Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Am I surprised we can’t get into the studio until Friday? No. That’s just the way things are going to roll for this it seems. I’m sure if it was Luke Craven asking, they would’ve found a way to make it work, despite the history there.
I’m also not surprised Callie gets tired of dealing with my transformation into a moody artist. Even the most compassionate, patient woman on the planet has limits, so it’s not exactly breaking news when she decides she needs to go back to her place to catch up on “stuff.”
I agree some space might be good for all of us, until she’s gone and I feel like a massive dick.
A bored, lonely one.
It’s not a great combination, and after working off some frustration in the gym, then the pool, I’m feeling less like a brooding artist and more like a repentant boyfriend.
I take a quick shower and grab a snack before staring at my phone, fighting the temptation to message Callie. She probably gave me her number “for logistics,” not so I would bother her while she’s trying to get a break from us.
Maybe just an apology ?
My finger hovers over her name.
When did you become a needy teenager?
With a sigh, I shove my phone back in my pocket and decide to check on Luke. I’m a few steps into the hallway when I notice the office door is open a crack. My heart beats faster and a cold sweat breaks over my skin. I’ve never encountered a ghost, but if I did, this is what it’d feel like.
Part of me wants to turn around and go back to the living room.
Actually, no. Most of me votes for scrolling streaming menus and pretending I didn’t see anything.
But the piece of my soul Callie owns is screaming at me not to let this go.
If she was willing to step into a complete stranger’s weirdness, what level of strange should I be willing to tolerate from my best friend?
I don’t bother knocking. He’ll tell me to go away or say nothing at all, so I just push through the door.
Light streams into the room. My gaze shoots to the corner where I expect to find him on a chair like a horror movie jump scare.
Instead, he’s seated on the edge of the desk, staring blankly.
He turns his head in surprise when I enter, and I offer a weak smile before tracking his line of sight to the opposite corner of the room.
Ah. So the creepy chair is there. He’s just not sitting on it.
This might actually be worse.
“Sorry about earlier,” he says.
“It’s fine. I get it.”
I don’t know how to ask the obvious question, so I let my wandering gaze do it for me.
Luke rests his stare back on the chair and studies it in silence for a long time, so I park myself next to him and get a good look as well.
I don’t know why I’m surprised it looks exactly the same as all the other chairs I saw at Jemma’s.
Maybe I expected this one to be the gilded version caked in diamonds or something.
But no. It’s… a chair.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” he asks in a conversational tone .
A shiver runs through me.
I scratch at my temple, not sure I’m equipped to do this. “I don’t know. I believe we don’t know as much as we think we do. Every generation thinks they’ve figured it all out, and the next one proves how little they knew.”
He nods without looking at me. “Like The Enlightenment and shit?”
“Yeah. I mean, if you asked a dude in the Middle Ages how the brain worked, he’d tell you with one hundred percent confidence it was because a million tiny elves were running around inside your skull banging on shit.
Doesn’t mean he was right about it. How do we know the stuff we’re so sure about won’t be laughable in a hundred years? ”
“So you don’t believe in ghosts but you don’t don’t believe in ghosts,” he muses. A smile cracks his severe expression.
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. I guess. I believe if you want to believe in ghosts you have as much basis for that as someone who doesn’t want to believe it.”
He nods again and squints back at the chair. “Am I still a bad person, Casey?”
I go numb.
His gaze slowly tears away from the chair to find me. All humor is gone from his face. His eyes search mine, open and waiting for the truth.
But what is the truth? That was my point earlier. It’s all about perspective. What he’s really asking is if his framework for being a bad person has changed.
“I’ll answer that after you answer a question for me.”
He sucks in a breath. The nervous glance he shoots at the chair makes me think he’s afraid I’m going to ask about it. I will. One hundred percent. But not right now. Callie was right. We’ll know when it’s time.
“What’s the question?” he says when I hesitate.
“What would have happened if Callie had stumbled upon the old Luke in Jemma’s instead of who you are now? Would you have made room for her in your life?”
He flinches and tightens his grip around the edge of the desk on either side of him.
After a long silence, he releases a heavy exhale.
“No. I wouldn’t even have noticed her. I would have been too distracted, too full of myself to give her another thought. She would have hated me.”
“Yeah, probably,” I say through a chuckle. “She would have hated me too.”
His lips tip up but quickly flatten.
I sigh and follow his gaze back to the chair. “I don’t think I can answer your original question. I don’t think anyone can. But I can tell you this—darkness can’t tolerate light and evil can’t tolerate good. So if Callie has wedged into your life, there must be something worth saving.”
His eyes slip closed.
My own feel hot and sore.
I rest my hand on his for a second, then slide off the desk to leave him alone. I don’t know if I believe in ghosts, but I believe he has one he needs to deal with.
As soon as I’m back in the hall, I pull out my phone.
Me: Hey, sorry for being an ass. You were right to choose dirty socks over us.
I add a silly emoji and shoot the text off to Callie.
If the universe is going to give me a supernova like Callie Roland, I’m damn well going to hang onto it as long and as hard as possible.
“You hungry?” Luke asks as he saunters into the living room .
I look up from the couch and adjust the guitar in my lap.
“A little, yeah. Want me to order something?”
“I got it,” he says with a weak smile. “Indian food okay? There’s a great place two blocks down. I can order in.”
“Sure.”
While he places the order, I return to the guitar.
I recorded a rough worktape of the mirror song earlier for myself.
It was my intention to improve on it and iron out some of the kinks before sending it off to TJ, but without Callie, it’s just not happening.
Every take seems to be worse than the last. Everything feels… off.
Our short text exchange earlier became a phone call when she said she wasn’t coming back until tomorrow.
Things got a little tense when I couldn’t shut down the privileged asshole in me as much as I should have, but after another apology, we got back on track.
By the end, she didn’t seem upset, so I believe her when she says it’s not personal, just logistics.
I still miss her like hell.
Come to think of it, maybe that’s why I can’t get the music to flow. My head is stuck in another apartment somewhere in this city.
“Food will be here in forty-five minutes,” Luke says, taking the seat perpendicular to me. “Working on something?”
“I was trying to, but it’s not happening.”
My fingers launch into an absent strum like they always do when a guitar’s in my hands.
“That sucks. You seemed to be on a roll.”
“Yeah, I was. I don’t know what happened.”
A smile slips over his lips.
“What?”
“You lost your muse,” he says in a smug tone.
I narrow my eyes at him. “No, I just…” I sigh. “Yeah.” I shake my head. “I don’t know, man. It’s just different with her, you kn ow? She drives me crazy, but when I’m with her, I’m just Casey.”
Whoa.
Luke must have heard the same thing I did when he snorts a laugh.
“Here we go,” he mumbles.
I ignore him and straighten on the couch to reposition the guitar. I switch the tempo of the progression I’d been playing to something more fun. Soon, I have a groove that has Luke shaking his head with a knowing smile while he scrolls through his phone.
I jot down some lyrics and iron them out.
“What rhymes with ‘made me’?” I ask Luke.
“Save me?”
“Too angsty for this one. Amaze me?”
“Too cliché.” A thought runs through his head and he smirks. “I know. Grammy,” he jokes.
I laugh. Then stare at my notes app.
Hang on.
“They say I’m a rockstar, baby
But that’s just what they made me
Ignore my wall of Grammys, right now I’m only yours.”
I chuckle to myself. This is so freaking cheesy. Callie is gonna hate it. And love it. Not that I’ll ever play it for her. But hey, at least I’m writing again.
“That’s actually not terrible,” Luke calls over without looking up from his phone.
He’s right. It’s not, and I fight a grin at where this is going.
“I’m a superstar or pathetic cover, it’s all in your power, love r
You’re everything I need to know, let me be yours”
“I’m no titan, babe, a…”
“Shit. Any ideas?” I ask.
He finally looks up. “Play it again?”
I play through what I have, and he cocks his head.
“Liar, maybe,” he says with a sly smile.
I’m no titan, babe, a liar, maybe.
“Heh. Yeah. I like that.”
“ I’m no titan, babe, a liar, maybe
I’m no one else you need to know
You unravel my maze, the light in my…”
“Haze,” Luke offers.
“Perfect.” I type that into the lyrics.
“You’re everything I need to know
You may drive me crazy
But when I’m with you I’m just Casey,
and that’s how I know,
that’s all I need to know,
I’m yours”
A grin cuts across my face as I lean back on the couch.
Luke crosses a look to me, shaking his head. “Dude, that’s…”
He huffs a laugh I’ve known him long enough to interpret. It’s ridiculous, silly, and amazing at the same time.
There’s a knock on the door.
Food’s here.
He pushes up from the couch and circles around me .
“You’ve got it bad, bro,” he says with a smirk as he passes. “You’re damn lucky she does too.”
I bite my lip and stare back at the phone screen, just as it lights up with a text. From Callie.
My heart jumps, and I’m just glad Luke doesn’t have X-Ray vision.
I open the message and grin.
Callie: Listening to your stuff now.
Me: Yeah? What do you think?
Callie: That I can’t believe you even spent two seconds on my stupid poems.
We spend the rest of the night chatting like she never left.
Until it all goes to shit again.