by Jesse Jordan
“Kissing on the beach? Not at all, I wish I could get a few of those,” Martha replies wistfully. “Honestly, I don't know what happened. I didn't give your name when I made the res, as you know. It was under Gashouse's name, and you left Cora's name with the front of the house.”
“I know!” I protest. “So, how the hell did they find out? Why is my name on the front page of CelebWatch?”
Martha sighs, shaking her head. “I don't want to say it, from everything you've said you really like this girl, and you've been friends in the past...”
“What?” I ask, turning. “I hope you're not saying Cora did this.”
“I'm saying I don't know,” Martha replies. “You're right. I did everything I could to make sure that the paparazzi didn't have a clue as to where you were last night. But someone knew. Those are pro level pictures; not someone snapping quickly from their iPhone. Especially the beach one, that's a far away shot made in low light, that needs real equipment to get. I'm guessing the only reason they didn't put pics of you two in full tonsil hockey mode is because of the way she's turned. You're a public figure, you can't expect to have privacy, sadly enough. But Cora... Well, there's a few reasons why her face might not be there. Either the photog didn't have any good ones of her in that kiss, which I doubt. Or they got a case of the conscience and decided to not publish the ones of a normal woman.”
“Ha!” I laugh bitterly, sitting down on the couch. “Those assholes don't have a conscience. I think they chop that off the day you take a job with these fucking companies.”
Martha nods in agreement but doesn't smile. “Which brings me to the possibility that I don't want to say, but have to. Rocky, Cora's not the same dewy-eyed girl that may or may not have had a crush on you back in high school. She's twenty-three, and she's been busting her ass trying to get her way up the ladder in this town for three years. But a lot of people have seen the fact that nowadays, it doesn't take talent to get your fifteen minutes of fame. With enough attention, they figure that is when the money starts to come in. And Cora knows that you're tabloid fodder, Rock. So, what if she decided to shortcut her way to that fifteen minutes? Make a little cash on the side, a couple hundred bucks for a couple of pictures. You said she took off early, right? Well, this story was posted around midnight, according to the timestamp. That's enough time to verify the story so that the site can't be sued, drop a few details like what you guys ate, and collect her cash in time to enjoy the weekend.”
I shake my head, anger clouding my thoughts. “No... no way, Martha.”
“I hope not Rocky, but I'm just saying... it could be. And if she sold you out for a couple hundred bucks for a kiss, what else could she be trying to do with the information she has at her fingertips?” Martha asks. “Just think about it. But if it were up to me, I'd take her out of the booth. She's working magic with you guys, but you guys don't need her, Rock. The magic's happening because of the Fragments, not because of the producer.”
“And if she's innocent?” I ask, upset. “I just snatch away a huge opportunity from a good woman, a good producer, and someone that I care about? That's really cold shit, Martha.”
“I know. That, unfortunately, is why band managers are often the most hated people in show biz,” Martha says gravely, making me immediately regret my anger at her. “Just... you think about it. Gimme a call tonight or tomorrow. If we have to, we can shut down recording for a few days to bring in someone new, or at least someone to tag team the booth with her. We wanna make sure she's not stabbing you in the back. I'm just trying to look out for your best interests, Rocky.”
Martha leaves, and in the silence that follows, I stew. I want to call Cora, but I realize that in all the weeks that we've worked together, I don't know her cell phone number. I don't even know where she lives.
The fact is, Martha has a point. While the Cora I knew five years ago, wouldn't have ever gone behind my back, even then she was trying to use the media to get attention. Mainly for me, but also building her resume with social media and YouTube. I'm sure some of the same videos that helped Ian reach out to me, also helped her get her foot in the door with some of her internships. And she has been out of school for only three years. The odds of a three-year producer being teamed up with an up and coming act, it's nearly unheard of unless the act already has a relationship with the producer. Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the 'overnight success' in the music business is actually guys and girls busting their asses for years. Or shortcutting the system, whether fairly through things like The Voice and other shows, or through more scandalous ways. Like seduction.
I want to trust Cora. I want to believe in her, in the way she touched me, the way we kissed… but it's not just me that I have to think about either. And there's always been that part of her that she's not talking about. Why is she leaving the studio so early each day? When we worked with the folks at Oceanside, we were there until eight, nine, sometimes even midnight. We played until we couldn't play anymore and then picked up the next day to ride the next wave. She's always leaving early, both from work and then last night. What is going on with her? And with that question, can I trust her?
I gotta talk with my brothers. They'll be able to help.
“So, Martha thinks that the leak was Cora?” Joey asks as we carry the kettlebells over to the empty space on the floor, both of us dripping with sweat. I've used the space in between sets of our workout to voice my worries with Joey, who's been his normal self, thinking quietly before offering advice. “You know, man, I don't know.”
We start our first set of timed kettlebell swings, one minute where we pass the bell from hand to hand. When Joey's watch goes off, we stop, setting them down gratefully. “Yeah, I'm having problems with that too. If I were solo, Joey, I'd say to hell with it. I'm a big boy, I can cover my own ass, you know what I'm saying?”
“She made that big of an impact on you?” Joey asks, and his watch beeps again, the two of us starting the next timed interval. When we set it down, I have to take a few seconds to catch my breath before I can answer.
“For what she did for me back in high school, I'd give her the benefit of the doubt. But it's not just me, you know. I don't want to risk your happiness or Ian’s. Neither can I leave your asses hanging out in the breeze.”
Setting his kettlebell down, Joey hums. “I see what you mean. But you forget something. Ian and I are big boys too. And some of us are bigger than others.”
I chuckle a little, Joey's trying to keep the mood light, which I can appreciate. We finish our last set with the kettlebells and take them back to the rack, putting them away. “I guess if I make too big a mistake, you can always have a future as a gigolo.”
Joey laughs, and we move on to the last movement of our workout, ankles to the bar. Sure, it’s mostly for our stomachs, but it works the back too. It's painful, but it's a great finisher, especially as we can go from super-strict form, holding our legs out straight, until by the end we can practically just roll our bodies up in little balls to get the movement completed. We don't talk much, it just hurts too much to focus. Thank God we only do two sets.
Dropping down from the pull-up bar, Joey shakes out his hands. “Why do we put ourselves through that hell?”
“Because we know that it'll pay off when someone actually makes a music video, they're going to want us with our shirts off,” I answer, only half joking. “You know how it is.”
“I don't think Iggy Pop ever did this,” Joey says as we head over to the rowing ergometers. Sitting down side by side, we grab the handles and start pulling at a casual pace. The idea today is endurance and working off my frustration. “So... you made a decision?”
“Why's it gotta be my decision?” I gripe, pulling on the handle. “And why the hell did we pick the ergometer instead of something slightly less painful, like full contact bare knuckle kickboxing?”
“The choice is yours because you're the one who knows Cora best,” Joey says, breathing hard and ignoring my bitching about the
rowing. “You went to school with her, and you're the one who's kissed her. You've never kissed me, by the way.”
“You're cute, but not that kind of cute,” I joke, and Joey laughs. “We're a band though.”
“And Ian and I will back you one hundred percent on this, regardless. This is your thing, Rocky. Do you trust your feelings for Cora or the history we've got with Martha?” Joey replies. We keep rowing, focusing during the quick fifteen minutes to finish off our workouts, and when the final beep goes off, I'm bathed in sweat.
Thankfully, the gym has an outdoors hot tub. It’s perfect for recovery, and my next stop. “Thanks for listening to what’s on my mind, Joey.”
“Thanks for getting me out of having to visit my cousin who lives in Inglewood,” Joey replies with a smile and a roll of his eyes. “I still gotta figure out how to deal with distantly related family members who think that just because I'm putting out records that it's an open invitation to hit me up for money for every project they can think of.”
I shake my head, both amused and frustrated. “Well, at least I don't have that particular problem on my hands. I think I'm going to hit up the hot tub, or else I'm going to feel like hell tomorrow when I come back.”
“You're doing all this again tomorrow?” Joey asks, incredulous. “Damn dude, you must have frustrations. All right then, I'm going to go find a place to chill out a little bit. Maybe I'll go hang on the beach for a while to make sure my cousin doesn't think that I can still drag my ass over to his house today. Glad I don't have relationship problems. Since I'm a hundred percent single, I think I will see if there’re any good-looking girls out on the sand. So, you made a decision?”
“Yeah, I think I have. I'll give Martha a call, then I'll be in touch with you and Ian. We might get a long weekend out of it, but we'll have to see.”
Cora
Bella can see that I'm happy and excited when I drop her off at daycare today, and I have to admit that I'm practically skipping heading back to the car and sitting down behind the wheel. Today's the day. After the great date Friday, and a weekend that was one of the most relaxing and fun that I can remember in recent memory, I woke up this morning knowing that today, during one of the breaks in recording maybe, I'm going to tell the guys about Bella. All the guys need to understand why I've been insistent on skipping out by six o'clock, but more importantly, Rocky needs to understand what he's getting himself into. If he still wants me after that, I'm more than ready to go to his bed or have him come to mine. I fully, one hundred percent, think that he can be a good man in Bella's life. I even decided that today, instead of spending the lunch hour in the booth, I'd go out with the guys. It'd be easier to tell them over tacos than it would over a sound mixer.
I don't see any of the guys' cars when I park, but I didn't expect them anyway. Rocky's been showing up a little earlier than Ian or Joey, so I've gotten to know his Nissan, but still, I always get ready before they get here, it saves time that many waste with morning chatter. I get out of my car and grab my bag, heading into the Gashouse Studios. I'm barely in the door when I see something strange. At the front reception area, there's a studio booking list, and for the past few weeks, Studio B has had the 'Fragments' written in next to it. Today though, it's just listed as 'Open.' What's going on?
I take my stuff down to the studio and open the booth door, surprised to see Martha sitting inside, dressed in her most severe pantsuit. “Good morning Martha, you're here early. Is everything okay? I saw that the studio's listed as open. Is someone sick?”
Martha shakes her head, standing up. “Nope, actually the studio decided to give the guys a few days off. We're bringing in a new producer for the rest of the album.”
Her words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest, and I stand there, dumbfounded. Wait, what? “But... but why? The sessions have been going really well. Did Larry not like the dailies I've been turning in?”
Martha shakes her head and gives me a raised eyebrow. “Actually, he's loved your work, but there's a bigger problem. A matter of trust.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, still confused. “Martha, if this is about the date that I had with Rocky Friday, you're the one who called me on it. In fact, I trusted you guys to not be setting me up with a crazy man. So, what's the issue?”
“The issue is that Rocky doesn't like is the fact that you've portrayed yourself as being single the whole time,” Martha says, and I feel my temples start to throb in anger.
“I am single, Martha. I'm not seeing anyone, and going on that date with Rocky was the first time I've been out in months,” I tell her, still trying to catch my balance. “What sort of bullshit have you guys heard about me?”
Martha sits forward and shows me a Facebook page, and I take a deep breath, calming myself. It's a slightly older photo, posted on the daycare center's Facebook page from the St. Patrick's Day party, Bella sitting next to me, both of us with green frosting on our face from the cake. “Bella. Now, I can understand why you would want to hide a daughter from the music industry in general. I mean, there's a ton of vampires in this town, and she's a cute kid. Rocky and the guys though, especially Rocky, were pissed that you would try and get into a relationship with Rocky without telling him up front about her.”
“But... but...” I stammer, not sure what to say. “But I was going to tell them.”
“I guess the right time to do that would have been a few weeks ago,” Martha says, then shakes her head regretfully. “Listen… like I said, I understand. I'll talk with Larry. Maybe he'll bring you back for another group, another artist. And I'll make sure you keep producer credit for all the songs that make the album.”
At the mention of producer credits, more immediate issues come to my mind, pushing away the hurt of being rejected by Rocky. “Uh, thanks. About that Martha... well, like I said, I'm not exactly living well...”
“I've already cut you a check at the base rate for your studio time,” Martha says, pulling an envelope out of the inner pocket of her suit jacket and handing it to me. “I know it's not great, but as soon as the album drops you'll start getting your royalties too. You know most of that's going to depend on which tracks get chosen for singles, sales, stuff like that… but that's music.”
“Yeah... okay. Thanks, Martha. Uhm, well, I guess I should get out of here. Uhm, what's going to happen to the guys?” I ask, wondering why I should even care. They dumped me, and I'm asking about them? Why?
Martha leads me out of the studio, towards the front door. “I'm going to talk with Larry today, he'll get in contact with some contract producers. Don't worry, the people he normally brings in are good. They've made good albums before. The guys will be okay.”
I nod, sighing when I reach the door. “Okay. Well, it's been good working with you Martha, and please tell the guys… tell them I'm sorry. I never meant to lie to them.”
My professional composure holds until I reach my car and pull out of the parking lot, getting a whole quarter of a mile down the road before my emotions get the best of me and I have to pull into a gas station to cry. The storm is short but fiercer than I expected it would be. I've been fired from jobs before but for reasons that had nothing to do with me. A guy wants to bring in his buddy to do producing, or an artist suddenly wants to because he screwed around on their home computer. But in every situation, I've never felt like I did anything wrong.
This time though, I do. Not guilty enough that I should have lost the job, but I understand it at least. I lied to the guys, and more importantly, I lied to Rocky. What the hell was I thinking? Protecting my daughter is one thing, but all I had to say was Yeah, I changed to the two-year program when I got pregnant unexpectedly and had to go to work right away. Sure, it might have led to a lot of questions, but Rocky's been respectful of my privacy, so have Ian and Joey. They never asked why I was leaving so early, they just cared that we were getting dynamite work done. It wasn't until I kept my secrets even in a personal situation that I hurt Rocky's trust in me.
&n
bsp; The crying jag leaves me eventually, and I go into the gas station, buying a guilty pleasure of a cream soda. It helps me calm down, and as I burp afterward, a very unladylike, but wholly satisfying act, I get back in my car and go to pick up Bella. If I get there by nine, I only have to pay a third of the daily fee, and if I get a few lucky green lights, I should be able to be there just in time.
I'm determined to not waste this day on regret, so after getting Bella from daycare, the two of us have spent the day just being together. First, we went to the bank, where I deposited the check from Gashouse, I might as well get something out of it. After that, I stopped at our apartment and we made sandwiches together, PB&J for me, PB&R (peanut butter and raisins) for Bella. Her lunch bag we put in the fridge, the leftovers will keep.
After making sandwiches, the two of us rode my bike to the library, where Bella got to watch a free community storytelling in both English and Spanish, which was kinda cool.
When story time was finished, we checked out a few books, one for me and two for Bella, walking next door to the park where the two of us sat down and enjoyed our sandwiches.
Now, wrapping up our lunch, Bella's starting to get a little tired. “Mommy, can we read one of the books we just got?” she asks, smiling sweetly. “I like when you read to me.”
“Sure, sweetie,” I reply, folding up our brown paper bag and putting it in my back pocket. It's an old habit and one that maybe, someday, I'll be able to break. Maybe when I can afford to not have to worry about it anymore, and don't look at each and every piece of paper, jelly jar, or container as a potential wasted opportunity to save money somewhere else. “Which one do you want to read?”
“Can we read Kitty in The City?” Bella asks. Kitty isn't a cat, but actually a little girl, and is one of Bella's favorite book characters. There's about a dozen Kitty in The... titles total, and we've read them all. I pull the book out and we find a spot underneath a tree and I open the book.