Chapter Eighteen
“Come on, asshead,” Mac began bashing the bathroom door down with renewed vigour. “What is taking you so long? You’re going to record a song, not a bloody music video.”
The bathroom door whipped open, and Jared and I, wrapped in towels, made our way out, epic trails of steam flowing out the door behind us in big foggy clouds.
Jared smirked at Mac as she took in our towel clad state with pursed lips. “Seriously? That shit is not cool.” She pointed to my room. “That is what your bedroom is for.”
Mac was still operating under the guise of Ripley, so figuring my water conservation speech would be lost on her, I followed Jared into my room and shut the door behind me with a giggle.
“And hurry up!” Mac yelled after us. “We have to leave in ten minutes.”
I giggled again as Jared ripped my towel off and threw me on the bed.
Mac must have heard my giggle because she yelled at me once more. “Do you want to be late and come across as an unprofessional bitch?”
I slid off the bed with a sigh. “Mac’s right, I need to get dressed and you need to get to work.”
I picked Jared’s jeans up off the floor and threw them in the direction of the bed where he sat down and started checking the messages on his phone.
“Any news on Jimmy?”
He threw it on the bed with a frown as he picked up his jeans. “Nope,” he muttered unhappily.
I hadn’t had any new messages from him in a while and the police had scaled back the search to minuscule proportions. Jared and Coby, not taking any chances, had not scaled back in their efforts to have me covered at all times. This was both re-assuring and smothering at the same time. Not one to complain, okay I complained a little, I tried to make sure I didn’t make the job too hard on them.
“Who’s on velcro duty today for the recording studio?”
Jared stood up as he pulled on his jeans. “Travis. He should probably be here by now.”
I picked out an underwear set that was white with a pink and green floral pattern and slid them on. “Okay,” I muttered and disappeared into the wardrobe to throw on a pair of yellow capris, a white tank top, and strappy silver sandals. I came back out tugging a brush through my hair, and Jared gave me a quick kiss. “Good luck today, baby.”
“You too.”
He turned, ruffled Peter’s floppy brown ears, said, ”See ya, little dude,” and left.
I scooped up my bag in one hand, Peter in the other, and headed down the stairs.
Seven hours later, no joke, seven long freaking hours to record two songs, I sat in the control room with Marty, the engineer, Travis, and Jake. We were listening to the final version after Marty had finished working mixing magic so mystical even I had no idea we sounded that good.
Jake’s beat was hard, heavy, and fast, and I could feel it pound through every fibre in the room so it felt like someone was jumping up and down on my chest. Henry’s guitar ripped sweet and clean through the beat, and shivers hit my spine a little as my voice kicked in, husky and full.
I rubbed at my arms, and Marty grinned at me knowingly. “You guys are fucking ridiculous. This stuff is the shit. I knew you when, yeah?”
He pressed a button on the console and leaned down, talking into the live room. “We’re wrapping up in here, dudes,” he spoke to Frog, Henry, and Cooper. “Time to pack it up.”
Frog gave the thumbs up.
“So we weren’t booked in for another month Marty. Lucky to get squeezed in sooner, huh?”
Marty put a copy of the CD of our two songs into a casing. “Well you didn’t hear it from me, but there wasn’t a last minute cancellation. Someone got bumped.”
“What?”
Did he mean like someone got offed? I know I liked to claim badass status on a regular basis but the lingo sometimes left me in the dust.
“Yeah, kicked down the schedule.”
“Oh,” I muttered. Marty wasn’t speaking Badass after all.
“You sayin’ that someone got pushed back so we could be squeezed in? Why’s that?” Jake asked.
“Well...” he peeled off a label and fixed it to the CD “...you might have heard that one of supporting acts for Sins of Descent pulled out of the Australian leg of the tour in February.”
Jake and I nodded because Gary had mentioned this to us at our meeting.
“A friend of Matt, the lead guitarist, saw one of your songs on YouTube from one of your Melbourne festival appearances and sent it to him. Then Matt heard through the grapevine you were on the verge of signing with Jettison and put you forward to play for them on their tour here in Oz. So anyway, in case you haven’t noticed, Gary has been scrambling to get your shit together: photos, recorded music, whatever. Also,” he continued as Jake and I sat on the edges of our seats, mouths and eyes wide open, “if they do that, Jettison is gonna wanna get a single out in early March to promote you ASAP, plus a music video and more photos. You sons of bitches are going to be busy as fuck if you can pull this off, and after hearing your shit today, I think it’s a fucking shoe in.” He spun his chair and flung the CD in my lap with a grin. “But...” he tapped the side of his nose “...you didn’t hear that shit from me.”
When we arrived home, I raced to the kitchen sink, filled up an industrial sized glass of water, and guzzled it down so fast I felt an aching pain follow its path.
“Sandwich?” Mac called out from the lounge room where I’d whizzed past her. “You okay?”
I bashed at my chest a little to ease the pain.
What had I done to deserve something so potentially momentous to happen in my life? Sure, I could sing. Sure, our band together was pretty awesome, but let’s face it, I was a selfish person. I spent too much money on frivolous things, I could be petty, I made terrible decisions, and my life hadn’t been spent volunteering at the local animal shelter. It was only the other day that I was complaining when we were having cake because Henry cut Mac’s slice way bigger than mine.
I heard Mac ask Travis what my deal was. Her voice drowned out when I ran the tap for another glass of water.
I took a sip and focused on my breathing. I could do this. I could. I deserved this.
Why else would good things be potentially coming my way? I was kind… Dammit why is this so hard? What else?
I could be polite, to those that deserved it. I was a loyal friend because sometimes even when I knew Mac was in the wrong, I still defended her to the death (unless I was the one in the ‘right’ party of course, then it was on for young and old). I may not have volunteered at the animal shelter, but I did give them hefty yearly donations. I could afford to do it because Mum had left behind so much money, Coby and I didn’t really know what to do with it all. Truth was I couldn’t really bring myself to touch mine because it didn’t feel right. Maybe I would leave it for my kids. My two kids.
Mac came into the kitchen when I finished my water, exchanging it for wine as I got the bottle out of the fridge.
“I’m going to sponsor a child for World Vision,” I blurted out as I sat the bottle on the counter, my stomach sloshing like my insides were at sea from all the water.
“Okay,” she drawled out as though I was a crazy person she was trying not to startle.
I got some glasses down from the above cupboard. “Wine Travis?” I yelled.
I didn’t hear what he said because I began talking again without waiting for a response. I poured him a glass anyway.
“And those bears that are all caged up over in Romania,” I continued with determination. “There must be something I can do. Maybe we can raise some money and descend upon the WSPA?”
She took hold of the wine glass I shoved at her chest. “You want to visit Romania? Do you even know where that is?”
“Of course I know where Romania is. Seriously, do I look that stupid?”
She smothered a laugh. “Well…”
“Oh shut up,” I hissed. I paused for a moment to think, taking a sip of my win
e. “It borders the Black Sea, and Serbia and Ukraine.”
“Is it even safe to visit there right now?”
“How would I know? I haven’t consulted my daily friendly travel guide today.”
I sat my wine on the counter and opened the fridge door to examine the contents. According to Henry, it was my turn to cook dinner tonight, and usually that coincided with there being no food in the house. This usually meant having to conjure a mealtime miracle with only an orange, two eggs, a tin of creamed corn and a packet of chicken noodle soup from nineteen-ninety-four.
“So are you going to tell me how it went today because frankly, I’m not getting good vibes. Did you run over a cat on the way home?”
“Travis drove.”
“Did Travis run over a cat on the way home?”
“Hey!” I heard Travis pipe up from the couch.
Travis sat up and shuffled tiredly into the kitchen, and I immediately felt bad. It was no doubt he had a million things to do, but instead babysat my ass all day long after likely working half the night. His clothes, usually cooler then even Jared’s, looked wrinkled. I’m sure he used to have a life once that included things like manly sporting activities and well, the like.
I gave him his wine and a sympathetic smile. “Stay for dinner?”
“Sure. Whatcha making?”
“Hello?” Mac almost shouted, waving her hand in front of my face.
“What?”
“Oh hang on.” She frothed with sarcasm. “I’m just going over here to have a conversation with this wall because it’s less likely to provide a nonsensical reply and more likely to tell me what happened today than you are.”
I gestured to the wall in a go ahead hand wave and watched as she sucked in a deep breath.
“Where’s Hussy?” she asked.
“Next door with the Rice Bubbles.”
I pulled out an onion and a chopping board and began slicing. Travis sat up on the bench next to me which was nice. I liked to have company while I faffed about in the kitchen. It made the whole task more like a social activity rather than a chore.
My phone beeped a message.
J: How did today go?
“Ah, I don’t think so.”
Mac, reading over my shoulder, snatched the phone out of my hand and tossed it into the lounge room.
“Mac!”
I went back to slicing the onions.
“Evie!”
“Okay.” I popped a pan onto the hot plate and added some olive oil. “Oh, the CD is in my bag. You should go put it on.”
“It’s done?” Mac rummaged through my bag on the dining table and plucked it out. “How many songs did you get through?”
“Just two,” I told her as I tossed the onions in the pan and stirred them around.
“Can I help?” Travis asked.
“Absolutely. You can help by sitting there and relaxing.”
Mac cranked up the music to body pounding decibels. My phone managed to cut through some of the noise. “What do you think? Get my phone.”
“It’s awesome and no. Finish telling me about today first.”
“Marty is a mixing genius.” I sliced the rind off the bacon. “Is it safe to give raw bacon rind to Peter Travis?”
Travis raised his brows. “What do you mean safe? Like would he choke?”
Mac shrugged. “Could he choke? Google it.”
“Maybe I should just grill it for him?”
“Grill the rind?” Mac repeated.
“Well, yeah.”
Travis laughed. “You’re going to grill bacon rind for your dog? Bet Jared would love that.”
“Listen up, people.” I pointed my little chopping knife meaningfully at Mac and then at Travis. “All Jared needs to know is that the bacon in this pasta is rindless okay? No telling him where the rind went.”
I flipped on the grill and added some pasta to the boiling pot of water I had going as Travis’s phone rang.
“‘Lo? Yeah, here, in the kitchen. No that was Mac. Uh huh. I think she said pasta carbonara. Hang on, I’ll check.” Travis put his hand over the speaker. “Jared’s on his way over. Wants to know if you need anything for the salad.”
Um, I hadn’t planned on making salad. I spun around and rummaged through the fridge. “Ahh, lettuce, tomatoes. Oh, I’ll do a Greek salad. Tell him to get some olives and feta, too, please.”
Travis relayed the message and gave Mac a stern look before speaking to me as he placed his phone back in his pocket. “You know, you really need to answer your phone when Jared gets in touch. He was worried for a minute.” He folded his arms to emphasise the seriousness of his point and Mac look suitably chastened.
“Sorry,” I murmured.
I finished putting the pasta together as I told Mac about our day at the recording studio. “Anyway, the big news is that mixing miracle man Marty revealed Sins of Descent might be considering us as one of the supports for the Australian leg of their world tour.”
“Holy shit!” Mac shouted. “Holy shit!”
She picked up her wine and did a fast waltz into the lounge room and back. Peter, sensing fun, roused himself from the couch and barked at her feet. I slipped him a grilled piece of bacon rind when he hit the kitchen.
“Well it’s only gossip, Mac, but Marty’s grapevine is probably pretty solid. He reckons we’re a shoe in. Don’t say anything though,” I tacked on hastily. “He was telling us on the down low.”
Jared arrived, finding Mac doing a mock serious waltz around the lounge room, albeit this time with me. I stopped so he could plant a hard kiss on my lips, and then he dumped a shopping bag on the kitchen counter.
“What’s going on?” he asked Travis.
I abandoned Mac for the kitchen and started rummaging through the bag to make a start on the salad. “Skim milk feta? Are you serious? I didn’t even know there was such a thing.”
Jared reached in the fridge and pulled out two beers, handing one to Travis. “So, how did it go today?”
I told the story of our day over again and before anyone could mention the tour, I hustled Jared into the pantry, shutting the door behind me.
“Private chat, huh?” Jared grinned as he pushed me into the shelving.
“No, I’m serious.”
He started peppering little kisses along my collarbone. I tilted my neck and my breath came out on a long sigh.
“So talk.”
“I can’t when you’re doing that.” His mouth had moved up to tug on my earlobe and I moaned.
“Okay.” He pulled back just a little. “What’s up?”
My heart descended a little from cloud nine. Just because an invitation for the tour may be imminent, Jimmy being out there would surely make security almost impossible.
“Well...” I took a deep breath “...you see...” I mumbled the rest in a rush, “it misht be poble ther weir goiw on touw,”
I cringed slightly with an awkward scratch of my head before peeking up from underneath my lashes.
Jared looked amused, the corners of his lips curved up in that half grin of his. “Ah, what?”
I fidgeted with an unopened packet of brown rice while I looked everywhere but at his face. I’d just recently finished informing him, in a polite way, that he couldn’t tell me what to do, but in matters of security and Jimmy, he was the expert, so I needed to take his opinion on board. “It might be possible that we’re going on tour.”
“Are you for fucking real?” I looked up again and started at the grin splitting Jared’s face wide.
“Uh, yeah?”
“When? Where?”
“Next month, supporting Sins of Descent across Australia.”
Reaching up to tuck my hair behind my ears so he could see my face properly, he stilled as shadows fell across his eyes, changing them from brilliant emerald to a dark forest green. “Well, baby, that’s all kinds of awesome, but next month?”
“It’s nothing yet. Just a rumour from Mixmaster Marty, but apparently his grapevine is
like, solid.”
“Mixmaster Marty?”
“The guy who did our songs at the studio.”
Jared nodded thoughtfully, and I held my breath as I waited for his response. “It’s not much time really, is it? For you to prepare. Could you manage it?”
“We’d be replacing another band, so yeah. We just have to step in is all.”
He nodded again and rubbed his chin, his mind ticking over. “We’d have to be in charge of your personal security, but I’m sure we can work something out.”
My heart lifted. “Really? So you’d be cool with this?”
He put his hands on my hips and pulled me close. “Well, I wouldn’t say cool because keeping you alive is something I happen to take very seriously. Let’s just say it’s doable, and I’ll deal with it because I know how important this is for you.”
The boys must have descended from next door because the chatter got loud and someone started cranking our CD, all two songs of it, loudly again.
“Can we eat already?” I heard Henry yell from the kitchen.
I ignored them as I wrapped my arms around Jared’s neck. “You know,” I whispered, “you’re important to me, Jared.”
As I pressed my lips to his, the pantry door busted open, flooding the little room with brilliant light. I shielded my eyes as Mac bore down on us, finger jabbing at us fiercely.
“Seriously? There’s food in here. This shit is not cool. What are you, rabbits?” She stalked away muttering something about bedrooms being completely underrated these days.
I giggled and we shuffled out because Jared was behind me, arms wrapped around my front.
My phone buzzed and I picked it up with a grin.
I missed giving you your xmas present. Hang tight. Better late than never, Songbird.
The grin slid from my face.
Chapter Nineteen
“Goddamn fucking fucker,” Mac growled as she ripped the rollers from my hair with such savagery that even Coby visited the bathroom to make sure I wasn’t being tortured to death.
“Ouch,” I yelped for the five hundred and sixty-third time, give or take a few. I put my hand to my scalp to see if I was haemorrhaging blood. “Give it a rest, Mac.”