Wasted

"Can you describe to me what it will sound like?" He asked, skeptical.
I could be insulted by his lack of trust, but I knew in a moment he'd eat his words.
"It'll sound a little like," I played a combination of chords, "With the bass doing one of these," I pressed the play button of the mixer, "Then, with the hook before the chorus obviously."
His slack jaw turned into a wide smile, "Effy, you can not be seriously blowing my mind this hard right now!"
"Brian, you can not be seriously constructing sentences like that anymore," I stated sarcastically. He gave me the look that he always gave me when I said something he doesn't like. He'd raise his chocolate eyebrows as high as they would go. He'd pucker his lips to the side and occasionally, he'd cross his skinny arms across his chest. "Hey Bri, do you remember when you told me we'd have guests on the record?"
"Seeing as how I just told you this morning, yes." Brian stated irked at my subtly of questioning.
"Well, the few hours in between the time you told me and now have been excruciating! Dito almost told me who it was until he shivered and stopped talking," I looked at Brian curiously, "What'd you do to keep him quiet, Bri?"
He smirked, "Evil wizardry."
"You just won't let that go!" If I had something to throw at him, it'd go straight for his head.
[Hidden Story]
Brian snickered and exited the recording room. Of course he would leave right before we had to get to work. I heard stomps towards the kitchen, of course he'd probably be stealing one of my lean cuisines. Bastard. Agitation settled in but quickly dissipated at the thought of one of my band mates joining me sooner or later. Or well, they'd have to once our guest came to record. I gnawed on my lip. Making a demo for a song was not as easy as it would seem. Maybe it was easy if your band actual helped you. I took interest in the curls of my hair instead of the song. Spinning the unstraighted, unfried, undyed curls of my dark hair around my finger was a lot easier then mixing and recording. I started to admire the balls I had to actual go on stage looking so normal. I wasn't the typical pop punk band mate. Firstly, because I was girl that was not the lead vocalist. Secondly, because I refused to wear skinny jeans or well pants at all. Thirdly, because I didn't have some crazy trendy styled hair cut. I looked the same as I did in high school but better clothed. I had naturally black hair that looked brown in the light, cut normally long with simple bangs I might add. Muddy green eyes that were outlined with eyeliner on a good day. One nose, one mouth, two ears, etc. I was normal and relatable. Maybe that helped with Proper Strangers popularity? Or maybe Dito and Brian's good looks payed the bills.
"Shouldn't you be working?" Murray interrupted, "Brian says he heard some good stuff just now. It's got me egg-cited!"
I rolled my eyes, "Shouldn't my bassist be helping me?"
"Oh, now Effy, you know I'll just fudge it up."
i scoffed, "Fudge?"
Murray didn't reply. Instead he stuck his tongue out at me and plugged in his bass guitar. Finally. Help. I observed Murray as he began to strum the bass in a steady rhythm. Murray was short and wimpy. His hair could only be classified as a "jew fro". It wasn't his non-threatening presence that attracted the ladies. After long periods of thought on tour, I had realized his charm. It was his gooey chocolate eyes that harbored the innocence his presence radiated. His was a little kid that would forever always shared his crayons. He was the guy that never broke hearts but mended them when asked.
"Would you stop staring at me and get to work?"
"i was admiring you, asshole. That's all gone straight to hell now," I retaliated.
He gave me his toothy smile, "Do it after we get the opening done. Then you can paint me like Leonardo D'caprio did that red head."
I laughed which was a nice release from the stress.

Sweat worked it's way upon my brow as I began to get frustrated, "Murray! No, that's not it at all!"
Murray raised his hands to his face and pulled downward revealing the inner skin of his eyes, "Effy, change it! We're never going to get the flow right. Might as well switch the lead in with--"
"No!" I shouted and mentally cursed the world for hating me, "I can play this! I just got to figure this out."
"You could wait for--" He began.
"No, I can do this. Just let me think about it." I interrupted stubbornly.
He rolled his eyes and set his electric green bass aside, "Fine, while you keep thinking. I'm going into the kitchen and having a drink with the guys."
Murray stretched like feline and swiftly left the room.
I huffed. Alone again.
"A drink with the guys," I mused to myself, "But Dito and Brian don't drink...."
Maybe I had fried too many brain cells while trying to puzzle out the chorus, but it took me a couple minutes of deep thought to figure out what the hell Murray meant. I awkwardly stood up from the swivel chair I had been sitting in for the vast majority of the day, clumsily walked to the bathroom and surveyed my appearance. My face was still flushed from the previous frustraions, bags took home underneath my eyes and my hair was unpresentable to say the least. I turned the faucet on and doused my face with cold water. It felt amazing which was enough motivation to take a shower.
After a good half an hour of cleansing myself and another 10 minutes sitting in the shower just pondering how I was going to finish the demo, I decided I was clean enough and ready to dress and mingle with the guest appearing on our record.
The kitchen, classic in style, was crowded thanks to the four gentlement that were sprawled through out the room.
"Effy! I was wondering if you were going to ever come out and greet our guests."
"Dito! I was wondering if you were ever going to come and tell me they were here." I replied, "Asshole." I mumbled under my breath.
Someone made an obnoxious cat sound and the room snickered. Great. I was in high school again. I turned my attention back to the four guys now all leaning against the counter. "Hi, I'm Effy," I greeted to all of them while making sure I kept my focus on anywhere else but their faces.
"Hey, I'm Alex, that's Zack, Rian and that ugly little fucker, we call Queasy moto."
I giggled at the stab made to his band mate. What characters. I finally summed up the courage to look at their faces. The speaker, Alex, had over-styled brown hair with decently good looks, front-man looks, but horrible style. A scarf? It's summer. The second, Zack, had more then decently good looks. He was good looking. He was what any girl in their right mind would think, hot! But he too had over-styled hair, a blond faux-hawk with gel flakes decorating the sides of his head. The third guy's, Rian's, looks didn't hit me first like the previous two. On the contrary, it was his presence. It was like a powerful engulfing feeling of security, patience and goodness. The feeling was enough to give me the security to look into his eyes. They were brown and in them I could see the entire room reflected. "Hey," he mouthed. I smiled as I caught a glimpse of his teeth. Straight, crest white and dazzling. I switched my attention to the last guy, Queasy moto, I stopped my thought process for a moment.
"Do they really call you Queasy moto?" I questioned sympathetically.
"Yes!" Alex shouted before "Queasy" could answer.
The room again laughed, "No," Queasy spoke shyly, "My name is Jack and I am not a monster!"
My laugh was soft compared to the laughter booming for the rest of the room. Usually, I'm not a talker, but I had to make nice with these guys. I needed this track to be "the shit," or else I didn't know what we'd do for a single. "I'm the target for humiliation too. Let's bond." I offered.
"Fo' sho!" He turned to the others, "Jealous?"
The other's scoffed and "psh-ed" except for one.
"Only a ton," Alex stated rather seriously. His tone supplied the room with awkwardness. Most people would have blushed, said some random comment and restored the ease. He, on the other hand, kept his gaze steady on me and said nothing to fix the tension. Wonderful. I've got a weirdo in my kitchen.
It was up to me to fix the awkwardness that I potentially started, "Well, you should have thought about that before. Me and "Queasy" here are going to go downstairs and listen to what I've got finished," I stuck out my tongue for accentuate my playful tone, "And you aren't invited!"
Any guy would either a) get all ass hurt about the rejection, b) get annoyed by my immaturity or c) laugh along with me and let it go. Alex, again on the other hand, smirked as if he knew something I didn't. His lush eyebrow, huge and messy, raised slightly while his lip set to the side making his cheek slightly puffed. Apparently, I amused this fucker. I waved for Jack to follow me which he happily obliged. He admired the fact that we had a mini studio in our cabin.
"Yeah, we got lucky. But, this equipment is only good enough to make demos. Not final copies. Well, not unless you want them to sound Beatle-y."
He set his 'LA' hat on the table and grabbed the guitar I had been using all day. A little part of me wanted to rage towards him and snatch it out of his grasps but he started to strum a mixture of chords that sounded soothing, calming, and kind of corny. "It's not much but it's a tune I haven't been able to get out of my head."
I nodded and grabbed the keyboard, "No, it's nice. Maybe if we made it a little different. It's too Jonas Brothers with all those C's, no offense."
He looked surprised for a split second, "No! I mean, that's exactly what I was thinking!" He played it a bit differently, "How's that?" I smiled and he took it as a good thing. I sighed finally relieved. The flow to the hook and chorus was saved. "So, Alex is going to fall in love with you," I raised my eyebrow, surprised, "He gave you the look."
I rolled my eyes, "What look?"
He did his best impression of Alex's smirk, "That. It's similar to his I-want-to-see-you-naked face but a bit different."
I shook my head, "Well, he'll neither fall in love with me or see me naked," Jack gave me a doubtful face, "I'm too much of an asshole for anyone to love me."