling political work can be.

As life often proves, God and his inner circle had his back. S, a lion friend of his, seamlessly stepped in as his date, and boy did S stake his claim. Despite prowling around the party and emotionally connecting with all of Silver’s inner circle, he still managed to check in with Silver in between conversations. Silver chatted with friends about his cross country drive, only to be interrupted by a purr in his ear: “Where are the dimmers?”

Let’s face it, no host can truly shine without a striking & perceptive companion by his side. 

Friends from all corners of Los Angeles navigated the smoky streets to gather at Silver’s wifey’s Larchmont condo. As tequila shots flowed and bites of smoked Gouda disappeared, the collective anxieties began to fade, replaced by laughter and camaraderie. They bonded over shared traumas of difficult bosses, the looming demise of TikTok, and the insidious rise of AI-generated fake news. Together, the crew danced, laughed, and found fleeting joy amidst the flaming California chaos.

After hours of playing bartender, Silver was spent, signaling it was time to move on to the afterparty: Drugstore Cowboy. Red leather booths, expertly crafted cocktails, and a pool table presided over by an Irishman distributing beers. What more could the crew possibly need?

For Silver, the move from Los Angeles felt more poignant than any relocation he had undertaken before. He was not just leaving a city, he was bidding farewell to the most intimate circle of friends he’d cultivated during an extraordinarily challenging period. The entertainment industrial complex is plagued with vipers in sheep’s clothing. And lets face it, everyone knows Silver is just moving his home base. He’s always on a plane. 

The past years have tested Silver in ways he never imagined. He had to drop a bottle of Portrait of a Lady off to M’s UES townhouse and rush to his hometown to hold his grandmother’s hand to tell her it was okay to let go and leave for Heaven. That was followed by an inevitable heartbreak from a narcissistic coworker, a challenging build of a new company with a family member that ultimately sold, and another grueling assistant gig that led him to the Cannes Film Festival.

In that moment, all he needed was an ice cold vodka dirty martini with no vermouth, his friends, and the reassuring presence of someone who could ground him when my thoughts threatened to spiral.

On the way to Drugstore Cowboy, S sat beside Silver in the back of the UberXL and exclaimed, “That’s Akbar, I want to make out with someone tonight.”

Silver turned to him and replied, “Your grandmother just passed, you’re 30, and you’re on the brink of opening your first of many restaurants. Leave the past behind and find someone worthy of you.”

As for the rest of the evening, well, some stories are better left untold. After all, the best people keep a few secrets for themselves, especially ones they wouldn’t want resurfacing when fame inevitably finds them and lawsuits circulate. 

But…Silver will say this: S held his hand in the Cadillac home that night. The host couldn’t have asked for a more idyllic send-off to a remarkable chapter of his life. For the first time in his twenties, Silver felt safe to be 100% himself because there was a Man to tame the wild horse. Amidst fires ablaze, a simple grab to his neck kept him from succumbing to yet another panic attack.