“Case!” Luke turns to me. “She had good intentions.”
“She thought he was the one benefiting from the charity because of the ‘dreadful condition of his clothing!’”
“I was wearing $300 jeans and a Julian Salitoni jacket.”
Casey smacks the table as his laughter hits a new decibel. “Oh man, I just about died when that happened. Dude, she was ready to take you home and give you a hot shower and cot in her living room.”
I squint over at Luke and do an appraisal of my own. “I don’t know. I kind of see it. I mean, there’s the messy hair, and the jeans may be $300 but they look like they’re one wash away from disintegrating. Your t-shirt could definitely use a bit of mending. I’d slip you a twenty as long as you promised not to buy booze with it.”
Luke grins, and there’s a strange dynamic heat that pulses through me. “I never would have promised that.”
I sit back and give them a wry look. “Ok, fine, so I’m guessing what I’m supposed to take away from this little tale is that it’s not often you encounter people under seventy-five who don’t know who you are.”
“Only because we don’t have time to come in contact with those people.” Casey realizes his mistake too late. I’m one of those people. “Well, you do, apparently,” he says to Luke, and I’m not sure how that fixes anything.
Luke doesn’t seem bothered by the comment, which surprises me.
I jump in anyway. “Alright, fine, so I get it. You’re a super famous rock star in Night Shifts Black. Then can I ask what you play? Or should I already know that, too?”
“Now, I get why you like her. She knows nothing about us, does she?”
Luke’s grin returns. “Nope.”
I don’t know if I’m blushing, but still manage to give them a stern look. “So, what, I’m supposed to grovel at your feet because you’re big rock gods? Sorry if I was the only person on this planet who didn’t know that.”
“No, but now that you know, you should be groveling,” Casey teases.
“Oh boy,” Luke mutters.
I raise my eyebrows. “Really? What if I’m the princess of Tanzania? Maybe you should be groveling at my feet.”
“If you’re really the princess of Tanzania, I will. You’d have to prove it, though.”
“Prove you’re in Night Shifts Black.”
Casey turns to Luke. “Am I in Night Shifts Black?”
Luke holds up his hands. “I’m not getting involved in this one. You’re on your own.”
“You’re not involved. You’re just verifying a fact.”
Luke looks to me.
“It’s ok. He’s right. You can answer his question.”
He sighs. “Fine. Yes, Casey plays drums in Night Shifts Black.”
Casey leans back and crosses his arms, a satisfied smirk on this face. “Ok, there you go. Now, it’s your turn, princess.”
I clear my throat and turn to Luke. “Am I the princess of Tanzania?”
This time I get Luke’s real laugh, and my own grin breaks.
“Yes, she is,” he replies, clearly amused.
I turn to Casey and shrug. “There you have it.”
“Why do I feel like I’ve been conned?”
“You haven’t been conned, just out-voted,” I return.
“Ha, fine. This is all breakfast club politics. I get it.”
“There are no politics involved until you order. We only judge based on food selections here.”
Luke signals Darryn. The servers at Jemma’s have learned not to bother us until we’re ready. We pretend we’re being respectful of their time, but really they don’t want to confront Luke before they get the all clear that he’s not nuts that day.
“Coffee, please,” Luke says, and Darryn nods.
“What about you?” Darryn asks Casey.
“Yeah, coffee’s good.”
“Tea for you?” he asks me.
“Yes, please.”
“You guys eating today?”
I notice Darryn asks Luke, not me.
“Probably. Can we have a couple minutes, though?”
“Of course. I’ll be back with your drinks.”
We thank him.
“He knows you,” Casey observes.
“He’s a breakfast club regular,” I explain.
Casey smiles. “If I’d known about breakfast club, I would have visited sooner.”
“Yeah, right,” Luke grunts. “You don’t have time to visit. I still can’t believe you showed up last night. Don’t you have to be in Richmond tonight? I thought you guys were playing the Calisto Festival.”
Casey almost looks hurt, and I’m surprised. “I would have stopped by as much as I could if you’d let me. You just didn’t want me around. I didn’t even know where you were until TJ called a few days ago. I got here the first second I could.”
I can tell Luke doesn’t want to have this conversation. I think it’s more the subject itself than the fact that I’m present, however. I can’t see him ever being comfortable with it.
“One of us needs to try the French toast,” I say before we return to the uncomfortable silence.
“Why’s that?” Casey asks.
“We’ve never ordered it, and I think it’s time to diversify breakfast club. What do you think?” I ask Luke who shrugs. He hasn’t recovered yet, and I turn back to Casey.
“So tell me more about being famous rock stars. I want to hear about the groveling.”
Casey smiles, but the humor is gone. “Well, it hasn’t been the same without your friend here, that’s for sure. Luke was Night Shifts Black. Without him we’re basically just a sad cover band.”
I realize this conversation isn’t going to help Luke’s current state, but I’m too fascinated to give it up at the moment.
“At least you’re still touring though, right?”
“Yeah, kind of. But we don’t headline much anymore. We can’t sell out a stadium without Luke Craven.”
“Sweeny does fine,” Luke mumbles.
“Yeah, sure,” Casey smirks. “They’re your songs, bro. No one will ever be able to handle them like you do.”
Luke shuts down again, and I notice Casey’s reaction this time. The other man legitimately cares about his friend. He’s worried about him. He knows why Luke left and stuck them with Sweeny. He knows something about the ghost chair. I want to know now, more than ever, and wonder if Casey would tell me. He probably wouldn’t, but I probably wouldn’t have the heart to betray Luke and ask anyway.
Darryn returns with our drinks, and I’m afraid he notices the sudden unrest around his table. He might make us prepay for our food.
“Did you decide on your orders?” Darryn asks, but he’s not optimistic.
We’re quiet for a moment. Casey and I both look at Luke who is staring at the chair. Darryn shifts his weight and seems just a fraction below annoyed. I’m about to speak up and put us out of our misery when Luke suddenly orders French toast.
We all stare at him, and Darryn seems flustered. I quickly rescue the moment by doing the same.
Darryn hesitates before scribbling on his notepad and looking to Casey.
“What the hell, why not?” Casey adds, handing over his menu.
Darryn clears his throat. “Ok, three French toasts it is. Anything else?”
We shake our heads.
“No bacon? Fruit? Home fries?”
“Nope.”
“Um, ok. Thanks.”
“Do you think he has to go to counseling now because of us?” I ask after he disappears.
“He’s at least insisted on a raise,” Luke responds, and I grin.
We’re back.
“So has my boy here told you about his other passion?” Casey asks.
“You mean, besides music?”
Casey nods, and Luke rolls his eyes.
“It’s not a passion.”
“You have eight of them.”
“I like them.”
“Exactly. It’s a passio
n.”
“And it is what?” I grunt, interrupting their argument.
“Bikes,” Casey explains.
“Bikes? Like bike bikes, or motorbikes?”
Casey laughs. “Motorbikes? I love this girl. Where did you find her? She’s like my grandma in the body of a cute college chick.”
I give him a mock glare. “I’m sorry, but maybe if you used more adjectives I wouldn’t have to ask so many stupid questions.”
“Adjectives? Sorry, hon, the writing part was his thing, not mine.”
“That’s obvious,” I tease.
“Luke is awesome with adjectives,” Casey continues.
“He is. One of the best.”
Luke smiles and shakes his head. “Wow, thanks, guys,” he says dryly.
“He also sucks at taking compliments,” Casey adds.
“How’s that possible? Isn’t a love of being worshipped part of the superstar thing?”
“It’s supposed to be.”
“Just let me know if you need me to weigh in on anything about myself,” Luke interjects, and I smile over at him. He returns it, igniting another flutter inside me at the private connection. “Actually, I’ll make it even easier for you to talk about me, and hit the restrooms. I’ll be back.”
He pushes away from the table, and we quiet as he takes off in the direction of the corridor to the bathrooms.
We watch him go.
“He’s not good, is he?” Casey asks, the mood instantly settling. His tone is so subdued that I’m not sure he’s even talking to me.
I don’t answer at first and my gaze instinctively shifts to the chair. “No, he’s not,” I say finally.
Casey shakes his head and sighs, lost in thought. “You know, I’ve barely seen or spoken to him in months. Last night, today, it’s the first time I’ve really spent time with him in a while. He’s not the person I knew. Not even close.”
“And I can’t even imagine him being the person you knew.”
“We both know two completely different people.”
He’s right, and I’m surprised by his insight. Despite his easy smile and playful demeanor, he’s no idiot either. I’m not surprised they were close in another life.
“It appears so.”
He quiets for a moment and picks at his napkin. “He wasn’t a good person, Callie. It wasn’t all his fault, he had a lot going against him, but he wasn’t.”
I swallow, not sure how to respond. I don’t like hearing that, but I’m not surprised for some reason. I look up and notice Casey watching me. He wants good news.
“I think he might be now.”
Casey nods and seems to relax a little. “I think he might be, too. I really do…If he recovers.”
I’m disturbed by his qualification. It’s probably all over my face.
“If?”
“He’s not good, Callie. Luke’s been like a brother for over ten years, and I’m telling you, he’s not good.”
His words tear at me, grinding at my heart. Maybe it’s because I thought I was making a bigger difference than I am. Maybe my naiveté turned breakfast club into more than it is. Maybe I care about him way more than I should. Whatever the reason, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of the chair and the hidden monstrosity I can’t begin to fight. How can I help him recover if I don’t even know what’s killing him?
“People are drawn to him. They always have been. It’s hard to stay grounded when you’re adored. It was harder for him than most because I don’t think he’s wired to be adored. He didn’t know how to deal with it, and it all happened so fast for us once it hit.”
I’m watching the shadow of the corridor now, absorbing Casey’s words as best I can, which isn’t very well.
“Is that why he left? He couldn’t handle it anymore?”
Casey doesn’t respond at first, and I know that’s not why. But he’s not going to give away any more of his friend’s secrets. I actually respect him a lot for that.
“You seem like a cool person and it’s obvious you care about him. All I’m saying is don’t fall for him. Please.” Casey is actually pleading with me now.
“Are you worried about me or him?” I ask.
“Both. He can’t be worshipped right now. He needs an anchor not a dreamer.”
His statement hits me hard. I want to be an anchor, but I’m suddenly terrified that I’m not. What if I’m a dreamer?
“I understand,” I reply. I wish I could say more, he’s expecting a promise, but I don’t want to be a liar on top of everything else.
Luke is on his way back now. He doesn’t look nearly as broken as we just made him out to be. In fact, he looks so normal rounding the corner, rubbing his hands on his jeans to clear those last drops of water the paper towel always misses. For a brief moment, I wonder if we’ve misread him.
We quiet as he approaches, but I’m not sure how to pretend we weren’t talking about him when I’m still reeling from the conversation. He seems to sense our tension, despite our weak attempts to hide it with fake smiles. He’s too perceptive to believe fake smiles.
“So did I miss anything good?” he asks. We’re being tested, but I have no idea how to pass.
“Nope. In fact we learned you know a lot more about yourself than we do, apparently.”
I’m rewarded with a slight smile, but I don’t think I did as well as I’d hoped.
“Well, since we’re sharing, I learned the third sink in the men’s room doesn’t work.”
The arrival of our food prevents what was poised to be a very boring, and awkward, conversation. I eye my French toast in anticipation, giving it way more credit than it deserves out of gratitude for saving this encounter.
“I like the powdered sugar. Nice touch,” Casey comments.
I nod. “It’s not too much, but just enough to add a hint of sweetness.”
“Exactly. With the syrup, it would have been too sweet if they used any more.”
“It’s incredible, huh, that powdered sugar. They must have invested a lot of hours perfecting this particular application. Do you think they commissioned a full research study or just went with the classic focus group?” Luke asks, and then I catch the amusement seeping into his expression. He’s mocking us, glancing back and forth between Casey’s forced admiration and my forced enthusiasm.
I can’t help but smile in return.
“You were talking about me, weren’t you,” he reasons. “Of course you were.”
“We care about you,” Casey responds.
“What did he tell you?” Luke asks me.
I can’t tell if he’s defensive, curious, angry, or intending to elaborate.
“C’mon, man. Nothing,” Casey interjects.
I nod. “Seriously, Luke. Nothing. You have a good friend here.”
“Right…”
We all quiet again and pretend our French toast is a fascinating mystery.
“You know, just once it would be nice if people stopped treating me like a mental patient,” Luke spits suddenly.
Casey grunts. “Then maybe you should stop acting like one,” he mutters.
I glance at him, startled, as Luke’s eyes narrow.
“Yeah? Well, I don’t remember asking you to stop in and check up on me. I don’t want you guys dropping in on me because I don’t need a nurse.”
Now, Casey is getting riled. “Check up on you? I’m not checking up on you! You’re my best friend, my brother! And I thought I was yours. Sorry if I’m supposed to be ok with you just disappearing from my life, but I’m not!”
“You know what? This was obviously a mistake.”
“What? Becoming human again for five minutes?” Casey hisses. He leans forward with a fire I can feel across the table. “Look, I get it. You had a rough road. But it’s time to get back up and move on. You think you’re the only one who’s suffering? You think yours was the only life ruined? You know that’s not fair, and if anyone can understand this, it’s me.
“And anyway, what about
the other guys, huh? What about your band, your friends? What about our dreams and lives that got all messed up when you walked away and left us with a shell of what we could’ve been? Do you ever think about that? You think we want to be playing nightclubs and opening for singing competition winners when we were booking stadiums a year ago? The Calisto Festival? God, what a joke.” He draws in a breath and tosses his napkin on the table. “At some point suffering gets old and is just selfish. Call me when you’re ready to be friends again.”
With that, Casey pushes his chair back and storms from the table. I don’t watch his exit because I’m too worried about Luke. He’s staring again, the blank look on his face that tells me he’s far away from this place. I’m not sure if I should say something to try to draw him out of it, or if returning him to the present will only make things worse.
“It’s hard to argue that, isn’t it?” he asks suddenly, surprising me. I glance over, expecting a vacant monologue, but he’s watching me. I’m not sure what the right answer is. I don’t even understand the question.
“What’s hard to argue?”
“That I ruined everything.”
“You mean the band? Their careers?”
“No, I mean everything.”
He pushes back from the table and slaps some bills down on the table. Actually, he slaps a lot of bills on the table.
“That’s what I do, Callie. I ruin things.”
Now, I really don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to counter something I know nothing about.
“Luke…”
“I should go. Good luck.”
I want to stop him as he leaves, suddenly terrified his strange ending was a final goodbye. Of course I need to stop him. It can’t end like this. But I don’t. By the time I know what I need to do, it’s too late.
I bite my lip instead and stare at the table of French toast and assorted cash. I gather the bills into a neat little pile and realize they aren’t all from this country. After pulling out the foreign ones, I signal Darryn who quietly hands over the check and spares me the embarrassment of a comment. I don’t even cry until after I’m safely on the sidewalk.
∞∞∞
I don’t go back the next day. Somehow I know Luke won’t be there, and I don’t want to subject myself to the disappointment. I think about him constantly, however. Picturing his face, his jacket, his expressive eyes. Wishing I was important enough for him to include me in his life instead of me secretly including him in mine.
Night Shifts Black Page 6
