“You’d be surprised how many ‘live’ albums were actually recorded in a studio.” Thom skewers Jacob with a no-bullshit stare. “This needs to be done quickly. No perfectionist, drama bullshit. ‘Candy Jar’ needs to be one of the tracks. I’d suggest ‘Hammer to the Heart’ and two cover songs to round out the list. A Shooting Fences’ song and a Vicious Vandals’ song might be good choices, but it’s up to you.”
Thom finishes that “up to you” part with his eyes focused on me. Someone must have explained that I enjoy being told what to do as much as any man enjoys a donkey kick to the nuts.
“What about ‘We Die Young?’” Alvin suggests. “That used to be our favorite Vandals song.”
“That’s a good one.” I’d certainly played the song enough when we were younger. Still remember every note.
“Decent choice.” Thom sits back and nods. “The lawyers can work out the licensing for the song, but I don’t think it’s going to be a problem. Shooting Fences might be harder, but there’s a lot of goodwill there from the shows you did with them.”
Guess they forgave us for Jacob’s streaking through the hotel antics that weekend.
“Have fun with the live songs. Rough ‘em up a little,” Thom suggests.
“Oh!” Jacob shouts and claps his hands. “Fuck yeah. We can do a totally gritty version of ‘Candy Jar.’”
“‘Let me slide my hand in your Candy Jar’ isn’t sleazy enough for you?” I ask.
“Yeah, but the album version is so clean and upbeat, you have to really listen to realize the lyrics are dirty.”
Garrett’s practically bouncing out of his seat. “Jacob could sing in a lower register, and we could slow it down a bit, really grind it out, make it totally punk-rock.”
I’m not so sure I agree with the punk-rock goal, but anything to make that song less of a cheesefest is fine with me, since it’s apparently going to haunt me until the day I die.
“All right.” Thom claps his hands together and stands. “Studio time’s been booked. Work on your two songs while I get the approval for the Vandals’ cover. And give me a title for the Shooting Fences song, so I can work on that.”
“What about ‘Fire Me Up?’” I suggest. It’s a classic. One of my dad’s favorites. Probably one of the first songs I learned how to play. Plus, I want to decide this before leaving Thom’s office, so Jacob and Garrett don’t make the decision behind my back later.
“That’s been done a bunch of times,” Jacob complains.
“Yeah, but that’s a great one to put our spin on,” Garrett says. “Lots of room for interpretation. We all know it by heart.”
“I’m in,” Alvin adds.
“Three to one.” Thom stares at Jacob with a raised eyebrow. “What do you say?”
“All right. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Mallory
“We did it!” Chaser announces.
“You finished?”
“Yup.”
Right under the wire too. The guys are supposed to leave for their tour next month.
“Chaser!” I jump up and hug him so hard, we almost topple to the floor.
“We nailed ‘Queen of the Road.’ It’s fucking amazing.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “It will always remind me of you.”
“I’m honored.”
“I think that’s why it took me so long. The universe wouldn’t let me have the full song until you came into my life.”
My heart melts at his sweet words. “You’re my whole universe.”
“Same, little dove.”
I slide my arms around his neck and reach up to kiss him. “Do you want to celebrate?”
“Definitely. But we’re meeting downstairs to try and come up with a name for the EP.”
“You don’t have a name, yet?”
“We have several, we just can’t agree on any of them.”
“You need a fifth member to be a tie-breaker.”
“No, thanks. I have my hands full as it is.”
We head downstairs where the loud sounds of a porno greet us. Apparently, in their quest to remain sober, Jacob and Garrett have taken up marathon viewings of adult films.
Jacob grins at us from the couch. “See, I’m doing my part to stay sober.”
“Great,” Chaser mutters. “Can we mute this?”
“Wait, wait.” He sits up and points at the screen. “This is my favorite part. Look how hot she is when she bends over in those heels and nothing else.”
“That’s great, buddy.” Chaser slaps Jacob’s shoulder. “Are we coming up with a name or not?”
“Fuck, yeah!” Alvin shouts, slamming his hand over the off button on the television.
“At least stop the tape, so I can watch it later,” Jacob mutters, crawling across the living room to punch the stop button on the VCR.
“All right. Let’s do this.” Jacob wiggles his fingers in the air. “Hit me with your best stuff.”
Just like they did with the lyrics for ‘Queen of the Road,’ the guys throw a bunch of words at each other, picking them apart and adding to the ideas as they go.