Voice. Part 7

"Sure. We're just about ready to leave."

Case checked her watch. She had a couple of hours before band practice, and she was in a lot less hurry to leave than she had been. "Yeah, okay."

Case had a surprisingly good time. The three women went to the parking lot in back of the restaurant, and she taught some of the basics-how to break a hold, how to escape a choke, and, yes, how to kick someone in the groin effectively ("Use your whole shin, not the tip of your toe"). Erin jumped right in, asked a lot of questions, and seemed to take it very seriously. Danielle was more reluctant. She gave the impression that she thought this was all faintly foolish, and she kept looking around as if she was afraid somebody would see her. At first, Case wanted to yell at her. Don't you see, this stuff is important! But she let it go. If Danielle wanted to be somebody's damsel in distress, that was her problem. If she was lucky, there would always be somebody there to rescue her.

Before long, Danielle was sitting on the sidelines, fanning herself with her hand. Erin was asking for more, demanding that Case show her a certain move over and over again.

Case eventually gave up, laughing. "You'll have to practice it by yourself for a while. Keep trying." She watched Erin go through the motions a few times. The shadows, she realized, were getting long. She checked her watch.

"Hey, I've gotta go," she said. "I'm gonna be late for practice."

"That's hardcore," Erin said, panting. "Out here with us for two hours, and then you're going to train somewhere else?"

"Band practice, actually."

"Oh. A woman of many talents. Cool." Erin wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "You going to be around tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Double shift."

"Cool. See you then."

Case left smiling.

"Have fun," Gina said. She didn't look up from the legal brief she was poring over, just wrinkled her brow and stuck her pen back in her mouth.

Danny leaned over and kissed her, pen and all, and he was rewarded with her laughter. She put a hand on his chest and playfully pushed him away. "Go on, get outta here," she said, affecting a Brooklyn accent. "Ya botherin' me."

Danny laughed. "You bet," he said. "Need me to pick anything up on my way back?"

"Nope. I think we're all right."

"Okay. See you later."

His grin faded as he went out to the car. Gina was a first-year a.s.sociate at a big local law firm, so she was always working. He had mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, she never complained about his practice schedule or his late-night shows. On the other, she never had time to do anything with him anymore. She'd never been the partying type and didn't really care for rock music or cigarette smoke, so it was no big deal that she never came out to his shows, but he wished she had time to do something with him. She'd had more time in law school, it seemed like.

Oh, well. There was nothing to be done for it. She was the woman he loved, and that was that. No couple was perfect.

He swung by and picked up John. He usually parked at the curb and went up to pound on the door, but tonight John was waiting out on the sidewalk for him. Danny pulled up, and John shouldered his backpack and got in. He looked good, and he wore a smirk Danny had learned to recognize over the years. I know something you don't, it said.

"What's up?" Danny asked.

"Nothing. Couldn't be better."

"Uh-huh," Danny said, but John didn't say another word, just looked out the window and tapped his foot with the music on the radio.

They got to the practice room early so Danny could set up, since he'd just dropped off the kit after getting back and gone home. The drums and hardware were still on the floor in the corner.

John paced while Danny set up, and it sounded like he was singing quietly to himself. He jumped when the door opened.

Case came in with Quentin just behind her. While everyone else went through their normal rituals of setting up, she just stood her guitar case up in front of her, crossed her arms, and watched. Danny whacked the floor tom a couple of times, decided it was tuned well enough, and looked at her.

She looked back at him, and he felt that familiar tingle in his gut. She always seemed to be evaluating him with that look, and try as he might, he kept wondering if he was coming up short. He didn't think so. Sometimes that look was positively hungry. He thought of Gina, and he was glad there were other people in the room.

"What's on your mind?" he said.

Case spoke slowly. "What did you all think of the show the other night?"

"It was all right," Quentin said.

"Jesus," John said, and the grin faded from his lips. He scuffed the floor with his shoe. Everyone waited for a moment, but that seemed to be all the contribution he wanted to make.

"I thought we did a good job," Danny said. "We were tight, and we played well. The crowd seemed to like it."

Case shook her head. "There isn't s.h.i.t going on in Wichita Falls. I think that crowd would have turned out for somebody belching into a microphone in four-four time."

"Why don't you tell us what you thought of the show, then?" John asked.

"I'll tell you what I think-I think our material needs some f.u.c.king help."

Danny winced and looked to John. Sure enough, John had stood up a little straighter, c.o.c.ked his head, and put his hands on his hips. He'd never been particularly receptive to criticism.

"What do you want, Case?" John asked. "If you don't like the songs, then what are you doing here?"

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a bland look. You done? it asked, as loudly as if she'd shouted. He broke eye contact.

"John," she began, and she took a deep breath. "Most of these tunes are four chords long, because you wrote them on an acoustic guitar, and you only know how to play a dozen chords total. We've worked them up quite a bit, but they're boring as f.u.c.k to play, and they're boring to listen to."

"Whoa, there!" Danny cut in before John could react. "I think what she means to say is that we've done all we can do with the songs as they are. They're good songs and all," he shot a warning look at Case, though he was virtually sure she wouldn't get it, "but we might want to try some other things."

John made a face. "Like what?"

"I've got a few ideas," Case said, "but you guys will have to help. Right now we're a hard rock band trying to play what is basically folk music, and it's like eating steak-flavored ice cream. Either one might work on its own, but together they're a disaster." She looked around the room. Danny caught her eye and nodded.

"Go on," he said. John glared at him.

"I've got some ideas for rearranging the existing tunes. The lyrics are good, and we can use them to start with. You're gonna have to be flexible though, and try some new things. Some of it's going to be a lot more difficult than anything we've played together so far, so we're going to have to bust our a.s.ses. Eventually, I'm going to bring some new stuff I've been working on, and you, John, are going to have to write the lyrics. It'll be a partnership."

"Not exactly like Lennon and McCartney," he said.

"More like Elton John and . . . what's his name."

"Bernie Taupin," John said angrily. "The guy who writes the lyrics is Bernie Taupin."

She shrugged. "Well, what do you say?"

The room was quiet. Danny could see John's face, fuming and hurt. There was no trace of his former good cheer. Case wasn't exactly Captain Diplomacy, and she hadn't pulled any punches. She probably thought she had, but that didn't change the effect. John had started the band, and he'd put his heart into it, and here she was telling him that it wasn't good enough, that he'd have to give up some of that ownership if he wanted it to succeed. It had to sting, and Danny felt bad for him.

Even so, Danny knew Case was right. He'd have more fun playing some more interesting music, and probably there would be more of an audience. He looked at the other three people in the room. John and Case were engaged in a staring contest, and Quentin was trying to make himself small enough to disappear.

John's never going to forget this, Danny thought. Maybe he'll forgive me, but he won't forget.

"I think we should give it a try," Danny said.

He didn't know if he expected an explosion or what, but he relaxed considerably when John nodded.

"Yeah," John said softly. "Let's try it."

"Oh thank G.o.d," Quentin said.

Everybody turned and looked at Quentin. There was a pause, Quentin flushed red, and then everyone in the room burst out laughing.

"All right," John said, a grin slowly emerging on his face. "I wanna warm up with 'Circular Firing Squad' first."

Quentin raised an eyebrow. That was a tough song, at the low end of John's range and with a few large-interval jumps that he struggled with. He usually b.i.t.c.hed like crazy if anybody wanted to run through it early-said he needed four or five songs to warm up to it.

Case shrugged. "If that's what you want."

"h.e.l.l, yeah. Hit it." Half John's grin broke free, twisting his mouth into a smirk.

Quentin shrugged and nodded at Danny, then Case. Ready.

Case stomped her distortion pedal, unleashing the screaming squall of feedback that started the song.

Danny and Quentin came in together, tight and on cue. Quentin's fingers rambled up and down the fretboard, and the low rumbling from his amp shook his chest. This was the best-that feeling of being locked in to the rhythm with Danny, the thunderous thud of the kick drum and the way it meshed with the throbbing ba.s.s when they were really on. Quentin smiled, nodding his head with the beat.

John hit the first line right between the eyes. He nailed it, maybe for the first time ever, and it sounded so good even Case looked up at him with a grin. He sounded good. The whole band sounded good, and Quentin played harder, getting into the groove.

By the second verse, though, that good feeling had started to sour. Something wasn't right. John didn't sound this good. John never sounded this good. He wasn't performing flawlessly by any stretch of the imagination, but he was on pitch a lot more than usual, wasn't fading out on the low notes, and there was a presence, an edge in his voice that cut to the heart of the song like a straight razor. It sounded like John, but it didn't sound like John.

Quentin looked searchingly at John's face, and John grinned with a crazy glee as he went into the chorus.

"If it's n.o.body's fault

Then it's everybody's fault

If it's everybody's fault

Then it's mine

"But if I'm goin' down

Everybody's goin' down

Said I'm not goin' down alone this time

I'm not goin' down alone this time

I'm not goin' down alone."

He ended the first chorus with a feral howl-a perfect feral howl, one that seemed like it belonged there in the song, had always belonged there, and they'd only been playing half the song until now.

Quentin eyed the door. He could run. Wait, what? Why the h.e.l.l would I do that? He didn't know. All he knew was that something was badly off in this room.

He missed the next change and stopped playing entirely. Danny and Case each stumbled to a halt in their own time. Everyone looked at him.

John was the only one he could see, though.