Danger Line

„How’s those lyrics coming up, Franko?” I questioned as Chris handed me a glass of jagerbull. For the last fifteen minutes I was sitting in front of the mixing board, trying to figure how to fill the missing link in our chain – Bailey, our alcoholic with anger management issues enlightened, but with a sick talent for kicking the living shit out of the drum kit - drummer. I mean we always had some spare tracks we didn’t use in any of our songs, so we could just go from there and build a song around Bailey’s vision. Wasn’t anything too hard, it was basically how I done things on daily basis – came to the studio, heard what the other guys had to bring to the table and then just kind of went from there with whatever. As an artist and a creator, I really sucked balls.

„Almost finished...” For the past half an hour Frank had been sitting on the couch behind my back and scribling somethind down in his notes. I admired the chump, I really did, me and Chris were practically a bottle in, while Franko was just having his third drink. „How’s the mixing?”

„I don’t know, maybe I’m drunk, but the stuff’s which Paul put under a label ‘bull’s crap’ really kicks ass. I found Bailey’s track with her over-kick, remember the one which Leroy told didn’t fit in his idea?”

„I’ll tell you what doesn’t fit in my idea,” Chriss started, „I thought we’re here to create artsy-art-art, not to be bossed around by the tweedle dumb.” He took a mouthful of his red plastic cup. The most classiest glasses we could find at 7/11, brought back the memories of my highschool years... Oh those were the days, throwing toilet paper over headmistress house just because, sneaking in the movie theater only to cover every single soul in buttery yet cheep popcorn, and I wonder why Barbara wanted nothing to do with me. „And I meant Paul not Bailey by the way. So how’s that melody coming up?”

„Well... The other day Haner was teaching me gypsy jazz, I’d like to try something flamenco on one of the tracks, tho not fully till the end, just the intro which overcomes in a very fucking tasty lick, whatcha say guys?” I raised my eyes from the macbook to look at both of them.

„I guess we could go with that.” Chriss shrugged.

„Okay, Meg, your song is ready.” Frank notificated as I took a sip.

„Oh cool, le’me see...” I stood up to look over the words. „Bloody creature poster girl?” My eyebrows shot up just by seeing the name. „I love it already!” As I kept on reading further, I finally discovered Frank’s perception of the scary ol’ Raven, which in his opinion wasn’t that scary at all. Well... except for the ‘ The only thing I’m needing is you bleeding from my homicidal kiss’, but all in all, I’d say the song was very decent. The press wrote more terrible things about me, than Frank and I couldn’t tell the lyrics weren’t a bit gore.

„Is it a song where I will finally hear you scream?” Was that an intrigued spark I saw in Chris’s blue eyes?

„That depends... How much are you willing to give away?”

„I’ll promise not to tell anyone you still have your teddy on tour.” He smirked, while raising the cup to his lips.

„Hey, jokes aside about mr Snuggles... He’s my emotional support.”

„Is that what you call it nowadays?” He laughed. So what if mr Snuggles appeared to be my herbal experience super side-kick buddy, I may or may not be hiding my stash in. „’Cause I could’ve sworn mr Snuggles was in a very Mary Jane situation through the whole tour.” Chris snickered, raising his glass to his lips.

„What’s a Mary Jane?” Frank looked up from his seat. Are you fucking kidding me? Dude, you’ve been in a rock-band for over two years...

„Frank, have you been living under a rock for the past years?” Chris questioned with his eyebrow raised as he walked across the room.

„Man, you really do need to do your homework...” I agreed, returning to search for some forgotten tracks on the studio macbook.

„So Twinks, how’s your situation with Gates going? Has he put his feet on your rug, already?” Chris asked, taking a place by his guitars.

„Huh?”

„A bit of rock and roll?”

„Dude, what language are you speaking?” I turned to look over my shoulder just to see Chris sitting with a smug smirk on his face.

„He’s talking about sex, Megan,” Frank explained, my eyes going wide and my cheeks burning up.

„Oh so you’ve got this thing, but you don’t know what a Mary Jane is?” Chris laughed, emptying his cup, „But then again... you’re a guy, which explains a lot.” Our wonderful and not at all tipsy guitarist went for a refill, getting extremely close to me with that smug smirk on his face. Just drop it, Chris, just... „So have you had sex?”

„Chris!” I exclaimed.

„What? Have you?” He bent over to take another bottle of Jagermeister out of our cooler. I had to give him credit tho, Chris knew how to be extremely creepy and awesomely disgusting when he was drunk. And of course, he knew no proportions for alcoholic cocktails and his ¾ of the liquor and ¼ of the Monster in one glass just approved my statement. „You remember what we were talking about the other day, right?”

„Oh look,” I took the volume of the track I was listening to way up, „This is really loud, right? I can’t hear a single word you’re saying, Achilles!” I shouted over the music, seeing the reflection of Frank holding in a laugh in the glass of the vocal’s booth.

The music stopped, „Okay, time for recording,” Chris had pulled out the attaching wire, which send the music from the macbook to the speakers. Fucking party pooper. „Meg you’re up.”

„What? Why does it have to be me?”

„’Cause I said so and I’ve running out of booze, so we’ll have to hit some bar soon enough. We have to do this while you’re here... and drinking...”

„You think I’m a pussy and I can’t do this sober?”

„Not that I’m calling you names or anything, but yeah, I do... Frank, what on earth are you doing?” Now we both were looking over at our blondest member who was holding out his phone.

„Making a documentary.”

„You’re gonna put it on—„

„Yeah.” I just nodded, not saying anything as I took the lyrics and went to the recording booth. Before I know it, the lights went out and I had hit my knee against something which was about to be very much fucking dead. „Turn the goddamn light on!” I hissed, running in the chair for already the third time, or so I thought it was a chair. Could as well be Ian having a heart-attack after seeing what we’ve done to the studio. The blinding light from Frank’s iPhone also did no fucking good for me.

„No way! We need the vibe. You need to scream like you mean it. I’ll set up the candles.” He said walking in the booth with me and lighting up the aromatic candles Paul used for his recording. He said it loosens up his vocal cords, which I thought was bullshit, but hey, whatever floats his boat. I’m just glad nobody comments on my weird recording habits, like... uhmm... the thing... that thing where I...Okay, to think about it... I don’t even have weird recording habits. How’s the fuck that even possible? I’m the weirdest link of the chain, but yet without my recording oddities. Strange. Just after a couple of moments, Chris had lit up all of the candles around me. He let me make myself comfy behind the mic, walking back to the mixing board.

„Can I do this standing on my head?” Not that I knew if I could get my ass over my head, but it was worth a try, right?

„I don’t think you can,” I heard him say as I dropped on my knees, trying to boost myself on my hands. After breaking something in my numerous falls, I realized I probably had all the booze to blame and not at all my fat ass. „Are you okay there, Chris? You sure you can handle this?” I asked, seeing him struggling over which button to press on the board. He clearly was no producer and believe me, will never be. He had never been interested in the technical stuff.

„Sure I can... We had one of these in the Institute, remember?” One of these? Does he mean a mixing board?

„If I remember correctly, you never went near one of those....” I had this eerie feeling... Being in the studio at midnight, all alone, with no-one else around, only the puss in boots and the mime who was making a „documentary”. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Chris was a scardy cat, an even bigger than me. Once he jumped because of his own shadow. His own fucking shadow. So how can he enjoy the horror aspect in video games is just beyond me...

„Got it!” He pressed something, letting a piercing sound take over my headphones. They were off in a heartbeat. It felt like my head was about to explode. „Oops... Sorry. Now it’s supposed to be okay... I think...”

„You think... Like hell you do.” I glared, unwillingly putting the headphones back on. The sound was gone. Thank Jesus for that. „So what am I supposed to do now?”

„Hmm... I’m not sure...”

„What?”

„Look, I’ll give you the track me and Ian worked on the other day and just figure something out...”

„So you did in fact do something useful this month...” I snickered. I knew Chris, a little too well to be honest. Actually, behind his slob nature, he was very hardworking, if- of course there was an ‘if’- he liked what he did. But more than anything, he didn’t like to show and admit he’d done something. Something useful. Why? Beats me. He went by the role of the procrastinating senior student, the meme which’s flying over the 9gag. Basically, Chris’ public character lived by Mark’s Twain’s words - never put off til tomorrow, what can be done the day after tomorrow. Chris Achilles was the ultimate procrastinating mastermind, when in reality, he was the most hardworking person I’ve ever met. So that answers your question, what the hell are we doing at 1 AM in the recording studio. Making Chris’s and mine idea’s come to life. And getting drunk. And making a documentary.

A heavy riff started blasting through my headphones. Something groovy, something with a great vibe. Something dark. Something very much Raven McQueen. „Hmm, dude?” He pressed pause. „You know how to autotune stuff, right?” He raised his thumb. „Cool...” But in reality... It wasn’t cool. I had slight doubt about him even knowing what autotune is and I sure as hell didn’t like singing, knowing I sounded like a dying cat, who’s been recorded and played backwards.

„Ground control to major Twinks?” Chris brought me out of my thoughts. The track had ended. „You have to sing, and no, for the milionth time, you don’t sound like a dying cat played backwards.”

„Oh come one man, you know I suck at this. That’s why I stick to my guns.”

„Hey, it was your idea, although I’ve been dying to make a song with you screaming all the way, you insisted on this.” ...And? When I figured we should make a song from the perspective of each member of the band, I kind of thought each member except Raven McQueen. I made my best puppy dog eyes. He didn’t even wince. „Can we cancel? I think I wasn’t feeling too well when I made the decision.”

„No. We’re doing this.” So he decided to play the stubborn child. Cool. „I have a vision and we need to make it happen for the band sake.”

„You have a... vision?” I contained a chuckle. „Listen, chump, Picasso had a vision, Dali had a vision, even Van Gogh when he cut his own ear off, but you... dude, you know what you’re having now? Some preparty hallucinations that you could have a vision.”

„It still counts,” He shrugged, not being the last bit offended. „Now sing to me, my lovely Carmen!” He held his hand out a bit too gracefully for my comfort. To kill or not to kill, that is the question...

I gave him a look, before picking up the sheet with lyrics.

„Some girls like diamonds, smother them with fancy things... They hunger for the taste of glamor ” I could feel I was slightly off beat, it was an absolute mystery how singers could keep themselves in beat and know the precise timing to kick their vocals in. I sucked at this... Like majorly.

„Okay... What was that?” I raised my eyes up from the sheet - Chris had cut the track and had turned his head to look around.

„If you want to make me scream, forget it. This doesn’t work on me.” My eyes traveled back to the lyrics.

„No, stupid... I think I heard something...” What the hell was he talking about? You’re a grown man, Chris, get your shit together! And that’s when I heard something shadder in the long corridor behind Chris and Frank.

„Okay dude, I’m coming over. You’re creeping me the fuck out...”

„No, stay there. I’ll take a look around. You too documentary dude. Don’t make a sound, you hear me?”

„You know this is how they usually die in horror movies...” He shot me a look, „Just saying...” My hands raised up in a defensive gesture. I saw him disappear in the door isle. Great. Could someone please turn on the lights? This’ starting to get ridiculous „Chris? Are you okay there, buddy?” I figured to try to reach him after I’ve been looking down on my nails for quite some time. No answer. „Chris? Okay, Frank, this is us going on an adventure. Grab something heavy...” Like this steel thingy... I supposed it was a part of some sort of microphone stand. Didn’t know, didn’t care. As far as it does some damage, it’s allowed to be my companion on this adventure. I’ll call him Mark. Yes.

Slowly I made my way to the hallway, before I heard a loud thud somewhere from the chill zone. Fuck. I didn’t know if it was wise to turn on the lights right now or if it would be a clear death penalty. But the lights did in fact switch on and someone was standing right in my face. No, not someone. Brian. He looked very confused seeing I was going to strike with Mark. And Frank was behind my back, still recording shit.

„Where’s Chris?” I shot out in a shaky voice.

„What?” He frowned,

„I asked you where’s Chris?”

„How the hell should I know?” He snapped back. I figured he would be no help, so I stormed out of the recording room, not even questioning what the hell my boyfriend was doing at the studio this late at night. I ran straight to chill zone from where I’d heard the thud. I flipped the light switch. As I walked deeper in the room, I saw someone laying on the ground. Oh fuck.

„Is that him?” A deep voice chimed from behind me. Judging by the looks of it, he had slipped on someone’s spilled liquor and banged his head against the wall, going lights out.

„Chris?” I spoke softly, jerking his shoulder. He let out a moan. Yup. I was right. I could already see a bruise forming on his forehead. „Chris? Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey...”

„Did someone say eggs?” He spoke in a weak voice, slowly opening his eyes.

„Can someone tell me what the hell happened here?” Brian sounded angry.

„I slipped...” Chris sat up, looking at the pudle by his feet, „Somebody should clean it up before I’ve broken my neck...”

„Okay, can someone, please, explain, what’s going on here? And why the hell have you dismantled a mic stand?” He pointed out to the thing I was holding. That was no microphone stand, his name was Mark. God, these people...

„We thought there was a burglar...” I said like it was oh-so obvious, but when it left my mouth, suddenly it sounded very much stupid.

„A burglar? Here? This territory is being monitored by the night guards... You are aware of it, right?” Well... I had nothing for my defense „Besides what would’ve you done with that metallic piece if there’s truly been a burglar?”

„Oh I don’t know... Whacked him hard?”

„...Right.”

____

Syn’s POV.

Okay, whatever got me to buy her that bottle of Centenario, was never making decisions again.

It was just a matter of minutes when my head started pounding from that Killing in the name of which Meg had put on repeat. She was shouting the song for the whole ride from the studio and back to the house.

I’d been hundred percent sure, she’d had enough of the booze when I ran into her at the studio, but fuck... I mean... fuck. She was downing that rum from the neck in the mean time robbing me of my smokes and god forbid she smoked them, instead she just lit them, took a drag and threw out the window, „maybe you’ve had enough of them?” I’d been fast enough to yank only a single cigarette from her reach and that’s been far before she realized I have a glove compartment where I keep at least two more packs. But that wasn’t the moment when I lost my shit, not even when she decided to bathe in rum, or when she decided my Duran Duran CD wanted to go for a fly out of the car.

„What the fuck were you doing with Michelle?” That... I wasn’t expecting for. I stopped the car in the driveway, shutting down the engine, before I turned to look at her.

„What do you mean?” She raised her feet to the leather pannel, adjusting the chair so she could straighten out her legs.

„Don’t you fucking dare, Haner!” She pointed with the bottle towards me, „I fucking called you, don’t you dare say you weren’t with her!”

„I’m not saying I wasn’t...”

„So you ditched me in the middle of fucking nowhere and drove off to have lovely dinner with your ex wife, is that it?” Was she... jealous?

„What are you talking about, in the middle of nowhere? You were shooting a video there!”

„Don’t change the subject. Why the fuck were you with Michelle?” Change the subject? Was she for real? What the hell was going on with her? She was living with me when I still was bringing home different girl each night and she could care less, but now she was exploding just because I had dinner with Michelle? „You should start answering my questions, Haner...”

„Or what? You’ll leave me?” Like that was an option, „You’re fucking broke. Where will you go, back to your father?”

Her mouth opened, as she looked at me wide eyed, „You didn’t just say that!”

„Oh, but I did.” She looked at me for a couple of seconds, before she opened the door and nearly landed on her face while trying to get out of the car. With a heavy sigh I took my almost empty pack of Marlboro and got out of the car. When I figured she’s going the other way, I got fucking confused. „Where the fuck are you going?”

I saw her throw her head back as she emptied the bottle, before it landed in the nearest bush.

„Meg!” There was no fucking way I was going to run after her. The last time I ran after a chick was when McKenna was two years old and learned to open the front door. It was fucking two am in the morning, if she gets kidnapped... Fuck. „Hills!” I shouted, but instantly was distracted by the vibrating phone in my pocket.

Notes

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