Gone Bad (6 page)

I didn't see what Alex was so upset about. We actually made money on the gig. The cops cleared everybody out so fast that no one had a chance to ask for their money back. Barry paid off the hall and split the take with us. I felt like a rich man with cash in my jeans. I convinced Kelsey that it was not my intention to bust Jeffrey but to free him.

“Sorry about the damage,” she said, pointing to the purple marks left where she had bitten me.

“No problem,” I said. “Besides, I kind of like the way it looks.”

Barry had to have a meeting with the cops but they never fined him or anything. And thanks to the ruckus, the rep of Scream Static actually increased. What else could you ask for?

Despite all the good news, Alex was still unhappy. “It's costing me too much,” he said again. We were trying to practise in Kelsey's garage, trying to get onto a couple more tunes, but Alex was getting cranky.

“Costing you? You made money, didn't you?”

Alex was sore about him and his buds getting pushed around. It made them look like the wimps they really were. “We never should have gotten involved with a loser like Cody. It was all his fault. If it wasn't for him and his friends, the dance would have gone without a hitch,” Alex told Kelsey, as if I wasn't right there.

“I thought you liked the element of danger he added to the band,” Kelsey said. “Wasn't that the way you put it?”

So there.

“I just didn't know how low we were all going to have to sink, Kelsey. Look, we don't need him. It's your songs that matter. We could get another drummer.”

What a douche. Such a pessimist. He couldn't see that we were hot. Everybody knew it. I said nothing, for once. Despite the verbal abuse, I was cool. Kelsey appreciated that.

“Let's take a break,” she said. “I'll get you guys some Pepsi's.”

“Got any beer?” I asked.

Kelsey couldn't see the humour. She gave me one of her death-ray stares. “My father catches you drinking his beer and you'll find a set of tire treads on your face.”

I loved it when she talked to me like that. “What a way with words,” I told Alex.

Alex just sulked.

When she was out of range I said, “What's with you? I thought you and I had an agreement?”

“I'd never make any deals with you, Cody.”

“Without me, this band would be like stale bread.”

“Without me, this band wouldn't exist,” Alex said.

Funny thing, but after we argued like that, we actually played better. Get the grudge going, pump up the heat on ticked-off, and suddenly we were cooking.

I started thinking about the fact that some of Kelsey's lyrics were about guys like me — well, guys like Jordan and Eric — and I guess I'd have to include myself. And there I was playing the drums on these tunes that were major put-downs on my attitude.

So much stuff in my head to get me confused. Why didn't Jeffrey turn me in to the cops? Two chances he had and backed down both times. Weak in the knees or something else?

Late at night, I'd lie in my bed and crank on the radio, tune it in to CKDU, the only station in town that played real music. I'd listen to Cuckledoo (our nickname for the station) until they played one of our tunes. We had six tracks down already, all recorded in Barry's basement studio. I was beginning to feel completely at home sitting on his toilet with my clothes on, playing the drums. But listening to our songs on the radio late at night made me dream about making it big.

I decided I'd beat the brains out of Alex if he kicked me out of the band. He'd have a hard time replacing me. It never occurred to me that he was still thinking of walking out on us. Not with our rep. Kelsey was always trying to convince Alex that I was changing. Of course, I wasn't. It was the same old me. All I had learned was to keep my mouth shut and not rant so much. The only real reason I didn't hang out with the boys anymore was that I just didn't have time. I had music. I had a life.

The garage sessions were getting to be real events. You'd never know who would show up. Barry was there sometimes, just listening. Every once in while he'd throw out a little low-key advice. Sometimes kids from school would come by and hang out in the driveway. Mrs. Dubinski was getting complaints from the neighbours but she didn't like dealing with them, so she just left her phone off the hook when we played.

Alex mellowed once girls started to think he was cool. He had a couple of fans and his grades were slipping. So I figured that maybe he was coming around. But then his old man, who owned an advertising business, got him in touch with some big time music promoter. He had signed some really smooth acts like Humble Heart, Miltonics, and Professor Ouija. Big time stuff but all pretty tame music, stuff like you'd hear on C100.

Alex introduced the spiffy dude with the briefcase as Giles Redmond. The man had a handshake like a vice grip.

“I've heard your music,” he said. “I hear potential.”

“Cool,” I said. “You want to offer us a million bucks?”

Kelsey gave me a death-ray look.

“Not yet,” Giles said, cool as frozen mucous. “I'm just saying we're interested. My job is to work the fringes, find bands like yours and groom them for success.”

I didn't like that word “groom.”

“Meaning?” Kelsey asked.

“Work with you. Fine-tune the music, make suggestions as to how to create a more marketable product.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I snapped.

“Alex and I have been talking,” Giles said. “Maybe he can explain.”

Alex was all worked up over this guy. They had been hanging out together and I had the feeling Alex had already made some sort of deal.

“It's like this,” Alex began. “Giles is willing to work with us, help us write and produce a few tunes as demos and then start playing some gigs, maybe go on tour. This is how it happens. This is the break we've been looking for.”

I thought Alex was going to pee his pants. I wondered what Kelsey was thinking but she wasn't showing her cards.

“How much do we get paid?” I asked.

“Nothing at first. We invest some time in you. You invest some time in us. If it works out, we all go home happy.”

“No money?”

“Not now. But later . . .” Hands in the air, fluttering dollars of the imagination.

“We already have a manager,” Kelsey said. “Barry's been good to us. You heard his work.”

“Amateur stuff,” Giles said. “If we could get you into a Toronto studio, you'd sound much better.”

“When would that be?”

“Depends.”

“On what?” she asked.

“On when we get a deal.” Giles pulled some CDs out of his briefcase. “These are some of our recording artists,” he said. “You can keep these.”

It was an impressive looking pile of very successful rockers — Humble Heart, Professor O, Miltonics, Discreet Destroyers, that sort of thing.

“We've got a deal,” Alex said.

Kelsey looked worried but said nothing.

I was staring at the CDs and thinking about what it would be like to be as rich as some of those dudes. “Where do I sign?” I asked.

“No contract. Not yet. First we have to see how you respond to our development program.”

It sounded like I had just signed up for a bodybuilding course or something. But I didn't care. Hey, I was ready for the next big move. I knew we had it coming.

Around school, kids talked
about the band and about our only live performance that had lasted for all of four songs. And it was like everybody was waiting for us to do something big.

I woke up one Saturday morning feeling lonely and hungry. I immediately went over to Kelsey's thinking I could bum a decent breakfast. Kelsey's father was off playing golf and her mom was sleeping in, so she seemed to enjoy my company. I asked her if she'd mind making me some eggs and maybe a dozen pieces of bacon.

“Sure,” she said. “No problem.” She took a whole pack of raw bacon out of the fridge, slipped it out of the wrapper and said, “Hold out your hands.”

I was thinking she was going to hand me a plate but instead she handed me this big greasy wad of bacon.

“You like it raw, don't you?” she said. “You said you wanted eggs too?”

“No thanks,” I said, putting the bacon back in its wrapper and wiping my hands off on the tablecloth. “I'll just make myself some toast.”

That's when Kelsey opened up the
Chronicle Herald
and discovered our good fortune. A story on page eight said that a bunch of parents had declared our music to be “insulting, obscene, and dangerous.” Three sweeter words had never found their way into the English language. These good-hearted, upstanding adults called themselves Parents for Musical Morality.

According to some lady named Mary Montgomery, “The Condom Song” showed a “serious lack of respect for authority and promoted promiscuity in teenagers.” Mrs. Montgomery had heard her fourteen-year-old daughter listening to the song on the Internet. And Mrs. Morality Montgomery proceeded to go through the roof. She found an ally in the form of Richard Garber, another parent whose son had been warped out of his morality by our music and was forever damaged because he had listened to the lyrics of “Downtown Dangerous.”

“It's censorship again,” Kelsey said. “They can't do this.”

“Of course they can,” I said, spraying fragments of toast around the room as I talked. “If people like to hate our music, it means we must be doing something right.”

“How come the paper didn't ask us to comment?”

“Kelsey, don't get so serious about this. It's just a bunch of old geeks with hormonal deficiency trying to stop us from having fun.”

“Yeah, but they're also trying to censor us.”

“Let 'em. Kids love anything their parents say is bad for them.”

“Yeah, but the Parents for Musical Morality are going to be on our case whatever we do. And they're going to try to have CKDU's broadcasting licence revoked.”

“I'll bust their legs,” I said.

“You always revert to being a caveman when you're upset, don't you?” Kelsey never knew when I was joking. But then neither did I.

“What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing a good brain transplant wouldn't cure,” she said. The way she said it really ticked me off. I was getting tired of Kelsey putting me down all the time. She still couldn't accept me for who I was, and that really bugged me. When would she give it up and stop trying to turn me into something I wasn't?

While I was sulking, Barry called to say he'd read the story and was still behind us a hundred percent. We hadn't said much to Barry since Giles had shown up, but now that he had called us, I guess Kelsey felt it was time to give him the lowdown. “Come on over to our jam session this afternoon,” Kelsey told him. “There's somebody I think you should meet.”

That somebody was Giles. I knew this was going to be awkward. But Kelsey figured that together, Barry and Giles could help us plan a counterattack on the PFMM.

While we were setting up, Alex said his mom had friends who were joining this musical morality thing.

“Alex, it doesn't mean you have to worry about it. She's only your mother,” I said.

“You don't know how much flak I put up with to stay in this band.”

“My heart is bleeding big puddles of blood for you, Alex. But grow out of it. What your mom's friends think doesn't mean squat. They're all gonna be dead in forty years and we're all going to still be hammering music.”

Barry arrived a short while later. He was running in full support mode. “Yeah, man. Don't let it get to you. They start censoring your songs and who knows where it will end. You can't stop writers and musicians from being creative by putting limits on what they are allowed to say. It's freedom of speech.”

I was afraid this was going to get real boring. I was afraid he'd get all wired up in one of his political tirades and we'd have to listen to it. So I made a musical comment by doing a heavy roll on the snare drum. Barry took the hint, looking a little hurt.

“Just trying to loosen up my wrists, man. Sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize,” Barry said.

“I'm going to write a song directed right at these self-righteous music-haters,” Kelsey asserted.

“I don't know,” Alex said. “I just don't know. It doesn't feel right.”

I didn't get what he was talking about. Of course it felt right. A song that trashed a bunch of lame prudes was an excellent idea. I knew Kelsey would make it good and angry, which would give me a chance to come up with a really pounding beat.

And then there was Giles. Giles didn't take off his shades when he came inside the garage. Giles wore shoes that probably cost more than my whole drum set. He had a snotty way of hanging out that told me he thought he was really very important.

Barry sized him up like a mortal enemy. He introduced himself.

“I've heard about your work with the band,” Giles told Barry. “You've done good. D and D respects guys like you who help out with the first step in a career.”

“Right.”

“The band has told you about my interest?”

“Well, I knew something was up,” Barry said. “We've been working together. I've been acting as a manager but we don't have any formal arrangements. I believe in these guys. Whatever they want for their career is okay by me.”

That was typical Barry. Never pushy. Giles was honing in on territory Barry had carved out for himself. Old Barry had invested his time and moola in us and we were ready to leave him in the dust for D and D. But the dude didn't seem to mind. Maybe he was just a born wimp.

“Have you seen this?” Barry asked. He handed Giles a copy of the
Herald
.

Giles dipped his glasses. He read the words slowly, moving his lips, just like me when I read.

Alex tried to get his guitar in tune to Kelsey's keyboard but he was having a hard time of it. I knew something was bothering him. I was getting really tired of sitting there doing nothing. “Let's do some music,” I said.

“I'm not in tune,” Alex snapped.

“So what?”

“Can you give us a minute, Cody?” Kelsey interjected.

I took a break and walked outside. I was tired of being polite. Our fame now rested on the fact that we were considered insulting, obscene, and dangerous. We should start living up to that image. Who would care if we were in tune?

Barry borrowed Alex's guitar to help him get it locked in tune. That's when Giles sidled over to me outside on the driveway.

“This thing in the paper is not so good for you,” he said, all confidential now, like he was telling me some hot new secret.

I almost laughed. “It isn't?” I asked.

“The company will not look favourably on bad publicity. Not at this stage of your career, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because you're going to alienate that whole audience who would listen to you on commercial stations.”

“But I thought a bad rep was good.”

He shook his head. “A bad rep is good if you've already established a good rep as being bad, in the musical sense, before you cross over to being bad in the real world, where maybe you break a law or something.”

It sounded like double-talk to me. “No kidding?”

“No kidding. Look, Cody, I can tell you're a reasonable guy with a level head.”

He had me pegged right down to the wire.

“That's why I'm going to ask you to help me with this one. Persuade Kelsey that Scream Static needs some material that is more commercial, something that won't offend anyone. Just plain music. You have good musical abilities. You three carve a weird and intriguing image. All you need is the right material. Don't let the language turn off a huge chunk of your potential audience.”

“You're messing with my head,” I told him.

“Listen. Let's be straight. What do you want out of your career? You wanna play music just for your friends or do you want to be in front of big crowds, maybe record in the best studios in North America and make big bucks?”

“I'd say the big bucks thing sounds like a good choice.”

“Good,” said Giles. “Now we're speaking the same language. Alex is already with me on this one. But I thought you could help me with Kelsey. You know how she is.”

“Sure,” I said. “I'll try to sweet talk her on this one.”

I didn't really know what I was agreeing to. I mean, the guy had a good point — about the money and stuff. I still didn't care about the words in the songs. I had my eye on the end of the rainbow and I didn't want to get off course.

Alex and Kelsey were finally in tune. Barry was sitting on some boxes in the corner.

“I'm gonna be sending a sample of your work soon to T.O.,” Giles said to Kelsey. “I think we have a fair sampling of your rough stuff but I'd like you to come up with a couple of tunes that aren't quite so far off the centre.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Kelsey asked.

“You know. Something more commercial, more pop. They'll want to hear a balance of songs. They'll want to know if you're a one-hit wonder or a versatile band that can be groomed.”

There was that dog word again. Yuck.

“I had a couple of ideas I've been working on,” Alex jumped in. “Listen to these chord riffs.”

Alex whipped off some basic chord structures and suggested a rhythm to me. It was kind of light, kind of air-head danceable but I found myself going along for the ride. Giles was smiling now. Alex was smiling. Barry and Kelsey were looking at us like we had just transformed into the Lunenburg Polka Band. I knew exactly what had happened just then. Alex and Giles had come up with a little plan. I had joined the conspiracy and we were heading one step closer to the middle of the road.

Giles had his glasses off. He winked at me now. I felt like I had just let the Prunepits for Morality have a cause to celebrate. But, hey, it was just a temporary compromise. And I was willing to go for it if it meant getting a contract with D and D. It wasn't like selling out or anything. It was just learning the ropes.

Kelsey hammered on a whole pile of keys at once. “What is this putrid slop?” she screeched.

“It was sounding good,” Giles said.

“Come on, Kelsey,” Alex complained. “You always initiate all the songs. I'd like some input for once. Let's roll with this. You and I can write the lyrics. We can work on it.”

“I don't like it,” she said. “It's not us.”

“We have to learn to grow — creatively, I mean,” Alex said.

“This isn't growing. This is something else.”

“I say we do a few more commercial tunes that Giles can send to T.O. with the other stuff,” Alex said.

“And I say we don't back down for anybody. We stick to our style of music.”

“Okay,” Alex said. “Let's take a vote.”

It was democracy in action. Only problem was there were three of us. Alex was on one side of the barbed wire fence. Kelsey was on the other. And my butt was squarely on the ragged metal edge of the top wire.

“I'm with Alex,” I said. Sure, I felt like a traitor — big time. But I figured it would be worth it in the long run.

So Giles paid Barry to record us again in his basement — two new tunes that Alex wrote, with some coaching from Giles. Kelsey wrote the lyrics but Giles took an axe to them and changed them around so they sounded like a lot of that drippy nonsense on C100. Kelsey wasn't pleased but she went along with it grudgingly. Giles made the promise that if we could get our foot in the door, then we could go back to doing anything we wanted to. The only difference was that we'd be getting some real gigs, we'd be making some real money, and we'd be on the road to rock music heaven.

The tunes were bland, the music so-so, and the drumming like something out of a can. But Giles loved it and sent the noise off to Toronto.

Meanwhile, Giles had met with the PFMM and told them about our new direction. He told us it was “damage control” but he wouldn't tell us exactly what he had said to them. The Morality Squad quieted down a bit but suddenly CKDU was playing a lot less of our two big hits.