Chapter Text
“You know who I think you should talk to about that piano run you keep playing?” Camila asks as soon as Karen enters their apartment.
“No, please enlighten me,” Karen says, taking off her coat and shoes and placing them on their respective racks by the door. This has become their routine as of late. Karen goes out to the studio, sometimes she’s on tour, but every night when she’s on break and has the opportunity to come home, Camila is sat by the island, a spoonful of cereal in her hand, and countless ideas for Karen’s new music waiting for her. The blonde welcomes it with excitement and enthusiasm each time, and today is no different. Especially because in the last few days, Camila has put up with Karen playing the same melody on the piano for hours on end every night like a champ.
“Graham Dunne,” Camila says, plainly. The name sounds familiar to Karen, why does that name sound familiar to her? Dunne… Wait, wasn’t that– “Yes, I’m talking about my ex-boyfriend’s little brother, please don’t wrack your brain trying to figure it out.”
“I wasn’t wracking my brain, thank you very much. It was on the tip of my tongue. Why on earth would you suggest that I work with him?” She has no clue who Graham was personality-wise, but she does know that Billy Dunne is a dick who broke her best friend's heart, she guesses Graham has to be the same, right? Them sharing genetics and all.
“I don’t know. I think he would be good for you.”
Karen is in the middle of pouring herself a bowl of cereal, but she stops as the implications of Camila’s words set in, she places the cereal on the counter and glares at Camila. “You think he would be good for me or my music?”
“What’s the difference, Karen?” Camila asks, her spoon clattering against her bowl as she scoops up another bite.
“I don’t want a boyfriend.”
“I know, but you do need a new producer,” She says, frankly. “And Graham is one of the best right now. He’s also just a really good guy, and he has a girlfriend, so you won’t have to worry about him being a creep.”
“Thank god for that,” Karen replies, sarcastically. She resumes pouring the cereal into her bowl and ponders the thought of Graham Dunne producing her music as she adds the milk. She doesn’t know him, not really. Karen has seen him a few times when Camila would drag her to the festivals Daisy Jones and The Six were playing at, back when Camila and Billy were still together, but Karen has never spoken to Graham. She never knew he was a producer, but thinking back to the last performance she saw of them, it makes sense. When they were on stage Billy and Daisy were the stars of the show, but Graham brought an elevation to their performance that couldn’t be done by a guy who didn’t know what he was doing. What if he was always like that? What if he was too in his head to meet her halfway creatively? What if he was a dick? So many what-ifs floated aimlessly through her mind, but Camila’s next words dragged her back to reality.
“I think that’s enough milk, Karen, it’s gonna spill.” She’s right, of course, in Karen’s reverie, the milk does spill, and Karen curses silently as she tears some paper towels, wiping the trace of her blunder away. She pours some of the excess milk out of her bowl into the sink, and joins Camila, taking a bite of her cereal. It doesn’t taste good, she thinks, something is missing. “You know, I don’t want to say Graham is the reason Daisy Jones and The Six have a Grammy, but if someone else said it I wouldn’t disagree.”
“He’s really that good?”
“He is. But he can be so much better with you. You don’t know Graham like I do; I’ve known him since he was seventeen and I’ve never seen him give anything less than his entire being to everything he does, especially when it concerns music. And being confined to that band with his brother? It’s like trapping a baby bird who’s ready to fly.” Camila gets up from her chair, walks around to the sink, and rinses out the bowl she was using before continuing, “I may know nothing about music, but I know that you two, together? That’s something I would love to hear.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you could have been a fantastic car salesman?”
Camila laughs, “No, I don’t think anyone has ever mentioned that to me.”
“Well, someone should have,” Karen says, then defeated, “Alright, give me his number.”
“Oh, no need. You’re meeting him in his studio tomorrow for lunch.”
“You are a cruel, cruel person, Camila,” Karen says, her voice laced with levity because this is what she loves about having Camila in her life. She knows what all of her friends want before they even realize it themselves. And she never hesitates to go above and beyond to make it happen for them.
“I’m sorry, Kare-bear, I love you, but if I heard that unfinished melody one more time, I think I’d go insane.”
Karen disposes of her, now inedible and soggy cereal in the trash and rinses her bowl out before placing it on the dishrack. “You know, it’s not my fault you threw out the soundproof headphones Billy gave you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Camila says, giving Karen a half-hug, and a kiss on the cheek, “I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Karen waltzes over to the piano, the same three chords she’s had stuck in her head all week begging to be freed. Her fingers dance over the keys, and an audible groan comes from Camila’s room, but still Karen plays the melody until her fingers cramp up. This is the beginning of something great, she thinks while she plays. Karen knows she’s thinking about the notes being the start of something great, but her mind betrays her and wanders to Graham and her. Karen pauses her playing and rushes over to the couch, grabbing her laptop on the way. She plops down on the couch and opens her laptop to YouTube. Graham Dunne, she searches.
The first video that pops up is titled: Billy & Daisy Talk The Making of Aurora. Karen is uninterested in watching that (out of solidarity with Camila) so she scrolls past. Her eyes scan all of the videos in front of her, her fingers scrolling until one video catches her attention. It's titled: Graham Dunne from DJATS Breaks Down Guitar Solo in Honeycomb. She hates herself for it, but she presses play. The video starts, and she immediately recognizes the set, it’s one of those interviews Genius does where the artist breaks down the meaning of the lyrics behind the song. She’s done a few of these, but she didn’t know they did it for instrumentals as well.
“Interesting story about Honeycomb,” Graham starts, then changes his mind, “Actually, how much time do you have?”
The video then cuts to the intro of the company, and Karen skips forward. “So the solo in this song is a series of chord progressions inspired by one of my favorite bands from the seventies. I think I was playing it one night by the pool in Daisy’s hotel, and I remember her stopping dead in her tracks and just singing over it.”
He starts playing the chords, slowly at first, taking his time to teach them to the audience watching from home. He plays a progression, then stops and says, “Don’t worry if you’re struggling to follow along at home, because I’m struggling to play it myself, right now, and I do this for a living.”
Karen smiles at him through the screen. He’s sweet. Not at all what she imagined. Graham keeps playing his solo on the screen and Karen watches in admiration. “Fun fact, if you’re still watching, we actually never play this song live because my brother hates it.”
Graham looks offscreen, then chuckles, “Probably shouldn’t have said that. You can cut this out, right?”
She laughs at his joke and makes a mental note to ask Camila about this later. Then Karen lets the video play until it’s over, Graham finishes the interview off with a: “This has been Graham Dunne from Daisy Jones and The Six, and I really hope for my sake, you learned something. But if you didn’t, that’s cool, too. Thank you for watching!”
Karen isn’t sure why, but when her screen shows: UPCOMING VIDEO IN 6 SECONDS: Daisy Jones and The Six Play Two Truths and a Lie Karen lets the video play. She watches so many videos of Daisy Jones and The Six that night, she wants to lie and say she watched them because she’s a fan of the band, but she knows it was mostly to observe Graham in his element. He is a natural and he’s so well-spoken, too, it surprises her. She knows people probably pressed play on these videos to watch Daisy and Billy argue for five minutes, but she couldn’t focus on that when Graham, Eddie, and Warren were in the back of the videos goofing off and having a good time. She thinks it must be exhausting being the only merriment in the band, and Karen wonders if Camila was right to say Graham being in it was like a baby bird trapped in a cage.
Karen Sirko falls asleep on the couch that night with all of these different thoughts and feelings and lyrics coursing through her mind, and with her laptop still open in front of her playing different videos of the band.
☆☆☆
The next morning, Karen wakes up to the sound of clanging dishes in the kitchen. She groans loudly, hoping the sound she makes quiets the noise. Karen wants to chase down the feeling of sleep before it slips from her grasp, but the noise doesn’t stop, instead, it gets louder. With one more groan, just because, Karen begrudgingly gets up. She stretches the kinks from sleeping on the couch off her body and then joins Camila in the kitchen.
“I always forget how loud you are in the mornings,” Karen says, stifling a yawn.
“Good morning to you too, Karen,” Camila replies, as cheerily as ever. “How was your night?”
“Well, I fell asleep on the couch, and I think that’s only considered a win if you’re a teenager in University, not a twenty-something music person, so you tell me.”
Camila lightly blows on her coffee, and takes a cautious sip, then says, “Wow, you are grumpy today.”
“Not grumpy. Tired.” Karen slumps over to the Keurig, pops in a coffee pod, and waits for her coffee to finish brewing. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long, and soon enough Karen is also taking a cautious sip of her drink. “I kind of stalked Graham on the internet last night.”
Camila spits the drink she had in her mouth back into her mug, and it was nasty really, it’s the most ungracious Karen had ever seen Camila, yet she can’t help the smile that breaks across her face. “What do you mean stalked?”
“I don’t know, I looked him up on Youtube.”
“Why?” Camila asks her follow-up question, and Karen isn’t really a fan of the way her voice raises an octave. She quickly had to shut down whatever ideas were brewing inside her head.
“I was curious, okay. You made such a big deal about him yesterday, and I wanted to see for myself.” Did that sound convincing? She hopes so. Don’t make eye contact. Wow, this coffee is a beautiful shade of brown.
“Uh-huh, and you couldn’t just wait until you met him today?” Camila pokes, her steaming coffee long forgotten on the island.
“Nope,” Karen says nonchalantly and takes another sip of her coffee. “I had to know.”
“Well? What do you think?”
“He’s alright.”
“Alright?!” Camila’s voice raises another octave, “Karen, my best friend from preschool who only knew how to play Mary Had a Little Lamb on the piano was alright, okay, and Graham is not my best friend from preschool.”
“First of all, what’s wrong with Mary Had a Little Lamb? That’s the first song I learned how to play on the piano, too. And secondly, I was just kidding. Graham is good. He is beyond good.”
“And…?” Camila looks at Karen, expectantly.
“And I’m meeting him today for lunch?”
“Yeah, you are!! You should probably go get dressed, though, I told him you’d be over to his place at twelve.”
Karen takes a glance at the clock, and the number eleven is reflected back to her. She then looks at Camila, and her eyes, which were usually big and bright, were unusually bigger and brighter today. “For some reason, I think you’re enjoying this a little more than you should be.”
Camila scoffs at the accusation, her hands raising to her chest in feigned insult. “Karen, my two best friends in the entire world are going to hang out today and discuss potentially making music together. I think I'll enjoy this as much as I can, thank you. Just think of the double dates we could all go on! It’s a dream.”
“Whose dream?” Karen asks with a smile on her face because Camila’s giddiness is infectious.
“My dream. Now go shower!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Karen says, with a mock salute before running off to do as Camila ordered. Karen showers and brushes her teeth, she applies some light makeup and picks out a casual outfit, all while the same three notes play on a loop inside her head. She hums them on the way out of her apartment, as she stands on the sidewalk, and on the cab ride over to his place.
☆☆☆
“Now we sit in your car and our love is a ghost,” Karen says when Graham opens the door. And it’s amusing to her, seeing the way his eyes shift from confusion to a mild understanding, to unabashed excitement in the span of a few seconds.
“Come inside.” He says, opening the door further for her to walk in. And she does. He leads her further into his apartment and her eyes scan all of the different albums and awards on his shelves as she walks. His place is nice. It’s not like her typical place of work, but she thinks as long as she has the space to make music she doesn’t care where it’s at. He’s talking, and she notices his voice is different in person than it is in a video. “And anyway, that’s why on holidays I like to fly to Pittsburgh or something.”
“I’m sorry,” She places a hand on his arm, stopping him, “I don’t mean to be rude, but what were you saying?”
“Oh, I was just talking about my neighbors, Bob and Andie.” Graham resumes walking, and Karen follows, “They never mind the noise unless it’s a holiday. Then they do mind, and politely tell me to shut up.”
“And you fly to Pittsburgh?”
“Well, you can’t really play these instruments quietly, you know?” Graham stops and opens the door to his studio and it is exactly like her usual place of work. When she walks in she notices that he has a mixed array of acoustic guitars and electric guitars. There’s a bass guitar plugged into an amplifier and a microphone stand in the smaller room attached to the left. He has a grand piano and several different keyboards littered around the place. There’s even a drum set in the corner of the room, and Karen is amazed by how much equipment can fit into a tiny space.
“This is amazing.” She whispers into the air. The awe was evident in her voice and probably her face too.
“Thank you,” Graham says, and there’s a smile on his face beaming with pride. It’s cute. “So, what you said before? Were those lyrics?”
“Potentially. May I?” She asks, pointing to the grand piano in the room.
“Of course, be my guest.”
Karen walks over to the piano and sits down. She then looks back at him, and he’s still standing in the same spot she left him in, his eyes glued to her. Karen taps the empty spot in the bench seat next to her, inviting him to sit. And surprisingly, he does.
She begins playing the same melody that she’s been humming all day and as she plays, she says, “I’ve had this stuck in my head for days . I think it was finally driving Camila mad, so she sent me to you.”
Graham laughs, and she doesn’t want to discredit the prowess of the piano, but if she could only hear one thing for the rest of her life she’d probably choose the sound of his laugh. She stops playing. The reality of what she’d just thought catches up to her. She doesn’t mean that, she thinks. Making music is an intimate process. Thoughts and feelings will surface, but they don’t need to mean anything, she rationalizes. You just met this man and Camila said he has a girlfriend. “So, anyway, that’s just a little something I’ve been toying with lately.”
“Can I ask what you were thinking about just then or is it–”
“Too soon?” She finishes for him, he just nods, and she responds with, “Yeah, I think it’s too soon. Camila would be very upset with me if I scared you away on our first meeting.”
“That’s okay,” Graham smiles at her and picks up the piano where she left off, playing the same fucking notes her heart desperately wanted to give a home to. “I think Camila would be equally as upset with me for letting you go so easily.”
“Yeah, but I live with her so… I think it’s scarier for me.” He huffs a ‘True’ under his breath and she risks a glance at him. His eyes are currently fixated on his fingers and the keys they’re playing, so she lets her eyes linger on him for a minute. She scans his features, taking note of what his mouth looks like while he concentrates and the effortlessness with which he plays a tune. Karen’s breath hitches in her throat when she hears Graham add more notes to the ones that have been plaguing her mind for days. She takes her eyes off him and follows his fingers as they dance over the keys.
“Please give me a minute before we admit that we’re through.” He whispers. It’s so faint against the overpowering force of the piano, but she hears him. Suddenly, the music stops, and Graham is shuffling around the room looking for his phone. “This is good.”
Graham exits the room in a hurry, then comes running back in with his phone in his hand. “Play it again.”
“All of it?” Karen asks.
“Yes, we need to capture this.” He’s out of breath.
Karen plays the same succession of notes that have lived inside her head for so long and she adds the new ones Graham played earlier. He’s standing beside her, one hand on his hips, the other on the phone recording her, she assumes. And there was a burst of excitement swelling in Karen’s chest, it was a feeling she hadn't felt for a while, music had kind of become a chore to her, but this, with him, was fun. She lets the feeling in her chest guide her fingers as they play a lighter melody after the melancholic run she’d been playing and Graham jokingly shoves her with the hand he had on his hips, whispering, ‘Sounds awesome.’ Karen, refraining from ruining the take he was recording, suppresses a laugh at the gesture and his feedback, but she offers him a friendly smile.
“Let’s give it a minute before we admit that we’re through.” Karen sings the words she heard Graham whispering earlier above the melody. She hums and makes a series of incoherent noises, then says, “Cause I remember the rush when forever was us,”
“Now we sit in your car, and our love is a ghost… well I guess I should go.” Graham sings her words from earlier, and it’s beautiful and exhilarating, this serve-and-return game they're playing.
“Yeah, I guess I should go,” Karen emphasizes the lyrics he said. There’s a finality to them she loves, so she takes out her phone from her pocket and quickly types out all of the words they’ve said on her notes. Graham reclaims the empty spot on the bench next to her, his phone is still in his hand recording, and his face is looking over her shoulder at what she’s typing. “Please could you be tender? And I will sit close to you.”
“Let’s give it a minute before we admit that we’re through,” Graham says, watching her type the words into her phone, and under his gaze, Karen thinks of another lyric, but she decides to save that one for when Graham isn’t actively watching her like a hawk. They are both so transfixed by the moment, neither of them realizes when a third person enters the room until there’s a soft cough behind them. Graham’s head instantly turns to face the culprit, and Karen follows suit more discreetly.
“Sorry,” the third person, a pretty blonde with big, bright eyes and an even bigger box in her hands begins, “I didn’t mean to disrupt, I know how sacred the art of making music is, but you weren’t answering my calls, and I don’t want to hold on to your box of stuff anymore.”
Graham bolts up from Karen’s side and rushes to the intruder's side. He removes the box from her hands, laying it forgotten on a desk, and then he places his own hands on her arms, gently stroking them up and down against her skin. Karen spares one last glance at them before she turns away, but unfortunately, though, Karen can still hear their whispering and the girls’ stifled sobs. She hears the shuffling of their feet as they exit the room together, and Karen is left alone in Graham’s vacant studio with nothing but her thoughts and countless instruments. She turns on the metronome and lets the clicking count down the minutes until he returns.
“No one ever writes songs about the ones that come easy,” Graham says when he rejoins her.
“No, they never do.” She agrees.
“Why is that, do you think?” He asks, looking at her curiously as if the answers to all of his questions lie dormant inside of her just waiting to be asked.
“I honestly don’t think it would make for good music.” Karen answers sincerely, and Graham looks at her blankly, so she continues, “I mean, just think about it, who wants their love to be easy?”
“I’m sure a lot of people would want their love to be easy.” He responds, dryly.
“Maybe, but that’s unrealistic, Graham. And no one would relate to it.”
Karen and Graham bask in the clicking of the metronome for a moment. Neither of them speaks, but the pendulum sways back and forth, filling the silent space around them. It’s very peaceful, or it is until Graham ruins it.
“Have you ever been in love, Karen?”
“No, Dunne, I don’t think I have.”
“That’s a shame,” Graham says, ruefully. She wants to ask why it’s a shame, but mostly she wants this conversation to be over.
“Well, what about you and blondie? Did you love her?” Karen asks, trying to steer the conversation away from her.
“I thought I did. But people change their minds, right?”
“They do.” She agrees.
“How come you’ve never been in love?”
Karen groans inwardly, “If I tell you, do you promise we’ll never talk about it again and resume playing?”
“I promise.” He crosses his heart and beams at her. Why was that so charming, she’s supposed to be annoyed.
“Truth is I never let myself get too close, and I never allow anyone to get close to me either. And it works. You can’t fall in love with someone who’s always out of reach.”
“Sounds lonely.”
“It isn’t. And you made me a promise.” She says, and without waiting for a response from him, her fingers resume dancing over the keys.