Home > Gus (Bright Side #2)(88)

Gus (Bright Side #2)(88)
Author: Kim Holden

But when he enthusiastically answers, "Yup," I continue on quoting the movie, "Do you wanna go do karate in the garage?"

"Yup," he answers, and we both start laughing.

I haven't laughed this hard in a long time and it feels good. "Thanks for that, dude. I needed it."

He's still laughing. "Me too." The laughter settles into a chuckle, but he still sounds happy. "Well, man, I just heard the piano give up the ghost; that means practice is over. I'd better go get Stella. Thanks again for calling today. I miss Katie, Gus. And I'll always love her. Not a day goes by that I don't think about her. But it's different now than it was a few months ago. It's not pain now; it's joy. I'm living my life for her, too. I'm living with purpose, but Stella and I are still having fun along the way. None of this would've been possible if it weren't for her. She taught me how to live. And how to love. I have no intention of wasting it."

I'm nodding my head like he can see. "I'm glad. And ditto. Have a fantastic Saturday, dude. And tell Miss Stella hi for me."

"Will do. Take care, Gus."

"You too. Later."

"Bye."

As soon as I hang up I immediately call Ma. She's on her way to the cemetery with tulips and a Twix bar. And just like Keller, she sounds good. She's handling this anniversary with grace and remembering Bright Side with happiness, which is really the only way Bright Side should be honored. I tell her I just talked to Keller and even share the stepbrother portion of the discussion, to which she laughs but does nothing to discourage rumors. Maybe they are serious; stranger things have happened.

By the time I wrap up my phone calls, there's just enough time to shower and text Scout. Good morning Girl Scout.

Three sets of concerned eyes are on me when I walk into the living room to leave for the day. Franco speaks up first. "Morning. You okay, big man?" He looks worried about me.

I nod. "I'm okay, dude." I know they're wondering if I'm torn up about Bright Side. "I'm always gonna miss her, but she's right here." I pat my chest. "Which has me thinking, I know we're supposed to finish up 'Judgment Day' today, but I think in Bright Side's memory we should just jam. We should just play. See what we come up with. You know that she's been watching us in the studio." I feel her in there with us every day. "So today, let's do something she loved." Bright Side loved to just play. She was so creative. It was like she had all this music bound up within her and every time she wrote something new, she only let a fraction of it out. She was bursting at the seams with new songs.

They're all smiling and nodding their heads. Franco's already at the door. "Let's do this. I'm officially declaring it Kate Day." He's holding the door open as we all walk through it to the parking lot. "It's funny that you mention being able to feel Kate in the studio with us. I thought I was the only one. Sometimes when I'm in a groove and everything's just flowing, I swear I hear her whispering in my ear, telling me what a sexy beast I am when I play and how I was always her favorite."

I shake my head and smile because he threw all that out there to make me laugh. "Shut the fuck up, dude. You are a sexy beast when you play, but you were never her favorite."

There's a look of mock hurt on his face as he unlocks his truck and we all pile in. He turns and looks at me in the backseat. "That hurts, fuck nugget. That really fucking hurts." He's grinning by the time he's done trying to make me feel bad. "Who wants coffee?" he says as he backs out of the space. "I say we start Kate Day off right with some coffee for Kate."

After we go through the Starbucks drive-thru and spend approximately two hundred dollars on four cups of coffee, we head to the studio. And when we tell MFDM our plans for the day I can tell it's against his better judgment to let us take the day off, but he agrees. He had a place in his heart for Bright Side, too.

I start playing first, just my acoustic guitar, and I notice that MFDM's got tape rolling on me. He's recording. Not all the time, but when he likes what he hears he's capturing it. The wheels are turning, and I really do feel like she's in this room with me. I can hear the intro of a song coming together in my head and trade out my acoustic for my electric. It takes me a minute to adjust my effects pedals and get the delay just right. In my mind, the notes are looping over and over until my fingers catch up and bring them to life.

The intro, even with the delay, is crisp. Each note distinct, but almost lazy. I work through it a few times, and everyone's bobbing their heads; we're all into it. I nod at Franco. "Hey, dude. Rim me out a beat to this. It needs to be rushed though. Downbeat. Don't keep time with me. Push me. I'll lag, but you keep going. It'll work, trust me. Just the rim, no snare."

He does. The first time through we're fighting each other. He's trying to match my tempo, but I don't want him to. He's the timekeeper, but he's leaning on me because he can't hear it yet. We play it a few more times and I talk him through and by the end he's pressing forward and letting me fall behind and it works. It fucking works.

Over the next half hour Jamie and I come up with a wicked bassline that would make Bright Side proud. She was always a sucker for a strong, kickass bassline. I've always been guitar driven, but sometimes bass driven is the way to go. Bass resonates; it plays to the core of your physical being, bone deep, like a sonic heartbeat.

With the bassline down, Robbie agrees that he just needs to follow Jamie and let the bass take the lead for the chorus.

Franco's chomping at the bit just to be let loose and go ballistic. He'll get his chance.

I nod at Franco. "You ready?"

He's twirling his drumstick in his hand and stomps his kick bass pedal a few times. He's antsy. He just wants to play, to be unleashed. Franco's a phenomenal drummer and musician, but the best part is his enthusiasm. He motherfucking loves to play. He'd play all day, every day, if he could. "I was born ready, man." He was. No lie.

   
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