Jake could see Matt tensing up at his words. But he did not say anything disrespectful. At least not yet. “I’m listening,” was what he did say.
Jake nodded. “It’s just minor things at this point in the game,” he said. “Let’s start with Faithless. We did some good modification to it today in the chorus to bridge measures. Let’s talk intro now.”
“What’s wrong with the intro?” Matt asked.
“Well ... there’s nothing really wrong with the intro other than the fact that there isn’t one. The tune just jumps right into the main riff. Now, there is a place for that—don’t get me wrong here—but if Faithless is going to be the title cut and the first cut on the album, and the first song promoted as you suggested, I think it needs a little more flair at the beginning.”
“What kind of flair?” Matt asked.
“Any kind of flair,” Jake said. “It has none currently. You could start with a bass intro that gradually increases in tempo until it hits the main verse tempo. You could start with a slowly building guitar solo that transitions to the double distortion riff of the primary. The sky is the limit and I’ll leave the composition up to you, Matt. It is what you do best. My point is that something should be there if it’s going to be the first tune that people hear from the new CD. If you want to leave the intro as it is, I don’t think we should promote Faithless first when the CD comes out. It can still be the first cut and the title cut, but not the first promoted.”
Matt looked at Jake thoughtfully. It was clear that he wanted to be angry at the suggestion but just could not seem to accomplish it. “That makes sense,” he said with clear reluctance.
“Do you think you could come up with something?” Jake asked him.
“Yeah, I can come up with something,” Matt said.
“Cool,” Jake said.
In all, they talked about three of the tunes on the list and how Jake thought they should be modified in some way. He made a point to offer his suggestions as just that—suggestions and not orders. He carefully explained his reasoning for each suggestion and was usually backed up by the Nerdlys. Matt listened each time and agreed to modify in the manner suggested in every case—always after being told that it was he, Matt, who would be responsible for just how the modification would be composed and carried out.
They got through dinner without an argument. Jake paid the bill and they all headed back to their respective vehicles in the parking lot. Before Jake could climb into his truck, Matt called him over to his Maserati.
“What’s up?” Jake asked.
Matt looked him in the eye. “I think this is going to work,” he told him.
“What’s going to work?”
“All of this,” Matt said. “Me signing with your label, you producing my CD. I gave it about a ten percent chance when I first agreed to all this, but now I think it’s really going to work.”
Jake smiled. “Ten percent?” he asked. “You were optimistic, weren’t you?”
“What did you figure?” Matt asked.
“About half that,” Jake admitted. “You’re going to start working on the mods on Monday?”
“Fuckin’ A,” Matt said.
“I’ll come in on Tuesday and Thursday then,” Jake told him. “We’ll see how things are going then.”
Matt nodded. “See you Tuesday, then,” he said. He then stepped in his car and closed the door. A minute later, he was roaring out of the parking lot on his way to Jake’s Los Angeles home.
Jake arrived at Celia’s Malibu home just over an hour later. He found that the two ladies had picked up Chinese food from a chain restaurant on their way there. Both had already eaten, already showered, and were now dressed in their robes.
“Did you shower together?” he asked them, feeling his libido kick into high gear at the sight and smell of freshly bathed female squared.
“Maybe,” Laura said coyly. “There is a drought after all.”
“How green of you,” he said with a chuckle. “I trust you adhered to the rules.”
“Yes,” Celia said sourly. “I tried to cheat a little and suck one of her chichis—you know how I love those big pregnant boobies she has—but she wouldn’t let me.”
“We have an agreement,” Laura said sternly.
“It can’t be bent for one little nipple suck?” Celia asked.
“It wouldn’t have been just one,” Laura told her.
“Yeah ... probably not,” Celia had to agree. She turned to Jake. “Anyway, we’ve been waiting patiently for you to get here. Why aren’t you in the shower yet?”
“Good question,” he said, dropping the pile of clothes onto a nightstand. He headed for the shower.
They had sex together for the better part of an hour once Jake dried off and joined them in the bed. It was very good. Still not as good as the first time, but nothing to scoff at. After the last orgasm faded away, they fell back on the bed, sweaty, stinky, all of them satisfied and exhausted. And, one by one, they fell asleep there, Laura in the middle laying on her right side, Jake behind her, cuddling her with his hand on her bare belly (and occasionally feeling a little kick from Ziggy the passenger within), Celia on her right side being cuddled by Laura (and occasionally feeling a little Ziggy kick in her back).
They slept that way until the morning came, the first time they had spent the night together after enjoying each other’s bodies.
Sunday afternoon found Jake sitting out on his deck in one of the chairs. His Fender guitar was in his hands and a glass of wine was half empty on the table next to him. On the Weber he had a chicken cooking and the fragrant mesquite smoke would occasionally drift over him. The sky was a brilliant blue and there were a few fishing boats out on the ocean. Further out was a container ship slowly making its way toward Long Beach.
Jake was strumming absently on the guitar. He had brought it out here to get in a little practice on the tune he and Gordon were working on—it was called Let’s Do It Tonight and it was indeed about sex—but had gotten bored with that a few minutes before and was now just letting his mind run freely. He had settled into a basic melody that had been playing in his head the last few days. It was something mellow, something that likely would not transition well to a distorted electric. As of yet, he had no lyrics to go with it, but he fancied that it might be something to do with little Ziggy and his feelings about becoming a father for the first time. He played the melody over and over again, not modifying it or trying to improve it, just enjoying it. It was a four-chord melody, the first three soft, the final with a strong emphasis to set the cadence of the rhythm.
The sliding glass door opened behind him and Laura stepped out. She was wearing a maternity t-shirt with a picture of a puppy on it and a pair of baggy grey sweat shorts. She had no bra on since she was home and had no plans to go out today. She carried a glass of lemonade on the rocks in her hand.
“Hey, babe,” he greeted, pausing in his playing and picking up his wine glass. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she said with a smile. “Just coming out to see what you’re doing and get a little air.” She sat down in the chair next to him. She looked at his wine longingly. “Oh god, that looks so good. Let me smell it.”
He handed her the wine glass and she took a large sniff. “Oh ... heavenly,” she said. “I can’t wait until Ziggy is born so I can enjoy some chardonnay every now and then.”
“Another eleven weeks,” Jake said.
“Eleven long weeks,” she said with a sigh, handing him back the glass.
He put his hands back on the guitar. “Tell me what you think about this melody,” he said. He began to strum it out for her. One two three FOUR, one two three FOUR, one two three FOUR.
“I like it,” she said, nodding her head. “Something new?”