CHAPTER TWO
Soundcheck was where Mara remembered why she'd loved this, back before she'd professionalized herself out of joy.
The house lights were still up and the venue was empty except for crew and Angela and one guy sitting in the balcony doing something on a laptop. Borrowed Light came out in pieces—first the drummer, a compact guy with bleached hair who Angela identified as Dom, then the bassist (Charlie, tall and rangy with sleeve tattoos), then Jesse on keys. Finn came out last, guitar already strapped on, and didn't say anything to anyone before starting.
They opened with something Mara didn't recognize, mid-tempo and moody, and within four bars she could hear what Finn meant about the new album. It wasn't boring. It was patient. The spaces between the notes felt intentional, and Finn's voice sat in the mix instead of on top of it. The song built slowly, never quite tipping into a climax, just accumulating weight.
Mara raised her camera and started shooting.
Soundcheck had a specific texture that show photography didn't. No crowd, no stage lighting, just the band working. Finn stopped halfway through the second song and talked to Charlie about the bassline. They ran it again. Dom locked into a different pocket and suddenly the song snapped into place. Finn nodded, didn't smile, moved to the next one.
Mara shot it all. Finn adjusting his mic stand. Charlie laughing at something Jesse said. Dom sitting on the edge of the stage, drinking water. She shot the venue, too—the empty floor, the balcony with its rows of seats, the light coming through the windows at the back.
After twenty minutes, Finn looked out at Angela and said,"Good?"
"We're good."
"Cool." He pulled off his guitar and handed it to a crew member, then jumped down from the stage. Mara lowered her camera. Finn walked past her without stopping and disappeared down the hallway toward the green room.
Charlie appeared next to her."Don't worry about him. He's always like that before shows."
"Like what?" Mara asked.
"Somewhere else." Charlie tilted his head toward the stage."You're Luca's sister, right?"
"Mara."
"Charlie. Bass. You'll be sick of me by day three." He said it cheerfully, like it was a selling point. Up close he looked younger than the rest of them, maybe twenty-seven."You're staying on the bus?"
"That's the plan."
"Oh good, another person who isn't Jesse. Jesse's great but he's intense. You know that guy who has an opinion about every movie he's ever seen and needs to tell you why you're wrong for liking it? That's Jesse."
"Noted."
Charlie grinned."You'll like Dom, though. He's normal. Well, normal for a drummer. And Finn's—" He paused, looking for the word."Finn's Finn."
"Is that a warning?"
"It's information. He's a good guy. Best songwriter I've ever worked with. Terrible at small talk. Thinks about things too much. Doesn't sleep enough. Currently in his feelings about the album reception." Charlie shrugged."He'll warm up. He always does."
Mara nodded. She wanted to ask more but didn't know what questions wouldn't sound invasive. Charlie, apparently reading her face, grinned wider.
"Luca said you haven't seen Finn in a while."
"Five years."
"Wow. He's different now. I mean, same but different. The band's different. This album cycle's been kind of a mindfuck for everyone." He glanced toward the hallway where Finn had disappeared."It's good you're here, though. We could use someone around who's not plugged into the industry bullshit. Finn especially."
Before Mara could answer, Angela materialized and started giving Charlie instructions about something merch-related. Charlie waved at Mara and loped off. Mara stood alone in the empty venue, camera in her hands, and let herself admit that she had no idea what she'd just agreed to.
The show started at eight. By seven-thirty, the venue was packed, the floor a mass of bodies pressed against the barricade. Mara stationed herself stage right with a photo pass Angela had given her and watched the opener—a solo guy with an acoustic guit
