"You still have the video of the karaoke battle between Kate and Gus in Minneapolis?" he asks.
I laugh. "Hell yes, that's one of my prouder moments. I'm keeping that video for-fucking-ever."
The video that I filmed one night when were in Minneapolis recording "Finish Me" with Kate the month before she passed, is buried deep in my history but I find it in no time and hit play. The footage that follows is priceless.
On the screen, the hotel suite we all stayed in is panned, and the following faces come into view: Keller, Kate's boyfriend; Gus; Robbie; Jamie; and Kate's friends Shelly, Duncan, and Clayton. They're all sitting on chairs and a couch forming a semi-circle—a rapt audience for the epic battle about to take place.
After capturing the audience's enthusiasm live, I focus on Kate standing before them with a microphone, while I announce the rules. "Tonight's battle pits amiga," she raises her fists up over her head, taunting her opponent, and the crowd goes wild, "versus amigo." I boo Gus loudly and his, "This is rigged, goddammit," is loud enough that it's picked up on the video. I laugh through his protest and continue with the rules. "Each contestant will sing one song. The only criteria for song choice is it must be insanely sexy. Sorry, Gus, I know this puts you at an immediate disadvantage, since you struggle desperately in that arena. Winner will be decided by applause and will be forever hailed as Karaoke Royalty and will reap whatever benefits the title generates, including, but not limited to, taunting the loser unmercifully."
Kate, despite being tired as hell from a long day in the studio, is bouncing on the balls of her socked feet. She was always that way, like there was so much happy energy buzzing inside just waiting to be unleashed on the world. "Without further ado, I give you, Kate Sedgwick."
I prop my phone up on a table off to the side to capture all the action and hit play on the karaoke machine. The TV screen lights up with the lyrics as the first note plays. I picked the song for Kate. And I've never been more pleased with myself then when Gus immediately groans, "I'm fucked."
"You lose," I wholeheartedly agree as Kate starts singing "Sex" by The 1975.
Because she's here amongst her closest friends, I know she'll play to the crowd, and she doesn't disappoint. She goes down the line and pauses on each person, directing lines from the song at them personally. Which, frankly, leaves us all a bit jealous of Keller. By the time she's done, Clayton's blushing wildly, Gus is graciously accepting his defeat, Keller's on his feet applauding, and I'm high fiving Kate for an outstanding performance.
I hit stop on the video because that's where it ends. Gus didn't even sing his song—he conceded, punched me in the shoulder, fucking hard, and hugged Kate instead.
"It's hard to believe she's gone, isn't it?" Jamie says, bringing me back to the here and now. "How could someone that full of life, have it taken, robbed," he corrects, "from her? It's not fair."
I shake my head as my smile fades. "It's sure as hell not fair."
"I need another English muffin," he says it like they have healing properties.
"Me, too."
Robbie rejoins us as we're finishing up and we move to the living room to wait for Gus. It's almost time to leave and worry's set in again. We stand as a united front of concern and support when Gus walks out of his room. He looks relaxed, but I can't read him. "Morning. You okay, big man?"
He nods. "I'm okay, dude." He is. I can hear it in his voice. "I'm always gonna miss her, but she's right here." He pats his 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. So today, let's do something she loved."
That's the best idea I've heard in a long time, and apparently, I'm not the only one because Jamie and Robbie are nodding their agreement beside me. I head for the door, ready to get this Kate celebration underway. "Let's do this. I'm officially declaring it Kate Day."
It's mandatory that Kate Day begins with coffee, because it was the girl's life blood, so we hit up the drive thru at Starbucks on the way to the studio.
Our producer, MFDM (the Motherfucking Dream Maker), is reluctant when Gus pitches his idea that we jam today, but it's short lived because he had a soft spot a mile wide for Kate too.
It begins with Gus and his acoustic guitar. He's strumming one string of notes and humming another. His musical mind is a complex space. And his talent is scary. I can see the gears turning in his head and whatever he hears inside is ten steps ahead of what he's playing. He quickly swaps out his acoustic for his electric and immediately starts adjusting his effects pedals and delay until they mimic the sound he's looking for. When he begins playing again, I can hear it coming together and my head's bobbing along to the beat that I'm tapping out on my thigh. Gus nods to me and gives me instruction to play along. It's a struggle at first—what he wants and what I'm playing are two different things—but as he talks me through it, and I make adjustments, it doesn't take long before I can hear his vision. And I'm all over it.
Over the next several hours Jamie and Robbie join in, and a new song is born.
And by two o'clock in the morning it's birthed. Recorded. Its name is "Redemption" and it's aptly titled. This entire album feels like redemption. We're coming back stronger than we were before. This is it. This is our moment. And the best thing is, we all feel it.
Sunday, January 21
(Franco)
I texted Gemma this afternoon from the studio to set up dinner plans for tonight. Gus read the texts over my shoulder and now he's relentlessly riding my ass about it. When he gets excited about something he won't let it go, so I know this is his form of approval. I do the same thing to him—paybacks, I guess.
"Three dates in four days? This is serious, dude. I hope you're not proposing tonight, we haven't met her yet." Gus is blocking my bedroom exit with his hands resting on the doorframe above him. He fills the space and I'm forced to talk or put my head down and try to bust through like a linebacker. I might have the slight edge on him where muscle and mass is concerned, but he's got an inch or so on me height-wise.