Different Circles

“Hmm,” Jake said, giving an extra little motion to his rocking because Caydee was starting to fuss a little now that the music had stopped. He leaned forward and pushed the intercom button again. “Come on out for a few, Corban.”

Corban nodded and set down his guitar. He took off his cans and then walked to the door. A moment later he was in the room with them. “What’s up?” he asked.

As was his habit, Jake let Matt explain the issue at hand, thus preserving the illusion that Matt was actually in charge. It was an illusion that fooled no one—not even Matt—but that helped maintain the always fragile cease-fire.

“This overdub ain’t working with you playing the same guitar you used for the basic,” Matt said. “We think if you use an acoustic it’ll sound better.”

“Why would that make a difference?” Corban asked.

“An acoustic will produce a slightly different timbre than your Brogan played clean,” Jake said. “The subtle difference will make the string strikes stand out instead of being buried.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Corban said, “but I don’t have an acoustic.”

“You don’t have one at all?” Jake asked.

Corban shook his head. “Nope, not since I was in junior high and got my first electric.”

Jake nodded. That did explain a lot. Though Corban was quite excellent on the distorted electric, having him play clean notes on Faithless had been a struggle to some degree. Most guitar players and bassists—Matt was a notable exception—learned to play on an acoustic initially and would generally retain that skill to some degree, but lack of practice and focusing primarily on distorted chords did tend to sap that muscle memory over time and Corban had to relearn the technique once they entered the studio and Matt agreed to go with the clean notes on the piece. “I have one in the other studio,” he told Corban. “It’s my Ibanez acoustic electric and I’ve been using it for overdubs on a few of Celia’s tracks. Let me go grab it and we’ll see how you do with it.”

“All right,” Corban said doubtfully.

Jake took off his headphones and set them on the board. He then stood up and turned to Matt. “Here,” he said, holding out his daughter to the guitarist. “Hold Caydee for me while I go get it.”

Matt’s eyes widened and he actually recoiled a bit. “Hold it?” he asked.

“Hold her,” Jake corrected. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Matt shook his head. “I’m not into that kinda shit, dude,” he said.

“Holding a baby for two or three minutes is not some kind of shit,” Jake said. “Just take her. Hold her like I was. She’s not going to bite you. She doesn’t even have teeth.”

“What if she pisses or shits on me?” Matt asked.

“She has a diaper on,” Jake said patiently. “Trust me, Matt. You can do this.”

Reluctantly, Matt took the small bundle from Jake. He looked down at her for a moment and she looked up at him.

“Don’t hold her two feet away from you,” Jake said. “Put her against your chest and support her head with your arm.”

Gingerly, he did as requested. Caydee started to fuss a little.

“What’s wrong with her?” Matt demanded.

“She likes to be rocked,” Jake said. “Just sway back and forth a little. That soothes her.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Matt muttered, but he did as told. Caydee, who was used to a variety of people holding her quite frequently, immediately settled down.

“You see?” Jake said. “Just keep doing that. I’ll be right back.” With that, he turned and headed for the main studio door, letting the smirk he had been hiding come forth now that Matt could not see it.

Jake walked through the hall from one end of the building to another, passing the cafeteria and the main reception area on the way. He then punched in the code to enter the large door that guarded the entrance to Studio B. It opened and he walked into the main room. In here, Celia and the Nerdlys were sitting at the mixing board with Collette, the tech who had been assigned to Celia’s project. Inside one of the isolation rooms was Laura, who was apparently working on a retake of one of the saxophone tracks. Celia was the only one who looked up at his entrance.

“Hey, Jake,” she greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to grab my Ibanez,” he said. “We need it for one of the overdubs.”

“Oh, I see,” Celia said. “Where’s Caydee?”

Jake chuckled a little. “I have Matt holding her,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “Matt? Holding Caydee? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“He’s not going to hurt her,” Jake said. “And the experience might even be good for him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I suppose,” she said doubtfully.

Jake opened the storage room and stepped inside. His candy-apple red Ibanez was hanging on a hook. He took it down and gave it strum. It was slightly out of tune since it had not been played since before the Christmas break. And it would also have to be sound checked. That was no big deal, however, since the Nerdlys were over here and would not be able to prolong the effort.