CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You’re serious that you want to bring Sophie into the studio?” I shrugged off Nick’s question.
“Why shouldn’t I?” I took a hit from the pipe Nick handed me; we’d decided to take a break outside, in the little courtyard behind the studio. It had been a month since we’d started over on the album, with Mark, Alex, and Jules working together with Jack during the day and Nick, Jules and me working nights. “She has the night off at Respects, and she wanted to see the studio.
“We’re already struggling to get anything done,” Nick pointed out. He took the pipe from me and lit the bowl.
“How is that my fault?” I leaned against the stucco wall. “If we could all work together, at the same time, the way we were supposed to, we’d be further along.”
“Mark is being a bitch, fair enough,” Nick said. He passed me the pipe. “Just don’t want you to be distracted.” I rolled my eyes. I was starting to feel the dope; Nick always got good stuff.
“You don’t want me to be distracted, but we’re smoking out?” I snickered.
“We’re smoking out because it helps us get through the night,” Nick told me.
“Do you have a problem with me bringing Sophie in?” Nick shrugged.
“Not per se,” he replied. “Mark still isn’t talking about whatever the fuck his issue is.”
“Word on the street is he’s going through Tinder dates like the world’s about to end,” I said. Nick snorted.
“Whatever he’s got to prove to himself,” he said, shaking his head. “Anyway, bring her in if you want. Just don’t be surprised if there’s fallout.”
“What fallout could there be?” I handed the pipe to Nick and he cleaned it out, slipped it into his pocket.
“If it gets back to Mark,” Nick said.
“It’s been a fucking month and a half almost,” I said. “How can he still be pulling this shit over her?” I shook my head. “It’s got to be something else.”
“But what? None of us knows. Until we do…” Nick combed his fingers through his hair.
“Until we do, we let Mark run shit in the band because he’s being a whiny asshole,” I said irritably. “Instead of actually dealing with whatever the hell his issue is.”
“Hey--we’re getting the album done. That’s the important thing,” Nick said, raising his hands helplessly.
“Yeah, the crumbling structure of the band is just not important at all,” I pointed out sarcastically. “I agreed to do it this way as a short-term answer to Mark being a shit about things. How are we going to promote or tour this album if he can’t deal with me?”
“So do something about it,” Nick said. He gave me a wry grin. “I mean, it’s slow going anyway. Instead of bringing Sophie in, find a way to get Mark to come to the studio and have it out with him.”
“Sophie’s already coming by,” I said.
“Well, if he’s got a problem with you dating her, what better way to get it all out into the open than to get him to confront the two of you together?” Nick patted his pocket, gave me another quick look. “Send Jules and Jack and me home when Mark gets here, and hash out whatever it is you need to hash out.”
“You’re assuming I can get him to come in,” I countered. “He’s not answering any texts from me.”
“Or me, or Alex, or Jules,” Nick said. “The only people he’s talking to outside of the studio are Jack, Ron, and his family--and whoever it is he’s hooking up with off Tinder. So figure out what to do to get him in here.”
“Do you really think it’s going to fix anything? We don’t even know what the hell he’s pissed off about.” Nick laughed.
“Man, all I know is that I want to keep being a part of this band,” Nick told me. “And the only way I can do that is if the band continues to exist. Stop being a baby and get Mark to talk to you about whatever is up his ass. If you feel like it, set up some cameras. Maybe he’ll throw a punch and we can get a decent video out of it.” I rolled my eyes, and Nick went back into the studio. I sat down at one of the tables and lit a cigarette, thinking of what he’d said. After a month of working as parts of a group instead of a whole, I knew I wasn’t the only one who was starting to feel irritable about the whole mess. But from what Jules, Alex, and Jack had to say about it, Mark did little more than come in, record, and take instructions from Jack. He didn’t chat with anyone, he didn’t offer any explanation for his behavior.
When Ron had met with him, he’d told us afterwards that Mark had barely been convinced to even continue working at all; though Ron hadn’t been able to get out of our drummer whatever it was that had set him off. Mark had mostly agreed, Ron had told us, because he didn’t want to be kicked out of the band; that was the next move from the label, if the album didn’t move forward. I had to admit to myself that I didn’t want another drummer for the band either: I wanted our own drummer to stop being such a dick.
Would it really solve anything if I had it out with Mark? I knew he was pissed at me--apparently, above and beyond the rest of the band, since he didn’t even want to be in the same room as me--but I couldn’t even convince myself that it had that much to do with Sophie. If it had been over Sophie, then hooking up with a handful of girls on Tinder would have taken his mind off it and he’d be over it by now. It had to be something more than that--at least, as best as I could figure.
The real question is: what possible harm could it do to meet with him? As bad as things were in the band, I didn’t want to risk making them worse. But how much worse could they really get? We were already at a point where whether or not we managed to actually get the fucking album done, we weren’t going to be able to promote it properly, or tour it. If Mark didn’t want to have anything to do with us, and especially me, it was going to be impossible to keep the peace on a damned bus.
I went back inside, and found Jack in the control room. Nick was in one of the side rooms, laying down a guitar track for one of the songs Mark had worked on earlier in the day; Jules was on the phone with Fran in the break room. “I need a favor,” I told Jack as soon as I sat down.
“What kind of favor?” I pressed my lips together and considered whether I was really willing to go through with what Nick had suggested. If it came to a fight, it wasn’t like Mark and I were in any danger of actually killing or hurting each other seriously. But I was goddamned tired of having to meet with every other member of the band but him, and having to hear about him secondhand, or having to listen to the tracks he’d laid down hours before and figure out which one I agreed with the other guys on. We worked best when we worked together, and Mark was fucking that up for all of us.
“I want you to call Mark,” I told Jack. “Have him come in--whatever pretext you want to give him.”
“I thought you’d all agreed to split up the sessions,” Jack said, looking at me askance. I shrugged.
“I’m tired of it,” I told him frankly. “I want to get whatever the hell the problem is out into the open, and deal with it. Are you having any fun doing the recordings this way?” Jack laughed.
“It’s getting done, but it’s more work than fun,” he told me. He sighed, glanced at the panel and then looked at me again. “You want my input on the situation, whatever was going wrong between you guys was going wrong before you started dating some girl Mark had his eye on.” I shrugged.
“That’s about what I’ve decided,” I said, nodding. “But until I get him to at least talk to be about whatever his malfunction is, it’s going to keep being like this.” I lit a cigarette and Jack shoved the ashtray towards me. “If something doesn’t change, we’re going to lose the band, and the record will never even see the light of day.”
“Worse,” Jack said, glancing again at the meters on the boards. “It’ll get made, and the label will put it out, and it’ll go nowhere on the charts because none of you guys will be able to coordinate enough to make anything happen.”
“So, you’ll do it?” Jack considered.
“Give me thirty minutes and I’ll see if I can get his ass in here,” he said. “Maybe I can pull a fast one on him if I think of something good enough.”