by Jesse Jordan
Now we just must convince the suits. One of them is a very big player, and when Larry introduces him I realize the enormity of this. George T has been making and breaking people in the music industry since before I was born, and right now he's sitting next to me at the boards, looking at me levelly, the way a doctor looks at a particularly interesting rash perhaps. “So, Larry tells me that you're the songwriter for this?”
I swallow my nerves and nod, forcing myself to look him in the eyes. I'm not as shy as I was as a kid, but still, George T makes and breaks careers with a snap of his fingers. “Yes, sir. I wrote the lyrics back in high school, and the tune sort of worked itself out over the past five years. But really, it's been a team effort, the band took what I did and made it their own. Joey wrote down the actual melody with Ian, while Rocky and I reworked the lyrics to fit the guys. The original tune was more... well, it was more from the girl's point of view.”
George chuckles, nodding. “Not a problem. Considering that Larry was telling me you guys were working on a cover of Eternal Flame, I'd say turning girl tunes into good rock might be a specialty of yours. Just let's not get out of control and start looking at doing Poppa Don't Preach for the next CD. Shall we?”
I nod and turn back to the guys in the booth. I know George T was trying to make a joke to break my tension, but I'm too hopped up to laugh right now. I want the guys to reach George the way they reached me all morning, and my guts are churning from the combination of nervousness and having my heart torn open a dozen times this morning listening to the track. “Okay guys, we're ready. Tracks are rolling in three... two... one... hot mics.”
Rocky's sitting down for this performance and all three of them wearing headphones. Ian's normal drums have been pulled out and replaced with an electronic set, making the background noise in the studio itself nearly nothing. The guys have the hot feeds in their headphones, while in the booth we're getting surround sound.
Joey's guitar starts the song, his intro slow and plaintive, the sound nearly acoustic but not quite, we still want this to be a rock song. He goes for twenty-three seconds, just like we planned, and Rocky comes in with his opening verse. I'm caught up in the song, this is the best version he's done yet, his voice slightly husky, filled with want and sadness. It's the emotions I felt that night when I wrote the original piece on the trunk of my car, and as Rocky fades out to Joey's guitar solo, I'm finally able to tear my eyes away from the performance to look around at the suits. Everyone is rapt, with one of George's assistants closing her eyes and raising her face to the ceiling, just listening.
Rocky's voice takes over again, and I'm caught up again, listening as the man I love sings with all the soul that I could never produce. He sings his final verse, then the outro, Joey's guitar fading as Rocky finishes the last line of the song, and quiet reigns over the whole group. Finally, Rocky opens his eyes and looks at the booth. “Well guys, what did you think?”
I reach forward and hit the buttons to cut off the recording feed, unable to look at George or anyone else I'm so nervous. Finally, George leans forward and hit the intercom button. “Rocky... that's going to be a billion view video. Hell, that could be a two billion view video. And platinum is a given.”
I want to get up and cheer, to throw my hands up in excitement, but the power of Rocky's singing still makes everyone quiet, amazed at what they just listened to. Larry leans down and whispers in my ear. “Tell me you got that vocal track recorded.”
“Yeah,” I whisper back. “I can loop that onto the master no problem.”
My words break the almost reverent mood, and suddenly everyone's talking, praising the song and praising the guys. This isn't the normal industry back-slapping crap, almost everyone is heartfelt. “We've got to lead with this,” George's female assistant says, wiping at her eyes. “This is... this is a Grammy winner.”
“I don't know,” Martha interrupts, her face saying she's not pleased. “I mean, it's a good song, and I know that, but to be the lead single? This is going to be the band's first big LP release. If they get labeled as a ballad singing group, it could hurt their long-term success. I think it'd be better for the group to have a more rock lead single, then this can be a follow up later.”
George considers it, then shakes his head. “No. We go with this. Cora, I want a fully ready single by Tuesday, we can list it on iTunes and Spotify within a week.”
Martha shakes her head, shocked, and I feel the same way. A week? Albums are put together over the course of months, not a week. “Wait, why George?” she says, then realizes who she's talking to. “I'm just saying sir, should we rush? What about a video?”
George nods. “This is the sort of song we want ready for Valentine's Day, for prom season, for June brides and things like that. And the video is going to be easy, a classic performance video. We get a darkened auditorium or outdoor shoot, the guys performing it after a concert sort of thing. I'm thinking something a little like Bon Jovi's Dead or Alive sort of vibe. Black and white, limited color, let the song carry the whole thing. Come on guys, let's talk details in the meeting room.”
Larry and the other executives nod, and I lean closer to my intercom mic, looking into the studio. “You guys get all that?”
“Damn skippy,” Joey says, grinning ear to ear. “We're gonna be making a video.”
Meetings and other things take up the rest of the afternoon, and when I get ready to leave work, it's nearly eight o'clock. Thankfully, I'd thought this might happen and called Dad during a quick break to pick up Bella from daycare. Walking through the dark parking lot, I lean back, looking up at the full moon, a smile on my face of pure achievement.
“You did it,” I hear behind me, and I turn, seeing Rocky's loving face. “You did it.”
“No, we did it,” I reply, coming closer and hugging him. “We did it. You gave voice to my heart.”
“Yeah well... it's going to be a hell of the next two weeks,” Rocky says apologetically. “George is so over the top with this, it's insane. He wants us to film the video this weekend, then to take your digital download copy and have someone in the film division splice them together Monday or Tuesday. But we're already going to be on the road, he says. He's got the publicists working for booking spots on MTV, The Tonight Show again, whatever we can get. His plan is to drop a teaser video by Thursday, with a 'premiere concert' to be a week from this Saturday night, the full video debuting just after that. I have no idea how he's going to book a big venue and get the word out in a week, but he plans on it.”
I shake my head, amazed. “Rocky. We’ve made it.”
“Not yet, Muse, but we're halfway there,” Rocky teases. “Still livin' on a prayer though.”
I laugh and hug him again.
I bust my ass through the weekend, working twelve hours a day while Bella spends time with her grandparents, taking my work with me back home. It’s a labor of love though, and each moment is stamped with how I feel for Rocky.
Rocky's so busy that we can't get together, but it isn't until Saturday night that I realize we still haven't exchanged cell phone numbers. I give Gashouse a call though and ask them to pass along my phone number to Rocky because supposedly I have a question for him on the mix.
Finally, at six-thirty Sunday night, I finish the digital downloadable copy of Four Letters and send it via e-mail attachment and a high-quality data copy that I drive over to the Gashouse Studios offices. Larry already has the e-mail open when I get there, listening.
“You used the vocals from the demonstration for George,” Larry notes when I hand him the thumb drive with the file. “Nice choice. The instruments are different though. Oh, by the way, here's Rocky's phone number, although I guess you won't be needing it anymore.”
“Thanks, but you never know, I like the guys, maybe I'll call them up for a beer sometime when they're in town. As for the tracks, Joey's playing was sharper on the bridge in what I used. What did you think?” I ask, and Larry grins. “You like it.”
“I t
hink you improved on perfection, which is a damn hard talent to do. I'll get this over to George's people in the morning, from what I understand they're getting the last bits of filming for the video tonight. You did good work, Cora.”
“Thanks,” I reply, getting ready to go. “If you don't mind though, I'm going to bounce. Family time, you know.”
“I understand. We'll be in touch,” Larry says, and I leave his office, going out to the parking lot. It's still early enough in the evening that I stop and pull out my phone, hoping to catch Rocky on a break before they start filming. I dial, remembering to put the phone number in my memory for later usage.
“Hello?” Rocky says when he picks up, and I can't help it, my heart skips a beat.
“Hello, I'm looking for the hottest, sexiest rock singer on the planet right now. Do I have the right number? It's his love slave calling,” I tease, getting in my car. I close the door and sit down, trying not to laugh. It's hard, I feel bubbly, lifted by the emotions that I've been running on, and I'm flying so high I don't think I'll ever have to come down.
Rocky is amused, but he keeps his deadpan voice calm as he replies. “Hold on, I think Joey's getting some Coke, but I'll see if he can talk.”
“Wise ass,” I laugh, unable to hold back. “How's filming?”
“Good,” Rocky says. “I guess the studio gave you my number?”
“Yep. Larry handed it to me himself, I told him I had to discuss a music matter with you. So, you wanna make some more music together?” I ask, purring at the end. “I was thinking something slow and sensual, maybe a duet?”
Rocky's chuckling hum sends ripples through my stomach, and I know that I must tell him the details about Bella, and soon. Yeah, Martha said he knows, but still, he deserves to be introduced to her by me, straight from my mouth. “I think that sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than what we've got planned for the night. I swear the video director is one of Gerry's buddies. Thank God George put this guy on a leash, a budget, and a timeline, or else we'd be up here doing shit all night. As it is, I think we're going to be here until two in the morning.”
“Poor baby,” I tut, truly feeling bad for him. “Well, I have an offer for you. I know you're busting your butt for the next week, but what about dinner Friday night? Uhm, just us, to clear up things between us, just to put it all on the table?”
“I'd love that,” Rocky says, his voice immediately perking up. “Where?”
“My place?” I ask. “I know it's not a five-star restaurant, but there's a very special reason I think you'd want to come.”
“I think that's great,” Rocky says. “Okay... oh, that's the key grip. We actually have key grips on this shoot. It's bonkers. Anyway, looks like I gotta go. Filming and stuff. I'll talk with you later. 'Bye.”
Rocky hangs up before I can reply, but a moment later my phone buzzes, and I see he's sent me a text message. Sry, not used to saying this. I love you.
His words warm me the whole drive to pick up Bella, and I decide to sleep over at Mom and Dad's house. If anything, it's a good bed, and when I wake up in the morning, I feel happier than I've ever been in my life. I roll over in bed, but Bella's still asleep, and I let her sleep, going out to the living room where Mom and Dad are already up, Dad watching the morning news before he heads off to work. “Good morning, guys.”
“Good morning, sweetie,” Mom says. “How did you two sleep?”
“Better than I have in months,” I answer, going over and giving Mom a hug. “Thanks again for being so patient with my craziness and watching Bella.”
“You asked us to watch our granddaughter. Of course, we're going to,” Dad says, finishing off his coffee. “I'm just glad you got a few days off now. Please tell me you are taking a late weekend?”
“Of course, Daddy,” I tell him, going and giving him a hug too. “I plan on taking this whole week off, and after Saturday's concert, which by the way, thank you for agreeing to watch Bella then too, I'll evaluate from there. The check for the base session rate from Gashouse came in, they paid me ten thousand dollars. Can you believe it?”
“I hope that's not all they're paying you,” Dad comments. “Ten grand for an album that you say is going to set sales records is hardly fair in my opinion.”
“No, I've got residuals in my contract,” I say as I sit down on the couch. “It's not great, superstar producers make a lot more, but I will get residuals. Plus, I get more if any song is chosen for use in a movie or TV show, paid per annum.”
Dad blinks, he doesn't really work with contracts and raises an eyebrow. I love him, he never even batted an eye when I went to him as a high school freshman and asked for the money to get a laptop that would allow me to do music and video editing. Instead of haggling about price, or telling me that I was being stupid, the very next weekend he took me to the store and got the staff to help me pick out exactly what I needed. When I offered to start paying him back with some of the money I was making from YouTube for the videos of The Shattered Dreams, Dad refused, and instead made me put it into savings for college. He's the best dad in the world, but he's terrible with understanding business contracts. “Huh?”
“Dad, what I mean is that I'm going to make money off the albums and singles too. I ran the numbers, if they go platinum with the album, I'll get nearly twenty grand in residuals this year on album sales alone. I'm not going to be on easy street, but it'll help,” I reassure him. “It's a start, but the big thing is building my rep.”
Dad nods, understanding that at least, and gets out of his chair. “Well, I need to get into the office, I have a video meeting with the Miami office at nine. Take care, honey.”
Dad gives me and Mom a kiss, heading out while Mom relaxes with her book and her morning coffee. I relish the silence, but I can feel Mom's eyes glancing over from time to time. “Okay, Mom, what do you want to know?”
“You haven't told me about your plans for Friday,” Mom says, grinning. “Do I need to bring out the tickle torture like when you were five?”
I laugh, flopping down on the couch and putting my arm over my eyes. “You're terrible, Mom. The world's worst mother, you know that?”
“I know. Doesn't mean I'm not going to tickle you if you don't tell me,” Mom says laughingly. “So, spill it, what are you hoping for?”
“Happily ever after,” I say simply, sighing happily. “Mom, the time in the booth with Rocky and the guys, it was the best time I've ever had, even more than hanging out in the garage back in high school. I know I never said anything about Bella, but Mom, he apparently knows and... he said he loves me. Now, before you get started, I know that I can't keep this relationship going with Bella staying a stranger to Rocky, but Mom... that's what Friday night's for. Bella's going to be there, and we're going to introduce her to Rocky then. I know he's going to love her, Mom, I just know it.”
Mom hums then comes over and sits down in the empty spot on the couch, looking me over. “Honey, I really hope so. I'm worried, the way this has developed is so out of order that I can't help but worry. I mean... Well, it doesn't matter. I hope that your love and his can smooth this out. In the meantime, let's relax, and when Bella wakes up, I was thinking of taking the two of you out for lunch before I have to start getting ready for work this evening.”
“What about sleep, Mom?” I ask, and Mom laughs. “What?”
“I've gotten past that whole idea of having to sleep before work anymore. I've got enough years in the system to be able to work just first and second shift now, so I sleep from midnight to seven right now. So, I've gotten plenty of sleep, and Bella is like a shot of energy anyway,” Mom says, finishing off her coffee. “Come on, let's get some breakfast in you, and we can look at getting Bella up after that if she's not already.”
It's hard not being able to do much more than exchange text messages with Rocky for the next few days. They're so busy with appearances and getting things hyped for the debut of Four Letters. However, George's connections come through and they've gotten the S
tarlight Bowl for Saturday night. It's not the biggest arena in Los Angeles, but with a great vista with an old fashioned real amphitheater look, and the money that George is putting behind this, it's going to be big. My ticket was delivered to me via signed courier and looking at it, I'm excited.
“Mommy, what's that?” Bella asks, and I show her the ticket. She can't read, but she's seen enough ticket stubs from things I've gone to, she knows what it is, and she can point to the band name on the tickets. “Who are they?”
“These are Mommy's friends,” I tell Bella, picking her up and putting her in my lap. “Actually Bella, the singer, Rocky- he and Mommy want to start dating. I've told you about Rocky before, right?”
“You went to high school with him. Mommy, what's high school?” Bella asks, and I smile, she's got a million questions.
“You'll see. But my point is Bella, Rocky doesn't know you yet. So, tomorrow I invited him to dinner. I want to introduce him to you, to let him get to know you. Mommy thinks he's really a special person, and I want him to get to know the most special person in my life... you.”
“That sounds like fun, Mommy,” Bella says. “Does Rocky like Kitty?”
I laugh, ruffling Bella's hair. “I don't know honey, I've never asked. Now, Mommy's got a little bit to do to get ready for all this, so can you play with your coloring books while I get that done? After that, we'll start getting dinner ready.”
Bella's a great little girl, and she happily starts working with her crayons, while I get the laundry together.
I check on Bella, and she knows not to play with anything in the kitchen, so I head down to the laundry room, locking the apartment door behind me and putting the key in my pocket. I'm just getting the laundry soap poured in the washer and the load started when my phone rings, and I see that it's Martha.
“Oh, hi Martha, how's it going? You guys looked great on Ellen yesterday.”