by JL Bryan
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Assorted Zebras ate a late dinner at their hotel. The record company had provided them with rooms at the Collins Hotel, also owned by Malarkay. The glass-walled dining room overlooked the River Liffey, but it was too dark to see outside.
The four of them were the only remaining guests, aside from a pair of American newlyweds in one corner. The hotel restaurant was richly appointed, with hand-woven rugs, a chandelier, and soft warm light from sconces in the wall. The menu offered a combination of local Irish and European fare, and Jason had ordered himself a rare steak, which came with tender, buttery cabbage.
All four of them were exhausted.
“What do you guys think?” Erin asked. She poked listlessly at her salmon salad.
“Couldn't ask for better,” Mitch said, popping a fat roasted shrimp into his mouth.
“I don't mean the food,” Erin said. “The recording session today. Heath.”
“How do you say ‘jerk’ in British?” Dred asked.
“Well, you have a selection,” Mitch replied. “Barmcake, chief, divvy, doughnut, greb, grot—”
“What did you do, memorize a dictionary?” Dred interrupted with a raised eyebrow.
“Of course,” Mitch told her. “When traveling, it’s important to learn all the local insults. I read ‘The Traveler’s Guide to Getting Insulted in the United Kingdom.’”
“Speaking of Heath,” Jason said, “Why isn’t he reacting to our music? Most people dance or go crazy when they hear us. Heath and his people just sit there looking bored. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe he’s deaf or something.” Mitch suggested.
“No, he can hear us fine,” Jason said. “Our gear just doesn’t affect him.”
“I don't think I like the direction he's taking us,” Erin said. “I mean, I have a whole notebook full of songs we could use, and he wants the stupid Sugar Dance?”
“He knows what he's doing,” Mitch said.
“And those awful songs he brought for us?” Erin asked. “‘I Want A Boyfriend,’ and ‘I’ve Got A Boyfriend,’ and ‘I Hate My Boyfriend.’ I can’t believe he made me sing them.”
“They were pretty terrible,” Dred said.
“If he says it'll sell, it'll sell,” Mitch said.
“But is that all that matters?” Erin asked. “Do we just want to make millions of dollars, no matter what we have to do for it?”
“Yes,” Mitch and Dred both said.
“But don't you want to be known for good music?” Erin asked.
“When we have a few million in the bank, we can make whatever kind of music we want,” Dred said. “We'll be free.”
“We'll be free after our seven-year contract with Malarkay Records is up,” Jason said. “We'll be old by then.”
“Don't you start complaining, too, Jayce,” Mitch said. “I’d say we have a good thing going here. A great thing.”
“This could be our only chance,” Dred said. “We don't want to mess it up by getting into a big fight with our producer.”
“I’m not fighting anyone,” Erin said. “I just want to make music that people actually care about. Not something that blows up and fades away and everybody forgets about it.”
“A lot of Malarkay's music does stand the test of time,” Mitch said. “Like Nigel Rocket and the Martians. They were big back in the 60s and 70s, but you still hear their songs.”
“On dish soap commercials,” Erin said. “With new lyrics. 'Wash away, wash away, all your food stains today...'”
“Still, I bet Nigel Rocket is cashing big checks for that,” Mitch said.
“And I wonder how he feels about it,” Erin said.
“Erin, this isn't just your big break, it’s all of us,” Dred said. “We can't have you ruining everything because you want to play diva and fight with the producer.”
“I'm not being a diva!” Erin said. She dropped her fork on her plate and stormed out of the restaurant.
“No, a diva would never make a big dramatic exit like that,” Dred said.
“I'll go talk to her,” Jason said, standing up.
“Yeah, go straighten your girlfriend out,” Mitch said.
“She's not...forget it. Think about how she feels. Those are her songs that Heath is rejecting.” Jason walked away. Dred and Mitch stayed quiet as he left. He wondered what they would say as soon as he was out of the restaurant.
He eventually found Erin on the seventh-floor “roof garden,” down the hall from their rooms. It was crowded with plants and little wooden benches tucked here and there. Erin was at the ledge, looking down at the dark river below.
“Don't jump!” Jason said as he approached her.
“I wasn't going to jump.”
“I wasn't being serious.” Jason joined her at the railing. “Sorry about everything.”
“We couldn't even have one good day,” Erin said. “Things are already going a little sour, aren't they?”
“Maybe. But everything's coming too easily. There had to be some problems.”
“It was a mistake to do it this way,” Erin said. “We should have done it on our own, with our own music. Our own instruments, too.”
“Except that I barely know how to play guitar, really,” Jason said. “I was still working out of my Guitar for Total Beginners book.”
Erin frowned, looking down at the water below. “I wish we could change Heath’s mind somehow.”
“Maybe we can,” Jason said, thinking about how he’d convinced his parents to sign the contract. “The music can help persuade people.”
“But it doesn’t work on Heath.”
“Maybe that’s just the studio. We’re playing inside soundproof walls, and he’s only hearing the music through his headphones, after it’s been through the mixing board. I bet if I can play to him directly, in person, I can make it work. I can make him focus on your songs instead of that garbage he’s making us play.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yeah,” Jason said. He had no idea whether this would work, and the idea of approaching Heath for any reason made him a little scared. “No problem,” he added.
“Thanks! Maybe he’ll listen to you.” Erin smiled.
Jason took a risk. He reached into his pocket and took out a pair of laminated golden tickets. He tried to keep his hand from shaking and his voice calm. She'd rejected him before.
“Look what I just found,” he said. “Free passes to Malarkayland.”
“Where did you get those?” she asked.
“From Heath.” Jason didn't mention that he'd spotted them in Heath's trash can and dug them out from under a heap of fat, greasy French fries (which Heath called “chips”). He held the passes toward Erin. “It's supposed to be fun. Roller coasters...bumper cars...a mini-golf course...”
“Mini-golf?” Erin's eyebrows raised.
“Yeah!” Jason said, a little too excited at her mild interest. “It's based on those Pirates of the Mediterranean movies. I read it was the most ridiculously expensive miniature golf course in the world.”
“Huh.” Erin took one of the laminated passes and looked at it. The front depicted the famous golden-spiral towers of Malarkayland.
“I was thinking...Heath says he doesn't work on Saturdays, right?”
“It's his spa day,” Erin said.
“Right. So...on Saturday, when we're not recording, maybe you and I could go have some fun.”
“There's only two passes?” Erin asked.
“Yeah.” There had been four, but Jason had left the other two in the trash can. “But I guess Mitch and Dred can pay their way. If you want them to come with.”
“Right now, I'm not sure if I do,” Erin said. “They're kind of annoying me. And I’m kind of annoying them. They seem pretty mad at me.”
“Good!” Jason said, and immediately regretted it, especially when Erin gave him a puzzled look. “I mean, that's too bad. So we need a little break from e
ach other. What do you think?”
“I could use some fun.”
“Great!”
“But remember, it's not a date, Jason. I'm still with Zach. He’s coming to visit...sometime.”
“A date? What are you even talking about? Slow down, girl!”
Erin laughed and gave him a one-armed hug.
“You're a good friend to me, Jason,” she said.
“Yeah, I am,” Jason said. The word stuck in his brain: friend. He had a long way to go.