This is an excerpt from my new two books series The Rise and Fall of Skye Wright. This excerpt is from the first book.
From the very beginning of the book, where Skye Wright is working at Anemone Studios, a prominent alt-music studio and label.
I heard that girl is fast and frightening
Dirty hair and a laugh that’s mean
Her neighbors call her an evil machine
L7 – Fast and Frightening
“Who the fuck is this bitch? And what the fuck is she doing with Glop’s guitar?”
“This bitch is filling in for your flaky guitar player,” said Skye as she gripped Glop’s Les Paul. “That way you don’t waste everyone’s studio time.”
Skye hit a chord for emphasis.
“She can’t play our songs! How the fuck does she know our songs?”
“Please, power chord chops?”
“She knows our songs,” said the frazzled haired drummer as he looked to the angry singer.
“What the fuck? Where is Glop?’
“Nobody knows,” said the skinny bass player whose eyes were practically covered by his red bandana. “His girlfriend said something about him ripping out in his Camaro with a bottle of Jack.”
“Sounds promising, don’t it?” smiled Skye who then proceeded to tune Glop’s guitar.
The frazzled hair was sitting at his drums as the red bandana cradled his bass, both of them looking at the Mohawked singer with pleading eyes.
Skye brushed back her wild, dyed black hair and ran her eyes around the studio.
Before she got her job at Anemone Studios she had never played in a truly professional recording studio. She had been to more than a few recording studios, but only warehouse studios and small ad hoc recording sessions in bedrooms and living rooms run by working class punks and cash strapped heavy metal musicians. She had seen some impressive recording set ups put together by pasta eating retail employees and construction workers before, but she had never experienced anything as high end as truly sound proofed walls, isolation booths, and a separate sound engineering room shielded by a thick glass wall.
All of Skye’s friends knew she had gotten a job working for the studio’s director, the tall and imposing Tandasil, as her assistant. Tandasil had been her boss when she worked at the now long gone Dry Heave Records, a beloved retail store that had gone under a few years ago. She had convinced her former record store boss to give her a job at the prestigious alt music studio after some well rehearsed cajoling and general groveling.
Skye never told anyone that she had recorded at Anemone, since the only playing she ever did there was when a band’s guitarist or a bass player failed to show up for a scheduled recording session.
Which was happening a lot more often than she had anticipated.
“Fuck!” exasperated the singer as he stomped around in a circle, his bright red Doc boots thudding on the floor. The Mohawked singer took out his cell phone and started furiously texting.
“Your band mates have already been trying to get him on the phone for the last few hours,” said Skye through an impish grin that she tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress. “Unless he shows up in the next few minutes, it’s either me or eat the studio time you paid for.”
Skye scratched out a quick power chord and then slid her hand down the strings as she wavered on her feet and leaned towards an amplifier, threatening to hit the three quarters of a band with feedback.
The singer gazed into his phone in vain as he anxiously waited for an answer to his multiple texts. “Fuck!”
“We haven’t got all day if you wanna get started,” announced a booming voice over the intercom.
Skye pointed to the control booth. “You’re paying him right now, whether you play or not.”
The singer gripped his phone and gritted his teeth. “Fuckin’ Glop!” he shook as he was literally trembling with rage.
His head snapped around when Skye put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll fill in until he gets here, if he gets here. In the meantime, what the fuck have you got to lose?”
The singer waved his hands around as Skye kept her hand on his shoulder. “How the fuck are you gonna play our songs? How the fuck are you gonna learn all that shit on the fly?”
Skye took her hand back and plucked out a progression followed by a quick choppy riff followed by another progression, finishing her guitar spiel with a trio of quickly raked out power chords.
The singer looked her right in the eye. “What the fuck. Are you like, one of our fans?”
“I’ve seen you guys play three times,” said Skye. “I also listened to your scratchy ass demo a buncha times before I came to work.”
The singer’s face relaxed. “What, because we were coming in to record?”
“Because you wouldn’t be the first band to have a member flake out.”
“Glops is probably passed out in an alley,” said the red bandana.
The singer’s face softened some more. “Can you really play our songs?”
“No problem,” said Skye with a wave of her hand.
The Mohawk narrowed his eyes at her. “Did anyone ever tell you that you look like a long haired Joan Jett on heroin?”
“I’m gonna take that as a compliment!” replied Skye with a perky smile on her face.
A voice boomed over the intercom. “Let’s go people. The clock is ticking…”
The Mohawk walked up to the mic and took it off its stand. He nodded to the sound engineer.
“You fucking bitch,” he snarled as he turned and walked out of the studio.
“What the fuck?” puzzled Skye out loud as the Mohawked singer disappeared.
“You’re better than Glop,” said the red bandana. “We don’t sound that good when he plays.”
“And he’s pissed off about that?”
“Fuck yeah,” said the drummer as he gathered up his drumsticks. “He has a loyalty thing.”
“Sure. I get it.”
“Also you’re a girl,” said the red bandana. “That pisses him off, that a girl plays like that.”
“Now that’s just stupid.”
“He can be really stupid.”
“So why do you put up with him?”
“Shit, this band wouldn’t exist without him,” said the frizzy haired drummer as he walked out from behind his drum kit. “We wouldn’t make it to practice as often and we wouldn’t work on the songs as much. He’s kinda like a punk drill sergeant. I mean, if we didn’t have him we’d be fuckin’ around a lot more.”
Skye shook her head. “I would hate to be Glop when he finally catches up to him.”
“You have no idea,” said the red bandana.
“Hey, you wanna go grab a beer with us after we break down?” asked the frizzy hair.
“Naw. I gotta get home and feed my cats.”
Coming out of the studio, Skye’s tall and slim boss Tandasil was waiting for her in the hallway as Tandasil effortlessly balanced her impressive headdress of braided hair and dreadlocks.
“I thought that singer was going to punch you,” said Tandasil. “I don’t know why you just stood there.”
“I hit back,” said Skye.
“That’s all we need is a brawl in the studio.”
Skye held up her hands. “I don’t punch first!”
Tandasil slowly gave Skye a look. “Try not to get people too worked up in the studio,” she announced.
“Yes boss.”
Skye went into the office to look over her schedule. She took note of the next day’s studio times and quickly searched her calendar for calls that she needed to make.
She reminded herself to keep putting her personal tasks in her work calendar so that she could keep her schedule straight. She had to take her cat Danny Boy to the vet for a check up later that week. Then she had her Saturday German class in Point Richmond with her tutor and teacher Toby, a member of her punk tribe who just happened to be a dead fluent German speaker. She also went as far as marking down a dinner at her old friend Lori’s house so she could finally meet Lori’s elusive girlfriend Gabby, the registered nurse and Lori’s official sugar momma, whom Skye had still not managed to meet.
Skye turned and craned her neck to look around the office. She saw Tandasil talking to a tall, slender, and well-dressed man with a buzz cut, someone Skye did not recognize. No doubt he was some sound engineer or manager for one of the bigger bands coming by for a recording session.
Skye thought he looked like a skinhead wearing business casual.
She turned to her company laptop. She decided not to put down her Narcotics Anonymous meetings in her work calendar. She had no doubt that Tandasil would not give her grief about doing so if she had put down her planned twelve step meetings in an official company document. Recovering drunks and burnouts were par for the course in the music industry, but Skye was trying to remain professional.
Tandasil walked up to Skye as soon as the business casual skinhead had left. “Who’s on for tomorrow?”
Skye narrowed her eyes at her calendar. “Lessee, Grumpus Amuckus and The Flat Lorraines.”
“Okay. Hey, keep March seventeenth clear. I’m gonna need you for that entire day.”
“Gotcha!” said Skye with a thumbs up.
“You gonna cut your hair again?”
Skye shook her head around and brushed her hair back. “I dunno. I might let it grow out and do dreads again. I haven’t done that in a while.”
“Okay.”
“I’m just trying to emulate you,” said Skye as she pointed at Tandasil’s long, gravity-defying locks that were held together by numerous and chaotically placed hair bands.
“Good to know,” replied Tandasil demurely.
Tandasil picked up a clipboard and walked out.
Skye knew what Tandasil had meant when she asked her to keep that specific day clear. Someone big was coming by on the seventeenth.
available in paperback and on Kindle!
Stella Maris is the sequel to my previous novel. Even though it can be read by itself, check out what Skye was up to before her adventures in Stella Maris!
https://www.amazon.com/What-Hell-Ever-Happened-Rozhenko-ebook/dp/B08WC4DK6G/
