by Meg Ripley
“Just enough time to get in a nap before the meeting then,” I replied. “I’ll lock the door on my way out.”
“The sheets are soaked,” Sophie told me, though she didn’t look any more interested in getting up out of the damp bed to take care of the problem than I was.
“They’ll dry off soon enough,” I promised her. “Besides, it’ll stay cooler this way.”
“I don’t have the energy to fix them,” Sophie admitted. “This is the last time I’ll ever suggest a quick shower before sex.” I snickered.
“It was fun though, you have to admit,” I pointed out. “You loved every minute of it. Don’t lie.” Sophie rolled her eyes and turned over onto her side, rumpling her already messy hair and lifting her head to turn the pillow over onto the dry side.
“We’ll see if I think it’s worth it after I wake up,” she told me. “If it was…” she half-shrugged and yawned, and I threw my arm over her, pulling us closer together.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I promised her. “If you want.” Sophie nodded sleepily.
“We’re doing your place,” she told me. “I’m not on at Respects. Make it an early night so we can catch up on sleep.”
“Or we could make it a late night, just at home,” I suggested. Sophie murmured something that sounded vaguely like an agreement and we both drifted off without deciding what it was we were going to do with ourselves.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I was barely on time when I got to Ron’s office in downtown Delray, just off Atlantic Avenue; I never really understood why he had an office there, but it was handy to about half the band--and it wasn’t that far from Sophie’s place--so I decided, as I walked up the two flights of stairs to his suite, that I wasn’t going to bitch about it. We mostly recorded down in Miami, and I was pretty sure he had an office of some kind in that neck of the woods as well--maybe out in Wynwood, or somewhere like that--but he’d made the Delray office his base, and that was the one we all usually met at, when we were going to do something official as a band.
I’d gotten pizza just like I’d promised, and I carried it with me into the little reception area attached to the office. “Hey, Julie,” I said to the chick who ran the front desk; she was Ron’s niece, going to school for something industry-related, though I’d never really gotten the answer to what it was specifically. “Am I the last to show?”
“You are, in fact,” Julie said, smiling at me with a little flirty gleam in her eyes. There was an unspoken law in the band--from back before any of us had girlfriends--that Ron’s niece was off-limits. In fact, we’d decided as soon as Ron had started managing us that none of us were going to have anything to do with any of the female staff he had working for him; it’d be too much like dating one of our band mates’ sisters, and on top of that it’d open up all kinds of petty jealousy if anyone thought someone in the group was getting a better deal, or more press attention, or something like that. It wasn’t worth getting into, or even trying to work around. Better by far to just avoid it altogether by declaring all of the women working for Ron out of bounds.
“You haven’t heard from Mark, have you?” Julie shook her head. Sometimes--since she kept the big man’s contacts for him, and managed his social calendar--someone in the band would talk to her, get her to pass something along to Ron if we couldn’t get the manager directly.
“I can tell you that Uncle’s pretty stressed out about the whole deal,” Julie said confidentially. “He’s hoping you guys can figure it out on your own--but if not, he’s going to bring the pain.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” I told her. “Buzz me in, will you?” There was a door that separated the reception area from the office proper, and only three people controlled it: Julie, Ron himself, and one of his daughters, who was also working her way up in the industry, following in Dad’s footsteps. Julie nodded and hit the buzzer on her desk, and I heard the lock turn over in the door. I hurried over to it, making sure I at least turned the knob and pulled it a little bit before the timer would automatically re-lock the door. “I’ll catch ya later,” I told Julie, and she turned back to whatever it was she did when she wasn’t answering phones or greeting people who came in.
I walked through the little office space, noticing the fact that Ron had apparently given up on the idea of the open office plan; instead of one big conglomeration of desks, it was a sea--or at least a lake--of cubicles, each one half-hiding one of Ron’s employees. He had about a dozen people working for him, and I thought to myself that if it weren’t for Molly Riot, he’d still have maybe five employees total; between Alex’s antics, Nick’s high-profile girlfriend and Jules dating another up-and-coming band’s lead singer, Molly Riot was hot shit, and everyone in South Florida wanted to be signed with the guy who’d ushered us into our fame.
I walked past the desks, headed towards the big office where Ron normally held court, pizza in one hand and the other holding my keys still. I nodded to the few people who looked up from their work, wondering what they were thinking; were they stressed out about the fact that Molly Riot seemed to be in crisis mode? Or was it just another day in their office job life?
The door to Ron’s office was open, and I spotted Alex seated in the chair closest to the big man’s desk, taking the unofficial official leadership role. Nobody was seated in Ron’s chair, which made the whole situation feel weird to me--but then I thought to myself that I’d feel even weirder if someone had sat down behind the desk; it would be like they were claiming a higher authority. Alex saw me coming and waved me into the room, saying something I couldn’t hear to the other two guys.
“Close the door behind you,” Jules said as I came in.
“I was going to anyway; I don’t want those gophers hearing whatever it is we end up discussing,” I told him, pulling the door behind me and listening for the click of the automatic lock. I took a second to look around the room, trying to figure out which way the wind was blowing. Nick I was pretty sure was on “my” side--that is, if there could be a side in the whole stupid mess our band had become. He’d been behind me on the issue with Mark, and I was pretty sure he didn’t blame me for what our drummer was choosing to do. Alex and Jules were harder to read; they were sort of removed from some of the more involved parts of the band anyway, wrapped up in their girlfriends so much that they didn’t really go out as much as they used to. Nick--even though he had a steady girl--still occasionally found time to hit shows, and even go bar hopping. Alex’s girlfriend Mary had turned him into something of a good boy, and Jules and Fran were so busy working on material together that it was a wonder that either of them had any time for their actual bands. Okay, so maybe you can relate to Mark a little better than you thought.
“So,” I said, setting down the three boxes of pizza--pepperoni, meat supreme, and six cheese--on the desk. “What are we going to talk about?”
“I’m pretty sure you know what the subject is already,” Alex said. I shrugged and threw myself down on the beat up old couch in the corner. Ron had kept it from the old days, before he could afford a proper office; he said he wanted to remember where he’d come from, but I was pretty sure that he mostly kept it to try and maintain his cred.
“We have to figure out how to get back to work,” Nick said bluntly. “We need Mark, but obviously, he’s not talking to any of us--not really, anyway.”
“I wonder about that,” I said, licking my lips.
“I brought beer if you want one,” Jules interjected. He waved towards a cooler close to the center of the room and I nodded, getting up long enough to grab a cold one before I sat back down. Alex opened one of the boxes of pizza and helped himself to a slice.
“I mean, obviously, he started this bullshit tantrum when he found out about Sophie and me,” I continued, cracking open the beer and taking a sip. “What’s his beef with the rest of you?” Nick shrugged.
“I think he’s probably got deeper issues than he wants to talk about, but that doesn’t excuse what he’s doing,” A
lex said, sounding a lot like his counselor girlfriend. God save me from psychobabbling good influences, I thought to myself. Alex was happy; that much was obvious. But I didn’t like the Boy Scout version of himself he’d started to become.
“I told him he was being an asshole about something petty, and he cut me off after that,” Nick admitted. I glanced at Jules.
“I don’t really give a fuck why he’s being such a little shit,” Jules said with a shrug. He stood and plucked a piece of pizza out of one of the boxes. “If we can find a way to move this fucking album forward, we can deal with whatever else afterward.”
“I don’t know if we’re going to be able to move this album forward until we deal with whatever-the-fuck Mark’s problem is,” Alex countered.
“I propose we get Ron to talk him into doing sessions,” Nick said. He raised his hands up to keep Jules and Alex from talking over him. “If his main beef is with Dan, we’ll separate them. Mark can work a few hours during the day, lay a few tracks, get his shit done, and Dan can come in after he leaves. Or they can take turns or something.”
“But he’s pissed at all of us,” Alex pointed out.
“Dan’s the only one he’s got a concrete reason to be pissed at,” Nick countered. “Since he hasn’t exactly come clean about whatever it is he’s got against the rest of us, either he tells Ron about it and we negotiate further, or he sucks it the fuck up and gets to work.”
“It’s not going to work on tour,” Alex insisted.
“Worry about the tour when we fucking have the album done,” Jules told him. I nodded my agreement.
“As long as we can get some fucking work done, and we’re not just sitting around waiting for Mark to be finished sulking, we’ve won half the battle,” I said. I took a deep breath. “Do you guys really think all this bullshit is just because I’m dating some girl he decided he liked?” Jules and Alex looked at me. Nick drank his beer without showing any signs of concern or guilt.
“Of course not,” Alex said after a moment. “He wouldn’t throw a tantrum this epic over that. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Whatever the reason, we’ll drag it out of him,” Jules said. I didn’t let it show on my face, but I was relieved; deep down I’d been worried that the rest of the members of the band blamed me for the possibility that we’d soon be over and done.
“Besides,” Nick said, rising to get his share of the pizza, “it’s not like we can tell you who to date or not date. That shit’s fucked.” He sat down again and took a bite.
“So, we’re going to get Ron to convince him to go into the studio and work, but he and I are going to have to take it in shifts?” I looked around the room.
“That sounds about like the only thing we can do,” Alex said after a few moments. “I mean, we could stake out his fucking house, but what the hell would that prove? What would it do? He’d either avoid us and we’d be sitting there in a hot car all day, or he’d be pissed we were stalking him, or something like that.”
“Tell Ron to get to him through his sister,” Jules suggested. “Katie can make her brother see reason when the rest of the world can’t.”
“Maybe we should have met with her first,” I said blandly. I knew all about Katie; after all, I was better friends with Mark than just about anyone else in the band. We all loved each other, but there were certain sub-friendships: Mark and I had been close until the thing with Sophie, while Jules and Alex were like peas in a pod. Nick had never been too tied to anyone else, but since Mark had started being an ass, I’d found myself talking to him more often.
“Let’s set it to start in two days,” Alex suggested. “Give some time to get back in the mode.”
“I’m game,” I said; everyone had been looking at me, and I realized they were waiting for me to either fully agree to the plan or be an ass because Mark was involved. “If he needs me to not be there, then it’s whatever, you know?” The rest of the guys slowly nodded.
“We’ll have to have meetings with both of you there--think you can handle it without pissing him off more?” Nick smirked at me, and I rolled my eyes at him.
“We’re both fucking professionals. We’ll figure it out. Once he’s in front of Ron he won’t be all that interested in being a bitchy little fuck, anyway.” I shook my head. The truth was that I was shocked--more than the other guys--a how hard Mark seemed to have taken everything going on in the band. He always seemed like the easy-going type, but he was proof that drummers were just as capable of petty, bullshit drama as anyone else in a band.
“We need to get with Jack, too,” Alex said. Jules nodded.
“Jack will be able to keep everything where it needs to be going,” Jules agreed. “And he’ll make sure that Mark can’t pull out any stupid, dumb-shit drama while he’s working.”
“All hail Jack,” I said dryly. I didn’t like the solution to the problem in front of us, but the other guys were right that it was the best one. Mark didn’t want to work with me--that much was obvious. But we had decided to work on the live recordings first. Now that he was throwing such a hissy fit, we were going to have to completely reverse the schedule--and that was assuming we ever got to the point where Mark and I could be in the same room without him getting shitty.
“Let’s finish this pizza and the beers,” Nick suggested. “And we’ll talk about other bullshit that doesn’t need to be going on in our lives.”
“Amen to that,” I said, finishing off my beer. “I’m already tired of the melodrama we’ve got going on right now.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You’re serious that you want to bring Sophie into the studio?” I shrugged off Nick’s question.
“Why shouldn’t I?” I took a hit from the pipe Nick handed me; we’d decided to take a break outside, in the little courtyard behind the studio. It had been a month since we’d started over on the album, with Mark, Alex, and Jules working together with Jack during the day and Nick, Jules and me working nights. “She has the night off at Respects, and she wanted to see the studio.
“We’re already struggling to get anything done,” Nick pointed out. He took the pipe from me and lit the bowl.
“How is that my fault?” I leaned against the stucco wall. “If we could all work together, at the same time, the way we were supposed to, we’d be further along.”
“Mark is being a bitch, fair enough,” Nick said. He passed me the pipe. “Just don’t want you to be distracted.” I rolled my eyes. I was starting to feel the dope; Nick always got good stuff.
“You don’t want me to be distracted, but we’re smoking out?” I snickered.
“We’re smoking out because it helps us get through the night,” Nick told me.
“Do you have a problem with me bringing Sophie in?” Nick shrugged.
“Not per se,” he replied. “Mark still isn’t talking about whatever the fuck his issue is.”
“Word on the street is he’s going through Tinder dates like the world’s about to end,” I said. Nick snorted.
“Whatever he’s got to prove to himself,” he said, shaking his head. “Anyway, bring her in if you want. Just don’t be surprised if there’s fallout.”
“What fallout could there be?” I handed the pipe to Nick and he cleaned it out, slipped it into his pocket.
“If it gets back to Mark,” Nick said.
“It’s been a fucking month and a half almost,” I said. “How can he still be pulling this shit over her?” I shook my head. “It’s got to be something else.”
“But what? None of us knows. Until we do…” Nick combed his fingers through his hair.
“Until we do, we let Mark run shit in the band because he’s being a whiny asshole,” I said irritably. “Instead of actually dealing with whatever the hell his issue is.”
“Hey--we’re getting the album done. That’s the important thing,” Nick said, raising his hands helplessly.
“Yeah, the crumbling structure of the band is just not important at all,” I pointed out sarcastic
ally. “I agreed to do it this way as a short-term answer to Mark being a shit about things. How are we going to promote or tour this album if he can’t deal with me?”
“So do something about it,” Nick said. He gave me a wry grin. “I mean, it’s slow going anyway. Instead of bringing Sophie in, find a way to get Mark to come to the studio and have it out with him.”
“Sophie’s already coming by,” I said.
“Well, if he’s got a problem with you dating her, what better way to get it all out into the open than to get him to confront the two of you together?” Nick patted his pocket, gave me another quick look. “Send Jules and Jack and me home when Mark gets here, and hash out whatever it is you need to hash out.”
“You’re assuming I can get him to come in,” I countered. “He’s not answering any texts from me.”
“Or me, or Alex, or Jules,” Nick said. “The only people he’s talking to outside of the studio are Jack, Ron, and his family--and whoever it is he’s hooking up with off Tinder. So figure out what to do to get him in here.”
“Do you really think it’s going to fix anything? We don’t even know what the hell he’s pissed off about.” Nick laughed.
“Man, all I know is that I want to keep being a part of this band,” Nick told me. “And the only way I can do that is if the band continues to exist. Stop being a baby and get Mark to talk to you about whatever is up his ass. If you feel like it, set up some cameras. Maybe he’ll throw a punch and we can get a decent video out of it.” I rolled my eyes, and Nick went back into the studio. I sat down at one of the tables and lit a cigarette, thinking of what he’d said. After a month of working as parts of a group instead of a whole, I knew I wasn’t the only one who was starting to feel irritable about the whole mess. But from what Jules, Alex, and Jack had to say about it, Mark did little more than come in, record, and take instructions from Jack. He didn’t chat with anyone, he didn’t offer any explanation for his behavior.
