Cody doesn’t say anything for a moment. He just glares at his coffee in the same way I’ve spent most of the evening glaring at a glass of whiskey.
Norrie leans back, crossing his arms. “We have to trust each other, even when it gets hard.”
“Especially when it’s hard,” I add. “This is big. Well, it could be big, and I need it.”
“It’s not just your shot,” Cody retorts, looking right at me. “It’s all of ours. We all need it.”
“So, let’s do it.” I challenge, desperate to get him to see what I see. What the future could be. “Let’s do it our way.”
I can tell he’s wavering.
Norrie leans forward in his seat and stares at both of us. “We could have something special here. We can’t just walk away.”
Cody shifts again, but the tension in his body is fading. He’s thinking it over. “I just want to be sure it’s worth it.”
“It will be,” I encourage. “If we’re all in, it will be.”
Norrie’s eyes sparkle with that crazy belief of his, and for a moment, it’s contagious.
“So, we’re doing this?” he asks. His grin says he already knows the answer.
“Fuck yeah, we’re doing this,” I respond before leaning back.
Cody finally cracks a smile, a small one that could just as easily be a wince, but it’s something. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”
We all pause for a second to take everything in.
Norrie’s voice gets playful. “No backing out now.”
“No chance,” I reply. I can already feel the anticipation pounding through my body. “In addition to Sebastian, there is one more missing piece of the puzzle.” I smack my tongue against my lips. “A certain red-headed keyboardist.”
three
. . .
Norrie
It’s only beentwo days since our meeting at the diner, and we’ve already managed to get the money to hire a studio for a few hours. Well, more precisely, Otis has managed to get his dad to foot the bill.
Otis’ family is loaded, like mega money. It’s something he doesn’t like anyone to know. His father doesn’t often use his wealth to help his son, but I suspect he’s hoping that if he supports Otis’ musical aspirations, he won’t have to bail him out of trouble, for a change.
Otis counts in with a wild staccato, his sticks blurring through the opening. Cody hits hard with a riff on his guitar that reverberates around the room. I begin to rasp out the words I wrote, bringing it all together.
“I watched you walk into the dark.
No goodbye, no last remark.
It left me drowning in the flood
Of broken dreams and dried-up blood.”
It's loud and unruly, and after only a couple of run throughs, it’s almost perfect.
Ruby’s standing against the wall, arms folded across her chest and back rigid, as she watches us perform. Her shocking bright red hair, like our music, is a reminder of the danger we face, the gamble we’re taking. She shuts her eyes, and her head sways with the beat. Slowly, she unfolds her arms, and her talented fingers begin to move back and forth as if picking out notes on the keyboard that she plays so well. It’s the reason Otis invited her.
Cody leans into the mic. His eyes are closed, face a mask of concentration, and every note from his guitar spills out like he’s trying to prove he belongs here, even though we all know he does.
Otis matches him beat for beat. I half expect the drummer to combust from the sheer effort, but he grins like he’s daring the world to catch up. This is Otis in his element, and I can almost see the air around him hum and crackle with the energy he's pouring into his kit.
