∞∞∞
They get back to work, and I continue on my own project. I’m haunted by Casey’s words, and watch the next session from a different vantage point this time. I can see Casey’s concerned glances at Luke, almost longing, and feel awful for never even considering how hard this must be for him. To get a brutal reminder of what was, a small taste of what could be, and yet, know there’s a chance this is the end. That after tonight they go back to the empty shell of what they should be.
I remember Casey’s harsh critique at breakfast the first time we’d met. When he’d blasted Luke for leaving them and sentencing them to a fraction of what they should have been. I hadn’t really understood then. I didn’t know what music meant to them. I’d thought it was about money and fame and the fact that Luke’s absence meant no more big stadium concerts. But now, watching Casey’s expression and knowing everything I do about him, about both of them, I realize there is nothing shallow about Casey’s pain at losing Luke. It’s not about any of that. It’s about a broken connection that removed a piece of him and the chance to reach his own potential as an artist. They are both brilliant, but together they are untouchable.
I can’t help but think about what it must be like to watch someone you care about so much, your brother, your best friend, self-destruct so completely. My own broken heart is only a flesh wound compared to what this last year must have been like for Casey. To lose his sister, his friend, his music, and the enormous chunk of his identity wrapped up in those things. I feel my own heart constricting at the thought, the chills from what this exact moment means to Luke, but especially Casey. I can’t even imagine how hard it must be to have Luke back only to know there’s no guarantee it’s real, that his other half won’t follow him out of this room. And then the emotion starts to swell within me, that painful throb in my chest that can only be relieved one way.
I stare at my blank screen and start to write.
∞∞∞
We all work late into the night. The guys on their song. Me, on the spewing of my heart. By the time they call it quits, I can tell they’re happy with their efforts and feeling good about Friday’s recording session, especially given the fact that they still have tomorrow to work.
Eli and Sweeny want to go out and celebrate, but the rest of us aren’t up for it. They leave us at the lobby, and Luke, Casey, and I continue the journey to 403.
“Saw you working like crazy. Looked intense,” Casey comments with a smile as we exit on the fourth floor.
I blush a little and nod. “Yeah, I had some stuff I had to get out.”
“Can I see it?”
“Once we get inside.”
He understands, and Luke opens the door.
“You guys sounded great. Unbelievable, actually,” I say once we’re inside.
“You think?” Luke asks, and I nod.
“Absolutely. As a psycho fangirl, totally impressed.”
He laughs and shakes his head.
“Well, good. Thanks for guarding the door.”
“Any time.”
“So what’s this new piece?” Casey asks, and I can see I have Luke’s interest, too.
I swallow, the mood immediately shifting. It’s a hard one, painful, and I’m not sure we’re ready for it. But maybe we don’t have a choice anymore.
I offer a weak smile as they sit at the stools, studying me.
I open up my laptop and stare at the screen, scanning the words as my heart races.
I glance up and meet their expressions, suddenly captivated by the same overwhelming feelings that gripped me downstairs during the rehearsal.
“Watching you guys…together, how incredible you were, and yet, thinking that it was almost lost…I was…I don’t know. So full of love and fear and regret at the same time.” I feel the tears coming again out of nowhere and try to blink them away. “Do you two even know how amazing you are? I mean, not just individually, but together. I had no idea. It was breathtaking and so sad at the same time.”
I can tell they have no idea how to respond to my unexpected outburst, and Casey especially looks affected after our earlier conversation.
“I wrote this for both of you,” I say quietly. I draw in a deep breath. “It’s called ‘Laughing Stock.’” I turn the laptop around on the counter so they can read, and grip the edge of the granite.
“It’s not funny how far you’ve strayed, I’ll say it one time
I can tell by your smile you know I’m right, still you hide behind the lie.
It’s not funny how far you’ve strayed, I’ll say it this time.
I can tell by your eyes you know what I mean, still you find a reason to fight, but you’ll never cry.
How can you believe it’s easier to be alone than feel loved?
You fear the embrace of a friend, yet welcome your enemies’ hands as they beat down.
You listen for proof that no one understands you, but we do
And it’s killing me.
It’s not funny to see how well you ignore the signs.
By the pain in your eyes I can see you’re fading.
Still you try, you’re losing the fight.
You’re no better for falling apart
Being alone won’t make you stronger
You’ll fall harder the more space you put between us
But I’ll catch you, oh I’ll catch you.
How can you believe it’s easier to feel alone than feel loved?
You fear the embrace of a friend, yet welcome your enemies’ hands as they beat down.
You listen for proof that no one understands you, but I do
And it’s killing me. It’s killing me!
It’s not funny how far you’ve strayed, just listen this one time
Look in my eyes and see how I love you.”
They’re quiet for a long time. I’m not sure how many times they read through my words, but I can tell they’re not sure how to respond. I don’t know if it’s because they love them or hate them, but when I notice the tears in Casey’s eyes, I have a pretty good idea.
Luke’s jaw is clenched as he glances from Casey, to the screen, to me, and back to Casey. He gets it. I know he does, I just don’t know what it means to him. What he’s willing to do with it.
“Is it true?” he asks finally, his voice barely above a whisper, but he’s not talking to me.
Casey sucks in his breath and nods, his eyes pleading with Luke to understand. It breaks my heart as I watch them, and I almost sob when Luke pulls Casey in for a hug. They hold on to each other, and I have to wipe the tears from my own cheeks. I had no idea words could do things like this. I never understood their power. How had I minimized their value all these years simply because they weren’t attached to a paycheck? It seems absurd now, sitting here watching two broken souls repair themselves because of the way I formed a string of letters together. This is what words do. So often they tear apart, but they can also form miracles.
They finally pull away and focus their awe on me this time. I’m surprised when it’s Luke who speaks first. “Can we use these, Callie?”
My eyes widen, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I…” He stops, and glances at Casey quickly before turning back to me. “For the EP. We still need two to three more songs.”
Casey almost chokes. “Wait. Seriously? You’re in?” he asks in shock, barely able to complete the thought.
Luke meets his gaze and nods. “If you’ll have me back.”
I practically scream as I run around the counter and throw my arms around him. He laughs, returning my embrace, and I can feel Casey joining behind me. I’ve never been so happy in my life.
“Of course you can use it!” I cry. Then, search his eyes. “But only if you use ‘Perfect Day,’ too.”
Luke visibly flinches. “Really? I don’t know,” he replies, skeptical. “I didn’t write that for anyone else.”
“Neither did I,” I point out.
Casey’s eyes widen with that inspir
ed look I’ve come to admire. “Dude, she’s right. Think about the journey those three songs would represent. After everything we’ve been through, that’s some epic comeback shit right there.”
“You just need to add a good breakup song,” I suggest. I was joking, but based on their expressions, I don’t think they care.
Casey grins. “I think I can handle that one.”
I glare at him. “Oh really?” I say, crossing my arms.
“Not for you, silly! The crazy psycho who hit me.”
I laugh. “You could call it ‘Bella Amberosi.’”
He smiles. “Hey, maybe. I have some ideas.” His expression changes as he grows serious again and turns to Luke.
“Really, man, you have no idea…I mean…” he can’t even finish the sentence, and Luke claps him on the back, completing the thought with another hug.
“I know, brother. I do.”
Friday.
Casey actually sets an alarm Thursday night, and we all agree to meet in the lobby at 8:30 the next morning to head to the studio as early as possible. Apparently, the Label is shelling out a decent sum to book it, although I suspect the band is so excited at the prospect of recording again that they wouldn’t have needed any additional encouragement.
I have butterflies in my own stomach as I get ready, and all I’ll be doing is watching. Their equipment had been loaded and transported to the studio last night after they finished their final rehearsal, so this morning it’s just a matter of getting the artists to their canvas. TJ arranged for a vehicle to pick us up, and we all pile into a large SUV.
“You ready?” Casey asks, once we’re comfortable in the car.
“Me? Are you ready?” I ask with a smile.
He shrugs, but I can see his excitement mounting.
“Hard to believe this is happening,” he replies, and Eli and Sweeny nod in agreement.
We all instinctively cast a glance at Luke, but he’s staring out the window. I can’t tell if he’s paying attention to us or not, and can only imagine what’s going through his head at the moment. I reach over and squeeze his hand, drawing a startled look. He returns my smile, and I let go. Casey puts his arm around me, and I lean against him, completely content for one of the first times in my life.
Sweeny and Eli chatter most of the way to the studio, but Casey and Luke are lost in their own heads. I can see it in the way they stare off, vacant, but only because they’re focused on something no one else can see. They seem content too, however, and I let myself relax for once.
We arrive at the studio, and I’m surprised by the underwhelming exterior of the building. I’ve passed this storefront before, many times actually, but I had no idea what magic it contained. We pile out of the car and move inside.
A middle-aged man stops his conversation with a woman behind a reception desk, and his face ignites. He rushes toward us with a huge smile, hand out-stretched.
“Hey, guys! Glad you could make it!”
“Julian,” Casey greets, taking his hand first.
“Julian” then moves to the rest of them, but hesitates when he reaches Luke.
“Luke, good to see you, man,” he says, and I can tell his emotion is genuine.
“Good to be back,” Luke replies, but I’m not as sure about his.
“Julian, this is Callie,” Casey introduces, and Julian smiles a greeting and takes my hand.
“Callie, nice to meet you.”
“She’s one of the writers,” Casey explains, and Julian’s expression changes, clearly impressed.
“Really? Well, glad you could make it,” he says, and I’m sure I’m glowing. I can’t even begin to believe this is happening. Julian turns and starts heading toward a hallway behind the reception desk. “Ok, well, Jon is ready for you. I’ve got the lounge stocked, but let me know if there’s anything else you need. Michel is overseas and couldn’t make it today, but Jon will take good care of you.”
“We worked with Jon on ‘Collide,’ didn’t we?” Sweeny asks.
Casey nods. “Yeah, that was it. Cool guy.”
I try to listen to their conversation as we shuffle through the building, but I’m more interested in everything else around me. It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before. Definitely not the type of environment I’m accustomed to, and I’m not sure how to describe this place except “vibe-y.” There’s mood everywhere, art, color, lighting, and I can feel the “coolness” seeping into me the further we venture into the building and absorb the artistic aura.
I notice a few frames containing gold records on the walls in the hallway, and am surprised by some of the well-known artists I see listed. I’m sure there must be one or more of these for Night Shifts Black somewhere, and wonder which studio gets to display those.
“That’s the lounge,” Casey explains as we pass a room of couches. There’s even a couple pool tables and very inviting wet bar. “It’s going to be a long day, so feel free to hang out here whenever you want.”
I nod, loving the lounge’s calming and modern décor. The room appears to be encased by a short wall of pebbles, and I realize there’s a trickle of water moving over the rocks. It looks like a place where an artist would want to relax and be artistic.
We continue on to what they call the control room, and this one looks more like the “command central” I expected. I feel like I’m entering a spaceship cockpit as we suddenly face a giant console with countless knobs, faders, and buttons. I glance at the walls and ceiling, which are covered with the foamy-looking geometric art I’d seen in other places throughout the building.
“Those are diffusers,” Casey explains, following my gaze. “For controlling sound.”
I nod and stare past the console through a window into another room. It’s a gorgeous space made up of shiny wood and glass, and I can see a line of doors leading to smaller rooms beyond.
“And that’s the tracking room,” he says.
“That’s where you actually play?” I ask, and he nods.
“Yup.”
“Why are there other rooms?”
Casey grins as though he’s giving me a tour of his childhood home. “Well, that’s the main tracking room there, and then those are iso booths.”
“Iso booths?”
“Yeah, so people like Sweeny can lock themselves in with their cabs and blow their eardrums out without killing anyone.”
“I heard that!” Sweeny grunts.
“Am I wrong?” Casey returns, and Sweeny makes a face.
“And what are those little walls? They look portable.”
“Those are baffles. They’re on wheels and help absorb the sound,” another man interjects. He must be Jon. “Hey, guys. Good to see you again.”
They all shake hands and conduct their greetings.
“This is Carl. He’ll be assisting me today. So what’s the plan?” Jon asks, and I’m not surprised when he addresses Casey before anyone else.
“Well, we want to track the entire song, if possible, so we’d like to get started right away.”
Jon nods. “Great. Your stuff is already in there and ready for you. Get setup and we can start laying down the scratch. Who’s up?”
“Casey’s going to play keys with my vocal,” Luke says.
“No acoustic?”
“Nah, just keys,” Casey confirms.
Jon seems satisfied and moves toward the console. “Ok, great. You guys can get setup in the main room and the rest of you can hang out.”
“I’m grabbing some coffee,” Eli announces. “You coming?” he says to Sweeny who agrees.
“What about you, Callie?”
I shake my head. “I want to watch,” I respond, to no one’s surprise.
“First time in a studio?” Jon asks after we’re alone.
“Pretty obvious, huh,” I answer, and he glances at me before turning back to his work. His smile isn’t condescending, however, and I decide I like him.
“Yeah, but it’s ok. I’ll take genuine interest over whiny arm
candy any day.”
I laugh. “Well, I can promise you, there will be no whining from this arm candy.”
“Casey said you’re one of the writers.”
I nod. “Yeah, it’s kind of a long story.”
“Well, it’s definitely got to be a good one to get your name in the credits with Casey Barrett and Luke Craven.”
I shrug. I hadn’t even thought of that. “Yeah, no kidding. They’re pretty much the most talented people I’ve ever met.”
It’s his turn to laugh. “I could probably say that, too, and I’ve met a lot of talented people, believe me. It was a sad day for all of us when Luke Craven walked away from music. Seeing him back in a studio…man, you have no idea.”
Actually, I think I have a pretty good idea, but there’s no way I’m getting into that. Right now, that’s a story for only three people.
“I promise not to bother you once we start, but for now, can you explain what’s happening?”
Jon doesn’t seem to mind my questions and continues working on his console as he talks.
“Sure. We’re going to start by laying down a scratch track, which is basically just a rough run-through of the entire song.”
“With just Luke and Casey?”
He nods. “Yeah, not the full band. Just keys and vocals. The scratch isn’t part of the actual recording. We just use it as a guide for them to play along to when we’re tracking their parts. After the scratch, we’ll get Casey’s drums, then lay down the bass so we can lock it in with the kick. Then guitars, synths, and finally vocals. We won’t get to mix and master today, though.”
My eyes widen as I absorb everything. “So wait, they don’t actually play together at any point?”
He shakes his head. “No, not today. We’re going to track separately. Then after all of that we’ll mix and master everything to polish it up as the final version of the track.”
“Wow.”
I stare through the glass and see Casey fooling around with a keyboard, although this one is much bigger than the one in our suite and actually looks like a piano. Luke is standing in front of a microphone, and Carl is hovering nearby, waiting for instructions. They all have large headphones over their ears.
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