That had been a week ago. They’d made the move to Coos Bay on the 21st of June. Nerdly and Sharon drove their new car—it was a 1993 Honda Civic, which had replaced their 1985 Honda Civic—up there while Jim and Marcie drove Jake’s Beemer up. Steph, Rick, Jeremy, and Jenny, along with the four children, were all flown from Van Nuys to North Bend on a private jet paid for by KVA. And Jake and Laura made the trip in Jake’s plane, heading out the day before so they would be there first.
Since then, everyone had pretty much settled in. Jake and Laura were staying in the master suite up on the third floor. Bill and Sharon were in the secondary suite on the second. Jim and Marcie were in the smaller bedroom with its own bath, while Steph was staying in the tiny, bathless room at the end of the second-floor hall. All of the children were installed in the bunk-bed room where Ted and Ben used to sleep. Jeremy and Jenny were in the small room just next to the bunk room. Rick, the drummer, was given the tiny room just off the kitchen, though if and when his wife and children came to visit, Jake planned to give him the master suite for the visit and he and Laura would move in with Obie and Pauline until the visit was over.
As far as the recording process went, they were only just beginning. So far, Brainwash had spent five full days in the Blake Studios building under the direction of the Nerdlys. Not much had been accomplished as of yet. The first day had been almost entirely taken up with just setting up the instruments and getting the basic sound arrangements dialed in. The second through fifth days had been occupied with just getting the order of operations set and starting on the rhythm tracks for the first song: Look at Me, Jim’s declaration that he was somebody. The band from Providence was quite unaccustomed to the glacial pace that was being set.
“It’ll get a little faster,” Jake promised them just before dinner this very evening, when Jim and Marcie had asked him if he really thought they were going to be done before school started up again in September. “As you and the Nerdlys—or, as we affectionately call them during this process: The Spawns of Satan—get to know each other a little better, as you start to see how they like things done and they start to see how you respond to direction, and as I start hounding their asses about not being so freaking anal about everything, the pace will pick up. One way or another, we’ll be done by the end of the summer break. We have to be. That’s all the studio time we have.”
“I suppose,” Marcie said, “but I have to ask. Is it really that important that the bass tracks and the drums are exactly perfect for each bar? I mean, I usually can’t hear any difference between one take and the next, especially when they’re complaining about the timing.”
“I know it seems like you’re in hell right now,” Jake assured her, “and you are, make no mistake about that, but know that it really is for a higher purpose. When you hear your master CD for the first time, you’re going to understand why we do things this way.”
“If you say so,” Marcie said.
“I say so,” Jake assured her.
Jake took one last breath of the fresh sea air. His moment of serenity thanks to garbage disposal was now at an end. He turned and headed back in to finish the cleanup.
The time immediately after dinner cleanup was leisure time in the house—as long as one did not wish to go out into the hot tub out on the deck. Though there had been no official announcement of the policy, and no one had proposed a new rule, it had somehow been written in stone that the after dinner cleanup period was when the children got to invade the hot tub. All four of them were out there now, with Jenny and Marcie supervising as they splashed and yelled and bordered on disturbing the peace.
“You sure you two know what you’re getting yourself into with this whole having a child thing?” Jim asked the Nerdlys as a particularly loud screech penetrated through the closed sliding glass door.
Jim was sitting on the couch next to Jake and Laura. Stephanie and the Nerdlys were sitting in the easy chairs. All except Mrs. Nerdly were sipping from a bottle of chilled white wine that Jake had opened. On the television, the news was playing. The lead story of the night was, as always, about OJ Simpson, who had, just eleven days ago, been charged with the murder of his wife and taken into custody after a nationally televised slow-speed chase across LA.
“We’re kind of committed to the project at this point,” said Sharon, giving her protruding belly a little rub.
“Precisely,” said Nerdly. “Although I will say that had I been exposed to the sheer noise and off-key manor of multiple children, the discussion whether or not to attempt reproduction might have gone differently.”
“Kids are noisy and a general pain in the ass,” Jim said, “but they’re worth every miserable second.”
“I love listening to them talk to each other,” Jake said. “They’re very amusing. Even if they do take over the goddamn hot tub every night.”
“I’m sorry, Jake,” Jim said apologetically. “I didn’t know it was inconveniencing you. I’ll tell Marcie and Jenny to not let them...”
“No,” Jake interrupted. “You just let this be their time out there. They’re having a blast. And I notice the nightly soak and scream seems to tire them out for bedtime.”
“Well ... yes, it does do that,” Jim said. “But I don’t want to kick you out of your own hot tub every night. We’re the guests here. We should be working around your schedule.”
“Bullshit,” Jake said.
“A quarter in the swear jar,” Laura said with a smile.
“That’s only when the kids can hear it,” Jake countered. “That’s the unwritten rule.”
“I suppose,” she said with a sigh, patting his leg affectionately.
“Anyway,” Jake said, “you’re not the guests here. You’re the talent. You are the reason we are all here. Stop thinking of yourselves as a burden. You’re here to get your music heard and make us all some money. Those kids can play all they want in that hot tub and scream as loud as they want. They’re part of the package, okay?”
“Okay,” Jim said. “Thanks, Jake.”
“Besides,” Jake said. “It’s doing Laura and I some good to have this kind of exposure to little ones. We might be wanting to have some of our own at some point.”
“Right,” Laura said. “We should know what we’re getting ourselves into.”
“I still can’t get over how beautiful that ring of yours is, Laura,” said Steph. “Was his proposal a romantic one?”
“Oh ... yes, very romantic,” Laura said, giving the ring in question a little twirl with the fingers of her right hand. “It was right out there in the hot tub, as a matter of fact.”
“Out there?” Jim said. “On the deck of this house?”
“That’s right,” Laura said. “This house is where Jake and I first got together, where we fell in love. And that hot tub is where we had our first kiss.”
“Awww,” Steph crooned. “That is romantic.”
“He asked me right at sunset,” Laura said. “Just as the sun dipped into the water out there on the horizon.”
“That is so sweet,” Steph said. “And you said yes right away?”
“Uh ... well ... he kind of caught me off guard,” Laura said. “I honestly hadn’t been expecting him to ask me to marry him. I was really just blown away at first.”
“And we had a few things to talk over first,” Jake said with a dismissive shrug. “Logistics and stuff like that. You know how logical and structured women can be.”
“Uh ... right,” Steph said, raising her eyebrows a bit.
“She did say yes though ... eventually,” Jake said.
“That’s right,” Laura said, holding up her ring for everyone to see. “We’re planning a destination wedding. Hopefully around Christmas. Celia will be off-tour then.”