Night Shifts Black

by Alyson Santos

  I doubt Casey even hears him.

  I watch Luke until he disappears, then turn back to Casey who finally seems satisfied with his tuning. He closes his eyes and nods his head as if counting to himself, and I’m fascinated at the glimpse of his own genius at work.

  His fingers wrap around the neck of the guitar with a familiar comfort that makes it obvious he spends a lot of time in this position. He starts strumming, his eyes still scanning my notebook, pausing, strumming again, picking out some individual notes, pausing and returning. I gaze in silence, completely captivated.

  Finally, he seems satisfied with something that makes sense in his head, but I have yet to hear beyond it.

  I don’t even get an intro or explanation before he starts playing an actual song, my words connecting in a rhythm and flow I’d never thought of, but find incredibly beautiful. They come to life, transforming from thoughts into action.

  Casey has a good voice. Not as unique as Luke’s, but good enough that any lesser band would probably be happy to have him as their own frontman. I doubt he’d agree with me, but I’m surprised by his confidence. I guess I shouldn’t be. I’m witnessing a superstar doing what made him a superstar.

  He stops and takes in a deep breath before meeting my gaze with an uncertain expression, the confidence suddenly gone. I’m startled by it, the open vulnerability of someone who should be invincible.

  “That was amazing. I never thought my words could sound like that,” I breathe, stuck in all kinds of awe at the moment. Of Casey. Of me. Of what we just created together.

  I thought I’d gotten used to Casey’s grins. He shares them often enough, but this is a new one. He seems almost transcended as he nods and opens his own notebook. He scribbles for several minutes. Stopping, thinking, scribbling again. Every so often he’ll play through some chords, humming to himself, muttering something, then return to the notebook.

  I wonder again if he even remembers I’m here. He hasn’t acknowledged me in a long time, when suddenly, he stops and gives me a direct stare, almost startled.

  “You need to go back to your place, wherever that is, and get your laptop.”

  This time I know what he’s thinking. I’m not even going to bother with the familiar line of insecure questioning.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, still concerned this can’t possibly be happening.

  He nods. “Positive. Get it now.” I continue to hesitate. “Go!”

  And I rise with a grin of my own.

  ∞∞∞

  By the time I return to the suite, Casey and Luke are seated at the table, containers of food half-empty, and a clean plate at the open spot. They look up when I approach, and Luke waves me over.

  “Thai,” he explains.

  “With your hangover?” I ask in disbelief.

  He just shrugs with a grin. “Burns away the alcohol?”

  “What, so she has a key now?” Casey asks, interrupting our greeting.

  “She’s here all the time anyway. I gave her the guest room.”

  Casey studies us for a moment, and I swear I can see his expression fall. I don’t know what it means, but my pulse starts to pound as it occurs to me he might be jealous. Could that even be possible? No, of course not. He just thinks it means something different than it does and is mad that I broke my promise not to fall in love with Luke. I can’t exactly explain that to him at the moment, however, so I just drop my bag and take my seat.

  “It’s more convenient, that’s all,” I offer quickly.

  I can feel his gaze, but I’m not ready to meet it and start filling my plate with food.

  “Did you bring your laptop?” he asks, changing the subject, but his voice is different now. Some of the magic is gone, and I finally dare a glance in his direction. His eyes…I look away again.

  “Got it.”

  “Ok, good.”

  “Heard you working on something,” Luke comments. “Sounded pretty good.”

  Casey nods, but doesn’t seem as pleased as I would have thought. “Yeah. Got a call from TJ today…” His voice trails off, and they exchange a knowing look.

  “I’m surprised they weren’t on your case sooner,” Luke says.

  “They’ve been bugging me, but this was the first ‘do or die’ call.”

  “What do they want?”

  Casey studies him for a moment, and I wonder if he’s surprised Luke’s still engaged in the discussion at this point. I know I am.

  “New tour in four months with at least three new tracks.”

  Luke smirks. “Got tired of waiting, I guess.”

  “I’d love your help, man.”

  Luke doesn’t respond and only stares at his plate. “Yeah, well, that’s not my thing anymore.” And there it is. The leg positioned clear of the table, the knee at attention. He’s about to run.

  “I know, but maybe if…”

  “Alright, well, I know I’m full. What about you guys?” Luke cuts in, disappearing from his half-eaten plate before either of us can respond.

  Familiar ending to any meal with Luke Craven.

  Casey curses and shoves his own chair back in frustration. He doesn’t move, however, and just sits in silence, lost in thought.

  “You ok?” I ask, and he turns on me with a fire I haven’t seen from him before.

  “You’re living with him? Why didn’t you tell me you two hooked up? Don’t you think you should have led with that?”

  My eyes widen in shock. “What? Whoa, wait a second. We didn’t hook up.”

  “No? But you moved in?”

  “It’s not like that! I mean, I know what it sounds like, but it’s not!”

  I lean forward, suddenly terrified at the thought of losing him, maybe even more than I ever was of losing Luke. I’m startled by the thought. Disturbed.

  “I didn’t move in, I just keep some stuff here in case it gets late. Come on, you know he’s not ready for a real relationship. I know you know that better than anyone!”

  He studies me, considering my testimony, and I let every ounce of my soul pour onto my face. I need him to believe me for some reason.

  “He’s not, you know,” he states finally in a calm voice, and I’m actually able to breathe again. “I’m not sure if he’ll ever be. I warned you about that from the beginning.”

  I lean toward him in earnest. “I know that, trust me. I’ll admit in the beginning I had thoughts, but now I just care about him. I want to help him. Just like you.”

  He’s still evaluating, I can tell, but I keep meeting his gaze, forcing him to give me a fair chance.

  Finally, he sighs and shakes head. “God, I’m sorry, Callie. It’s just…” He stops and tries to collect his thoughts. “They all fall for him. Every single one. How can they not? I’m not saying he does it on purpose. Maybe sometimes, but mostly he just doesn’t realize the effect he has. But I know where he’s at right now, and you will get hurt. I know you will.”

  “I know. Seriously, Casey, I know, ok? It’s not like that. I don’t have those kinds of feelings for him anymore.”

  No one is more surprised than I am that I can make that statement with confidence for the first time. I swallow, feeling free somehow. It makes me brave. Or stupid. Both?

  I get up and take his hands. I’m still not sure what exactly is going on between Casey and me, but I know that brief moment when I thought I’d lost him was bad enough that the ache is still pressing on my lungs.

  Then, it happens. I’m not sure which one of us moves first, but before I know it I’m falling against him, my lips connecting with his. It feels so different than the moment with Luke. This kiss is pure, considered, natural. The lack of desperation making it seem more real, like it could actually last this time. I lock him against me, loving how he does the same, and remember what he’d said at the party. He was right. I did let him kiss me and I do love it. I love it so much I want to write about it.

  I pull away, and he seems concerned, then softens at the grin on my face.

&nbs
p; “Let’s write.”

  “What?” he laughs. “Right now?”

  I nod. I give him another quick kiss and jump to my feet, reaching for his hands to pull him after me.

  “What about dessert?” he asks with a sly grin. “I was enjoying it.”

  I groan. “Seriously? And you’re a songwriter?”

  He laughs again and lets me lead him back to the couch.

  ∞∞∞

  We end up working mainly on the mirror song. By the time we wrap up our efforts, we’re pretty comfortable with the general framework of what we put together. Casey is already talking about demos and scratch tracks and a bunch of other things that I guess mean he wants to do more with it. He clearly has a lot more of the song pieced together in his head than what he can play for me on the guitar. He tries his best to explain and demonstrate his masterpiece, but even with his makeshift couch cushion drum set, and surprisingly effective humming and hand motions, isn’t able to fully translate his vision. After everything I’ve seen from him, I have no doubt that whatever it is, it will be spectacular.

  “You hungry?” he asks as I get to my feet and stretch.

  “A little. I want to go check on Luke though.”

  Casey nods. “Good idea. I’ll go get us some food.”

  “You could just order room service if you don’t feel like going out.”

  He grimaces and shakes his head. “No, I need some air. Be back in a bit.”

  He jumps up, grabs his jacket, which I doubt he needs, and heads to the door. “Make sure you let me back in, though! Unlike you, I don’t have a key…”

  I return his smile. “Depends what you bring back.”

  He grins and shrugs before disappearing through the main door.

  I turn in the opposite direction and head down the hall toward Luke’s room. My nerves start to burn in my stomach as I move forward, as though I’m transporting from the sunny spark of creativity to the pain of lost identity. I’m not sure what’s waiting for me at the end of the hall, but I’m terrified it will be something I’m not ready to handle again so soon.

  When no one answers my knock, I peek into the room and am surprised to find it empty. I call for Luke, but there’s no response, and my blood starts to pound. I enter the room, holding my breath, searching the bathroom and anywhere else he could be hiding. Nothing.

  Confused and concerned, I back through the door and try the guestroom. Maybe he finally decided to take his own turn with the whacky shower. The extra room proves to be empty as well, and now I’m very worried. I’m sure he didn’t leave, we would have noticed, so I try one last possibility: the office.

  There’s no light coming from under the closed door as I approach, so I’m skeptical. This room can’t possibly be occupied, but I’m out of options and push through into the darkness anyway.

  I nearly scream at the dark figure in the corner.

  My heart pounds as I freeze, hand still on the door, terrified of the shadowed ghost. I force air into my lungs. It’s only Luke. It has to be Luke. The dim light from the hall illuminates the figure enough that I can see the head turn toward me. I can also see that it’s sitting on a chair.

  “Luke?” I whisper. I turn on the light, and he squints against the bright blast. He doesn’t speak, and after a brief glance in my direction, returns to staring at the floor.

  I move into the office and close the door behind me. I don’t know what to do, what to say, to draw him out of his nightmare, so I just do what I always do when I lose him, follow him. I pull out the desk chair and move it to the wall so I can sit near him.

  And that’s what I do. Sit.

  For a long time I do nothing, staring at the floor, the ceiling, the wall. Every now and then casting a glance at Luke, but he’s never here with me. He’s forgotten about me already. The fancy clock on the wall with four different time zones ticks, no, hammers, each second into the stifling air around us. I hate time right now, how unpredictable and inconsistent it can be.

  The carpet on the floor is softer here than in the other rooms, and I guess it’s because this one isn’t used as often. The padding probably isn’t as worn. I like the way my foot squishes into it and leaves a clear impression. I make four identical ones in a row, and lean back to admire my design.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jump, startled by Luke’s voice after the long silence.

  “Making a footprint ladder.”

  “You can’t do that somewhere else?”

  “You’re not somewhere else.”

  He quiets, and I allow myself to look at him again.

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told you why. I hurt people…” He shakes his head. “No, I break people.”

  “Ok. Well, I was already broken long before I met you, so we’re good.”

  His gaze shoots to mine, and I stare back. He’s wrong if he thinks he has a monopoly on pain and an aimless existence.

  “You don’t know, Callie. You don’t.”

  I lean my head back and stare at the opposite wall.

  “I know more than you think. I know that Elena was an amazing person who killed herself, and that it was probably your fault because you treated her like crap.”

  I let my words settle for a moment before turning my head toward him to gauge how much I’d hurt him. He has tears in his eyes, but I’m not sure if they’re new or not. He closes them and becomes perfectly still.

  “Except here’s the thing, Luke, it takes a lot more than someone being a jerk to you to make you kill yourself. You’re giving yourself too much credit. You’re not important enough to do that. She was sick. You may have been the trigger, but only on a gun that was already loaded.”

  He shakes his head slowly, eyes clenched, tears slipping down his cheeks.

  “You don’t understand, Callie,” he whispers.

  “Ok, so explain it to me. I’m done with this ‘no personal stuff’ bullshit. Explain to me how you picked up a gun and shot your wife in cold blood, because unless that’s what happened, you don’t belong in this prison anymore.”

  He shakes his head again, and I can’t take it anymore. I grab his hands and jerk him awake.

  “Stop! You have to stop this! You did your time! You paid for it! Now, it’s time to be the person she loved, not the person she hated.”

  I search his eyes, refusing to let him retreat this time. Refusing to let him escape to that place where everyone is happy to abandon him. His hands start to shake in mine, I can feel the trembling, and his eyes fill again. The mounting tension burns through me as I watch the armor melt away from his face.

  The tears become sobs, and soon he’s in my arms, completely shattering before my eyes. He falls to the floor in a crumpled heap, and I pull him tightly against me. I hold on as his body shakes, stroking his hair, resting my head on his. I can feel my own heart aching at the horrific pain exploding into the small room that doesn’t seem able to contain it. I can’t hear the clock anymore. Time must have stopped.

  But I hold on anyway, absorbing what I can, accepting what I can’t, and just letting him shatter. We will sort through what’s left when it’s over, but for now everything needs to break apart. I know the place where he’s trapped himself, and I know it’s not real but will imprison you forever if you let it. It’s that damn mirror from my poem. There’s no escape from it until it disappears.

  “I killed her,” he sobs, pounding the floor. “I…”

  I pull him tighter as he continues to melt into the carpet. I said what needed to be said. There are no more words for this. None that I know anyway.

  So we wait, melded together, transported to a place where there is no time. No rules. No expectations. Just Luke and I, slowly dissolving into something else, something we don’t understand yet, and can’t begin to define.

  He killed her. Maybe. But only in the same way he’s now killing himself. Turning lies into truth. Allowing the mirror to reflect that new distorted
truth and giving it the power to shine through every thread, every second, of his existence. It’s a prison of the worst kind since it only shows one captor, one executioner, one victim, one criminal. One blighted life that’s infecting the rest of us. Luke. Just Luke.

  It showed me once. Sometimes, on the really bad days, it still does, and I’d almost guarantee it showed Elena before she decided she couldn’t look anymore. It’s that damn mirror, devouring souls with its lies, and I realize at that moment why I’m here. I know what I am to him, what I have to do. I’m not here to be his girlfriend, or his nurse, or his counselor, or even his friend. I’m a hammer, and I’m not leaving until that damn mirror is destroyed.

  I’m not sure how much time passes like that. I can hear the distant door clatter and know Casey has returned from his errand. I’m disappointed in a way, almost fearful, as the sound forces us back from our exclusive universe. I’m not sure if my job is done, but there’s Time again, mocking us by ending this round.

  “You should go,” Luke whispers, but I just kiss his head and hold on.

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “But Casey…”

  “Understands a lot more than you think.” I force his head up, and suck in my breath when our eyes finally connect us again in reality. “He was a friend to you when you didn’t deserve one. That’s who Casey is.”

  Luke nods and pulls away. Leaning against the side of the desk, he rests his head on his knees.

  “You have no idea,” he breathes. “Please, Callie. I’m ok now. I’ll be ok. I just need a few minutes.”

  I study him carefully, evaluating his mind, his heart, his soul like Casey had done with his body the night before. I want to believe him. I’ve hit hard with my first major strike, and decide it can be enough for now.

  “I’ll be right outside. If you’re not out with us for dinner in ten minutes I’m coming back.”

  He doesn’t respond other than to wrap his arms around his legs, and I finally let him go.

  “I love you, Luke. And you know the kind I mean. The kind that won’t be defined and won’t go away.”

  He glances up and settles his gaze on me. I touch his cheek briefly before leaving him to his broken glass.