He was tempted to throw everything down and walk out. Head back to LA and sit in his big, empty, lonely house. Between half of the band showing late for rehearsal and the other half bickering with Rod, the 9:00 dinner break could not have come sooner.
Head pounding and nerves shot, Jackson opted to take his break in the car, cool air blowing on his face, smooth jazz on the radio. This was nothing like he was used to. Boy Wonder was never a fairy tale, but the guys were friends. They'd spend all day in the studio or on a set, then hang out all night playing video games, eating and laughing and talking.
Rodโs band was a hodgepodge of musicians, all looking to break out and stand in front, soaking up the spotlight like they were going to be discovered and stolen away, as if the Stones were waiting for them to become available. Duke especially made no secret that he thought he was underpaid, underappreciated and stuck working in the candy ass genre of pop.
The automatic sprinklers embedded in the sprawling green lawn rose from their holes in the ground and began their nightly timed rituals. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, creating a beat off of the rhythm of theย chigchigchigchigchigย sounds in the background of Wynton Marsalis blowing a sweet horn in his ears.
The hour passed quickly. Jackson climbed out of the car and made his way back into the studio, determined to establish some kind of order and camaraderie among the band. If he couldnโt do that, they not only weren't going to get the new album written, but they weren't going to be recording anything and they definitely wouldn't make it to the tour.
Jackson charged into the rehearsal room and barked, "Heads up!"
He stepped onto the makeshift stage, a raised platform at the front of the room. He added a take-charge edge to his voice, leveling a serious stare at each of them scattered around the room.
"This bitching stops today. Right now. We have a job to do. That job is to make music, to make waves, to make people sit up and turn it up. I'm here to do that. Scratch that, I'm here to orchestrate that. If you didn't need me, I wouldn't be here, so if you're not here to work with me, pick up your instrument and get out. Those that choose to stay are here to record an album and plan a tour that will knock fans on their asses."
He should get mad more often. All of them, the band and Rod, stared at him, wide eyed like children in trouble. But none of them moved. Jackson nodded, hands on his hips, satisfied he'd made his point.
"Rod." He pointed, and then snapped his fingers to the platform. "Get up here. Bring your guitar. Let's go through verse two ofย Evil Side of Me with the changes."
Rod obeyed, slipping the guitar strap around his neck, poised to play, watching Jackson for the cue.
"Duke."ย Reluctantly, he stood. Jackson was amazed he didn't check out, but was happy he'd stayed. Duke was a talented guitarist and Jackson had plans for him. "You're too loud and you're coming in too soon, riding all over Rod and competing for sound. Pull it back. You accent the lead. Do your job right and people will hear you. Play the notes and have a good time. Alright?"
Duke nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Contrite, but grudgingly so.
"Okay, get up here."
One by one, Jackson placed the band members on the platform, as he'd had them arranged in his mind. Rod was front and center. Cole, the drummer, was back and center. Sam was on Rod's right, Jackson on keyboards and Duke on guitar was to Rod's left. He stepped back, rubbing his chin, chewing his bottom lip, finally making his way back to the platform and stepping behind the multiple sets of keyboards.
"This is our formation. I don't have you here because I'm on an ego trip and I want to be the focus. We all know that's Rod."ย A murmur of laughter spread across the room. Jackson relaxed and fell into his new role as the man in charge. "I have you here because I can hear everyone. Everyone can hear me. Everyone can hear each other and you each have a piece of the stage. Everybody shines."
Each man nodded as his eyes traveled the room. There was no tension, only eager anticipation to start playing. "So since everybody shines, that means everybody has to be good, which means we have to rehearse. From the top."
Cole counted off the song with four loud clacks of wooden sticks. A gritty tenor filled the room as Rod broke into the verse, his fingers working the guitar as if it were an extension of him. Jackson backed him, his voice almost echoing Rod's in a sweet harmony. Duke and Sam dropped in perfectly on cue.
They played into their usual 10 second fade-out and then the room was silent, everyone watching Jackson for his reaction. He stood at the keyboard, nodding his head.
โNow we're getting somewhere." Not excited, so they wouldn't get to comfortable with making him happy. "We'll go over that one again tomorrow. Let's move on toย Can't Get Enough.ย Come around the keyboards and we'll go over the changes."
****
Jackson hoped 4 AM rehearsal endings weren't going to become a habit. His body was starting to adjust to the new time zone and 4 AM actually felt like 4 AM tonight. He fell into his car, dreading the long, sleepy drive to Winter Park. He was hungry and tired. Home called him harder than it had ever called before.
Forty five minutes later, he was nearing his neighborhood. He passed the Publix, half a smile crossing his lips, remembering the woman he'd seen there the night before, wondering if he'd ever see her again. She seemed nice, kind of cute. A lot sexy. He was always up for meeting someone new. Maybe she could distract him from the Kim-shaped hole in his heart.
Without even thinking about how creepy it was, he decided he'd keep an eye out for her. Maybe run into her again, accidentally on purpose.