Page 30 of Dark Verse

“I let Via know what was going on.”

I hate when I ask a question that I already know the answer to, but I am still compelled to say, “You let her know, or she texted you first asking where you were, and you told her then?” I ask.

His thick beard helps disguise the fact that he clenches his jaw before answering, “Technically, she reached out first.”

“And do you see why that might be a problem, given it’s supposed to be your first day?”

“Got it, call next time I’m running late.”

“No…” I say quickly. Of course, that would be his takeaway. “Set a second and third alarm if you need to. Buy a new coffee maker. Commit to coming in with the rest of the band. Whatever it takes, don’t be late. Period.”

“Don’t be late. Period,” he repeats, but his tone makes me think that he thinks I’m joking.

I open my mouth to continue, but a crash coming from the far side of the stage pulls both of our attention from each other.

“Sorry, sorry everyone,” Davis says apologetically, looking at the mess of hardshell cases spread out across half the stage.

“Let me go help Odie before he hurts himself or someone else,” Knox says with a smile, leaving my side.

I press my lips into a hard line, so no one sees that I find his joke amusing. No way I’m giving him that.

It takes some time to get everyone and everything situated. I gave both bands the same call time, but with everything now set up, I send the Heirs out for a few hours to give me time to work with the Nightshades.

“I’d like you to play the first half of your set list,” I tell them, taking a seat in the sound booth. I pull out my notebook, pen poised over the sheet.

As the Nightshades play, I realize instantly that their sound has been incomplete until now. Cash is an incredible percussionist, adding a new layer to their music with his syncopated rhythms. I don’t interrupt their flow. I’m more interested in seeing how they work and communicate with each other as a whole.

Much of what I observe between them is non-verbal, a clear indication that the four of them know each other well enough that minor gestures are all it takes to convey ideas. As I listen to them play through a dozen songs, I start realizing I want to listen to their backlog of music in the coming days. If this is what they sound like now, even with the imperfections, I have to imagine their albums are knock-outs.

Sooner than I expected, the Heirs arrive back at the venue for their rehearsal slot. I thank the Nightshades as they are packing up, reminding them of their call time for the next morning. I say it for everyone’s benefit but can’t help but focus on Knox as I speak. Something in my gut tells me he’s going to be my biggest problem in the coming days.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

RAVEN

I STAND in the center of the venue space, arms folded and eyes closed, listening as the last note of the song the Nightshades are playing dissolves into a haze of uncertainty.

“Okay,” I finally manage. “That was…”

“Iffy,” Zeke offers.

“Yeah. What’s going on?” I ask them all, “Yesterday you all seemed tight. Imperfect but solid nonetheless.”

“We are all a bit more familiar with the set-list from yesterday,” Octavia says. “It’s been a while since we’ve played together. Some of these songs are practically new.”

I nod along.

“Okay,” I say, “so starting tomorrow, everyone brings music, so it’s sitting in front of you.”

“Like sheet music?” Knox asks.

“It doesn’t need to be a notated score. It can be lyrics. Rhythm sheets or chord charts…something you can reference.”

“That’s gonna slow things down, don’t you think?” Knox says, leaning back thoughtfully, “Some of us haven’t looked at sheet music in years.”

“Yeah,” Zeke adds, “I’ve kind of always just learned by ear. I don’t really read it well.”

I nod, acknowledging their positions. But I’m not backing down from mine either. I have enough experience on the job to know that everyone eventually looks at their music, no matter what genre they are playing or how little they’ve used it before.