“No!” she stated instantly then, tears filling her eyes, asked, “Is he ok? Did she hurt him?”
“He’s not great,” said Grey honestly. “Physically, he’s ok. A few scratches. Mentally…. well, this is killing him. Will you at least think about hearing him out?”
Silently, Lori nodded before saying, “But I’m not ready to yet.”
“Well, he’s staying with Jim until the album’s done,” said Grey, encouraged by her reaction. “We’ve still a shit load of work to do out there.”
Sitting on the porch of the studio house on Dr Marrs’ rocking chair, Jake stared up at the red sunset streaked sky. He took a chug on his beer and gazed down hopefully at the blank screen on his cell. Still no word from Lori. Four days had passed since he’d spoken to the police; four days since Lori had also apparently spoken to the police. He had listened to Grey telling him about taking Lori a new phone and trying to persuade her to hear him out with a tiny flicker of hope in his heart. Now, four silent days later, that little flame of hope was dying.
Taking another chug on his beer, he flicked the phone onto his photos and scrolled through the pictures he had of the kids. He missed them, missed them more than he ever did when he was away on tour. Knowing they were only a short drive away was breaking his heart. He missed his music lessons with Melody but smiled as he knew she would still be practising even though he wasn’t home.
For a moment, he wondered how Lori had explained why he wasn’t home to the kids.
“Can I join you?”
Dr Marrs’ voice startled him.
“Sure. It’s your house after all.”
“Just didn’t want to intrude,” said Jim, taking a seat on the top step. “Still no word?”
Jake shook his head then smiled sadly, “One of the things I love most about her is her stubbornness.”
“She just needs more time, Jake.”
“I know,” he said with a sigh. “I can’t even message her. Grey won’t give me the damn number.”
“Sorry,” apologised Jim. “Can’t help you there. He’s not shared it with me.”
“He’s as stubborn as she is!”
“Ain’t that the truth,” laughed Jim. “You ready to start vocals tomorrow?”
Jake nodded, “Can we start in the afternoon?”
“Sure. Works for me. Be in there, warmed up and ready to go for three.”
“Deal,” agreed Jake, before draining his beer bottle dry. “Want to go for a run in the morning. Was going to head out to the State Park and run a couple of trails. Need to clear my head for a bit.”
“Just be back here for three, Mr Power.”
True to his word Jake walked into JJL at three o’clock, his long hair still damp from his post-run shower.
“You’re actually on time,” laughed Jim Marrs as Jake walked into the live room.
“Happens on occasion,” said Jake, unscrewing the lid on the water bottle. “Still need time to warm up though. What’s the plan?”
Scanning the board, Dr Marrs suggested, “Let’s start with Longitude Latitude then move onto Outside Edge and Breaking Point.”
“Ok,” nodded Jake, seeing the logic in the vocal connections of the three songs. “Give me a half-hour.”
Being back in the vocal booth again after so long felt like coming home. He could shut the rest of the world out and focus purely on the lyrics in front of him. Thankful that the band’s producer hadn’t chosen to start with some of the more emotional tracks, Jake was able to connect easily with the songs. In the past, he always preferred to record his lead vocals alone so, for the first time on this album cycle, he wasn’t so aware that Rich was gone. All three tracks included guitar parts from his late friend, adding to the familiarity of things.
“In your own time, Jake,” he heard Dr Marrs say. “Just give me the nod.”
Once he got started, everything fell into place and, with the minimal number of takes, they soon had all three planned tracks complete.
“Fancy tackling one or two more?” suggested the producer hopefully. “It’s still early.”
“What time is it?”
“Just gone nine-thirty.”
“Let’s do one of the heavier ones. How about Sting In The Tail,” proposed Jake.
“Sure. Give me a moment.”
“I want to tweak the last verse,” Jake announced. “Want to add my own stinger to it.”
“Be careful,” cautioned Dr Marrs wisely. Understanding what Jake was hinting at and, knowing the song was inspired by the hornet sting incident, he was concerned Jake would take matters too far.
“I hear you,” Jake replied. “It’ll be fine. Trust me. If you don’t like it, we can go with the original verse.”
“Fine,” agreed Jim, not wanting to push him too far.
Taking a leaf out of Ellen’s book, Jake started the spoken intro off with a slow nasal menacing tone as he created a picture of the hornet searching for its victim. By the time he started the first verse even Jim could visualise a huge, buzzing, killing machine about to launch an attack. In the control room, he smiled to himself as Jake spun the song’s story. The magic and menace of the simple song had captured the vocalist’s imagination and he was employing different styles to his usual “Silver Lake” voice. The lyric change that he made saw the dreaded hornet captured in a mason jar destined to buzz and whine itself to death.
“Love it!” declared Dr Marrs when Jake reached the end of the song. “Think that ending needs another guitar track though. Needs to capture that dying high pitched whine.”
“You think?”
Dr Marrs nodded, “Let’s get the vocals done then we can work on that before we wrap it up for the night.”
Midnight was long gone before the two
