Scratch Track

by Eli Lang

  I turned all the way around, putting my back to the window, and crossed to the island in the middle of the kitchen. He came over and pushed himself up onto one of the barstools lining one side. “I forgot. About you and Nicky. I’m sorry.”

  I shrugged and leaned forward, letting my elbows rest on the countertop. “You said you didn’t know they’d be here.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “So what are you apologizing for?”

  He glanced down at his fingers and picked at a corner of one nail. “I asked you to come here with us.”

  I sighed. “Micah asked me, actually.”

  His eyes flicked up to meet mine. “We all wanted you here, Quinn.”

  “And I want to be here,” I said, struggling for a casual tone. That was the thing. I did want to be here. And I knew they wanted me here too. I wanted a few weeks of listening to my friends make music, a few weeks where I got to see and hear the process of recording an album in the most intimate way possible. A few weeks where we partied and hung out and got excited about songs and the next tour. That was my normal.

  But Nicky had thrown me off. I’d seen him and felt . . . so out of place. Like my world had tipped on its axis. Like I’d found myself on the outside, peering in, and everything I saw was just slightly distorted. It was ridiculous. We barely knew each other. We’d spent a few weeks touring the same venues, flirting endlessly, and then we’d spent the one night together, the culmination of all those heavy stares and brief touches. And that was it. It hadn’t meant anything. It was only . . . that I’d liked him, and that the end of the tour had marked the worst and most important moment of my life. And now it was all tangled up in my mind.

  “It’s supposed to be fun, though,” Bellamy said, bringing me back to the here and now. “Not . . . It’s not supposed to be you trying to avoid an ex.”

  “He’s not an ex,” I replied, as gently as I could, trying not to snap out the words. “He was . . .” A fling, I wanted to say. A fuck. But I’d liked Nicky too much for either of those words. It had only been the one night that we’d slept together, but we’d also had all the days and nights before that too, when we’d gotten to know each other as people, maybe as friends. I didn’t want to minimize that. “It didn’t end up going anywhere. So. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. I’m not going to avoid him.”

  I hadn’t quite made up my mind until I’d said it out loud, but it was true. Like I’d thought before, there was no real way to avoid him, anyway. And I didn’t want to. “I’m going to pretend it didn’t happen.” I ran my hand back through my hair. “God, it was only one night. I didn’t think you even knew about it.”

  Bellamy smiled. “I’m pretty observant.”

  I huffed out a laugh. That was true. But maybe I hadn’t been very discreet, either. It wasn’t that I’d been hiding it, exactly—either my attraction to Nicky, or who I was attracted to in general. It was that I didn’t talk about it. There wasn’t a ton of point. I didn’t fall into lust for too many people. So it had always seemed simpler to keep it quiet. Until . . . I figured it all out for myself, maybe. Until I had labels I liked to describe it, so I could put it into words and not have to fumble around with it in front of my family or my friends.

  But Escaping Indigo was family and friends wrapped up into one, and being on tour was . . . freeing. Like I’d been let loose, and everything we did had this edge of unreality to it. So when we were out on the road . . . I let go. I let myself . . . want things and need things; I let myself be myself. And for a few weeks, a year ago, that had meant trying to seduce Nicky of Rest in Peach. And it had worked.

  “Are you sure?” Bellamy was drawing a circle on the countertop with the tip of his finger now, but his eyes were on me, studying me.

  “Sure of what?”

  “Sure you don’t mind? Sure you can pretend everything’s fine?”

  I didn’t know what he was going to do about it if I said no. He couldn’t exactly make Rest in Peach leave. If I wasn’t sure, the only option I had was to leave myself. Or hide away in the room I was sharing with Tuck, but what would be the point?

  “It’ll be fine,” I answered, and I tried to say it so we’d both believe it. “Everything is fine. What Nicky and I were doing together . . . it’s over.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me but nodded, and I hoped that would be enough.

  I was saved from having to reassure him again, or explain anything, by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. A second later, I heard the door open, and Ben and all of Rest in Peach was coming into the kitchen to meet us. So it seemed I’d be testing that resolve right away.

  There were hugs and handshakes all around. Bellamy knew Ben, of course, from when they’d recorded here before. He introduced me. I liked him pretty much immediately—he was intriguing, even in appearance. He was short and almost weedy looking. He had on a pair of glasses he kept pushing around his face, down his nose so he could peer over them, or right up onto his forehead when they got in the way. His hair flopped around his ears, and he was wearing a faded pair of unfashionable jeans and a short-sleeved button-down shirt, open over a plain black T-shirt. He was geeky in the best way, the exact type of person who’d put every technical aspect of your music right. But he was also covered in tattoos, which were a sharp contrast to his otherwise nerdy appearance. They snaked over his arms and down his hands, and there were some poking out of the collar of his shirt, climbing up his neck almost to his jaw.

  Ben greeted me like I was another member of the band, not a hanger-on, and it endeared me to him. Then Ty came over with a huge smile on their face. I went to take their hand, but they shook their head and wrapped me up into a hug, rocking me back and forth. I laughed and hugged them back. Danni, who played keyboards, and Elliot, the bassist, said hello next. It was surprisingly good to see them again. I’d thought about them, sometimes, after that tour together. We’d played with a lot of bands, traveled with them, lived together, really. And we’d made quite a few friends. But Rest in Peach had been the most fun, the people we had seemed to click with, right away. I’d been following their music, listening to their newest album, but I’d missed them.

  Nicky hung back. Ty herded Bellamy, Elliot, and Danni over to one side of the island. I wasn’t sure if Ty knew, like Bellamy did, that Nicky and I had had a thing, or if they were simply that perceptive. They did it so smoothly it didn’t seem manipulative at all, but it definitely gave me and Nick a little space.

  “Hey.” His voice was husky and rough, like I remembered.

  “Hey.” Oh, fuck me. I was definitely not who anyone went to for easy conversation at the best of times. It wasn’t my skill, and right now, I was . . . nervous, I was pretty sure. I didn’t usually get nervous—I was the guy who held it together for everyone else—and it had been a long time since I’d felt that emotion. It took me a second to figure out what it was. But it was tangling my tongue up and putting in some block where clever conversing skills were supposed to be.

  But Nick smiled at me. Gently and vaguely self-deprecating. “This is going to be awkward, huh?”

  It was almost the same thing Bellamy had asked, but it was different coming from Nicky while he was wearing that expression. It made me relax.

  “Well,” I said, reaching for a smile of my own, “the last time I saw you, you were . . .” I waved my hand through the air.

  His eyes widened. “Oh, I remember. It would be hard not to.”

  That made me blush. I looked ridiculous when I blushed. I was too big and bulky for it. Blushes were for delicate people, like Bellamy or Micah. Or Nick. Then again, he wasn’t exactly delicate. He was . . . willowy. Tall and tough and wiry from all the drumming. Like sea glass, polished to a fine roughness.

  I was just rough.

  Standing there, in the bright kitchen, feeling slightly grimy from all the loading and unloading of gear, and the travel, I wondered what it was Nicky had ever seen in me to begin with. I hadn’t questioned it at the time, except to think that I
was lucky to get his attention. But on the other hand . . . Nick had seemed to like what he saw. Like me. And that was all I’d wanted to focus on.

  “I thought . . .” He took a deep breath, enough that I could see his chest rise and fall with it. That smile flickered, and instead of being slightly teasing, it looked almost pained. “I thought I might see you again. After, I mean. After that tour.”

  We’d talked about it. After we’d finally gotten over the flirting and into bed, and the panicky relief of finally having him so close had faded slightly, I’d realized I just liked the guy. We’d gotten along. He’d been fun to joke with and hang out with, and I’d enjoyed being around him. Rest in Peach had been going their own separate way for their tour, and Nicky and I had both known we hadn’t had anything serious between us. Not then, at least. But I’d said I’d like to see him again, maybe call him up when we all got home.

  But of course, I hadn’t. Nicky had tried, and I guessed he’d asked Bellamy about me. But Bellamy wouldn’t be sharing secrets if I didn’t want those secrets known. And at the time, I hadn’t been in any place to tell Nick—a guy I liked but, honestly, barely knew—all the things that were going wrong in my life.

  “I’m sorry,” I said now. “I didn’t . . . I had stuff . . .” I still couldn’t tell him. Not like this. Not here, in front of these people. It had taken me so long to tell the band. There was no way I could say it with all of Rest in Peach here. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell Nick himself.

  He waved his hand again. “It’s fine. Really.”

  It didn’t sound quite fine. His voice was a little tense, tight, like he was forcing the words out. But it was only a hint. And there wasn’t anything I could do about it, as much as I’d like to.

  Ty, who was apparently Captain Perceptive, drew us into the conversation then. A few minutes later, Ava, Tuck, and Micah came out to the kitchen, and the atmosphere went closer to party-like. Tuck suggested we all go out for something to eat, then come back and listen to the stuff Rest in Peach had recorded that afternoon.

  It was a good idea, and it made everything easy, for me at least. We went out as a group, and there was always someone else to talk to, instead of only Nicky. Not that I didn’t want to talk to him, but we didn’t have to be alone together and making up conversation. I was surrounded by my friends, and they made everything simpler. Simpler and fun. That was how I wanted it. That was how I wanted this whole thing to go.

  The first day of recording for Escaping Indigo was a weird mix of excitement, giddiness, and grueling work—for the band, not me, although it was hard not to float on whatever emotions they were putting out. I tried to savor it because I figured by the next day, the initial excitement would be wearing off and the grueling part would be what was left. The band would find its rhythm eventually, before our recording time was up. But they hadn’t done this in a while, and it was all new, all over again. It was probably different for every album too.

  “We agreed we’d do a double chorus there, instead,” Tuck was saying. I was sitting on the couch in the back of the room, my legs curled up under me, watching them hash out the songs.

  Bellamy shrugged. “I decided it doesn’t work as well. We should go back and do a half bridge, then a chorus.”

  “That’s insane. No one writes songs like that, Bellamy.”

  “We’re not everyone else, Tuck,” Bellamy retorted, voice just as dry.

  Ava laughed, making the pinched lines of Tuck’s face soften. I shook my head at all of them, but they weren’t paying me any attention. Bellamy and Tuck had been writing songs for the new album for a while, since the last tour. Slowly—Bellamy was a perfectionist, and Tuck was always telling him to take it easy, so the process of writing had been . . . not leisurely, but mellow. Plus, Ava had spent a few weeks away with her family, so most of her drum stuff for the songs had been done across the country. I knew Bellamy wished they’d all had more time to practice the stuff together, but it had been good for Ava. She’d somehow found time to fall in love with a really awesome girl, and she seemed . . . more settled in herself. Like pieces of her had been loose and out of place before, and now they weren’t.

  But all of that meant the songs were still being created. The bones were there, but not the polish, so the band ended up pausing in the middle of songs and working stuff out. It was good, in a way—it would help them figure out exactly how they wanted things. Escaping Indigo was lucky—having a record deal meant the label paid for more recording time than the band could ever have afforded on their own. So there wasn’t a huge rush to get everything done all at once. But time was still limited, so there was a lot of pressure for everyone.

  I didn’t have much to do, though. I’d helped them unload all the gear—and there was a lot. More than we toured with, it seemed. We’d piled the trailer and the old van high with guitars and drums and about ten thousand cymbals and keyboards and effect pedals, and anything else the band could think of. Ava had brought four snares, and I couldn’t imagine that they all sounded that different from each other, but she swore they did. We set up a few things, and left the rest of the stuff in its cases for when they needed it. And then my job was basically done.

  Ben, who was serving both as recording tech and semiproducer, said something about the guitar sound to Bellamy. Bellamy’s face went tight while he tried to absorb the feedback, but he nodded. “We can try that,” he said, swinging back around to Tuck and Ava. “Let’s do it again.”

  Tuck nodded and started playing the intro. He was floating in music space, blissed out on the possibilities of what they were doing. Ava seemed to be drifting between that state and complete worry. She checked her phone a lot—Cara was probably texting her, to help her stay calm.

  It was exciting for everyone. But it was also hour after hour of taking feedback on their personal creativity. While it was good for the band, and good for the music, it wore a person down. And since Bellamy was producing, he had to be in charge of final decisions. I knew he could do it, and he’d be good at it, once he got the hang of it. I wasn’t sure he knew it yet, though. He wasn’t used to playing that role.

  In the middle of the afternoon, Ty and Danni came to see how it was going. They were recording with a different tech, and their own producer, but Ben kept running back and forth while the two bands worked, checking in, recording snippets, making sure everything was going okay. Rest in Peach must have decided to call it a day, though. I checked my phone for the time. It was later than I’d realized—closer to evening.

  Ty walked over and flopped next to me on the couch, and leaned their head on my shoulder. With anyone else, it might be weird, a little too close, but Ty made it comfortable. There was a certain easiness to them that made you want to tell them all of your secrets and worries.

  “They sound good,” they said, soft enough that I didn’t think anyone else could hear. They raised a hand to brush their hair back from their eyes. Bracelets sparkled on their wrist, clinking softly together, a cascade of color against their skin.

  I held still so I wouldn’t jostle them. “They sound like they can’t agree on anything.”

  The band had paused again as we talked. Ava had flung up her hands, then dropped her sticks down on her snare. Bellamy and Tuck were arguing again, truly this time, about the same doubled chorus. It was mostly civil so far, but I wasn’t sure how long that would last.

  “It’s too long if you double it. It drags.” Bellamy’s hands had started to fly, catching on the microphone cord. His voice was rising the tiniest bit too. There was a tension in his shoulders that told me he was getting ready to storm off.

  Tuck knew Bellamy even better than I did, but he seemed too wrapped up in his own concerns at the moment to notice. He held his hand up. “But the bridge doesn’t work, either. It sounds fucking weird. I don’t want it like that.” He leaned forward, poking his hand in the air to make his point.

  I started to get up, not sure exactly what I’d do or say. Just knowing I could maybe handl
e this, that I was usually the person who stepped in when tensions were running high. But Micah, who’d been sitting with Ben at the soundboard, slipped out of his seat and into the other room before I could get off the couch. He didn’t call to Bellamy, or gesture for him to calm down. He didn’t need to. I’d seen him work his magic on Bellamy before, lots of times, and I still couldn’t figure out how he did it. Bellamy caught his eye, and they held that gaze for a minute. And when Bellamy turned back to Tuck, he still looked angry, but steadier too.

  I sighed and relaxed back against the couch. I felt . . . odd. I was glad Bellamy had Micah, and watching them together was like watching magic. Seeing how they fit, how they seemed to be able to communicate with gestures and glances. But it made me feel like I was adrift too. Taking care of Bellamy had been my job. And now someone else was doing it.

  “They’ll get it,” Ty said, bringing me back to the present and the couch. “It takes a little bit.” They gestured over at Danni. “I almost killed her today. Over a chord change, of all things.”

  I laughed. “I doubt that.”

  They raised their eyebrows at me. “Oh yeah? You underestimating me?” Their tone was joking, but it had an edge of seriousness in it too.

  I shook my head. “Never.”

  I glanced back at the other side of the divided room. Bellamy and Tuck seemed to have settled down a little, and Ava was leaning forward across her snare drum, listening to them. The microphone was picking up the quiet click of her sticks where she was rattling them against her knee. Micah had come back out and sat down, and he had his phone out. He was playing a game or something, totally calm, like he hadn’t just averted a crisis. Not that Bellamy was the type to throw a fit over anything. But he’d storm out, and Tuck would get angry, and then the next few hours would be wasted.

  It looked like they weren’t going to be playing anything for at least a few minutes. I’d already heard them play a thousand versions of this song, anyway. I excused myself from Ty and Danni and went to find the restroom. When I came out, instead of going back to the studio room Escaping Indigo was in, I wound my way through the narrow halls, until I came out at the door that opened onto the wide driveway. I stepped out, careful not to let the door latch behind me.