Nothing is mine.(Obligatory)
TANTUM
1. First Layers
"One."
Beat.
"Two."
Beat.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The peal of the snare drum split the silence like a rip of thunder, deafening in accompaniment with the hard strike against the crash cymbal. From there, the rhythm erupted, fast, clean and precise against the soundproofed walls. The bass drum thumped in double time and the first layer of the song took life, the preliminary foundation etched on record.
There was always a fierce rush about playing this fast and hard, and it wasn't a frequent occurrence afforded to a studio musician. Most rock and punk bands had their own drummers and had no need of a studio supplied percussionist. Granted, time and effort paid off in the industry and once a little respect was earned the opportunities were abundant enough to be picky about the work. Every second of a job like this one was to be relished.
Just as long as they didn't insist upon twenty takes. Already, though, she knew this one was solid. Everyone in the booth watched with heads nodding in time to the beat, looks of elation upon discovering a perfect fit to their works-in-progress, and the sight gave every indication that this was a one-take deal. Every roll and sixteenth-note fill was in perfect sync, the strokes heartfelt and visceral, adrenaline fueling the sticks as the rhythm barreled toward the song's climax.
It was a four and a half minute high, though the after effects were usually lasting, given the right circumstances. As the last strike against the crash rang out, she hoped this would be one of those times. She hadn't played like that in a long time.
A voice crackled over the little speaker in the top corner of the room. "Classic shit, Bella. We got it."
The brunette at the throne smirked and removed her headphones, standing with a nod toward the men behind the glass, all with satisfied expressions. Stretching her legs and arms before setting the sticks across the snare, she gave an appraising once-over to the set of white Gretsch drums. Not her usual choice for the music type, but her set of Pearls was in the shop getting some much needed work and she couldn't deny these had performed well for her. Shuffling through the door that adjoined the rooms, she was immediately handed a bottle of water. She eyed it with raised brow.
"It was one take. Is my stamina being insulted?" she asked, her lips twisting into a crooked smile at the man who had handed her the bottle.
Michael, or the self-dubbed "Mix Master Mike" Newton just half-grinned and looked away awkwardly, and she realized it probably wasn't the wisest thing that could have come out of her mouth.
It was then she gave her attention to the other two men in the room, one with the awestruck look on his face, and the other, a bassist named Embry, fiddling with various dials in Mike's mixing board. The one staring at her was a little disconcerting, though. Jacob Black was green in the industry, this being his first major album, and it showed. His music was good, nothing ground-breaking or terribly original, but he had a lot of talent. Just not enough experience to know that major record labels usually meant tremendous artistic sacrifice. He'd learn.
Mike served as a momentary distraction from the tall Jacob Black, a look of annoyance on his face as he reset everything on his board that Embry had moved. Once he made a show of putting everything where it belonged in precise and purposeful motions, he hit a the playback button with a great sigh. Mike was a narcissist like that. Dictatorial and territorial over his profession. It was not without reason, Bella knew having working with him for the last couple of years since she'd joined Entity records. Some people just had exceptional skill and talent, and their righteousness was at least well-earned, even if it was rather off-putting and irrationally displayed. Mike was just mostly irritating, at worst, although he wasn't quite as bad as some people she'd known in her musical career when it came to staunch perfectionism. Not quite as bad as...
Once she realized she'd veered into a line of thought she did not want to pursue, she turned her attention back to Jacob, who was still giving her those sidelong glances of reverence. It looked like she wasn't going to easily avoid conversing with him over... whatever it was he looked like he was dying to blurt out. She quickly decided on a diversionary tactic.
"Are you okay with it?" She pointed with the water bottle in the general direction of the board as the recording was played back for them, hoping to just break the ice and get that enthralled look off of his face.
"Yeah, I just... didn't expect," he stammered, shaking his head. "I mean, I already knew that you were good. I know of your work with The Collective, James Finch, not to mention I'm a huge Tantum fan. A few of those early recordings were you, right?"
Bella just gave a half-hearted smile and nodded, indulging him even as a brief and expected twinge of dejection stabbed through her chest. Speaking of that line of thought she didn't want to pursue...
"It's just so different seeing you play in person. Why didn't you ever do something more, er, permanent? To be able to write and tour and all that?"
Bella resisted the urge to sigh and shrugged, opening the water bottle and taking several heavy gulps. Just delaying the inevitable, she knew. It was a question she heard fairly regularly.
"I tried, but the lifestyle, the limelight," she began with a shrug, idly screwing the cap back on the bottle with one slow twist, "it just wasn't where I wanted to be. I'm happy just to play, and help out other musicians. Primarily those with talent," she finished pointedly.
It was a little evasive, she supposed as she watched his lips quirk into a shy grin, but it was still an honest answer, even in its brevity. Jacob didn't appear to be satisfied, however, and opened his mouth to speak.
"Sounds great, Bella," Mike interjected before Jacob could make a sound. "I think this is all we'll need for this one. Would you guys agree?"
They both looked in Mike's direction to give a nod before meeting eyes again.
"Well," Jacob finally spoke again, "I look forward to completing the rest of these tracks. With you behind the kit, I think we'll come out way ahead of schedule." The tall, golden-skinned musician smiled more brightly then. "Good to meet you, Bella."
Bella smiled. "Just part of a session musician's job, to learn fast. 'Night, Jacob."
She was just making her way out the door when Mike's voice stopped her.
"Oh, Bella, I guess Seth Clearwater called." He held up a thin wisp of paper, his other hand up in a pose of preemptive defense. "Lauren took the message and brought it in while you were recording."
She chuckled and took the slip, knowing well that meant there was no way to determine just how long ago the call was received, or what it was regarding. Lauren Mallory was not exactly one of Entity Records' most efficient secretaries. Bella was still trying to figure out who Lauren had screwed to get the job, because she was certain it was the only conceivable way anyone would hire the girl. "No worries. Night, Mike."
"See ya, Bella," he offered with a bright smile as she closed the booth's door behind her.
Her cell phone was already in hand by the time she was in the elevator, no texts, no missed calls. Slowly, she pecked at the number keys until the combination was complete, and she heard the telltale click of connection just before the inevitable ring. One ring, then another, and another.
There was no answer, just the voicemail recording. She didn't leave a message.
Biting her lip as the elevator doors opened again, she stepped out onto the marble floor, her thick-soled black boots making dull thuds against the smooth texture as she walked out of the heavy glass doors. She talked to Seth every once in a while, but it had to be something important if he was calling her at the studio, directly. Everyone knew she couldn't hear her own cell phone ringing half the time for as much as she was behind a kit, but it was customary for most people that knew her just to leave a message and wait for a call back, which she usually tried to be prompt about. It certainly made it appear as though Seth was desperate to reach her, though. Seth almost always just sent her texts to call him when she had a few minutes.
In spite of the resistance she usually felt when it came to talking with Seth, hearing his voice would bring some comfort. They'd always been friends, even through the darker parts of her career. He was one of the few people she could talk to when those moments of weakness threatened to crumble the ground beneath her feet, whenever she would think too hard on those few bittersweet years of her life when she had just been starting in the industry. Those painful moments of recall came fewer and farther apart these days, thankfully, but Seth kept her linked to a buried part of her she wasn't sure she'd ever be ready to completely sever. She'd gotten past the stage of near-breakdowns, though she felt those little stabs every now and again when she thought on it, which, admittedly, she tried her hardest not to do. That was difficult, though, when a great portion of one's career was built around that specific period of time, which everyone felt compelled to bring up reminders of at every opportunity they got.
Seth was the one person that could get away with drudging up the past, and was the one person that let her indulge when she wished to talk about it, as rare an occasion as that was becoming. He'd lived through a great deal of it, and was therefore the only person that she could honestly cathect with over any of it.
The fact that he was calling her now, and the sense of urgency she'd extracted from his choice to call the studio directly when he could have just left a voicemail or a text or something left her with some creeping anxiety. If not his own crisis, then it would be the more likely scenario revolving around a mutual... friend, for lack of a better word, of theirs. If anything had happened, she was certain Seth would want her to know first, before she heard it on the news or the radio, or some other impersonal medium. Seth knew that he would want her to know before the rest of the world did. She had to admit that she returned that sentiment.
There was one other likely option for where the elusive musician might be. Her thumb was still poised on the keypad of her phone, hovering over the first digit of a number she hadn't dialed in a very long time. Only once she got into her old Chevy truck did she manage to finish the sequence. It rang twice before the line was picked up.
"Flood Records."
The female voice on the other end was unfamiliar. "Yeah, I got a call from Seth, and wanted to know if he was there."
"And you are?" the woman asked in a professional, if impatient, tone.
Right. You couldn't just call Flood Records and ask to speak with someone famous. "It's Be-... look, just tell him I've still got his Bone Machine vinyl. He'll know who I am."
"One minute."
Bella tapped on the wheel, idly letting her eyes roam over the darkening California sky. The Hollywood Hills were visible from this parking lot, lights twinkling from great span of giant Hollywood mansions. For a moment, she felt a familiar and sharp twist in her gut, but was immediately distracted by the sounds of voices on the other side of the phone. Apparently the new girl didn't use hold buttons.
"Seth, there's a girl on the line that says she has your Bone Machine vinyl?"
There was a series of rustles before another voice came on the line almost a half-minute later. "Bella?"
"Hey, Seth," she greeted, fighting to keep her voice from betraying the worry that was beginning to seep into her veins.
"Hey, I was expecting a call on my cell, but can't say I'm complaining. I'm just glad you called me back. Always great to hear your voice."
Her lips pressed together and she let her gaze drop to the center of the wheel, relieved that he at least didn't sound as though he had terrible news to break. "I was just thinking the same about you. And I did call your cell. You didn't answer. I didn't, uh... cause any trouble there, did I?"
A nervous laugh crackled over the line. "Nah. I mean, he was sitting right there with me when Heidi mentioned Bone Machine. And he knows there are only so many people I'd loan my Tom Waits to. He didn't say anything, though."
She returned the awkward laugh, fighting off another grimace, but deep down felt another wave of relief. Everyone there was okay. He was okay. "Whoops."
"It's cool. He knew I was trying to get in touch with you. Thinks I'm wasting my time."
Her eyebrows raised at that. "Alright, I'll bite. What's up? The call to the studio had me a little concerned. Usually, you just text to call you back, but..."
"Oh, shit, Bells, no," Seth interjected immediately. Of course he would know right where her mind had gone. She wasn't sure if she should feel shame or comfort in that fact.
"Nothing like that," he continued. "There's some, uh, business to discuss, but everything's cool on that front."
"Business?" She was starting to feel leery for an entirely different reason now.
There was a pregnant pause, and Bella let her eyes wander back up toward the hills, squinting as though she could narrow in on his position. "Seth?"
"Caius quit."
For a second, she forgot how to take a breath. Carefully inhaling, stared out into the hills, a cold inkling creeping over her and forming goosebumps up her arms, out of place in this seventy-eight degree weather.
There was no way he was going to ask what it sounded like he was going to ask, was there? "Okay. And you needed to tell me... because... this effects my life...?"
Silence.
"Seth?"
"Yeah?"
"...how?" she asked, absently tossing a hand up to emphasize the obviousness.
"Bells," he drawled out, his voice suddenly oozing saccharine sweetness, and a big grin she could hear clearly through over the distortion of the phone.
Her stomach sank. "No... you're not going to ask what I think you're going to ask, are you?" Her voice was grossly more whiny than she would have liked. She winced.
"You're great, you know the material, and you're always available." His voice was suddenly stern, much to her surprise. Seth was one of the most mild-mannered people she knew, a quality most rare for such a well-known musician. "Come on, Bella. It will be great."
"Sure, like last time?" She drew in a sharp breath through her nose. "Seth, look, I appreciate that you thought of me but... come on, you know how ridiculous this is to ask. It's been six years, I've got a good thing here, and a lot of work lined up. It's not like I sit around twiddling my thumbs, struggling from one opportunity to the next-"
"Bells-Bella. Bella," he was saying through her short rant, sighing when she cut herself off. "I know that, Bella, trust me. You're almost a damn legend in your own right, but you know I'm not asking out of charity, and I know how busy you are. I'm asking because you're the only one that can do this on such short notice. Busy or not, you aren't tied up in any long term shit. Caius is out for good, and no one else that knows the material is gonna come back to help us out. You know that."
In spite of the rush of panic that was pounding at her skull for some attention, she let an ironic snicker slip past her lips. "So he's still just as hard to work with, in other words."
"You have no idea," he grumbled, then sighed again. "But if anyone can handle him, you can."
Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the rear window. "And you're sure that Mase knows you're calling me?"
"Yeah." Seth chuckled. "I don't know how he felt about it, but you know how he is. I suggested you and he just shrugged and said, 'alright, good luck, but you're probably wasting your time' then took his damn dog for a walk."
Yes, that sounded about right. Lifting her head to stare out to the hills again, her voice dropped to a murmur. "I don't know. You know how fucked up this could all get."
Not to mention that six years was obviously not enough time to solder the pieces of her life back together, if those sharp stabs of utter depression each and every time she thought about that part of her life were any indication.
"I know," he replied just as quietly. "But... things have changed, I've told you that a hundred times. They're still improving. He's still a goddamn tyrant when it comes to his music I'll give you that, but he's really not the way he used to be." He stopped abruptly and heaved an exasperated sigh, sounding as though he had a lot more to say on the matter but had quickly thought better of it. "Just come to the house. Come and see for yourself, okay?"
"Same house?"
"Same one. You remember the way?"
"Couldn't forget if I tried." And oh, how she'd tried, for a brief, self-destructive period of time.
"Can you come tomorrow?"
She blinked, muscles stiffening in place. "Tomorrow? Just how soon is this tour?"
"Two weeks. Just ten shows this leg, and hopefully we'll have a permanent replacement before the second leg to take over then."
She had barely heard anything past his first sentence, her eyes wide. "Two weeks? Two fucking weeks, Seth?"
"Just come, Bella. You know most of this shit, and the new stuff you'll pick up quick. I know you."
"Seth, I'm right in the middle of a recording that'll probably last at least another week."
"Sounds perfect then! See you tomorrow, Bella!"
"Seth!" Nothing. "Seth!"
The little punk had hung up on her.
Cursing under her breath like a woman possessed, the brunette flashed her middle finger in the direction of the Hollywood hills and hastily turned over her engine.
That Bone Machine LP was toast.
So, hi! I haven't updated anything in quite a long time. I know this. Doesn't mean I ever intend to stop, though I realize I tend to start more than one project at a time. It's kinda how I work out some personal demons. I always go back and finish what I start, however. Even if it takes a while. I've got WGWT's next chapter about half-written, for the record!
This is a project that I'm actually hoping to put on some sort of posting schedule, but my time for writing is always limited, regretfully. I do, however, have a couple more chapters written of this, so I can promise to post those in timely fashion, and get the rest written in the gaps.
Also, I'd like to thank TwilightMomofTwo and SapphireNight for their contributions to this chapter when I first brought this story up a very long time ago. From here on out, though, I think I will be going at this without a beta... primarily because I know my posting habits are a little on the erratic side and I just don't want to put them through it. I feel less guilty that way.
So happy reading. I humbly request reviews if you feel so inclined, and I'll see you next week with the next chapter.