Blood and Guitars (8 page)

I nodded, happy with the decision, and then I
went on to sing the chorus. “There are some minor changes in the
chorus the second time around,” I pointed out, giving everyone a
second to glance over their lyric sheets.

“I like it,” Jonas said.

“Yeah, it’s good,” O’Shea added. “And the
echoes are the same as the first.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Then comes the refrain.”
I sang again. I pointed to O’Shea and said, “I’ll sing ‘waiting for
a single trace of’ and then you finish the line with ‘you.’ It runs
into the next line down.”

He made a note on his lyric sheet and nodded.
“What were you thinking for the refrain as far as the guitar
goes?”

“It might be good to finger pick something
out right there. I’ll leave that up to you,” I said to him. He
grinned, accepting the challenge. “We’ll soften the drums there,
too,” I said to Chase. “Or at least simplify it for a few measures
until we build to the chorus again.”

“Let’s try it,” Jonas said. “Hearing you guys
go straight through it as far as you can might help me come up with
the bass lines.”

I took a breath and nodded. “Okay, here we
go.” I glanced at Karl through the glass and said, “Hey, can we
roll tape for a bit?” I watched him move his fingers toward the
mixing board to push a button and then he gave me another thumbs-up
sign. We all put our cans on and then I realized that I’d need the
metronome in my mix until Chase was set to come in with the drums
so I wouldn’t mess him all up by being off to begin with. A few
seconds later and Karl had fixed that problem.

I played and sang again and Chase came in for
the second verse as planned. O’Shea sang the echoed lines with
perfect timing when we reached the chorus. It was a little hard to
follow Chase’s rhythm because he was changing it up every 16
measures or so, trying to get a feel for the song and what would
suit it best, but we managed to make it to the end the first time
through. Now, all we needed was some lead guitar and a bass
line.

“I’ll go into the control room for a minute
and use the playback to work some of my parts out,” O’Shea said as
he took off his cans.

Chase perfected his imitation heartbeat on
the kit for a moment and then he and I began to play through it
again so Jonas could play around with some bass riffs.

It took another hour and a half for the basic
pieces of the song to come together. The song wasn’t finished
yet,(Jonas wasn’t at all pleased with any of the bass lines he’d
come up with so far) but we could definitely see the light at the
end of the tunnel by the time we were ready to call it quits.

“If you give me a minute I’ll piece together
a rough cut for you and get some copies made,” Karl said as we
gathered around the mixing board where he sat. Cowboy was lounging
idly on his lap, but he his ears perked up and he got to his feet
when I walked in.

“Hey boy,” I lifted him into my arms. “I knew
you’d get used to the noise.”

O’Shea slumped down onto the center of the
worn leather couch. I sat next to him, laughing as Cowboy jumped up
at him, trying to lick his face.

“Who do we want to call in to help us produce
this baby and make it solid?” Chase questioned. We hadn’t really
discussed producers for this album yet, this being the first time
we needed to approach the subject, but the answer was fairly clear
to all of us.

“Karatz,” we said in unison, which made
everyone laugh. The answer was simple. Ken (Karatz) Morris had
worked on more than half of the last album, Recycled Coma, with us
and by the time we’d finished recording, he’d been more like a
fifth member of the band than anything. The ‘Karatz’ nickname had
been born when he’d given his then fiancé a ridiculously large
diamond engagement ring. The guy was an amazing producer, and it
had definitely paid off. By the time his wedding had rolled around
a year later, I wondered just how much of it had been paid for by
our record sales. The thought made me grin even now.

“I ran into him a couple of months ago,”
Jonas said. “His wife just had a baby.”

“Wow. Kenny’s a dad.” Chase said in mild
disbelief, petting Cowboy who had wandered onto his lap. “Think
he’s busy with another project?”

“You mean besides changing diapers and mixing
formula?” Jonas added.

“Only one way to find out,” I said. “I’ll
give him a call.”

“Guess there’s no point in making further
plans until we know if he’s in or not,” O’Shea turned to look at
me. “You’ll let us know if he’s up to it?”

I nodded. “I’ll have an answer for you by
this time tomorrow.”

“And I’ll have a bass part worked out,” Jonas
said, sounding determined. We waited around for Karl to finish
piecing parts of the song together and then we all walked out,
copies in hand.

“Keep up the good work,” O’Shea said to me as
he unlocked his car.

I waved a dismissive hand at him, smiling.
“You know me.”

Cowboy and I drove down to Edgewater Park. It
was early evening and a cool salt breeze was blowing as I attached
a leash to his collar.

“You were a good dog at the studio,” I told
him. “You deserve a good break and some exercise.” He wiggled
anxiously as I lifted him from the front seat and set him on the
ground. He tried to run but quickly reached the end of the line. I
laughed a little and said, “Hold up,” before I managed to use the
release button to let more leash out for him.

We walked along the sidewalk, Cowboy panting
with excitement and turning back to look over at his shoulder for
me every ten yards or so. I don’t know where he thought I was going
but I was beginning to think he was the one taking me for a walk.
We neared the large gazebo where a bunch of people were crowded
into the tables and chairs there. They were talking loudly and
laughing. My best guess was that they were having a family reunion
or something. The scent of barbeque sauce reached my nose as we
passed and my stomach let out a loud growl. I hadn’t eaten in
hours. Finding some dinner was definitely next on the priority list
after my pup had gotten his exercise for the day. Cowboy and I kept
on walking, pausing only for him to water a tree here and
there.

When we got home Cowboy ran into the house so
fast that he slid across the kitchen tile for three feet, making me
laugh. I dropped my keys on the countertop and tossed the garbage
from my brief stop at Blimpie’s in the trash before filling
Cowboy’s dish with fresh dog food. Glancing at the clock, I decided
now was just as good a time as any to make the call. I pulled out
my cell phone, wandering in to sit in the living room as I scrolled
through the many numbers in my contact list. I found the one I
needed and pressed the send button, lifting the phone to my ear. It
rang only three times before someone answered.

“Trey? Is that really you?” said a familiar
deep voice with mild surprise.

“You mean I’m still in your phone, old man?”
I chuckled.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said lightly.
“I thought you’d fallen off the face of the planet, though, as much
as I hear from you.”

I ran a hand through my hair, still laughing.
“Yeah, well … I thought you might need some time to adjust to life
with diapers. You know how things go.”

“Do I ever.” I could hear the smile in his
tone.

“Congrats, by the way. Why don’t I make it up
to you,” I added. “Do you have plans for lunch tomorrow?”

“That depends. You buying?” Ken chuckled and
then added, “I’m sure I could finagle something.”

“That’s why I love you.” I grinned into the
phone. “How’s Café Ponte? Say around eleven-thirty?”

“Over on Icot? I think I can manage
that.”

“You’re a lifesaver man. Tell Serena and the
little one I said hi.”

“Will do. Catch you tomorrow, Trey.”

I hung up the phone, feeling somewhat
relieved. Karatz was a stiff negotiator, and with all the changes
going on in his life right now, I knew he might be a hard sell. The
only problem with that was I couldn’t imagine anyone else that we’d
want to help us out with this new record. Karatz was our man.
Between him and Wes, we’d managed to get a gihugic budget from the
label for ‘Recycled Coma’, our last record. It had been perfect. We
needed to duplicate that process simply because it had worked so
well. Nothing else would make sense. I sighed, knowing that Karatz
would have a harder time saying no to my face. I only hoped that it
would be enough.

“Your table is ready, sir.”

I pulled my cap down low as the waiter
gestured for me to follow him. He led me to a table in the back and
I took a seat, asking for a glass of water before he hurried off to
seat someone else. I checked my watch. It was eleven twenty-eight.
Karatz would be here in two minutes. I knew this because Karatz was
the kind of guy who was always on time, in the most literal sense
of the phrase. He wouldn’t be one minute early, but he was never
late either. I picked up the menu laid out before me on the table
and glanced through it even though I knew just about every dish
listed by heart. I’d been here often enough to know that everything
they served was delicious but I had a favorite dish that would hit
the spot.

I put the menu back down again and glanced
around the restaurant. The small tables covered in crisp white
linens were filling up with people on their lunch breaks. I sighed
and took a moment to appreciate the fact that I wasn’t stuck in a
lame job that required me to sit in a cubicle staring at a computer
screen all day. Although no one seemed to recognize me at the
moment, (my cap and sunglasses were a good cover) I was sure to be
the envy of most of the people in this restaurant. I was lucky, and
I reminded myself of that fact constantly, never wanting to forget
it. Sure, I could sing, and I knew my way around a guitar pretty
well, but everyone knows that making it in the music business is
about ten percent talent and ninety percent luck. And luck runs
out. It always does. The guys and I were just hoping to have a good
run at it while we could.

My thoughts were interrupted when a voice
called my name from a few feet away. My eyes focused on Karatz
immediately and I got to my feet to greet him.

“Hiding out in the back?” he teased as he
stepped toward me for a hug, thumping me on the back.

I laughed and shrugged, not denying it.
Besides, he knew why I was hiding. I don’t mind signing autographs
and taking pictures with cell phones for fans, but today I was more
concerned with getting Karatz to get on board with the new
album.

“What’s going on, family man?” I asked him as
we sat.

He let out a loaded sigh and smiled at me.
“It’s good to get out of the house for a few,” he admitted with a
chuckle. “It’s seriously been so long since I’ve eaten here that I
nearly forgot about the place.”

“You’re missing out, then.” I watched him
pick up the menu and scan it with his eyes.

“What’s good?”

“It’s all good.” The waiter reappeared with
ice water. He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled at me
patiently. “I’ll take a bowl of Max’s soup of the day,” I
began.

“What is it?” Karatz asked me curiously.

“No idea.” I shrugged. He raised an eyebrow
at me appraisingly. “I told you, it’s all good.” He chewed on his
lip as if considering my words as I finished ordering a sirloin
steak sandwich.

“And for you, sir?” The waiter gestured with
a nod of his head to Karatz.

“He’ll try the soup, as well,” I
interrupted.

Karatz gave a shrug and smiled at me, before
adding a rock shrimp and crab sandwich to his order. The waiter
bustled off to get our orders in to the cook and I took a sip of
the lemon water he’d placed in front of me.

“I know you didn’t just miss my pretty face.
There’s a reason you called me last night, kid. But I don’t do
business on an empty stomach so we’ll ignore the elephant in the
room until our stomachs aren’t growling.”

I smiled, realizing just how much I’d missed
having him around. “Whatever you say,” I replied. I asked him about
his wife, certain that she and the new baby would be a topic that
would pass the time until our food arrived. I was right. The soup
was clam chowder. I poured a packet of soup crackers into my bowl
and watched as Karatz dug right in without hesitation. He seemed to
enjoy it. My sandwich was delicious, and Karatz wondered out loud
after eating half of his why he didn’t come here more often.

I ordered a plate of warm chocolate soufflé
for each of us as dessert and Ken gave me a look in between bites
of Tahitian vanilla ice cream that said it was time to talk
business.

“We’re back in the studio,” I said to him.
“At least, we’re starting.”

“How’s it going so far?” He seemed
interested. I took that as a good sign.

“It would be better if we had your magic
ears,” I added.

He smiled and took a bite of his soufflé.
“You got a pile of songs for me?”

“I … er … not exactly. But I do have a
hit.”

He cocked his head to the side and looked at
me. “What does Celebrity Dent say?”

“I don’t care what the label says. We want
you. Besides, Wes will go to bat for us.”

He smiled again and I truly worried for the
first time that he was going to turn me down. “Life’s crazy at
home,” he began. “Joshua is up half the night-”

“Let me stop you there,” I said. “I know this
is asking a lot. But we can’t do this without you. We’ve only laid
down one track. You’re the only one who can get us the budget and
the studio time we need to make this next record worth while. We’re
ready to take it to the next level. We need our sound to evolve a
little, you know, and you’re the guy who does that for us.”

Karatz gave me a puzzled look and then let
out a chuckle. I gave him my best blank stare, wondering what I had
missed.