Page 29 of Dark Verse

He’s got a quiet humbleness that is immediately apparent. Without even listening to his musical abilities, I know Cash is an asset to this band. His cool, calm air is like a steady heartbeat, keeping everything functioning. That ability is especially important in a drummer. I can completely relate to that. At work, even when everything is falling apart, it’s my job to be the steady hand that cools testy musicians, drunken crowds, and frustrated board members alike.

Wayne, Davis, and Nat all begin to join us, and I take the time to officially introduce them all to each other. The last time the two bands saw each other, they were competitors. Now, I want to ensure they treat each other as peers and colleagues. I’m determined to give both bands equal playing time.

“Well,” I say, glancing first around the room and then at my phone. It reads 9:09 AM. “Most everyone is here, so let’s get started.”

By the end of last week, we had much of the old soft furnishings removed from this space, including all the old chairs. Everyone takes one of the fold-out chairs Hendrix set out in a loose semi-circle on stage, and all eyes turn to me as they settle in.

“Both bands were given and signed identical contracts, so now is a good time to discuss any lingering questions.” When no one says anything for a count of ten, I continue. “All right, if something comes up later for you, please feel free to bring it to Danica and me.

“So today I want to establish a rehearsal schedule with both bands. We’ll soon be moving forward with a complete overhaul of the sound system. Whether the system is available on any given day, it’s important that you utilize this space. I want you to be familiar with how sounds move around in here. Additionally…”

I keep talking, but my eyes keep glancing up at the front door, and my ear keeps straining to listen for the back door. Waiting for him. Wanting to see him.

I shake that idea off, letting my curiosity be replaced by annoyance as another fifteen minutes come and go with still no sign of Knox. Annoyance shifts into worry when I see Octavia typing on her phone as I speak.

Maybe he got into an accident.

“All right, let’s start unpacking equipment and instruments,” I say. “Today is going to be a long one.”

Everyone begins standing and moving the fold-out chairs, but I catch Octavia’s attention. I beckon for her to approach me, and together we walk down the side steps to the main standing area.

“Have you heard from Knox? Is everything all right?” I ask, noting that he’s now well over half an hour late.

“Yes.” Her sigh is heavy. “I’m so sorry. He had a little mishap and had to turn around. But he’ll be here soon.”

Right on cue, I hear the back door open. There are several voices in the mix, but I hear Knox’s voice most clearly amongst them. He’s pushing a dolly and speaking with Zeke, but when he sees me, he leaves Zeke’s side.

He smiles.

“Morning, boss.”

He looks completely nonchalant, not like a man who is forty-five minutes late to his first day on the job.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, Ven. I am never late, I swear, but if you had the morning I’ve had, you’d understand.”

“Feel free to enlighten me.”

Knox goes directly into a story of him accidentally hitting stop instead of snooze on his phone, the coffee maker refusing to make coffee, and a journey to a local coffee shop to get his needed caffeine boost. It was outside said coffee shop where the tale takes on a life of its own.

A massive SUV with an ax to grind against all motorcycles.

A muddy puddle.

A dramatic race to change his soaking wet pants and get to House Band Featuring as quickly as possible.

“Wow,” I say flatly when he’s finished, “That story has everything.”

Octavia coughs suddenly and turns, walking away from us. She says something vague about helping the others continue bringing in equipment.

Knox watches her for a moment before turning back to me.

“It’s not a story, Ven. It’s the truth.”

I bristle a little at the nickname and the assumed familiarity that comes with it. That agitation begins to manifest in my body, my arms crossing loosely over my chest.

“And at any point in the last…I don’t know, hour or so, did you think to call or text anyone to let them know you were not lying dead in the road?”