Luna Basswood's Arc

Chapter 3 of 14

Luna sat on the loft steps with the fish across her knees. The crack ran an inch along the seam. She pressed it and felt the wood give. Auditions were hours away. She needed the crack sealed and she needed a reason for the judges to look at her corner of the stage instead of past it. Derek Ramone came down the alley with a snare case under one arm. He had drummed her into her locked-in tone yesterday. He looked at the fish, then at her face. "That's a split." "I know." "You play a chorus, it opens." "I know." He scratched behind one ear. "Bindwell's in the loft. He fixes bone. He can fix a fish." Inside, the glue man stood at a workbench in a purple coat spotted with yellow drips. Goggles pushed up into wild gray hair. He was decanting something blue into a vial. Luna held out the bass. "Seam's split. I play in the morning." Mortimer Bindwell took the fish. He ran a thumb along the crack. "Hollow body. Old glue." "Can you close it." "Yes. Sets in an hour. Stays flexible. Won't crack again on the same seam." He set the bass in a padded cradle and reached for a brown jar. "How much." "Later." He was already brushing amber paste into the split. Luna sat on a crate and watched. Derek dropped down beside her. She kept her eyes on the fish. "Even if it holds, I lose. Blonde girl told me she'd take the slot if I was still tuning when they called me. I won't be tuning. I'll just be standing there." Derek tipped his head. "So don't stand there." "I don't know how to be a front person. I stand in the corner. That's what I do." A voice cut in from the doorway. Riley Thorne leaned against the frame, black bass on her hip, blonde hair over one shoulder. Luna had seen her band's flyer on every pole in the field. Headliner material. Rival material. "Corner's a choice," Riley said. "Make them come to it." Luna looked up. "What." "Kill your amp low. Force the judges to lean in. When they lean, hit the chorus." Riley shrugged one shoulder. "They'll think they found you." "Why help me." "I'm not. I'm curing my boredom." Riley pushed off the frame and walked out. Bindwell clamped the seam and set a timer. "One hour. Don't flex it before then." Luna waited. The timer rang. She lifted the fish. The seam held under her thumb, firm and a little springy. She plugged into a practice amp, turned the volume down to a whisper, and walked a slow line. The notes pulled the room toward her without moving her feet. She had a sealed bass and a way to own the corner. She still owed Bindwell, and she still had to face the judges at dawn.