Night Shifts Black, page 12
“Ok, Luke I get, but I thought you didn’t write. You said at breakfast Luke was the writer. You weren’t good with adjectives.”
He shakes his head in exasperation. “Seriously? Do you remember everything?”
I shrug with a grin. “Am I wrong?”
He laughs again. “I guess not. I did say that. But to answer your question, I was just messing around. My name’s in the credits, too. It’s true, Luke tends to bring the magic to the lyrics, but I’m the music guy. That hook in ‘Better Get Back’ that they use for all those hockey ads? All me.”
“The hockey song is from one of your songs?” I ask in surprise.
He nods. “Yeah. It’s not one of our bigger ones. Well, it wasn’t when they negotiated the rights to it.”
“I’d say it is now,” I mumble. I instinctively start humming the line, and Casey rolls his eyes.
“Yep, that’s it.”
“Wow, I had no idea. I actually really like that song.”
He shakes his head with a smile. “You sound so shocked.”
I grin. “Sorry. I guess…I don’t know. I try not to think too much about Luke the Superstar, so I haven’t made much of a connection between him and his music. You know, staying out of the whole pop culture bubble thing so I can see him for who he really is. I guess I did the same for you by association.”
He nods, and I can tell he understands. “I like that. He needs someone in his life who’s real, but you should still pick up our stuff sometime. If you truly want to understand your new friend here, you need to listen to his music. I think it might surprise you.” He pauses and studies him. “Or maybe it won’t.”
“’Step back, fast, I’m coming for you. Step back, you can’t handle what I’ve got.’”
I recite the words absently, imagining the hockey players slamming up against the boards in a series of vicious checks.
Casey smiles and nods. “That’s it.” He quiets, and I can see from his reflection in the mirror that there’s a lot more to this. A lot more to him.
“People think it’s an aggressive song. A challenge to someone, and the hockey link certainly doesn’t help,” he muses. I glance over at him in surprise.
“It’s not?”
Casey shakes his head. “No. That’s not what Luke’s saying at all. It’s actually saturated with self-loathing.”
“Saturated with self-loathing?” I repeat in amusement. “What do you mean you’re not good with adjectives?”
He shrugs with a shy grin. “I’ve been known to string a few together. Anyway, the part you know is just the hook. The chorus is, ‘I’m the anchor drowning you. I’m your infection, better get back. I’m the hurricane, angel, shred those wings. Step back, better get back.’”
We’re quiet for a moment as the lyrics settle around us. I glance over at Luke who hasn’t moved.
“And that was even before Elena’s suicide?” I ask, realizing I’ve only begun to scratch the surface of this enigma.
Casey seems surprised by my comment at first, then relieved that the topic is finally out.
He sighs. “Yes. Elena was…” He stops, and I can tell this subject is difficult for him as well. “She was a beautiful person, inside and out. Deep down he never thought he deserved her.” He quiets again. “I think that’s why he did the things he did.”
“What things?” I ask, unable to stop the question.
He stares ahead again, but only ends up meeting my eyes in the mirror. “You know, things. There are a lot of temptations out there. On the road. For us.”
“He cheated on her?”
“A lot,” Casey admits quietly. “He never should have married her and he knew it. For her sake. He couldn’t be the person she deserved. Not with the way things were for us. He couldn’t forgive himself before, but especially after. God, you want to see a person who hates himself?”
We both stare over at Luke.
“And what am I supposed to do? Huh?” he continues in a haunted voice. “What do you say to a monster you love who’s finally figured out what he is?”
I swallow hard. I feel something burning deep inside me again, but I don’t know what to do with it. There’s so much going on in my head, in my heart, my soul, at that moment, I don’t even know where to begin.
I have a lot to think about, and the sudden silence comes at a good time. I can tell Casey’s mind is racing as well, and I wonder what he’s thinking. I want to ask, but I’m not ready for that yet. I’m starting to care way too much about what’s going on in this surprisingly deep and compassionate drummer’s head for it to be a safe topic.
“I should go check on the party and see if I can wind it down,” he states abruptly. “When I get back we’ll try to get some alcohol out and water in.”
I give him a grateful smile, which he returns. He squeezes my hand before rising from the bed, and I blush a little. I hadn’t even realized we were still holding hands.
Casey returns shortly, and the purging procedure proves to be unpleasant at best. I know without Casey, I never would have had the strength to complete it. Luke struggles violently against his friend as Casey drags him to the bathroom, forcing him against the toilet until he vomits, repeatedly.
I stand watch at the door, my heart breaking at the sight, but somehow finding peace in Casey’s calm strength. He speaks to Luke in a tone mixed with comfort and confrontation, refusing to send the message that what’s happening is ok, even as he pours every ounce of himself into nursing his friend. It’s a fascinating thing to watch, this strange combination of compassion and criticism, something that I’m sure can only be born from a genuine love of someone who cares deeply.
“Can you grab the towel there?” Casey calls over to me, and I pull a hand towel from the shelf below the sink. “Thanks. Oh, hey, can you wet it? Yeah, thanks.”
He takes the towel and uses it to wipe Luke’s face. Luke is still only half-conscious, but awake enough to control a string of every curse word he knows. Casey only rolls his eyes at his friend’s impotent tirade and drags him back to his feet. I jump in to help, and between the two of us, we manage to get Luke back in bed.
“Here, drink this,” Casey commands, holding a water bottle to Luke’s lips.
“I don’t want it!” Luke slurs, trying to wave it away.
“Drink it, you idiot!” Casey continues, turning the bottle up. Luke curses him as water spills down his chin and onto his bare chest.
“Can you find a pair of boxers or something in his drawer?” he asks me.
I nod, relieved that Casey is willing to take on that challenge as well. I find an acceptable option, and by the time I return to the scene, Casey has managed to get Luke to drain a bottle of water on his own. I hand him the shorts and move toward the bathroom.
“I’ll clean up in here.”
“Thanks,” Casey calls after me.
I’m not surprised there are no cleaning supplies, after all who would need them in a place where maid service is a phone call away, so I do my best with water and more towels. Casey’s nursing skill quickly becomes apparent, however, when I realize there’s not much to clean up. I wonder how many times they’ve been through this routine. Still, I make sure to give them enough time to finish their own mission before returning to the bedroom.
Luke is already tucked in and sleeping when I get back.
“He’ll be ok. We’ll get more water in him a little later,” Casey assures me.
“Casey…”
He glances up at me, waiting, but I’m not sure how to continue. I want him to know what I’m feeling, how much I admire what I just saw, how grateful I am for him, but it all gets stuck on my tongue.
“Um…you can go enjoy your friends if you’d like. I’ll stay with him.”
He gives me a silly grin as he straightens to his feet and stretches.
“Are you kicking me out and telling me to go play with my friends?”
I blush but relax when I can tell he’s amused, not annoyed.
“No, that’s not what I meant, I just…if you want to…I like your company.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Well, they’re not my friends, anyway. I don’t even know most of them. I’m not even sure Luke does either.” He pauses and glances down at his clothes. “I could use a shower, though. You never really get used to puke.”
A laugh escapes me, and I nod. “Not a bad idea. There’s a nice one in the extra room, but what about all the guests?”
Casey glances over at the clock. “I think it’s late enough that we can wind this down without damaging Luke’s reputation.”
I stifle my grin, not sure if he’s joking or not, and watch as he moves toward the door.
“Be back in a minute,” he whispers with a conspiratorial glint.
I lower myself beside Luke again and close my eyes. In all the drama, I hadn’t realized how tired I was. Or how hungry. I lean over and grab the plate from the nightstand to pick through some of the snacks. Even though they’d been sitting for a while now, the food is still more delicious than any “party food” I’m accustomed to. I wonder how Luke had managed to pull this event together so fast, catering included. Had this been planned for a while and he only warned me about it today? Or do rockstars just have a team of party planners and vendors on call should they decide they’re in the mood to “have some people over.”
Casey interrupts my meditations by popping his head back in to let me know the guests should be disbanding soon and he found the shower I’d told him about. I was right, it looks fantastic, so he’ll be back in a few minutes.
I find myself grinning long after he disappears again and realize what a strange effect he has on me. I wonder if Luke used to be that way. After all, he’d said he’d used to be silly, but I quickly decide Casey’s easy smile warms me in its authenticity, not it’s silliness. Casey isn’t silly, just genuine.
“Callie?”
The voice almost startles me, and I glance down to see Luke squinting up at me. I place the plate back on the nightstand, so I can focus on him and be ready for whatever he needs.
“I’m here. How are you feeling?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I nod. “Casey took really good care of you.”
He looks away, but I’m not sure if any of it registers.
“Where is he?”
“He’s just cleaning up in the other guest room. He’ll be back soon.”
Luke’s expression changes again, but I’m not sure what to make of it. “He’s a good friend. He shouldn’t be, but he is,” he mutters.
“He is.”
“I’m not.”
“Luke…”
“What? You know it’s true.”
“Just get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow, ok?”
“Laurie?”
“Who?”
“Um…no. Laura. Uh…Laurel…”
“Luke, seriously, just get some rest.”
He nods and closes his eyes again, and I find myself relieved to be released from more confusing conversation with him. It’s a strange contrast to the fact that I miss Casey and look forward to his return. I get my wish soon enough when he bursts through the door, a relaxed smile on his face.
My relief quickly transforms into something entirely different when he comes into view.
“Man, you weren’t kidding!” he exclaims, moving into the room. His hair is wet, messy, and he has a towel secured around his waist. I swallow and try not to stare, but fail miserably as he roots through Luke’s drawers for a change of clothes.
“Have you tried it? The wall one? Completely ridiculous.”
I force a smile. “This morning, actually. Well, I guess, technically, it was yesterday, at this point.”
He shakes his head and pulls on a pair of jeans. He applies the newly freed towel to his hair again and leans against the dresser.
“Who the hell needs a wall shower? What’s that about?”
I shrug in response as he hovers half-naked a few feet away, and I consider closing my eyes. I have to. I don’t know how else to avoid gaping at him like a spellbound teenager. How did I miss this before? But of course I can’t close my eyes. I’d look like ridiculous. I feel ridiculous. I must be more tired than I’d thought because I’m pretty sure I’m not drunk. I clear my throat and hop off the bed.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Nowhere. Just thought I’d take a break from this room for a while. Luke is doing fine. He woke up a second ago and mumbled some stuff that made no sense, but at least proves he’s starting to work his way back to our world. Is it safe yet?”
“Out there?” Casey asks, motioning toward the door.
“Yeah, is everyone gone?”
Casey shrugs. “Got me. Probably. I cut off bar service, so I doubt anyone will stick around much longer.”
“I’ll go check.”
He seems concerned by my strange behavior, and I don’t blame him. I’m concerned, too.
“You got weird all of a sudden. You ok?”
My mouth goes dry as his dark eyes search mine, and I force a smile. I don’t know how to explain why I’m not.
“Fine, yeah, just need a change of scenery for a bit, that’s all.”
Casey nods. “Ok, sure. Let me finish up here and I’ll meet you out front.”
I smile and suck in my breath as I’m forced to move past him. Dammit, he smells as good as he looks right now.
The guests are still there. Not as many as before, sure, but enough that I’m positive the scowl is evident on my face. I toss my shoes in the corner and consider taking Casey’s lead by borrowing some of Luke’s clothes. I suddenly feel completely restricted in this tiny dress that has no business on me anymore. I’m done with that and ready for this room to be mine again.
I turn on the hi-hats to a chorus of groans and curses, mostly from the few presumptuous guests who errantly thought they’d be crashing here tonight.
“Does anyone need a cab?” I call out, relishing how freeing it is not to care if any of these people hate me. Heck, not even knowing who they are or why I should care.
No one takes me up on my offer, but their glares indicate they’re getting the hint. Several of them begin collecting their belongings and making the exodus toward the door. It briefly occurs to me how strange it is that they’re following my orders, and I wonder if Luke will be mad that I was rude to all of his friends. Oh well, he should have thought of that before he passed out and left me to my villainy.
“Thanks, everyone. Thanks for coming. Actually, if you ask for Mara Jacobson in the lobby, I’m sure she’ll be happy to book a room for you. Thank you. Oops, your purse…yes, there….thank you.... Thank you... Thanks. Ok. Good, thanks.”
I sense someone watching me and shoot my gaze toward the hallway to meet Casey’s ever-present grin. He found himself a t-shirt, and now leans against the wall, observing my efforts with an amused expression. He waves me on with an encouraging gesture, and I roll my eyes. I know he’s a second away from laughing.
I turn back to my task, and notice with surprise and relief that it’s basically been completed. With the exception of one guy still asleep on the couch.
“You missed one,” Casey teases, drawing up beside me and staring down at the body.
I give him a mock glare before leaning down and shaking the guest. The man doesn’t even stir, loud snores rumbling from his face.
“What do we do?” I ask.
Casey shrugs. “That’s Orin Cantea.”
“Who?”
“Orin Cantea? Rhinehearst Media?”
I continue to stare at him. “Does that mean he freeloads on other people’s couches?”
“Freeloads?” Casey laughs. “The guy is a gazillionaire.”
“Good. So he has people that can come get him.”
Casey shakes his head in disbelief. “Nothing fazes you does it. Or is it, no one?”
It’s my turn to shrug. “Probably both. I’m beat, but not ready to sleep. Want to watch a movie or are you ready to crash?”
Casey considers my offer and stares down at our “guest.”
“What about him?”
I grunt and scan the living room. “Think we can move him over there so we can have the good couch?”
He nods. “Probably. You get his feet. I’ll get the top half.”
15
Day Eighteen
I’m not sure what time it is when I wake up, but I don’t remember anything about the movie last night, which means I lasted all of five seconds once Casey and I got comfortable. I feel warm, though, and I’m surprised by the blanket tucked around me. I blink and instinctively glance toward the other end of the couch where Casey is still passed out.
Rising from the couch, I grab the blanket and return the favor, tucking it around him as best I can without disturbing him. Then I scan the room in disgust. It’s a complete disaster. There’s no way I’m leaving this mess in its entirety for housekeeping, although I’m still way too groggy to start the cleanup process. I shuffle toward the guest room and notice as I pass that our new friend Orin Cantea is gone. That comes as a relief.
A grimace covers my face as I stare into the mirror in the guest bathroom. My makeup has smudged under my eyes and my hair is a mess. I need a shower badly and I’m grateful I’d thought to bring supplies this time. I remember leaving my bag by the door where Casey accosted me, and retrieve it as quietly as possible. I almost laugh at my instinctive relief that it’s still there. As if any of the guests at last night’s party would have been interested in the belongings of a poor girl from Shelteron, PA. Still, not my smartest move.
I return to the guest room and this time opt for a shower in the real bathroom, curious how it compares to the ostentatious display on the other side of the wall. The warm water works wonders on my tired body and mind as I close my eyes and let it wrap me in a comforting embrace. A barrage of thoughts and memories keep trying to break through my serenity, but I manage to block most of them. I don’t want to think right now. I don’t want to worry about Luke, or try to process this strange and abrupt shift in my attitude toward Casey. I don’t want to think about people like Orin Cantea or entitled supermodels. I don’t even want to consider the pleasure of good champagne and fancy appetizers. For a few brief moments, I just want to be warm and calm.
