“I thought we did a good job,” Nerdly said with a pout.
“And you did,” Jake said, appeasement in his voice, “but a successful CD needs me and the two of you together. The shining example of that concept is V-tach.”
“They are enjoying quite the run of popularity currently,” Nerdly had to agree.
“Fuckin’ A they are,” Jake said. “Home went to number one on the chart and hung in there for three weeks. It’s still getting saturation airplay nationwide. And Rock started getting airplay three weeks ago now. You know how that is going.”
They knew. Rock was the tune My Rock to Cling To, an alt-rock love ballad that featured both Ben and Lenny on the acoustic guitars, Lenny playing a fingerpicked melody while Ben played chords (with a generous helping of distorted electric overdubs engineered in by Jake during the recording process). The song was widely popular since first debut and was currently shooting up the charts in several crossover demographics.
“It should reach the top ten by next week,” Pauline agreed.
“That’s right,” Jake said. “And CD sales picked up in correlation with the popularity of Rock. We’re on track to break Platinum before the first of November. V-tach is definitely going to be happy with their fourth quarter royalty checks. And we still have three more radio friendly tunes to promote after Rock. I don’t mean to toot my own horn or anything, and I’m not trying to minimize the contributions of everyone else involved, but it seems clear to me that my involvement in V-tach was helpful to the cause. I want to be involved on that level in all future projects.”
“I agree,” said Celia.
“As do I,” said Pauline.
The Nerdlys both nodded, though with perhaps a bit of reluctance. “It does seem that your production skills combined with our engineering is a respectable collaboration set,” Nerdly said.
“All right then,” Jake said. “So ... no Brainwash III until at least we have a master in hand for my next CD.”
“That will likely be ... when?” Pauline asked. “Next September?”
He nodded. “Assuming no delays,” he said. He reached over and patted Laura’s bulging stomach. “We are about to become parents, remember? We have no idea how much that is going to affect production.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that at all, Jake,” said Pauline with a smile. “Having a baby is nothing. You’ll hardly even notice a difference in your life.”
Jake looked over at her. “I sense a bit of sarcasm there,” he said.
Her smile got bigger. “You sense correctly,” she said. “Your entire existence is about to change. I really hope you’re bracing yourselves for it.”
“She speaks truly,” said Sharon. “I hope you both are appreciating sleep when you get it. There is not much of it in your immediate future.”
The work went on. Matt and his band continued to work in Studio A five days a week while Celia and her band continued to work in Studio B. Jake and the Nerdlys continued to bop back and forth between the two studios, trying to keep their eyes and ears on everything that was transpiring. Progress was made slowly, like a stream eroding a rock, but this was normal and expected. Both projects remained reasonably on time and only slightly over budget. Most importantly, the relationship between Jake, the Nerdlys, and Matt, while strained at times, stayed in the land of copacetic.
There were a few incidents, of course, but they occurred outside the studio, not inside.
On the first weekend in their rental house, the Coos County Sheriff’s department paid the band a little visit because Matt and the boys had been out on the beach trying to pick up on passing women who were out for strolls on the public beach. They did not succeed in this endeavor, but they did manage to infuriate the boyfriend of one of their prospects, a man who wisely did not try to engage them in physical combat to protect his lady’s honor, but did know the right thing to say to get the cops there in force: “One of them is a black guy.” Four units showed up (half the deputies on duty in the entire county that night) and, once discovering who the perpetrators were, sternly advised them not to repeat the behavior or they would get to tour the inside of the Coos County jail. Matt, showing a little wisdom of his own, did not antagonize the deputies, but simply promised that they would try to keep their pickup attempts confined to single women only.
On another occasion, the Coos Bay police were called to a local pizza restaurant after Matt and the shift manager got into a verbal altercation regarding the accidental placement of pineapple on one of the pizzas the group had ordered to take home with them. In this case, the manager (he was twenty-three years old and a perpetual stoner) was not so wise and, instead of simply apologizing and quickly making a pineapple-less pizza to replace the wrong order, accused Matt of being an idiot for not knowing that pineapple was standard on the Luau pizza. When Matt, reaching his limit at that point, said that he did know that and had specifically told the person taking the phone order not to put the pineapple on, the manager accused him of lying since the order-taker (an eighteen-year-old who was also a perpetual stoner) claimed that he had received no such instruction. Fortunately, the Coos Bay cops did not have a lot to do in their small town and showed up quickly, getting there just before Matt started his ritual of laying on of hands to both the shift manager and the order taker. In the end, they accepted a full refund for all of the pizza, made a vow they would never patronize the establishment again, and went to a bar and ate bar food for their dinner instead.
Jake suspected that there would be more incidents such as this as long as Matt was a temporary resident of southwest Oregon. They would just have to deal with them on a case-by-case basis as they came up and hopefully nothing that led to actual handcuffs on wrists would transpire. He was absolutely amazed, however, with how well things were going inside the studio. It was almost like there had been no bitter break-up of Intemperance, no accusations of murder, no acrimonious hatred.
It was almost like he and Matt were meant to work together. They did not socialize with each other, and they still danced on eggshells around each other to some degree. But Project Tisdale seemed to be moving right along.
November 25th, Laura’s due date, came and went without incident. She remained pregnant and not in labor. The mucous plug sealing her cervix and protecting little Cadence (who did not feel so little to Laura) remained firmly in place and intact. Laura and Jake spent the day in the studio, Laura working on some of her saxophone tracks (she was able to rest her horn on her bulging stomach by this point), Jake working primarily with Matt and the boys as they laid down some of Corban’s rhythm tracks.
November 27th was Thanksgiving. Everyone had the day off, as well as the following Friday and the weekend beyond it. Jake made a twenty-six-pound turkey for the occasion and everyone else who could cook contributed the side dishes. After the kitchen and the house was fully cleaned, everyone settled in to relax and do what they liked to do at night. Jake and Laura were sitting on the couch as the evening came to a close. Jake was strumming his guitar—the same melody (now modified and a bit more complex) that he had been playing on the day that Cadence got her name. It still had the same effect on her. She would kick in time with the cadence of the tune, as predictably as the tide. This never failed to delight both of her parents and anyone else who witnessed the phenomenon.