The Byron Journals (21 page)

‘Before we start,' Sam said, ‘let's just clear up the matter of payment. I take it Jade's told you about the package I need delivered to Melbourne?'

‘Yeah, she's mentioned it,' Tim replied. ‘Pick-up in Wollongong, delivery to Melbourne.'

‘All right.' Sam clapped his hands. ‘Let's do this.'

They collected the instruments from the bus and lugged them up to the recording area. Sam set to work unrolling cables and doing sound checks. He chain-smoked and studied the room as if calculating complex algorithms, smiling and nodding to himself.

‘Aren't you going to record us separately?' Andrew asked.

‘Actually,' Sam looked up from the mic he was adjusting in Heidi's kick drum, ‘I thought I'd go for a raw, live sound. It'll be a much more efficient way of doing things. Quicker.'

‘But I don't understand how you're going to mix the instrument levels if you can't separate them.'

‘Hey, I've recorded countless acts here, buddy.'

‘Like who?'

‘You wouldn't have heard of them—underground acts, next big things.'

‘Maybe I've heard of them.'

Sam took a step towards him. ‘Look mate, I've got musicians lining up to record with me. The only reason I'm doing this is because of Heidi and my sister—and the coke you're running to Melbourne. That's it!'

Heidi stared at Andrew. ‘And we're appreciative, Sam…Andy's just being a dickhead.'

Sam finished setting up, sauntered out of the room and reappeared minutes later with a tumbler of scotch in his hand.

‘All right,' he growled into the intercom and slumped down at the mixing desk. ‘Let's get started.'

He swirled his finger in the air and, when they were all watching, dropped it onto the record button. Heidi counted them in. Before the second bar was out, Sam shook his head and waved them to stop. ‘Start again!' he roared through the intercom.

They looked at each other and waited for Sam's nod. A few bars in, he called for them to stop again. He pushed buttons, raised and lowered levels on his mixing desk.

Tim muttered to Andrew. ‘Do you think he knows what he's doing?'

Andrew laughed, shaking his head. Sam's voice came through the intercom: ‘I can hear you—obviously.'

‘They were joking!' Heidi called.

‘Sorry,' Tim said.

‘Sorry,' Andrew echoed.

Sam shook his head. ‘Yeah, well—are you sure
you
guys know what you're doing? The last two takes have had completely different beginnings. You
do
have set songs, don't you?'

‘We do,' Andrew said, trying to think of the best way to put it. ‘But they're fluid concepts.'

Sam's mouth twitched into a pained smile. ‘Fluid concepts?'

‘Yeah.'

He rolled his eyes and knocked back the last of his drink. ‘Okay—well why don't you guys take a bit of time to put your
fluid concepts
into songs, while I go and get myself another drink.'

He headed downstairs for the better part of an hour then reappeared behind the desk with a bong in one hand and a refilled tumbler of scotch in the other.

‘All right!' he said.

Heidi and Andrew attempted to knock the jams into songs. They tried to rein in Tim, but it was as though his brain was hard-wired not to repeat the same thing twice. Andrew tried to call the choir girls. It would be easier to impose a form on Tim with their help. But he couldn't get through. They kept jamming. They tried to record a track, but kept stuffing up and soon after five o'clock, Sam called it a day.

‘Can't we stay, at least until we record something?'

‘Sorry…I've got an important meeting I need to get ready for. You can leave your gear set up where it is.'

Andrew thought of Heidi's song and the choir girls. This was as good a time as any to mention it. ‘Hey, Sam…I'm not sure if Jade told you, but we've got a couple of girls coming to sing on a few tracks.'

‘Nah, mate.' He shook his head. ‘That's not part of the deal.'

Andrew turned to Heidi, then to Sam. ‘It's for a good cause. We're recording a song for—'

‘Whatever. Tell me your stories tomorrow.'

Jade was out when they arrived back at the Bondi apartment. She hadn't left a note and didn't answer any of Tim's calls.

Heidi waited until Tim was in the shower before pulling Andrew aside. ‘Do you see what you've done?'

‘What?'

‘Jade's avoiding me because of what you did.'

‘She's not avoiding you; she's probably catching up with her old school friends.'

‘Oh, fuck off, Andy.'

‘Whatever.'

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Don't you dare start.'

‘Start what?'

‘Trying to pretend that nothing's happened, that nothing's changed.'

‘I'm not. But anything I do or say is going to be the wrong thing. So what's the point? And why do you care if Jade avoids you?'

‘I care because she's my best friend.'

It took a moment for the words to sink in. ‘What?'

‘Well, who else have I got?'

‘I don't understand you.'

Her eyes glazed. ‘I'm aware of that.' She turned, then stopped. ‘You realise Tim will cut you out of the dope money when he finds out.'

‘No, he won't.'

‘What makes you so sure?'

‘He needs me.'

‘Why in the world would Tim need you?'

Andrew fell silent, relieved when Tim called from the bathroom, ‘Can someone bring me a towel?'

Heidi turned and walked away.

twenty-seven

Sam's important meeting—a blonde wearing one of his white business shirts—answered the door and let them in. Her name was Cindy and she announced how excited she was that Sam was finally recording his first musicians. Clearly high on some kind of uppers, probably coke, Cindy laughed and clapped her hands at inappropriate spots in her monologue. She was still talking when Sam wandered downstairs wearing his black kimono and smoking a cigarette. He greeted them with a vague wave and sat in front of the TV to play a combat game on the PlayStation. Heidi and Tim left to warm up while Andrew stayed to talk to Sam about the choir girls.

‘It's a present for Heidi's mum. The song she wants to record for her.'

Sam laughed. ‘Is it a fluid concept?'

‘No, this is a definite song—the girls arrive tomorrow. You're going to love them, they've got amazing voices. You'll be begging them to do vocals on your dance tracks.'

‘Yeah, we'll see,' Sam's mouth dropped open, his eyes focused on the game.

Andrew climbed the stairs and joined Heidi and Tim in the studio. An hour later, Sam appeared in front of the mixing desk. Aside from being trashed, he clearly had no idea how to operate his equipment. But it was Sam's gear, Sam's studio, Sam's rules.

Jade arrived after a couple of false starts. She waved sheepishly through the plexiglass and whispered something to Sam. Soon enough, she, Sam and Cindy were racking up lines of coke in the mixing room, while Heidi, Tim and Andrew waited in the studio. Sam pressed the intercom, sniffed twice and nodded.

‘Righto! Let's do this! Show my little sis what you're made of!'

Heidi closed her eyes, straightened her back, and tapped them in. For the next three minutes, she played like she'd never played before and Tim and Andrew were dragged along for the ride. They were a perfect triangle of sound, the holy trinity of street musicians. Flying. Tim shouted and whooped at all the right places.

Their changes were crisp. It felt amazing. Perfect.

The song ended and the three of them beamed at each other, drunk on the music they'd made. They rushed into the mixing room to listen back to the recording. Jade rubbed her nose with the back of her fingers and glanced at Heidi. ‘That sounded great! You're so talented, Heidi.'

Heidi gave her a weak smile. ‘Thanks.'

‘That was amazing!' Tim howled. ‘Quick! Play it back!'

Everyone's attention gravitated to Sam, who was pushing buttons, raising and lowering the levels. The silence expanded, gathered weight.

He swallowed loudly and forced a smile. ‘Awesome rehearsal, guys. Top stuff. Now we'll do it for real.'

Heidi dropped her face into her hands, then looked up. ‘For real? That was as real as it gets.'

‘Hey, drop the attitude, sister…or this session is
over
. Done. Finished.'

‘Yeah, I know what
over
means, Sam.'

‘So you know what shut-the-fuck-up means, too.'

‘Hey!' Andrew snapped. ‘Don't talk to her like that.' ‘Yeah,' Jade added. ‘Apologise, right now!'

They waited while Sam looked between them. ‘All right—I'm sorry, okay? It's just the coke talking.

Tim scratched his head. ‘So…you didn't get any of that?'

‘No.' Sam said. ‘Let's try it again.'

They headed back into the studio to try and duplicate the magic they'd created in the previous take, but Sam's stuff-up had knocked the life out of them. They tried, but there was no energy, no bounce. Heidi was devastated. They knew it had been the take of takes.

They knocked off an hour later, without recording anything worth keeping and Sam told them tomorrow was their last day. At the rates he charged, three days was all he could spare for the errand they were doing. After that he was booked up. That gave them one day to nail a recording with the choir girls. Andrew tried to call Belinda to see how far away from Sydney she was, but there was no answer.

As they were getting ready to drive back to Bondi, Jade pulled Heidi aside. ‘Why don't you stay and party with us, Heidi?'

‘Why would I do that?' Heidi asked.

Jade smiled. ‘'Cause we've got heaps of coke.'

Was it the choice between holding a grudge and smoothing things over? Heidi turned to Tim and Andrew. ‘I'll see you guys back at the apartment.'

Andrew and Tim drove back to Bondi with parking tickets stuck to the windscreen wipers. Andrew knew what Tim would say—they were just pieces of paper, they didn't mean anything. Instead, they focused their energy on bitching about Sam. What a prick he was. What a rich, smarmy, drug-fucked arsehole. How hard was it to push a ‘record' button? They went right over the top with it and pissed themselves.

The sun was still up when they arrived back at the apartment, so they walked to the beach for a swim. It was windy, the ocean was rough, and there weren't many people around. They laughed, wrestled each other near the shore and threw each other into the crashing waves. On the way home, they picked up some takeaway Thai.

Sharing the food in the living room, they talked about how they could grow more pot and expand their empire; employ a small army of runners and transport drugs up and down the coast; they could supervise operations and make the big dollars like Tony Montana in
Scarface
, but without all the paranoia and bloodshed.

They finished dinner and the conversation withered. Tim had become increasingly nervy and Andrew was getting jittery. Finally, Tim drew breath and closed his eyes.

‘I've gotta tell you something.'

‘What?'

He exhaled and opened his eyes. ‘Remember that morning Jade walked in on Heidi and me in bed together…'

‘Yeah?'

‘Look, I've been meaning to tell you…Heidi made me swear I wouldn't say anything…'

An image of Heidi naked beneath Tim flashed through Andrew's mind. He slapped the table and stood up. ‘Fuck! She is such a hypocrite!'

‘Huh?'

‘She keeps going on about me and Jade…' He stopped.

Tim cleared his throat. ‘What about you and Jade?' He paused. ‘What are
you
talking about?'

Tim rose to his feet. ‘What are
you
talking about?'

‘Jade and me…in Tamworth, I thought…'

Tim's expression hardened. ‘What? You fucked Jade?'

Andrew nodded. The truth, when it surfaced, was a brutal, exhilarating thing. ‘Hey, but that just makes us even. You're guilty of exactly the same thing.'

Tim glared at Andrew, his brow tensed.

Andrew faltered. ‘Aren't you?'

‘Nope.'

Andrew fumbled for words. ‘So what…were you going to tell me?'

‘Something else entirely.'

Andrew's throat was dry. ‘It wasn't meant to…it was just a…I didn't…I've been meaning to—'

Tim's fist flew through the air.

Andrew woke on the living room floor, a drumbeat pulsing inside his head. He sat up, then stumbled to the kitchen. He took a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and pressed it to his eye. The house was quiet. How long had he been unconscious? Tim had been about to tell him something about Heidi. Why had he been so nervous? Tim didn't get nervous about anything except the cops, and if it wasn't that, and he hadn't slept with

Heidi, what could it have been?

He checked his phone—it was nine p.m. and he had eleven missed calls. Heidi and Jade had both been trying to contact him. They were still at Sam's house. Trashed. Drunk. High on coke. The first few messages were angry and filled with threats. Even Sam and Cindy were calling out things in the background. But as the drugs kicked in, the messages became softer, more understanding. Everyone forgave everyone. The song for Heidi's mum was the most important thing. They wanted him to come down to the studio and get trashed with them.

Andrew switched on the TV and settled in to
The
Blues Brothers
—the car crash scene. His phone started ringing and he braced himself for more drug-riddled talk. But it was Belinda: she and Emily were passing through the northern suburbs, getting closer to the Harbour Bridge.

‘Sorry, when will you get here?'

‘An hour…maybe less. Is it still all right that we stay?'