Night Shifts Black

by Alyson Santos

  He plugs it into the keyboard and connects it to the laptop. I see that he also has an external hard drive hooked up. Next he takes the pedal and plugs that into the back of the keyboard.

  “You’ve been calling it a controller more than a keyboard. Why?”

  He continues his setup as he answers. “Because that’s all it is. It actually doesn’t do anything on it’s own. It’s like a mouse or keyboard for your computer.”

  “Huh?”

  He stops and waves me over. I can see it’s taking incredible patience for him to stop his eager preparations to explain, but I really want to understand.

  “Listen,” he says, and starts pressing the keys as though he’s playing a song.

  I see that the display on the keyboard is lit and numbers are flashing, but I don’t hear a sound.

  “I don’t hear anything,” I say, and he smiles.

  “Exactly. It doesn’t make any sounds. All the sounds are generated by the computer. This thing is just a fancy joystick really.” He laughs. “These days you have to be more of a computer programmer than a musician to make music.”

  I stare at him in awe. I had no idea.

  “Can you show me?” I ask, fascinated.

  He seems excited again, and I love watching his passion come to life. He navigates around his laptop, and soon I’m staring at a program that covers the screen with lots of small boxes and even more empty space. I still don’t understand what’s happening, but wait patiently as he clicks and moves around with a casual expertise.

  “Ok, hang on a sec.” He glances around the desk as if searching for something, and then grunts. “Do you have headphones? I’d let you use mine but they’re custom for my ears so you won’t be able to hear very well. I was hoping they’d have external speakers in here but they don’t and the built-in speaker won’t do it justice.”

  I nod. “I do in my bag. I’ll go get them.”

  “Ok, great. I’ll load some stuff for you to hear and get this set up.”

  I grab my headphones from my room and return as quickly as possible. When I do, I see him hard at work, one hand on his laptop and the other playing the keyboard. I can see he has headphones in his own ears now and I’m not even sure he’s noticed I’ve returned.

  I wave my hands to get his attention, and he pulls one out of his left ear.

  “That looks like a high-tech hearing aide,” I comment, observing the molded earpiece dangling around his neck.

  He grins. “It kind of is. Only a million times better. They’re called in-ear monitors. They’re custom fit to my ear so they fit perfectly. These babies have twelve drivers!”

  I smile, knowing I’m supposed to be impressed by that, but I don’t know what a driver is.

  “Ok,” I say. “These probably don’t.”

  He laughs. “No probably not. It’s ok. You’ll still be able to hear this.”

  He waves me over, and I hand him my headphones. He plugs the end into the laptop stereo jack, and I put the buds in my ears. My jaw drops when he starts playing. That tiny little machine on his desk has transformed into an entire band in my head.

  I can tell he loves my expression, and his eyes are wild with excitement. He’s trying to talk to me again, so I pull out one of the headphones.

  “Tell me an instrument you want to hear,” he repeats, and I think for a moment.

  “Violin,” I say, remembering his other talent.

  He nods, clearly happy about my choice, and I watch him move around his screen, adding things to boxes and blank space.

  “Ok, now listen.”

  I put the headphone back in, and he starts playing. The beautiful, simple melody ringing through my ears sounds exactly like a violin, down to the vibrato and hit of a bow on a string.

  My eyes widen. “I can even hear the vibrato,” I whisper.

  He laughs. “Tremolo, but yeah. How about this?”

  He clicks more buttons and starts playing again. This time the sound is fuller, another stringed instrument has joined in a duet. He clicks some more, and next thing I know I’m listening to an entire strings section playing a steady, syncopated riff that changes its rhythm as he moves a button on his screen.

  “That’s amazing,” I exclaim. “It sounds just like an orchestra!”

  He nods. “And check this out.”

  He clicks some more buttons, and now I hear an acoustic guitar strumming along. I glance around the room, still unable to believe he’s doing all of that with this little keyboard.

  I laugh. “You don’t even need an actual band anymore, do you. You could record an entire song with just this thing!”

  He shrugs and grins as I pull out my headphones. “A lot of people do that actually. There’s a huge advantage to recording in midi. You’re basically converting sounds to data, which allows you to do anything you want with them. I can record a riff on the keys and make it sound like a trombone. Then decide I want it to be a cello, instead. Then decide I want to turn it into a loop and copy and paste it a hundred times, or just have it play once and tell it to repeat. I can quantize it, level volumes, even alter specific notes if I don’t like the way something modulates without re-recording anything.”

  “So what does this box do?” I ask, tapping the other rectangle on the desk.

  “That’s an interface. It’s going to allow me to hook up the mics and my guitar to the computer so I can add vocals and live guitar to the recording as well.”

  “This is crazy.”

  “I know. It’s awesome. And see all these buttons and faders?” he asks, pointing to the knobs and sliders on the keyboard. “I can program all of these to control anything I want to. It’s especially valuable when playing live because it allows me to change sounds and trigger what I need right from here instead of messing with my computer.”

  I look at him. “But I thought you’re a drummer.”

  He smiles. “Yeah, I don’t do this for NSB. Just on my own projects.”

  I shake my head in disbelief.

  “What?” he asks, suddenly shy again.

  I smile at him. “Nothing. You just keep surprising me, that’s all.”

  He laughs. “Hopefully, good surprises,” he teases, pulling me toward him.

  “Oh yeah,” I assure him, sliding onto his lap. It’s so natural, so easy, and I kiss him without even thinking. He kisses me back, and there’s that sudden urgency again. I feel so secure, so sure, in his arms, and wish I’d been bolder earlier in the guest room after my shower. I want him. That much is obvious to both of us. Gosh, right now if I could. I can’t get enough, grasping his collar as I press into him. He seems just as determined, and I love the way his hands hold me against him. It’s pretty obvious how much he wants me, too.

  Finally, he pulls back with a grin. “Wow, computers really turn you on, don’t they,” he teases, and I smack him lightly before smothering his easy smile with another kiss, this one completely abandoned.

  ∞∞∞

  The food arrives shortly after Casey finishes setting up, so we’re forced to take a break from our recording session, not that I was allowing him to get much done anyway. Casey seems disappointed at the interruption, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have stopped to eat if I hadn’t made him.

  “So Callie, what’s your story? How’d you and Casey even meet?” Eli asks.

  “Uh-oh,” Casey mutters, and we exchange an amused glance.

  I rub my hands in anticipation and lean forward. “Well, like I said earlier, it actually started with Luke. Luke and I met at a café and started a breakfast club which Casey crashed one morning.”

  “I didn’t crash!” Casey cries, holding up a potato in protest.

  “Oh my gosh, Casey, you crashed so hard,” I reply, and the others laugh.

  “Dude, you literally crashed it by storming off,” Luke reminds him, and Casey grunts.

  “Fine, yeah, but only because you were being a jerk.”

  Luke shrugs. “True. But you basically told me that to my face. I m
ean, you crashed in all its definitions.”

  Casey rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

  I wave my hand. “Anyway, he eventually came back to hang out, we hit it off, and here we are.”

  Eli gives us a skeptical look. “Hang on, breakfast club?” he asks.

  Luke nods. “Yup, we met at Jemma’s Café pretty much every day for breakfast.”

  “Jemma’s? Isn’t that the place where you stole that chair?”

  “I didn’t steal it!” Luke defends. I give him a look, and he shrugs. “Ok, fine. I kind of stole it. Yeah, that place.”

  “So what’s with the chair?” Sweeny asks, and I instinctively know that question crosses the line. Luke has been much improved lately, but that’s too far.

  He shrugs. “Long story,” he mumbles.

  “What about you guys?” I ask quickly, changing the subject, and Luke gives me a grateful look. I return a quick smile, before focusing back on our guests. “I know all about Luke and Casey, but not the mysterious Eli and Sweeny. Are you from Houston, too?”

  They shake their heads. “Austin, actually. We hooked up with Luke and Casey about eight years ago.”

  I nod. “Gotcha. So Sweeny, you’re lead guitar and Eli…?”

  “Bass.”

  I nod. “Ok.”

  They’re looking at me the way Casey and Luke looked at me in the beginning. Who am I kidding? The way they still look at me half the time.

  “She didn’t actually know our music, or anything about us, before she met us,” Casey explains with a snicker.

  I roll my eyes. “You’re still hung up on that, huh?” I grunt.

  “You tried to convince me you were royalty.”

  “Yeah, well, you tried to convince me that I should kiss your feet because you happen to bang buckets with sticks pretty well.”

  The others laugh, and Casey gives me a dirty look.

  “All drummers think they’re God’s gift. Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Eli assures me.

  Casey straightens. “Yeah? Try playing any of our songs without drums. I could track your part in an hour before the show,” he returns, and now it’s Eli’s turn to glare.

  “Whatever.”

  “Ok, children,” Sweeny jumps in. “You both are super awesome. Can we let this go?”

  Casey winks at me, and I shake my head with a smile.

  “Ok, so tell us about this song. We’re dying to know what’s got poor TJ all hot and bothered,” Eli says.

  Casey’s eyes light up as he leans forward. “Alright, so crazy story. Callie and I were talking the other night, and I saw some poetry she was working on. I’d been playing around with some chords in my head for a while and when I saw her stuff, I just felt it. I don’t know, I knew it was going to work for some reason. Anyway, we’ve been working on it ever since, and I think we’ve got a pretty good start.”

  “Yeah?” Eli asks. I can’t read his reaction. “What’s it called again?”

  “‘Greetings from the Inside,’” Casey says.

  “And what’s it about?”

  Casey turns to me, and I swallow at the unexpected spotlight.

  I clear my throat. “Um, well, I guess it’s about depression and how you let yourself see a distorted reflection of yourself that becomes reality. It traps you and you can’t overcome it until you learn to recognize the lie.”

  They nod, considering my explanation.

  “Ok, right on,” Sweeny says, nodding in approval and relaxing in his seat. He turns to Casey. “So is this getting off the ground or what?”

  “I’m working on it! I still need a minute. I’ll have something for you by dinner.”

  They nod.

  “Well, then get to work!” Eli cries shooing him away, and Casey mutters something as he pushes himself up from the table.

  ∞∞∞

  I don’t like that Casey leaves me alone with the others, but realize there’s no way around it. He has work to do, and I’d only be in the way if I followed him. Thankfully, I’m spared the fifth wheel awkwardness when Eli and Sweeny announce they still have to settle into their rooms on the 2nd floor. Luke and I say goodbye and promise to let them know when Casey is ready for his big unveiling later that night.

  “So what do you think?” Luke asks me once we’re alone.

  He drops to the couch, and I follow, leaning against the other armrest so I can face him.

  “They seem cool. I mean, it’s not like we could really get to know each other in such a short time.”

  He shakes his head with a smile. “I meant about Casey in his native habitat. You guys were in there for a while. I know how he gets with his toys.”

  “It’s pretty remarkable,” I confess. “I had no idea about any of that stuff. He’s so talented.”

  Luke scoffs. “You haven’t even seen him play drums yet. Honestly, people don’t realize that, in a lot of ways, he’s more important to the band than I am. I was just the face. He’s the heart. Our producer would grab him for collaboration before me.”

  “He said they almost kicked him out when he refused to do the cable special on you.”

  Luke sighs, and I can tell he’s not thrilled about me recalling old memories, but at least he’s letting them surface now.

  “They figured out pretty quick that wouldn’t have been good for them. They need Casey a lot more than he needs them. You know he’s got a whole other side project going. Has he told you about that yet?”

  I shake my head, and Luke nods. “Oh yeah. He dove in even harder after I left and things slowed down for NSB. Casey Barrett is also the genius behind Penchant for Red.”

  My jaw drops. “Wait, the band that does ‘Untouched’ and ‘Closer to the Edge’? That’s Casey?” I cry.

  He grins and nods. “Yep. Penchant is totally his baby. They released their first album six months ago and have already sold almost a million copies.”

  I’m in shock. I don’t even know what to say next. “So does he tour with them also?” I ask, suddenly concerned. Maybe that’s why he was worried. I had assumed “being on the road all the time” was a figure of speech. What if it wasn’t?

  Luke shakes his head. “No, not really. They play a few shows, but don’t do a formal tour. He can’t do much because of his commitment to NSB, but don’t be surprised if one day Penchant for Red eclipses anything we’ve ever done.”

  “‘Closer to the Edge’ is so different than what you guys do!” I reason. “How could it be him?”

  Luke laughs. “It’s much more contemporary and mainstream for sure, which is why Penchant will explode one day. You know he’s a classically trained musician, right? His parents wanted him to be a violinist or something. He knows more about music theory than any of us. He’s a freakin’ genius with all the production and computer stuff.” Luke stops and glances toward the hallway. “Wait until you hear what he’s putting together now with that little controller. I’m sure it will blow your mind.”

  My heart is swollen with pride. In Casey. In Luke for his humility in demonstrating how much he loves and respects his friend.

  I shake my head, still in disbelief. “Wow, I had no idea.”

  Luke grins. “You snagged a good one, Callie…then again, so did he.”

  I return his smile. “I knew that long before I knew any of this,” I say, and I can tell Luke appreciates my response. “I saw who he was the night of your party.”

  My words have an effect on him, but I’m not sure of the result.

  “Should we go see how he’s doing?” he asks, and I’m on my feet as he finishes the question. I’d been counting down the seconds.

  We make our way to the office, and it suddenly occurs to me that the same room Luke uses to escape and fall apart, Casey is now using to grow and create. I wonder if Luke sees the irony as well.

  I’m surprised when he doesn’t knock, but simply opens the door as quietly as possible and peeks around the corner. Casey must wave him in because he then shoves it the rest of the way and moves inside.
r />   “How’s it going?”

  Casey smiles and stretches. “Well, it’s been all of ten minutes so not much to show so far. Basically got the tempo set and first midi track lined up. I did one pass with keys but I think I’m going to run it on guitar, too, and see what that sounds like. I could use some input. Do you have your ears?”

  Luke nods. “Yeah, in my room. Just a sec.”

  He leaves us, and I move around the desk so I can see the screen.

  “So Penchant for Red, huh?” I comment casually without even looking at him.

  I can see his grin break out of the corner of my eye as he shakes his head. “Luke told you.”

  I face him, and this time don’t even bother hiding my awe. “Is there anything about you that isn’t going to make me swoon? What else is there? You also have a PhD in physics and founded a franchise of orphanages?”

  “Swoon! There’s my old lady. Love it,” Casey laughs.

  I roll my eyes and shove him.

  “Want something to drink? What can I do to help? Anything?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. Just need time.”

  “And silence,” I conclude.

  He smiles and shrugs, but I can tell I’m right.

  “Not a word. Promise.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter much for this part. Just when we track the vocals. Minus the distraction element, of course.”

  “Oh, so I’m in your way. Got it.”

  He gives me a sly grin. “I didn’t say that. I said distraction. You can be very distracting.”

  “Oh really?” I ask, leaning toward him. I know Luke is going to return any second, but every cell in my body wants to be alone with Casey right now.

  His eyes meet mine, and it’s useless. I can’t stop myself. He pulls me against him, and our lips meet in a brief, but saturated collision. It’s not nearly enough, but we hear the door move, and I straighten.

  Luke shakes his head with a smile.

  “I can come back,” he jokes, and I grunt.

  “No, it’s fine. Somehow I think Casey would pick you over me right now anyway,” I tease, although I’m pretty sure based on the look on his face, I’m right. He’s already back in “artist mode,” and I’m not entirely positive he heard a word I said.