He and Cass were up until the wee hours discussing the pros and cons of those whose names still appeared on the A List.
After initial solo auditions, they’d put together three possible mix and match bands. Then auditioned as a unit. That, of course, was the real test.
This one might be the best bass player in town, but something about his demeanor said future problems. He was the sort who wanted to play and be in charge.
Another had everything a guy like Doo might want in a drummer, except a tendency to pay more attention to himself and his drumming than to the music being made by potential bandmates. And he secretly wanted to be in charge.
The thing that had Doo pulling his hair out at choice time was the fact that Cass was suggesting he go with the people who just wanted to make music and not massage egos, even if they were not the virtuosos.
“I feel like I’m hoggin’ your time.”
She smiled. “That’s because you are. You’re my project.” That wasn’t the first time he’d heard that. “But back to this list. It’s rare to have more than one star in a band, Doo. So many wayward dynamics… You spend all the time dealing with snitty fits instead of making music. You have to have people who are more into music than personal ambitions.”
“But…” He tapped a name on the list with his forefinger. “This guy’s good enough to bring tears to my eyes. And I’m not exaggeratin’.”
“I know.” She nodded. “That’s because you’re a big baby.”
He rolled his eyes.
“No. Seriously.” She went on. “Here’s the thing. You’re gonna make it. Big. When that happens, it lays people bare. People become more of who they really are at the core. You’re really a nice guy. So you’ll probably adopt a village in Africa or some such.” Her eyes lowered to the list. “This guy,” she placed her finger where Doo’s had been a moment before, “he’s borderline asshole now because he thinks so much of himself. When the success begins rolling in, he’ll show you trouble walking.”
Doo stared at her for a few beats, clearly thinking it over. “Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s go to bed.”
She smiled and shoved the list away.
Cass lived on the second story of Record House. It was luxurious for the neighborhood and private considering the revolving door crowd downstairs. Anybody who wandered up the stairs was banned from Record House forever. The children of the fifties who’d congregated in San Francisco in 1967 weren’t the sort who were overly fond of rules, but they respected Cass, her place, and her rules. Possibly because there were so few. Rules, that is.
They fell into Cass’s bed and listened to a soft rain falling.
“I am so tired,” she said.
Doo chuckled. “If that’s your way of sayin’ no nookie tonight, I’m okay with that. Half asleep here.”
“You know.”
“Uh-oh.”
“No. Listen.” He turned toward her. There wasn’t much light, but his eyes had adjusted to the dark so that he could trace the outlines of her features. “You’re here all the time.”
“Too much?”
“Will you just shut up? I’m trying to ask if you want to move over here.”
“Over here?”
“Yeah.”
“You mean move in with you?”
“Never mind. I never realized how dense you are until now.”
He laughed. “Come on. I’m not dense. I’m surprised. But the answer is hell yeah, I want to move over here. And not just for free rent either.” She slapped at him playfully. “Should I go get my stuff right now?”
“What if I said yes?”
“I’d beg you to say we’re goin’ to sleep.”
“Doo. Go to sleep.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said in a voice steeped in contentment.
After a minute or so, she said to the dark ceiling, “It was so weird. The first time I saw you. I felt like I already knew you. I just somehow knew that you were going to sound like you sound and play like you play and be who you are.”
When Doo didn’t respond, Cass assumed he was asleep.
He wasn’t.
His eyes remained closed while he tried to regulate his breathing to mimic sleep. He was afraid that any answer might lead to the revelation of secrets best kept to himself.
She sighed then turned toward him and snuggled into his side. Her hair was close enough to smell the girly shampoo. He loved that smell.
When she woke the next morning he was gone, but he’d left the yellow pad with all their notes on his pillow with a note. Three names were circled