“Today’s July 18th. Dr Marrs is contracted till August 2nd. That gives us two weeks. I’ve spoken to him and he’s agreed to extend us by a week maximum. Add to that the fact that JJL is booked out from August 12th. In an ideal world, you need it all recorded before the end of July.”
“Right, now we’re getting there,” sighed Grey. “However, Paul and I are done. It’s Jake and Rich, who have recording left to finish.”
“Problem number one,” stated Rich bluntly. “I can’t sing my backing vocals right now.”
“Agreed,” acknowledged Maddy as she turned to stare at Grey. “Can you sing, Mr Cooper?”
“If I have to, I’ll give it a go,” agreed Grey with a laugh. “It could be a painful experience for you all.”
“Well, Paul can’t do it. Have you heard him sing?” laughed Maddy. “Or alternatively, we could hire a session vocalist?”
“No!” stated all four of them at once.
“Ok, no session guys,” she noted calmly. “Jake, are you fit to finish off the lead vocal chores?”
“Probably not, but I’ll give it my best shot,” he offered. “And, if I take it easy, I can finish my guitar tracking.”
“Same here,” said Rich as he drained the last mouthful of coffee from his cup.
“So, can we be done by July 28th?” asked their manager, glancing round.
“Yes,” answered Jake, sounding more confident than he felt.
“Fine. Progress,” sighed Maddy. “Now, to the bonus track. Additional track. Tribute. Whatever you want to badge it as. Anyone object to it being on the record?”
All of them shook their heads silently.
“Fine. It’s done and dusted. We’ll add it in as an Easter egg.”
“No,” said Jake abruptly. “Don’t hide it.”
“I agree,” added Paul as Grey and Rich both nodded. “Let’s list it.”
“Ok. I’ll see what I can do,” agreed Maddy, glancing down at her list of outstanding items. “Now to the festivals. We’ve pulled out of the first one on July 26th. The next one in the calendar is August 10th? Can we make that one?”
“How long a set?” enquired Rich, looking over at Jake in an attempt to gauge his reaction.
“At least an hour. Maybe a few minutes longer,” she began. “I’ve got some of the scheduling emails, but Gary didn’t copy me in on them all. I’ve been piecing it together for the last week, but there’s still a few gaps I need to re-negotiate. Right now, we’re looking at August 10th followed by 16th, 24th and September 1st. There’s a tentative deal in place for September 6th. Jason’s picking that one up with the promoter. If we get it signed off, that’s a Friday night headline show so we need a full set. A full two hour show.”
“Maddy, you’re asking a lot here,” began Grey, concerned that she was pushing them too hard too fast.
“It’s ok,” interrupted Jake, keeping his eyes cast downward. “We owe it to Gary to make this happen. He set this up. We shouldn’t let him down.”
“But if we’re not fit to give a hundred percent,” said Rich, taking his sunglasses off and revealing the full extent of the injuries to his face. “What the fuck do you suggest we do, Jake?”
“We give it a hundred fucking percent!” snapped Jake angrily. “Christ, we have no fucking choice!”
His angry outburst caught them all off guard. Scraping his chair back on the polished tile floor, Jake declared, “I need some air.”
Out in front of the house, Jake sat on a beaten up rocking chair that was sitting in the middle of the burnt lawn. He could hear the traffic out on the highway. The painkillers he had taken first thing that morning had more or less worn off and his whole body ached. His heart ached too. Meeting as a band for the first time without Gary felt all wrong. Much as he admired Maddy and respected that she was only doing her job, it had been tough to sit round the table and talk business. Behind him, he heard the screen door squeak then slam shut. He recognised Maddy’s quick, light step on the path. Approaching him from behind, the Goth laid her hand gently on his uninjured shoulder. “Hey, mister,” she whispered warmly. “Are you alright out here?”
“Yeah,” replied Jake sounding worn out. “I just needed a minute or two. It was getting way too intense in there.”
Kicking off her trademark spike heels, Maddy sat down on the grass at his feet. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both of them listening to the world going by, before she said, “This is hard for me too. I miss my right hand man.”
“I hadn’t really thought about it like that,” confessed Jake. “The last couple of weeks has really taken its toll on all of us.”
“You can say that again.”
“Are we done in there?” he asked, not wanting to return for more “round the table” debate.
“Yes,” nodded Maddy, running her hands through her short, black, spiky hair. “I need to get home for the babies. I need to call Jason later and fill him in. I’ve to mail some photos to your sister for the fan page.”
Laughing, Jake said, “I still can’t believe she’s doing all that for us. My little sister the rock groupie.”
“Don’t laugh,” giggled Maddy. “She’s doing a fabulous job for you guys. Have you seen the fan messages on that page?”
“No,” admitted Jake. “I don’t look that kind of thing up too often. She posted down a pile of cards and letters. I read some of those.”
“Take a look at Lucy’s page,” suggested Maddy with a knowing smile.
“Ok, boss,” he agreed, flashing her one of his smiles. “I’ll take a look later.”
“I do need to ask one more favour,” she said slowly. “If you say no, I’ll understand. Rich already said no.”
“What do you need me to do, Maddison?”
“Give a press interview.”
The request hung in the air between them. The four small words had sent tremors of fear through Jake. Knowing that Rich had already refused added to the pressure he felt bearing down on him. Swallowing then sighing, he nodded.
“You’ll do it?” Maddy asked, her eyes wide in surprise.
“Yes,” he responded. “But it has to be controlled and on my terms.”
“Name them.”
Jake sat thinking for a few minutes. His heart was pounding at the thought of speaking to the media. His head knew it was the right thing to do for Silver Lake and their fans. In the past, he had enjoyed a very relaxed relationship with the local media and he had got on well with the British media on last year’s tour.
“I’ll meet them out here,” he began. “In the studio. No more than four journalists. No video. I’ll agree to photos. It can’t last more than an hour.”
“Sounds more than fair to me,” agreed Maddy. “I’ll hand pick them myself.”
“One more thing,” added Jake quietly. “If Lucy’s fan page is generating as much support as you say then I want to put something on there first.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. A short video message?”
“I like that idea,” replied Maddy. “And your sister will love it!”
“Is Scott around later on?” he asked, part of him already regretting the idea.
“I’ll call him and get back to you on that.”
“Ok,” sighed Jake getting to his feet. “Time to find out if Grey can sing. Can you send him over to the studio? I’m heading over there before I change my mind.”
Noticing the wave of pain that flashed across his face as he stood up, Maddy reached out to stop him. “You don’t need to rush right in there, Jake.”
“I know, but there’s work to be done. I’ll be fine,” he assured her with a forced smile.
“Take it easy,” she said as she dusted the grass off her short skirt. “I’ll call you when I’ve spoken to Scott.”
Jake nodded and walked off towards the studio.
It was cool and incredibly quiet in the studio. Jake had picked up a bottle of water from the refrigerator in the lounge and took a large mouthf
ul of it to wash down the two painkillers he had attempted to swallow. A voice from the darkness of the control room startled him.
“I hope that wasn’t a banned substance, Mr Power.”
It was Kola.
“Not unless Walgreen’s have banned Advil,” joked Jake as she switched on the lights around her. “I’ve long since turned my back on the hard stuff.”
“You?” she asked with obvious surprise.
“Ancient history,” he muttered evasively, setting the bottle down.
Carefully, he picked his favourite cherry Gibson Les Paul out of the rack and carried it over to the stool in the centre of the room. Trying to set it up and plug it in one handed proved impossible. Moving his shoulder slowly, he eased his arm out of the sling. He plugged in the leads, then put the guitar on. Instantly, the weight and pressure of the strap sent fiery bolts of pain surging through him. Trembling, he sat on the low stool, taking the instrument’s weight on his thighs. The pain subsided and he was soon lost in his own world as he warmed up and practised a few favoured routines. As he played, he saw Dr Marrs join Kola in the control room. The door to the live room opened. Grey came striding in to join him.
“You sure about this singing thing?” asked the bass player anxiously.
“Let’s give it a shot,” said Jake without pausing his practice. “Start with some warm ups.”
“That caterwauling you do?”
“The very same.”
Switching to “school teacher” mode, Jake slowly coached his friend through a basic vocal warm up routine. Initially the bass player was self-conscious, only too aware that his girlfriend was listening. Stopping him mid-scale, Jake suggested Dr Marrs took Kola out to lunch and then bring them something back. With the “audience” out of the way, Jake resumed the lesson. Gradually Grey’s nerves subsided and, as he focussed on what Jake was demonstrating, he relaxed a little, revealing a half-decent voice. With both of them fully warmed up, Jake explained which tracks still needed backing vocals. There were three in total. Out of the five remaining half-finished tracks, these were the easiest vocally as the band had made a conscious decision that these would be more musically complex. While Jake was playing the lead guitar part for the first one, Kola and the producer returned from lunch.
“Not a good time to stop,” commented Jake as Grey was heading for the door. “Jim, set up for track eight. We’ll try this before we eat.”
It was mid-afternoon before they finally paused to eat the sandwiches that Kola had brought back for them. Track eight’s backing vocals had been completed though and Jake suggested he do his lead vocal next to allow Grey to rest his voice.
“I’m not taking chances here,” stated Jake bluntly as Grey started to protest that he was fine. “You’re not used to using your voice like that. We can’t risk you straining it on day one.”
Reluctantly, the bass player agreed.
“Guys,” cautioned Jim Marrs, “Don’t either of you overdo it.”
“I hear you,” acknowledged Jake, as he scrunched up his sandwich box and tossed it into the trash can. “Let’s get track eight done and we’ll call it a day.”
“You look done in right now,” stated Kola sharply.
Adjusting the position of the sling so that his shoulder felt more supported, Jake admitted, “Yeah, I’m sore and tired but this has to be done. I’ve not tried to sing properly since the accident. Let’s give it a shot.”
“And if it hurts your ribs too much?” she challenged, her dark eyes boring through him.
“I’ll stop,” promised Jake with a wink.
“Rock stars,” she muttered in exasperation.
Track eight was one of the longer songs planned for the record, its lyrics telling the story of a journey to fulfil your heart’s desire. From the beginning, Silver Lake had hoped fans would see this as an anthem due to its powerful chorus. Vocally it didn’t stretch Jake’s range, but it was going to be a challenge to his power and stamina. There were a few long notes in there that would test his lungs.
Take one was a fiasco. Halfway through, Jake got the lyrics wrong, then got a fit of the giggles. Clutching his aching ribs and trying to stifle his laughter, he called through, “Let’s try that again.”
Take two ran smoothly until the last chorus. On the first line, something caught in Jake’s throat, causing him to cough. The cough sparked a spasm of pain that shot through his ribs, almost bringing him to his knees.
“Enough, Jake,” said Grey from the control room. He could see the pain etched on his friend’s face, but he also recognised the look of determination in his eyes.
“Once more from the top,” stated Jake as he took a swallow of water. “Last time for today.”
With a slow nod of the head, Dr Marrs agreed with him. From the confines of the control room, the three of them watched as Jake composed himself. This time he nailed it. Note perfect. Word Perfect.
“Fantastic effort, Mr Power,” declared Dr Marrs.
“Take him home, Grey,” said Kola softly, as she watched Jake collapse onto the couch in the studio. “And good luck explaining this to Lori.”
“Thanks,” muttered Grey, searching in his pocket for the keys to his truck. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow at some point.”
Ever since Maddy had called around lunchtime to fill her in on the morning’s meeting, Lori had been anxious. She had tried to focus on the plans for the Silver Lake artwork, but her mind was all over the place. After a couple of hours, she had called Jake’s phone but it had gone straight to voicemail. By five thirty, she had left four messages and the lack of response was worrying her. When the phone rang a few minutes later, her heart skipped a beat, scared to answer it.
“Hey, li’l lady,” came Jake’s voice, sounding a little husky.
“Hey, yourself, rock star,” she replied, trying and failing to sound cross. “I was getting worried.”
“Sorry. We’re just coming into town. Do you want me to bring something in for dinner?”
“If you want,” she replied, relieved that he was alright. “Or I can fire up the grill?”
“I’m in the mood for steak sandwiches,” he confessed. “And we’ve just pulled up outside the place.”
“Fine,” laughed Lori. “Can I have mine with onions, please? Is Grey staying to eat?”
She could hear their muffled voices in the truck then Jake finally replied, “Yes, but he won’t be staying long. He needs to fetch Becky at eight. She’s at a friend’s house.”
“Ok. I’ll see you both when you get here.”
Lori had just finished setting the table out on the deck when she heard Grey’s truck pull up. It was a relief to hear the boys’ voices as they walked round the side of the house. When she saw how pale and tired Jake looked, it took her all of her time not to comment. Instead of taking a seat, he kissed her gently on the top of the head and promised to be back out in a minute. As soon as he was out of earshot, Lori turned to Grey and stated, “He’s exhausted. Why didn’t you bring him home sooner?”
“I tried, Lori,” sighed the bass player, taking a seat at the table. “But you try stopping him.”
“I guess,” she agreed reluctantly. “How’d it go?”
“Ok,” began Grey. “The meeting was tough. Everyone’s still a bit raw. Rich is really struggling.”
“Maddy said that too when she called,” said Lori as she opened up the bag of food and began to sort out whose was whose.
“We made good progress this afternoon though. And I’ve recorded my first ever backing vocals,” announced the bass player proudly.
“You were fantastic today,” complimented Jake from the doorway. “If you can still sing tomorrow, we could get those last two tracks done.”
“Perhaps,” mused Grey. “Let’s see how you are in the morning, though.”
After Grey left, Jake went indoors to fetch his laptop, remembering his promise to Maddy about looking up the fan page. He sat in the half-darkness out on deck, reading message after message
from the Silver Lake fans. Some were purely wishing them a speedy recovery; others were sharing stories of their own losses. When Lori came back out to him, she found him sitting with tears in his eyes.
“This is incredible,” he said, his voice filled with raw emotion. “There’s hundreds of messages on here. For me. For Rich. For Gary’s family.”
“Your fans care about you all,” she said, reading some of the messages over his shoulder. “Oh, I forgot to say Scott called. He’s going to come over to do a video with you or something like that.”
“Did he say when?”
“No. I said you’d call him back to sort it out.”
“I’d better call him, then I’m going to bed,” said Jake, shutting down the computer. “Today’s been tough.”
“You ok?” asked Lori, leaning forward over his shoulders to hug him gently. “Maddy was worried about you when I spoke to her earlier.”
“I’m sore. Tired. Emotional,” he revealed, kissing her fingertips. “I’ve felt Gary’s shadow hanging over me all day. It’s just been a surreal, long day and those fan messages have really blown me away.”
“Maddy said you’ve agreed to talk to the media.”
“Yup,” he said quietly. “All part of the job. I’m dreading it, but it needs to be done.”
“If you want me to be there with you….” she began.
“That would be good,” said Jake, interrupting her swiftly. “I’d better call Scott before I change my mind about the whole damn thing.”
Once the Silver Lake machine got rolling again, the pace picked up. With Maddy back at the helm, the boys had little choice but to stick to the timetable they had agreed on. Under the watchful eye of Jake, Grey stepped up and completed the remaining backing vocals in less than a day. This bought them back precious time for the four remaining lead vocal tracks and the remaining guitar tracking. After two long days in the studio, Dr Marrs insisted Jake took the weekend off, claiming he needed the time to work on the production. Much to the producer’s surprise, there were no objections from the injured musician.
Late on Friday afternoon, just as they were packing up at JJL, Maddy dropped in with the twins.
Impossible Depths (Silver Lake series Book 2) Page 23