Gus

by Kim Holden

  I start playing first, just my acoustic guitar, and I notice that MFDM’s got tape rolling on me. He’s recording. Not all the time, but when he likes what he hears he’s capturing it. The wheels are turning, and I really do feel like she’s in this room with me. I can hear the intro of a song coming together in my head and trade out my acoustic for my electric. It takes me a minute to adjust my effects pedals and get the delay just right. In my mind, the notes are looping over and over until my fingers catch up and bring them to life.

  The intro, even with the delay, is crisp. Each note distinct, but almost lazy. I work through it a few times, and everyone’s bobbing their heads; we're all into it. I nod at Franco. “Hey, dude. Rim me out a beat to this. It needs to be rushed though. Downbeat. Don’t keep time with me. Push me. I‘ll lag, but you keep going. It’ll work, trust me. Just the rim, no snare.”

  He does. The first time through we’re fighting each other. He’s trying to match my tempo, but I don’t want him to. He’s the timekeeper, but he’s leaning on me because he can’t hear it yet. We play it a few more times and I talk him through and by the end he’s pressing forward and letting me fall behind and it works. It fucking works.

  Over the next half hour Jamie and I come up with a wicked bassline that would make Bright Side proud. She was always a sucker for a strong, kickass bassline. I’ve always been guitar driven, but sometimes bass driven is the way to go. Bass resonates; it plays to the core of your physical being, bone deep, like a sonic heartbeat.

  With the bassline down, Robbie agrees that he just needs to follow Jamie and let the bass take the lead for the chorus.

  Franco’s chomping at the bit just to be let loose and go ballistic. He’ll get his chance.

  I nod at Franco. “You ready?”

  He’s twirling his drumstick in his hand and stomps his kick bass pedal a few times. He’s antsy. He just wants to play, to be unleashed. Franco’s a phenomenal drummer and musician, but the best part is his enthusiasm. He motherfucking loves to play. He’d play all day, every day, if he could. “I was born ready, man.” He was. No lie.

  “Jamie, play that bassline again. Franco, you follow him, all snare and kick bass, no tom. Light cymbal crash at the end of each measure. Robbie you play under Jamie, with him. I’m gonna play over the top. Just ignore me and let me do my thing.” I kick the delay down and the distortion up and we play through a few times.

  MFDM is leaning back in his chair with a smirk on his face. A smirk is good. A smirk means he likes what’s going on. Really likes it. He’s been quiet, too. That’s always a good sign.

  “Okay, let’s do this, beginning to end. MFDM, will you record? I wanna hear it played back so I can work on some lyrics.”

  He pairs the smirk with a lazy thumbs up. We’re golden. That pairing in producer-speak is I fucking love it.

  “I’m gonna lead in, give me some space for a few measures Franco, then jump in. Downbeat, rim only. Give us a few measures alone, then everyone joins in on my signal for the chorus. Repeat until I nod you out. That leaves Jamie’s bassline and Franco for the second verse. I’ll give the transition and we’ll repeat the chorus again. Then we’ll end with the third verse, which will be a repeat of the second, Jamie and Franco only. We good?”

  They all nod. I look at Jamie. “No pressure, but you know how much Bright Side liked a solid bassline. Do her proud, dude.”

  He raises his forearm tattoo to me and smiles. “I only do epic.” He winks. “I’ve got this.”

  After I adjust my effects pedals, I strum my guitar twice. It’s habit. I do it before I start every song. I look to MFDM. He’s got his headphones on and he gives me a thumbs up and hits a button to start recording.

  We play through once and it’s decent, but the transitions aren’t clean. The second time we run through, everyone knows what to expect and it’s tight.

  When we listen to the recording I get chills. That rarely happens. I love it. Only a few songs have ever done that to me. And I already have lyrics forming in my mind. I look at the clock on the wall. It’s just after noon. “Why don’t you guys take an hour? Go get some lunch. Give me some time to hammer out these lyrics. I’ve got most of them. I just need to listen to this a few times and jot them down.”

  MFDM stands. “You want me to stay?”

  I know he’s giving me a chance to ask for help if I need it, but that he also trusts me to do it on my own. “I’ve got this. Do me a favor and bring me back something meatless to eat. I need some fuel. I want to record this and I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long day.”

  He nods, barely containing his smile. “Will do. You’re onto something here. Something great. Follow your instincts, Gus. They haven’t failed you yet.” He leaves before I can answer him.

  None of us leave until two o’clock in the morning, and by that time, we’re completely spent. But the song’s done. Recorded. Lyrics and all. It’s called “Redemption.” And the guys don’t know it yet, but we just got our album title, too.

  Redemption. That’s what happened today. Not in the religious sense, but in an I’m-a-better-person-than-I-was-before sense. And it feels so fucking good.

  Thursday, January 25

  (Scout)

  “L.A. misses you, Girl Scout.” That’s how Gus answers the phone.

  “I miss L.A. And you. Happy birthday, Gus.”

  “Is that today already? How’d you know?” He sounds surprised.

  “It’s on Audrey’s calendar. I’m her assistant. I’m privy to all of the important stuff.”

  “You certainly are.” That was a sexual innuendo if I’ve ever heard one. “Thanks. And speaking of the important stuff, we’re all done here Saturday. Would you mind driving Pax up to the studio on Saturday morning? I don’t want that kid anywhere near L.A. traffic on his own. We’ve been texting all month and I’ve been sending him short videos of what we’ve been doing, but I know he’d like to see it in person. I still need to record the guitar for the final song and I’ve saved it for last hoping he could be here for it.”

  “Of course I’ll bring him. He’d love that.” Gus is everything to Paxton. I know Gus downplays the influence he has on him, but the truth is that being around Gus is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to Paxton. Gus is a father figure, a brother, a teacher, and a best friend. Paxton was always a good kid, but the changes I’ve seen in him over the past few months are huge. He’s more confident. He’s more outgoing. He’s more engaged in school and more focused on his interests.

  “Good. Gracias, muchacha.”

  “What time do you want us there?”

  “I know it’s early, but I want to get started at eight o’clock. It shouldn’t take me long, maybe an hour or so. Then I’m free and we can head home. Mind if I hitch a ride? Or you could bring cookies and put your panties in your purse and we could go back to the apartment.”

  “I’d love to bring you cookies and put my panties in my purse, but what about Paxton?”

  “Right. When did Pax turn into a cock-blocker? I thought he was my boy?” He’s laughing.

  And now I’m laughing. “I’d better get to work. I’ll talk to you tonight, birthday boy. Have a good day.”

  “Always. You too, sweetheart.” I love it when he calls me that. Every time he says it his voice gets soft, the verbal equivalent of a hug. It makes me feel warm inside and it makes my heart literally flutter in my chest, a physical reaction.

  “Bye.”

  “Adios, amiga.”

  Saturday, January 27

  (Gus)

  Scout brought Pax to the studio this morning. The kid was stoked. It fueled me. And now the final guitar track is in the books. And it’s epic.

  I rode back home with them and we arrived a little after lunch time. Ma had cupcakes and veggie tacos waiting for me. God, I love that woman.

  Ma, Scout, Pax, his girlfriend Mason, and I had a low key, belated birthday celebration.

  And to cap off a great day, Scout showed me her birthday s
uit.

  And I showed her mine.

  And we rocked the hell out of them.

  And then she let me hold her all night.

  I love being home.

  Sunday, January 28

  (Scout)

  There’s a sticky note on the bathroom mirror when I step out of the shower. San Diego sex is my favorite.

  It has me blushing as I think back to last night.

  San Diego sex is my favorite, too.

  Sunday, March 4

  (Gus)

  I’ve watched Ma and Doc Banks’ relationship develop into something solid, loving, and stable over the past several months. Throughout it all I’ve pretty much kept my mouth shut, but I feel like I need to talk about it with her. And more in depth than just the passing discussion we have when she updates me on trips or travel.

  “Hey, Ma.”

  “Hi, sweetie.” She’s sitting on the deck reading a book and drinking her morning cup of coffee.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  She marks her page and sets her book down on the table. “Of course. What’s wrong?” She looks worried. I didn’t mean to worry her. Sometimes I forget that even though I’m a grown man, she’ll always think of me as her little boy. And when I come to her like this, her mind immediately goes into problem solving, what-can-I-do-to-make-this-better mode.

  I shake my head and lean down and kiss her forehead before I take a seat next to her. “Nothing’s wrong.” And I smile so she knows I’m not lying. “About Doc Banks—”

  She interrupts me. “You can call him Eric, you know?” It’s a friendly reminder.

  I smile at the love in her voice and nod. “I like Doc Banks better. It sounds cooler.” She wants to laugh but she’s just giving me an amused grin instead. I continue. “About Eric. You really like him?”

  “I do.” She does.

  “Do you love him?” Her heart is important to me and I only want someone who truly deserves her to have it.

  “I do.” She does.

  “You’re going to marry him, aren’t you?”

  The light that shines in her eyes is all the answer I need. “We’ve talked about it.” He must deserve her heart, because no one’s ever brought this out in her.

  I don’t know why I’m so fascinated by this. I guess because Ma has always been this force to be reckoned with. The woman can do anything she puts her mind to. She makes things happen. My entire life she’s been this entity unto herself, helping everyone, loving everyone, but always independent. What I always suspected is so clear now—she put her love life aside so she could devote her life to me. To raise me and give me her undivided attention. She’s completely and utterly selfless. “Is that what you want?”

  She nods. “It is. He’s a good man, Gus. I think finding the perfect partner is as much about timing, as it is about the person himself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I think people find each other when they’re ready for them. When they need each other the most. And it’s in that time of need that the strongest relationships are formed.”

  My mind drifts to Scout. It always drifts to Scout. I need her. And it’s not needy need. Not need that makes my heart ache. It’s need that makes me whole. It’s need that makes me not only remember who I am, but makes me want to be more. To do more. For me. For her. For us. It’s a need that’s liberating, because I have no doubt whenever and wherever that need arises, she’s there for me. Like Ma said, it’s all about timing. We were both at our lowest. Hurting. Grieving. And together we healed each other without even realizing it. I look Ma in the eye. “I think I love her, Ma.”

  She smiles her knowing smile. “I don’t think you do, honey … I know you do.”

  Tuesday, March 27

  (Scout)

  Gus is still sleeping so I leave a few sticky notes on his door before I head out for work. I downloaded Rook’s new album this morning on iTunes. You should check it out. The singer’s voice is dead sexy. ;) Seriously, I listened to it on my run. Your talent amazes me. You should be so proud of yourself.

  The truth is my morning run was a walk. Because I was so blown away by what I heard coming through my earbuds that I couldn’t run. So I walked. And occasionally I sat down and just listened. A few months ago I listened to him write these songs and play them on his acoustic guitar in his room. It was magical. But today, listening to those quiet songs transformed into tracks with a full band? It floored me. I peeked in on him this morning when I got back from my run. He was lying on his stomach in bed, covered from the waist down by only a sheet, sleeping soundly. I know he was naked because that’s how I left him early this morning. The absolute maleness of him is always the first thing that takes hold of me the instant I see him. There’s raw attraction that’s undeniable. He’s absolutely stunning. But when my eyes landed on him this morning, I had an overwhelming feeling of awe. Here’s this ungodly handsome man who’s funny, and kind, and sweet, and protective, and sexy, and so, so caring. But he’s also got this talent that’s unimaginable. It’s hard to believe a person can possess that kind of a gift. And to be so humble about it. He has no idea how special he is. His humility is every bit as beautiful as he is.

  Saturday, March 31

  (Gus)

  There’s a text waiting for me when I check my phone this morning.

  CLARE: Congrats on the new album! Bought it yesterday and listened to it last night, it’s phenomenal! Great work!

  ME: Thanks. You quit smoking yet?

  CLARE: I did. 2 weeks ago. Didn’t want to tell you and jinx it though. It’s hard. You quit?

  ME: Yeah. Agreed, it’s fucking hard. Hang in there. And I won’t hold you to the bet; keep your money and buy some gum.

  CLARE: Gum?

  ME: Yeah. It helps. Don’t ask me why but it does.

  CLARE: I’ll give it a try. Take care and good luck.

  ME: Thanks. You too.

  Thursday, April 5

  (Gus)

  Our tour starts tomorrow night. I fly to Phoenix in the morning. Eleven o’clock flight. The label car will be at the house to pick me at eight-thirty. My bags are packed and sitting by the front door with my guitars. Scout helped me pack—a week’s worth of jeans and T-shirts. She even bought me new socks and chonies—two weeks’ worth just in case I can’t find a laundromat.

  She’s lying in bed with me. We’re face to face on my pillow. Our bodies are touching, still cherishing the intimacy we shared only minutes ago. Sex with her will never get old. My body fucking craves her. And when we connect, I feel whole. It's an experience that’s as emotionally fulfilling as it is physical.

  She looks sleepy. It’s late. I brush the hair back from her cheek. I love that she doesn’t give it a second thought when I touch her scars anymore. She’s just an amazingly confident woman. I’m so proud of her.

  “Scout?”

  “Yeah, babe?” That’s the first time she’s called me by anything other than my name. I’m pretty sure I just caught fire. This woman fucking slays me.

  “I love you.” I mean it with everything that I am.

  Her lips twitch and then she presses them together tightly. I’m afraid she’s going to cry because her eyes are shiny, but as the first tear rolls down her cheek it’s paired with the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that. I love you, too. So much.”

  I can’t help but kiss her. It’s I love you. And thank you.

  “I’m gonna miss you.” We’ll be gone for five months, US and European tours have been combined. We'll spend three months here before we fly over to Europe for two months. The shows are all at bigger venues than anything we’ve ever played before, except Grant auditorium. That one we insisted on returning to for Bright Side.

  “I’m gonna miss you, too, but I’ll visit. I know someone in the band. He’s kind of a big deal.” She shrugs. “He hooked me up with tickets.” I already got her a ticket to every state-side Saturday night sho
w. I gave them to her earlier tonight along with all of the flight reservations I made to get her there. “Thank you. I love that I get to be there to share this with you.”

  “That album wouldn’t have happened without you sitting on the other side of my door.”

  “I think that’s when I fell for you. I’d been falling for a long time, little by little. But that week … listening to you pouring your soul out? I was yours. I was so yours.”

  “I honestly think you had me from the moment we met. It was such a goddamn battle with you, but looking back now, I think we were meant to be from the very beginning. Maybe it was all the fucking sticky notes.”

  “You love my sticky notes.”

  “I do. The tour bus won’t be the same without you and your sticky notes.”

  Friday, April 6

  (Gus)

  This morning’s already been perfect: pre-sunrise sex with Scout, sunrise surfing with some of the best waves I’ve seen in a long time, and breakfast with Scout, Ma, and Pax. It was a trifecta of serenity that put my head exactly where it needs to be for this journey.

  I said good-bye to Scout, Ma, and Pax when they all left for work and school. It was sad, but not the type of sad I was anticipating. They were so excited for me, but more importantly, proud of me. It makes me feel like this time around I’ve earned it somehow. I’ve worked my ass off to make this album epic and I’m going to give this tour everything I’ve got. Every damn night.