Cindy steps out of the room, knocking into me. “I’m sorry!” Her guilty eyes ping between me and the room she just left.
I reach out and touch her shoulder. “Thank you for defending me.”
Her lips quiver. “I couldn’t let that slide. I’m sorry you overheard it, though.”
“Better I know early on what I’m in for, right?” I try to give her a reassuring smile, but inside, I’m dying to get home to the one person who cares about me.
Chapter Fifty-One
Chaser
So much for mixing the album in a day.
The “live” tracks will be polished by another team, and we won’t have much say over how they turn out. We nailed our gritty version of ‘Candy Jar,’ and I hope to fuck no one messes with it. ‘Hammer to the Heart’ ended up being acoustic, something we’ve never tried before, so that was fun. The two cover songs were cool, and we did our best to put a unique spin on each of them, but they’re not as exciting as our four brand new tracks.
We’re almost finished mixing those songs. Watching the whole process was a lot of fun and having Mallory join me in the evenings was even better.
Our sound engineer Tony manually works the board, making adjustments every time one of us has a suggestion. He has to do each song in one take, flicking knobs and faders while the music plays. The guy’s a genius. An absolute machine the way he expertly manages to have his fingers in four places at once, depending on what aspect of our sound he’s tweaking.
Maybe because we’re all so attached to it, “Queen of the Road” has been the hardest song to nail down. Every one of us seems to have a different vision for the final sound.
Garrett’s version was straight up ridiculous. All you could hear was the bass and Jacob’s screams. Alvin’s drumming and my playing were barely background noise.
We redid it several times.
And it’s finally perfect.
We all sit around the studio to listen to the full version of “Queen of the Road” one last time, before calling it finished.
It’s flawless. Every note. Every element is there. The perfect song to close out a short album that includes some of the best performances we’ve ever recorded.
“This is my favorite.” I bump Mallory’s shoulder.
She lets out a sigh and leans against me. “I’m so…proud of you guys. I can’t believe I watched you take it from that little riff…to what it is now. It’s incredible.”
“No, no.” Jacob starts pacing as soon as the song’s finished. “It still needs something more.”
We’ve abused Tony quite a bit throughout this process. But today, he seems ready to take the long walk up to the roof and dive right the fuck off the edge.
“He’s right,” Garrett adds. “The bridge needs some element we’re missing.”
“More drama!” Jacob snaps his fingers.
“Okay,” I answer slowly. “What do you suggest?”
“The song drips sleaze and sex. It needs something extra filthy—”
“So, what do you want?” Tony’s exasperation comes through clearly. Thom’s probably going to get a full-length report of all the grief we caused him the last couple days. “You want to go beat off in the live room and have me record it?”
“Yes!” Jacob and Garrett clap their hands together.
“No.” Alvin and I say at the same time.
“Well, not me.” Jacob’s face takes on a sinister shade I don’t trust. And I really don’t care for him aiming that evil expression at my girl. “Mallory. We all know how…ahem vocal you get at certain pleasurable moments.”
I push up off the counter I’d been leaning on, prepared to beat the shit out of Jacob. “Watch yourself.”
Mallory’s wide eyes dart between Jacob and me. I’m sure she’s regretting coming down here today. “I’m not a singer.”
“No, but you’re a screamer.” Jacob rubs his hands together like he’s appointed himself the band’s official evil genius. “You two go in the live room. We’ll light some candles. Get you in the mood and then record her orgasmic screams. Layer it over the bridge…”
His voice trails off in the now dead-silent room.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Alvin finally asks.
“What?” Jacob shrugs. “It’ll sound so cool. It’s exactly what that song needs. Our candy girl can forever be immortalized on one of our records.”
I can’t tell if he sincerely thinks he’s paying Mallory a compliment, or he’s risen to new levels off assholery. Either way, I’m not entertaining this discussion.
Mallory’s scared eyes meet mine. “I can’t do that, Chaser,” she whispers.
Of course she can’t. Nor would I ever ask her to.
Jacob turns his talk-to-your-woman eyes my way. “Chaser. Come on.”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“We need to break through this squeaky, clean, glitter metal image that video gave us.” Jacob hooks his arm around Garrett’s shoulders. “You know me and G are gutter rats.”
“You’re from Canoga Park,” Alvin says.