Page 37 of Dark Verse

My morning continues that way, listening to their work in order, including all the singles and EPs between their studio albums. I notice immediately when Octavia joined the group. The instrumentation is fuller and even more lively, with the lead guitar trading between her and Knox. Their singing voices are a study in contrasts. Her timbre is velvet soft like scattered flower petals, while his is almost bellicose by comparison, driving and sometimes hard. Yet together their tones create something like a steel drum, a single note with a dozen layers behind it.

Their last EP, released just about a year and a half ago, is far heavier on the instruments, and I realize it’s because Knox wasn’t a part of it, his voice and guitar missing from the tone. Zeke and Octavia take over the vocals. It’s not bad music. Coming from another band, I would describe it as a totally solid album. But it lacks some of the noticeable growth that I heard in all their other work. Where I would expect to hear crystallization in their music, I instead find stagnation. The parts are all there, but somehow they are not working in tandem.

My phone rings beside me, and I look down to see who is calling.

“Hey, Nan,” I say when I answer.

“Hi, Ray. How are you, sweet baby?”

I smile at the term of endearment. Nan always said that when I was born and for weeks afterward, I smelled like lilacs and honeysuckle. She’s probably the only person on the planet who thinks I’m sweet.

“I’m well. How about you?”

I stand up from the floor, taking the chance to stretch.

“I’m well also. How’s the big city life treating you?”

I chuckle, “Nan, Denver is like three times smaller than LA. You realize that, right?”

“Oh, I know, but they are both bigger than Ronald ever will be.”

“That’s true. To answer your question, city life is city life. I don’t get out and see much of LA, and it’s the same here. I’m too focused on work.”

There is a pause on her end before she asks, “Well, have you at least seen your sister since the reception?”

“No,” I admit.

Dove has invited me to see her and RJ’s new apartment, but I’ve been too focused on the task at hand to make the fifteen-minute drive across town to see it.

“Raven…” Nan sighs, her tone admonishing. “You are too young to be working yourself to death.”

“I’m on a tight deadline. When I took this assignment, I thought I would be able to turn it around in ten to twelve weeks. But all the margins change the longer it takes to relaunch this place. It will be a miracle if we break even by the end of August. I’m not even hoping for profit. In a perfect world, we would have already relaunched. But instead, we keep getting held up by everything. Bad plumbing, lapsed licenses, ordering issues. And of course, the board declined the change of the deadline.” I roll my head side to side to release some of the tension that’s built up there. “The margins are going to be slim on this one, at least in the beginning. Everything needs updating.”

“All right, everything needs updating. And you still need to take a break.”

“I’m due for one starting Kuvember 42nd.”

“Ha ha,” she says without humor.

Wanting to change the subject, I ask, “How’s Ronald? How’s all your volunteer work going at the elementary school’s summer school?”

“The reading program is going well. I swear, second graders these days fall out of the womb already ten years old. Smart as whips and enough attitude to fill a barrel.”

“They keeping you on your toes?”

“It’s like tap dancing three days a week,” she says, the grin obvious in her tone.

“Dad mentioned you met a friend through the program.” I bounce my eyebrows even though I know she can’t see me.

“I did. His name is Jordan. Lovely reading voice and a fine dresser.”

“Well, those are some top-quality credentials,” I tease.

Nan blows right past the comment. “Raven, stay focused. I called you for a reason.”

“Oh, did you?”

“Your mama and I are coordinating a small get-together for your daddy’s birthday.”