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2: Heavy [Twenty minutes earlier] Adam slumped against the wall of Michael's recording studio. 'This is f***ing ridiculous.' He held his beautiful green Taylor electric-acoustic guitar, his baby, across his left knee as he glanced around the room. Kyle, his back turned to his bandmates, strummed some made-up tune and hummed along. 'Probably trying to pretend he's not here', Adam speculated with a sigh. Shaking his head, he turned to Brian. The bass player gazed back at him through tick strands of bleached blond hair. He gave Adam a forced smile before staring back at the floor, hiding again behind his hair. Poor Pookie had NO idea how to handle confrontation. Adam was surprised that his reserved friend wasn't ducked behind an amplifier. Rob's sigh turned Adam's attention to the lead singer. Rob ran a hand over his hair. His sweat-slicked locks left a residue on his palms that made him cringe. Rob stood cross-armed, leaning against the left-hand side of a blackboard, which was marred by angry scribbles. The dusty beige scrawls beside Rob's head stated 'IDEAS FOR PAUL'S ALBUM'. Beneath it were a list of songs, most of which were barely legible. The word 'HEAVY' filled the entire bottom half of the board. A deeply hammered chalk line divided the board into two camps. On the right-hand side, the words 'ROB'S ALBUM' were almost embossed along the upper wooden frame. All the chicken scratches below the title ran together, looking more like Japanese than English. A hand beside the last scribble held a piece of chalk, dangling it between the middle and index finger. Adam followed the hand as it moved to scratch its owner's nose. He watched as Paul shifted his weight to his left foot. Paul made eye contact with Adam, then shifted his focus and took a drag from his cigarette. Rob and Paul's latest volley of f***-yous and go-to-hells lingered in Adam's mind, those having been the last words spoken before the room stumbled into silence... Into...unbearable...silence. Kyle lowered his guitar to the floor and turned to his bandmates. "This is f***ing ridiculous," he muttered. "Yeah?" Rob shot back. "You're telling me!" "Look, don't get pissy with Kyle over this!" Paul exclaimed, tossing the chalk back into its metal tray. He scratched the back of his neck. "YOU'RE the one making this hell!" "Aah!" Rob held the wooden frame of the blackboard as he leaned closer to Paul. He glared at the drummer. "What, now it's my fault?" "Pushing that friggin' 'Honesty' song?" Paul's eyes widened. "Man, that song is sh**. People would torch the whole friggin' CD if we put that one on it. We'd shame our fans. Besides, we ditched that song last week..." "WE didn't, baby. YOU ditched it." Paul rose from his seat on an amp. "NOBODY wants to play it, Rob! Just ask them!" Paul took a drag on his cigarette. "Or do you not care what we think?" Adam watched as Rob glanced at Brian, then at Kyle. Both were looking down. Rob's eyes met with Adam's. Adam gazed into those eyes, at the overflowing ocean of blue, at the eyes that begged him to come to Rob's defense. "Paul..." Adam voiced, but had no idea what else to say. His support seemed to fuel Rob just the same. "Hey, man, I care what they think." Rob leaned back, releasing his grip on the chalkboard. "It's just nobody seems to give a sh** about what I think." "Oh save the cry story!" Paul exclaimed, sliding off the amp. "We ALWAYS hear what you think, in every friggin' song!" Rob glared at Paul. "If you don't like my f***ing lyrics," Rob stated, "then why the hell do you insist we keep 'Heavy'?" "Hey, that's not just your song anymore," Paul drew in a puff of smoke. "We've been busting our asses, getting that song sounding kickass, and NOW you want to pull it! Why the hell didn't you tell us that before?" "You know, man, f*** you!" Rob kicked over a music stand. Notes and sheet music fluttered to the floor, crinkling as they brushed against one another. "I don't have to explain myself!" "You do when it involves the rest of us!" Paul retorted as Brian crossed the room. Quietly, the bass player gathering the debris, returning the pages to their proper order. "Oh f*** you!" Rob yelled, jumping to his feet. "F*** you!" "No, f*** you!" "Would you both shut the hell up?" Adam stepped between the two. Rubbing his forehead, he added, "Now, it's late, we got jack sh** accomplished today, and I don't know about anyone else, but my friggin' head's about to explode. You!" He pointed to Paul. "Sit down! You!" Then to Rob. "Sit down!" Rob and Paul glanced at one another before doing as they were told. Adam snatched the chalk from its tray. "This," he gestured toward the board, "is a f***ing mess." He stared at the dividing line between the two headings before he smashed his fist into it. The board rattled and swung backwards, rotating on the pins that held it in the middle. The angry scribbles disappeared, revealing the untainted deep green surface on the other side. Adam wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the blackboard's wooden frame as he raised the chalk with his right. 'MAD SEASON BY MATCHBOX TWENTY' When he faced his bandmates again, Adam found Kyle and Brian seated on the floor, staring up at him. Rob and Paul still stood on either side of him, their eyes on the chalkboard. Adam looked back at the board. "By matchbox twenty," he read, slamming the chalk into each word. Bits of chalk flew around his hand. He turned to his bandmates. "Raise your hand if that's you." Adam shot his hand over his head. He watched as Kyle and Brian glanced at one another, shrugged, and raised their hands as well. The three looked from Rob to Paul. Another hand stretched into the air. The four then stared at the remaining bandmember. Icy blue eyes shot back at them. Rob heaved a sigh. He stomped out of the room, smacking the chalkboard as he passed it. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving his bandmates staring at what now shown on the board. That hideous dividing line. |