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And I’ll wait for you.
Something in me melted with the words. What we’d talked about last night, he’d captured in poetry. I stood and then moved as far to my left as possible, stretching out the cord on the headphones because I didn’t want to miss a single note. From my new spot, I had a fantastic view of Callan’s profile. Eyes closed, head bowed as his fingers flew over the keys. Even as he sang the words, there was a smile on his lips. I clicked the shutter, knowing I’d treasure that shot forever. I clicked the shutter button several more times before reclaiming my seat.
James and Aspen ignored me some more as I moved my tablet to the back of the counter and propped my elbows on the Formica counter. I rested my chin on my hands and just listened to the words. Ideas flitted through my brain as to how I’d use the images I’d captured on graphics for the publicity tour.
Discordant notes echoed through my headset, followed immediately by a “Gosh dammit!” from Callan.
Aspen groaned and jabbed a button on the board. All the previously dancing lights went out.
James keyed his mic. “What the hell, Callan?” There was a hint of humor in his voice.
Callan dropped his hands into his lap, then rotated the stool. “I still can’t get the freaking line right.” Except he uttered the words fast and in a high-pitched voice, similar to how Aspen had altered his words earlier.
Dead silence dominated the room for a second and I reached for my camera.
A snide smile grew large on Callan’s face and he tipped his head back and shouted his laughter to the ceiling. I fired the camera, catching his mirth before swinging it in James’ direction. The shock on his face was worth a thousand words and I captured that snap, along with the second he started laughing. Beyond him, Aspen’s hand covered her mouth and she tried, and failed, to stifle her own chuckles.
James wiped tears from his eyes, which made Callan laugh harder. He actually collapsed off his stool and you know I took that picture. Wished I’d thought to switch to video mode so I could replay that fall in slow motion.
Aspen gasped for breath. “Holy mother of Moses, Cal. Way to bring the comic relief.”
Callan picked himself up off the floor, adjusted the headphones on his ears, and dusted the back of his jeans before plopping back onto the stool. “You know I couldn’t resist.” He turned his gaze to me. “Catie-belle, to let you in on the inside joke, every time I start recording, I deliberately flub some part of the song. Ratchets down everyone’s tension. No more waiting for the first mess-up. My goal is to make the recording process more fun and less work.”
“I’d say you were successful.” I couldn’t hold back my grin as I spoke into the microphone at James’ seat.
“You think?” He pitched his voice high again. “Then I got that line right.”
James shook his head, wiping away more tears. “Son of a bitch, that was perfect!” He sniffed and cleared his throat. “Good one, Cal. Now, can you please not provide any more camera fodder for Miz Catie here? Can’t be ruining my rep with pictures of me looking shocked as shit.” He gestured to me, then waved his palm in front of his own face, his expression alternating between shocked and hard-ass with each pass of his hand.
“Watch your language. There are ladies present.” Callan waggled his forefinger at James, a punitive gesture lost to the grin brightening his face.
“Fucking A.” Aspen punched James’ shoulder hard enough to make him wobble into me.
I just laughed at the goofy trio and kept snapping pictures. It was hard to focus through the viewfinder with the laughing tears in my eyes.
“Everybody catch a breath and get ready.” Callan fisted his hands on his thighs. “This time for real.” He winked at me, then swung his stool to face the piano. He put his lips next to the mic. “And P.S., that damn line was perfect.”
Behind his back, Aspen flipped him off. “Why’d you fuck it up then?”
“Yeah, you asshole.” James lifted his middle finger as well.
In response, Callan lifted both his hands above his shoulders, letting the bird fly back to them before settling his fingers on the keyboard once more.
“Another fun part of our recording ritual. We all gotta get raunchy for a little to ease his tension.” Aspen fiddled with a couple sliders, then poised her finger over a bright red button. She aimed a sunny grin at me. “This is going to be magic.”
“Like it wasn’t already?” I asked.
Even from the control room, I could tell Callan was centering himself. His back straightened, his head dipped, and he flexed his hands over the keys.
Aspen flipped a glance toward the panel and then back at me. “Just you wait.”
In the booth, Callan raised one hand again, three fingers up. James straightened and rested his fingertips at the bottom of his control panel. Aspen leaned forward; eyes glued to Callan’s hand.
I lifted my camera and fired a sequence of shots as Callan dropped each finger.
And then the sweet notes of the ballad filled my headphones and as the music swelled around me, my heart fluttered in time with the song.
* * *
