“I guess so,” agreed Lori, glancing out of the window to check the sun was still shining. “But you guys need to behave. No running away, Jess. No getting wet either.”
“I be good,” promised the little boy.
“Fine,” said Lori then turning to Becky added, “Don’t take them too far. Head towards town rather than south.”
“Can we take them along the boardwalk?”
Lori nodded, “Be back before it starts to get dark. I’ll message your dad and say I’ll drop you off home after dinner. That give you two enough time together?”
“Thanks, Lori.”
With the kids out of the house, Lori returned to her desk to finalise the cover. While they’d been eating lunch, she’d been thinking about the lettering and reached a decision in her mind as to how she wanted it to look. Now that she had a vision of the finished piece, Lori was hopeful of finishing it in time to deliver it along with Becky to Grey later in the day.
It was late afternoon before the two teenagers arrived back at the beach house with the kids in tow. Both of them were clutching bags from the Candy Kitchen and Jesse took great delight in showing her his blue tongue.
“Dorrian, would you like to stay for dinner?” invited Lori warmly.
“Thanks, but I need to be getting back. I’ve a paper due for school tomorrow. English,” replied the boy politely.
“Ok, another time maybe,” said Lori. There was something likeable about the boy and, in many ways, he reminded her of Todd when she had first met him.
“I’d like that,” said Dorrian then reaching out to ruffle Jesse’s hair added, “And I’ll draw more sharks for you next time, buddy.”
“Yeah!” yelled Jesse, jumping up and down. “Big sharks with sharp teeth.”
“Kids, why don’t you go in the sunroom and watch some tv till Becky says goodbye to Dorrian,” suggested Lori, subtly trying to give the young couple a few moments to themselves. “Becky, could you fetch me the roll of bubble wrap from the garage, please?”
“Sure,” she replied as she led Dorrian towards the back door.
“Nice to have met you, Dorrian,” said Lori. “Good luck with that paper and with the designs for Danny.”
“Thanks,” replied the boy. “Kids, see you next time.”
“Bye, Dorrian!” they yelled in unison.
Almost half an hour later, Becky came back indoors carrying the roll of plastic bubble wrap.
“Where do you want this, Lori?” she asked brightly.
“Dining room table,” replied Lori as she added her trademark initials to the finished design. “I want to package this up and drop it off with your dad. The guys need it for Wednesday.”
“Can I see it?” asked Becky, curious to see the band’s new album cover.
“Of course,” said Lori. “But no pictures of it. This stays under wraps till your dad tells you otherwise.”
Gazing down at the finished album cover, Becky’s eyes filled with tears, “Lori, that’s…….”
Her words were lost in a sob. Wrapping her arms around her, Lori said softly, “I know. I know.”
“It’s perfect,” sniffed Becky quietly. “Dad will love it.”
“He’s seen it. He does,” revealed Lori softly. “I just hope Jake and the others love it.”
“I’m pretty sure they will. It’s perfect.”
“Thanks.”
The arrival of the little green-haired songbird injected an air of youthful enthusiasm to the gothic palace. She had warmed to Jethro instantly, looking on him almost as a grandfather figure, much to Jake’s amusement. In an effort to help her to relax, both Jake and Garrett had agreed to allow her Sunday off to explore the city, guessing that she would be better ready to focus on rehearsals if she had done all the tourist stuff first. Almost on a whim, Garrett suggested that she help out in the store during the day Monday to Thursday and that they rehearse at night. Two of his regular members of staff had booked some vacation time but Jake’s presence in the store had increased customer footfall. Keen to pull her weight, Riley was more than delighted to help out, proving herself to be a hard worker.
“Time to enter the dragon’s lair,” declared Garrett once dinner was over on Monday night. “Miss Riley, are you ready to sing for me?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, eager to start rehearsals.
“Remember to warm up,” cautioned Jake, unable to resist the school teacher in him reaching out to his former student.
“Can you show me your routine again?”
“Sure,” agreed Jake. “Will we warm up in the lounge?”
“No, go on ahead to the dragon’s lair,” insisted Garrett. “I’ll be down in half an hour.”
When they were in the elevator, Riley asked Jake, “Why’s it called the dragon’s lair?”
“You’ll see,” he replied with a wink.
“Wow!” exclaimed the teenager a few moments later when she saw the dragon on the door. “That’s stunning!”
“Isn’t it?” commented Jake with more than a hint of pride. “It’s one of my wife’s paintings.”
Opening the door, he allowed Riley to enter the rehearsal space ahead of him. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she walked around admiring all the dragons.
“Your wife painted all of these?”
“Yes, she did,” he confirmed. “I never knew about these till a couple of weeks ago. Neither her nor Garrett said. Think she painted them about ten years ago.”
“I love them,” declared Riley, reaching for her phone. “Do you think Garrett would mind if I take a few photos? I’d love to get this one tattooed on my back. Love the shading on its scales.”
“I’d ask him first,” cautioned Jake, conscious of how private his friend was.
“Of course,” said Riley, respectfully putting her phone back in her pocket. “This place is incredible!”
“Enough,” laughed Jake. “Time to get to work, Miss Riley.”
With a gentle squeal, the door to the dragon’s lair opened almost an hour later and a rather anxious looking Garrett joined them. The two vocalists were just finishing their warm-up. Something Jake had said had tickled Riley’s sense of humour as Garrett watched and the room was filled with her deep husky laughter.
“Good to see you are both taking this seriously,” he teased as he reached for his guitar. “You both ready to make a start?”
“Yes, boss,” replied Jake with a wink to Riley that triggered a second fit of giggles.
“I hope you two won’t be doing that on Friday night!” scolded the older musician, his tone suddenly serious.
“Chill, Garrett,” said Jake. “We were just messing around. Having a bit of fun. Where did you put the lyrics sheets?”
“On top of the piano,” replied Garrett, pointing to the far end of the room.
Quickly, Riley scampered across to lift them then commented, “There’s four here. I only sang on one song on the record.”
“And you’ll sing on all four on Friday night,” countered Garrett. “Plenty of time to learn them and any others we add in.”
“Don’t panic, Miss Riley,” reassured Jake warmly. “We’ll help you. Now, you ready to make a start?”
Looking rather anxious, Riley nodded.
“Let’s start with the one you know,” suggested Garrett. “Jake, you good to play on this one?”
“Sure,” agreed Jake, slipping his own guitar on. “Black Heart Dark Mind.”
Both musicians began to play the southern rock, blues-influenced intro then, after a nod from Jake, Riley began to sing. Her distinctive smoky voice soared, filling the room as she delivered a heartfelt emotional performance. It was the first time Jake had heard her sing since they’d been out at JJL and his heart swelled with pride as she nailed the song at the first time of asking.
“That angel voice deserves to be heard,” declared Garrett, clearly impressed by the youngster. “You’re an old Delta soul in a young woman’s body, Miss Riley.”
Blushing, the tin
y green-haired girl said, “Thank you.”
“Sounds like the cue to try Young Eyes Old Soul,” said Jake, checking the tuning of his guitar.
“Cheesy, Mr Power. Too cheesy,” stated Garrett, rolling his eyes and giving a slow shake of his head. “Riley, listen to this one through a couple of times. We’ll play it. You feel where the lyrics come in.”
“Join in when you feel comfortable with it,” added Jake, keen to encourage his former student to stretch herself.
Over the next couple of hours, the three of them honed the song to perfection. During the second instrumental run through, Riley had come in on vocals for the chorus, adding a lighter edge to her voice. Her take on the song differed slightly from the album version but Garrett nodded his approval. With some encouragement from both of her mentors, Riley found the confidence to attempt the full song a few moments later. It was far from perfect but, by the time they were ready to call it a night, all three of them were happy with how it was sounding.
“Same approach tomorrow night,” stated Garrett, setting his guitar back on the stand. “Then it’s you and me on Wednesday. Jake’s got Silver Lake business.”
“Can I come down here myself to work on these?” Riley asked hopefully. “I don’t want to let you both down.”
“Riley,” said Jake warmly. “You’ll be fine. Don’t over rehearse these. We don’t want you straining that voice either.”
“Jake’s right,” added Garrett. “Four nights of rehearsals plus a stage run through at soundcheck on Friday will be fine. Relax about it all.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” laughed Jake as the three of them headed for the elevator. “You need to chill out too, Mr Court.”
“Hmph,” muttered the older musician as the elevator door opened.
An icy wind whistled down Broadway as Jake walked from the gothic palace towards Penn Station. He’d decided against driving down to Philadelphia for the Silver Lake meeting, opting instead to get the Amtrak straight to 30th Street Station. Arriving at the station with a few minutes to spare, Jake just had time to grab a coffee before boarding the train. Once seated, he messaged Grey to let him know that he should reach Philadelphia at nine forty-five. A couple of minutes later he received a reply from the bass player saying he’d pick him up outside the station at ten.
Part of him was dreading the meeting at the band’s record company offices. Over the years he’d developed a sound understanding of how the business side of things worked but it held little interest for him. An email from Maddy had included the agenda for the day plus a note to say that the band had to decide what to do about naming a replacement guitarist. The thought of formalising a replacement for Rich filled him with dread. Naming a successor felt like slamming a door shut on Rich’s memory. The thought ripped the scabs off his barely healed wounds of grief.
As he re-read the agenda, Jake noted that the first item after lunch was titled “Shattered Hearts launch and Spring/Summer tour schedule.” When he’d spoken to Jethro earlier in the week, the older man had let slip that the artwork was ready. Part of him was keen to see what Lori had come up with; part of him felt as if he had been excluded from it up until now. For all their previous albums, he’d been privy to the cover design long before the others. Now, though, he suddenly felt lost and lonely, guessing that Grey and Paul had already seen the artwork.
Watching the outside world slip past, Jake allowed himself to think about his wife and family. Both Jethro and Maddy had made it quite clear to him that Lori wasn’t attending the meeting. When he’d asked if she was coming to Garrett’s show neither of them had given him a straight answer. In his heart, he knew that Lori wouldn’t let Garrett down but his fear was that she would slip away from the theatre before he found the opportunity to talk to her. The thought of playing his short solo set without her moral support was tough.
A watery sun was breaking through the clouds as Jake waited outside for Grey to arrive. His train had pulled in early so he’d had time to grab a fresh coffee, glad of its warmth in his hand. Bang on time, Grey’s truck pulled in at the kerb beside him.
“Mornin’,” greeted the band’s bass player warmly as Jake climbed into the passenger seat. “We’re late.”
“Blame me,” suggested Jake with a grin. “Or Amtrak.”
“I intend to,” laughed Grey. “Good to see you. How’s New York been?”
“Cold. Busy,” replied Jake, his tone non-committal. “Riley arrived last weekend. She’s been like a breath of fresh air. So much energy. Poor Garrett wasn’t quite ready for a teenage house guest.”
“Probably do him the world of good.”
As Grey navigated his way towards the record company’s offices, they chatted about the plans for the show. Both Paul and Grey were arriving in New York late on Thursday, leaving Friday morning free for rehearsal. Each of them was earmarked to play on a handful of tracks but, bar one, they were playing on the same songs.
It only took them a few minutes to reach the building. As he prepared to lock the truck, Grey muttered something under his breath and reached into the back of the cab. Silently, Jake watched his friend retrieve one of Lori’s portfolio bags.
“Almost forgot this,” said the bass player as they headed for the elevator.
“You’re both late!” snapped Maddy when they entered the conference suite shortly after ten-thirty.
“Blame Amtrak’s scheduling,” muttered Jake, taking a seat between Paul and Jethro at the table.
“Should’ve caught an earlier train,” she stated firmly.
“Maddison,” said Jethro calmly, raising his snowy white eyebrows at her in warning. “Let’s get started now that the boys are here. You were about to let Jackson talk us through the financial statement.”
Two hours later, when they broke for lunch, Jake let out a long sigh. He could feel a migraine building behind his left eye, triggered most likely by the morning of spreadsheets detailing royalties and forecasted earnings and planned expenditure on a new lighting rig for the next tour. The monotony of it all had also begun to get to his fellow band members, both of whom had said almost in unison, “We’ll take an inventory of the gear in storage next week.”
A buffet lunch had been laid out on a table at the end of the room but, conscious of the imminent headache, Jake picked sparingly at the platters.
“You ok, son?” checked Jethro with his usual paternal concern.
“Migraine. I’ll be fine,” replied Jake. “I left my meds at Garrett’s.”
“We can send out for something to help,” suggested the older man, fully understanding how severe some of Jake’s migraines could be.
“If someone has some Tylenol that should see me through.”
“I’ll get some,” promised Jethro, laying his own plate of food down. “I’ll be back.”
Not feeling in the mood for small talk, Jake wandered across the room to gaze out of the window. The afternoon’s agenda items were still weighing heavily on his heart. Could they replace Rich in the band? Should they? Would it be best to go ahead as a trio?”
“Jake,” said Maddy softly as she appeared beside him.
“Maddison,” he replied, his tone curt.
“Can we talk?” she asked, her own tone surprisingly conciliatory. “I feel I owe you an apology.”
“Bit late for that.”
“I know,” she replied, much to his surprise.
“Look, Maddison, I get how it all must have looked to you,” began Jake, fighting the inner urge to lose his temper with her. “I’m not denying that I made a stupid mistake prior to that. What’s happened has happened. I fucked up. End of story.”
“But I didn’t exactly help matters, did I?”
“No,” conceded Jake after a moment’s reflection then, against his better judgement asked, “Have you seen them?”
Maddy nodded.
“Are they doing ok?”
“They’re fine,” assured Maddy, struggling to find the right words. “She just needed a
bit of space.”
“I get that,” said Jake with a sigh. “Excuse me. I need to get some air.”
A few minutes on the building’s roof terrace helped to clear Jake’s head a little. There was a packet of Tylenol and a bottle of water sitting on the table waiting for him when he returned to the conference room. Opening the bottle, he noticed that a flipchart stand had been moved to the end of the table and that a cloth had been draped over it to hide whatever was on display. Spying the open portfolio bag and sheet of bubble wrap lying on the floor in the corner of the room, Jake knew that it was Lori’s design for the album cover.
“Right, gentlemen,” began Jason Russell calmly. “Lots of decisions to be made over the next hour or two. Some I’m sure will be easier than others.”
The Englishman paused then said, “With regards to the future line up for Silver Lake, the management team and I have discussed this at great length. Consensus was that you need to agree a new fourth member. Rich can never be replaced but we all know it was his desire to see the band continue. To honour that request, you need to agree who that is going to be.”
An awkward silence hung in the air.
The remaining members of Silver Lake exchanged glances. No one wanted to be the first person to speak; no one wanted to be the one to voice their thoughts first.
“Gentlemen,” prompted Jason. “If you can’t give me a name, we may be forced to go down the audition route.”
“Todd,” said Jake simply, maintaining eye contact with Jason.
“Todd,” repeated Grey and Paul at the same time.
“So, we’re all agreed that we announce Todd Denby as the new Silver Lake guitarist?” checked Jethro, looking to each of them in turn for confirmation.
Each of them nodded.
“Perfect,” said Jason. “That went smoother than I’d anticipated. It does leave a gap in the crew for a guitar tech.”
“Leave that with me,” interrupted Jake bluntly. “If they’re going to be setting up my guitars, I’ll handpick my own new tech, Jason.”
Shattered Hearts Page 36