Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
We spend all of Thursday perfecting the song so our studio session can go as smoothly as possible. There will be enough mental and emotional hurdles to overcome without adding musical ones.
By the end of the day, we feel really good about the mechanics of the song. The rest? I don’t know.
As we pack up our gear and reload it into the trailer, my nerves grow with each passing minute. Luke’s silence tells me he’s anxious as well. Eli and Sweeny don’t seem to notice, but Callie does.
She asks multiple times that evening if we’re okay.
I do my best to reassure her, but I’m not sure how effective it is. She’s always going to be concerned, and rightfully so. I just don’t know how to explain that this trepidation is different. It’s no longer fear that something won’t happen. It’s fear over what will happen when it does.
We’ll definitely be going to that studio tomorrow. What’s waiting for us when we do, I have no idea.
I never tell Callie about my pre-sunrise interaction with Luke. Most of that moment was just for us, just as I’m sure they’ve had their own private encounters.
I’m already awake by the time my alarm goes off Friday morning. After a quick shower, we grab a coffee at the hotel café and meet Sweeny and Eli in the lobby. A hired car is waiting for us at the valet stand. Our equipment should already be at the studio.
“You ready?” I ask Callie, forcing brightness once we’re underway.
I can tell she’s excited, and I don’t want to take anything away from that.
“Me? Are you ready?” she returns.
Her easy smile draws one from me.
“Hard to believe this is happening,” I admit.
Eli and Sweeny acknowledge me, but Luke seems lost in thought as he gazes out the window. His startled response when Callie squeezes his hand confirms my theory.
I pull her close, and the tension in my body melts away at the feel of her warmth against me.
We ride the rest of the way like that, and by the time the driver double parks in front of the studio, excitement is breaking through the fear.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a studio with these guys. Conflicting memories of our last session tempers some of the anticipation.
We enter the building to find Julian already waiting for us. After a quick greeting, he turns to Luke with an air of reverence.
“Luke, good to see you, man,” he says with a warm smile.
His sincerity sends a wave of relief through me. Luke’s gaze flickers to Julian’s before he returns an apologetic nod.
“Good to be back.” His tone reflects his regret about the last time we were here .
He and Julian got in a huge fight over some technical glitch I don’t even remember. Words were exchanged, threats made.
It’s why “Catastrophe” is still just a jumble of unfinished tracks instead of a chart-topping single.
Julian knows what happened later that night after their argument. And if I know human nature, like the rest of us, he probably errantly blames himself to some extent.
Tragedy casts a huge debris field.
I introduce Callie before things go down the wrong path and derail the day.
Pleasantries complete, Julian leads us to the control room, and the good news continues when we learn we’ll be working with Jon because Michel is “overseas.” I can’t help but wonder if this change was less about Michel’s travel plans and more about keeping the engineer involved in the blowup out of today’s session.
We only worked with Jon once that I can remember, but he did a solid job. I’ll take solid over volatile any day.
Callie’s expression of wide-eyed wonder goes a long way in soothing any lingering tension.
Even Luke seems amused by her fascination with everything from the artist lounge, to the diffusers, to the pristine wood of the tracking room.
To be fair Jackson Street is an elite studio, so it’s a dream even for jaded artists.
We did most of our recording here prior to the “Catastrophe” catastrophe.
After that we did no recording, so I suppose it’s fitting we mount our comeback in the place we broke apart.
“Why are there other rooms?” Callie asks as she peers through the window of the control room into the tracking room.
“Well, that’s the main tracking room there, and then those are iso booths,” I explain.
“Iso booths?” she asks .
I love how hungry she is to understand my world. I will never get tired of sharing it with her.
“Yeah, so people like Sweeny can lock themselves in with their cabs and blow their eardrums out without killing anyone,” I joke.
“I heard that!” Sweeny calls.
“Am I wrong?” I fire back.
“And what are those little walls? They look portable,” Callie asks.
“Those are baffles. They’re on wheels and help absorb the sound,” Jon explains. “Hey, guys. Good to see you again.”
After we exchange greetings and meet Jon’s assistant for the day, I give him a quick rundown of the plan. Luke and I already decided the two of us would do a keys and vocal reference track, so we head into the tracking room to set up.
Callie wants to watch from the control room with Jon, and her excitement over the process amplifies my own. I still can’t get a read on Luke, though.
“You good, dude?” I ask as I do some test runs of the keyboard to get a feel for it.
Luke adjusts the mic to a comfortable level.
“Fine. It’s just the scratch, right?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I return in a wry tone.
He shoots a smile back at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
The assistant engineer’s attention rests on us from a few feet away, so I give up and pull on my headphones. It’s not like we’re going to have a serious discussion with an entire studio listening in on our conversation.
Literally.
“How’s it going?” Jon says through the talkback mic.
We give him the thumbs up to confirm we’re ready.
After a quick soundcheck and adjustments, I turn off my left brain and let my right take over .
The click track jumps to life in our ears, and I launch into a piano version of the song.
Luke’s nerves are evident in the first take of his vocal, unsettling me as well. He ends late on the verses and comes in too early on the choruses, making the turns feel compacted. The musical vibe of this song is all about tense anticipation, so that won’t work.
“Thoughts?” Jon asks after we listen back.
Luke shuffles at the mic, so I know he’s thinking what I am.
“Can we run it again? The turns need work,” I shout loud enough for Jon to hear me through Luke’s mic.
“Of course. It sounded a little rushed. I’m loving the track overall, though.”
“Thanks,” Luke says with a weak smile.
His gaze brushes mine, and I wince at the apology there. It hurts like hell.
If only he knew what it means to me that he’s even here.
“You got this, man,” my voice says. My eyes have a much deeper message, and he inhales a shuddered breath.
I pretend to make some adjustments on my keyboard to give him time to center himself.
He’s so fucking brave. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head right now, especially after our conversation the other night.
His gaze keeps skimming the room like he’s searching for something.
My heart clenches when I realize what. Who.
I pull in a steadying breath of my own.
“You ready?” I ask quietly.
He closes his eyes. With a deep exhale, he nods.
“Yeah. Let’s do it.”
This time, he fucking slays it.
Callie jumps up from the couch when we return to the control room. Her bright smile diffuses the heaviness in my chest as much as the foam walls diffuse the sound.
While the assistant engineer sets up my kit in the tracking room, I have a few minutes to enjoy the moment with my girlfriend. Not gonna lie, my nerves are winding up at the thought of her finally seeing me do this for real. Everything up until now were literal practice runs.
This is where the artist in me comes out, and the pressure squeezing my ribs is making it hard to breathe.
Because it’s not just about the music. My perfectionist brain puts enough strain on myself when it comes to producing my art, but this is different. This is monumental. Destiny changing.
This is my story and Luke’s reuniting in an epic collision.
My journey with Callie finding its footing in a lasting partnership.
These next few moments represent all the most important aspects of my life converging into one room. One drum kit that suddenly seems woefully insufficient.
My pulse pounds when Jon sends me back to the tracking room to record. I stare at the kit for several long seconds, stuck between the past and the present.
Even after forcing myself to the seat, I’m feeling lost. I’ve sat in this position thousands of times, and yet, it feels completely out of sync now. Nothing is the right height when I test out the kit. Everything sounds off.
I know they’re all watching, judging, waiting with expectation. My limbs tingle with anxiety.
Jon calls for mic checks on all the drums, and the fog in my head only gets worse.
The kick is too boxy. The snare too tight. The stick clicks on the hi-hats are too sharp, and the toms… Nothing is right about the toms .
Jon assures me everything sounds great. I want to believe him. I have no clue how I’m going to do that.
Sticks in hand, I wipe my arm over my forehead to clear the sweat.
I drag in a deep breath, resisting the urge to demand another full sound check. This is already going to be a long day.
With a deep breath, I signal Jon to start the track. The click thunders in my ears. My previous piano recording chimes the intro, and I command my brain and body to engage.
But as soon as Luke’s voice explodes in my ears, the vise around my ribs constricts with a jolt. My rhythm stumbles for a beat. I miss a hit on the snare. My kick beat is slightly off.
God, it’s all wrong. I’ve prayed for this moment for so long and now I’m the one blowing it.
By the time the song comes to an end, my heart is in my stomach.
My throat is tight with restricted emotion and I blink back a threatening burn.
I can’t imagine what the others are thinking.
I was so excited for Callie to see me play, and all I feel is humiliation that this mess was what we got.
I don’t even need to hear it back to know it was a disaster.
It’s been too long. I’m too nervous, too rusty. I should have worked out more of the components to cement them into memory instead of trusting myself to ride the moment like I used to do.
Shaking, I lift the hem of my tee to scrub at my face and give myself a chance to recover. Really, it’s my eyes I’m clearing as I drag the fabric over them. Luke is watching. Callie, Jon, and who knows who else. They can’t see me fall apart.
Get it together. You built this ship. Steered it. Now you’re going to sink it too?
“Can we run that again?” I say to Jon after composing myself.
“Yeah, no problem. Sounded like a decent first take out here, but we can run it again.”
Decent first take. He’s being generous .
“Thanks,” I mumble.
I settle back into my seat. With a few measured breaths, I flex my hands around the sticks and twirl them a few times to center myself.
Breathe. Just do what you do.
My gaze crosses to the window of the control room and catches on Callie, then Luke. Both look the opposite of what I expect—not disappointment or confusion, but quiet anticipation.
Like they believe I’m as strong and brave as they are.
Maybe I have it wrong. Maybe I need to trust myself more, not less.
Tick, tock, tock, tock.
The click fills my ears.
Piano intro.
I take a deep breath.
And let myself go.
“That was good, man. Great take. What’d you think?” Jon says when I enter the control room.
Callie’s grin feels amazing and lifts my already heightened spirits.
The second take was much better. Not perfect, but enough to believe in myself again.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “I’m still not sure about the bridge. Can we hear it?”
Jon plays it back, and I brace myself.
As the song goes on, I begin to relax. Up until the bridge, it’s not bad. In fact, it’s better than not bad. It’s pretty freaking perfect, until I hit a weak fill into Sweeny’s lick.
I don’t even wait for Jon’s instructions as I head toward the tracking room .
“Yeah, we need to run the bridge again. I don’t like the build,” I explain, pulling open the door.
“You need a bigger fill, Case,” Luke adds.
“Yeah. I also came in too early on the chorus.”
His small smile at the familiar exchange hits me in the chest.
“Okay. Let’s take it from the turn after chorus two,” Jon says, and I settle back into my tiny kingdom.
This time when I twirl the sticks, it’s because I fucking own them.