A Helping Hand

Sighing at his own idiocy, Zacky opened the door to the studio, knowing today would be a long day. Unfamiliar with relying on his right hand, he fumbled with the frozen handle, it sliding out of his grasp as he tried to twist it. He rolled his eyes and tried again, successfully opening the door and flinging it a bit more than necessary in retaliation.

“Fucking doors,” he mumbled to himself as he walked through the desolate corridor, thanking the powers that be that they managed to get a studio with a back entrance so he didn’t have to make his way around the hustling lobby, through the winding corridors and up the overcrowded elevators. Sure, he loved being social and talking to others, but there was a time and place for everything, and recording was not one of the times, nor the places to make new friends.

He reached the main den of the studio, Mudrock already hard at work amidst the countless mixers, computer monitors and headphones. He was in his own world as Zacky opened the door, successfully on the first attempt, and was surprised when he felt the younger man tap his shoulder.

“Shit! You scared the crap out of me! You’re in earl- fuck,” Mudrock rambled as he took off the headphones and spun to face the guitarist. His expression changed drastically from stunned, passing through surprise and annoyance, concluding with a mix between shock and disbelief.

“Yeah, seems there might be a problem,” Zacky grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck nervously while he waited for Mudrock to unfreeze.

“How… when… what the fuck?” he stuttered out, not sure what question to ask first. His brain ran at 1000 miles a minute, trying to think of a way around this situation. In his career as a producer he had seen his fair share of accidents, from drunken falls, to dares that got too extreme, but Zacky definitely took the cake.

“Last night I was chasing Icky around the house, the little psycho mutt, and I didn’t notice the cushion on the ground. I slid on it over the floorboards, fell, broke my arm,” Zacky recounted, embarrassed by the typical throw-you’re-arm-out-to-break-your-fall cliché.

“Fuck,” Mudrock concluded, dumbfounded by Zacky’s story. If he didn’t respect the man as much as he did, he would have laughed at the story. Or hit him for his stupidity. Or probably both.

“Yeah. I’m really sorry,” he tried, not sure if he should apologise or not. He decided to, just in case it helped in any way.

Mudrock sighed, intently staring at the cast. His older features were clouded with a million different expressions while he tried to reign in his thoughts. His eyes brightened once he realised the obvious solution.

“It happens. Don’t beat yourself up over it,” the older man comforted, patting Zacky’s shoulder. “I can fix this. Wait here. The others should be here soon.”

With those parting words, the producer left the room, walking back down the corridor Zacky had just travelled while the impaired guitarist flopped on the couch, dreading the moment his band mates walked through that door.

He already knew they would ridicule him, but was unsure on the amount. If roles were reversed, he would definitely take part in the teasing, and he knew once they all overcame their initial shock and anger that the entire time his arm was in a cast, he would be the subject of their taunting. He sighed loudly, ears picking up movement in the hallway. He prayed that it wasn’t any of his band mates, but knew that it was too soon for Mudrock to have finished solving his dilemma.

Fuck.

“Hey, Zacky. Sup man?” Matt’s deep voice asked as the door to the den opened. Zacky cringed, awaiting Matt’s reaction.

“Not much, you?” he replied, turning his head to face the singer.

“Just came in to get a jump on – dude! Your arm!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide as he stared intensely at his plastered arm. He couldn’t quite comprehend it this early in the morning, and it took a while to pass from his eyes to his brain. “What the fuck happened?!”

“Embarrassing story… why don’t I wait for everyone to get here?” Zacky asked, not wanting to tell the same story 400 times, and would rather let Matt stew in curiosity. Pre-payback for the shit he knew he would cop.

“Tell me now, dude! What the fuck?!” Matt asked again, patience not a strong suit. All thoughts of tracking vague demo vocals flew out the window as he continued to stare at Zacky, confusion filing his hazel eyes.

Zacky sighed, ignoring the older man as he stared hole in the cast. If staring at it has worked to remove it, it would have been long gone with Zacky staring at the atrocity all night, blaming it, not himself, for the accident.

“Wow, everyone is here early today,” Brian commented as he strolled casually into the den, not prepared to see his left-handed counterpart being intensely stared at by the singer. He had half a mind to step back out, thinking he had interrupted a disagreement, but his curiosity got the better of him. “What’s up, guys?”

“Look,” Matt grunted out, pointing directly at Zacky’s arm. Zacky sighed, lifting it for Brian to see.

“Whoa! What the fuck?” he asked, placing his equipment down before joining his friends in the lounge area. He, too, stared unblinkingly at the cast, as if it would answer all the unasked questions itself.

“Long story, explain it when the other two get here,” Zacky replied, sighing heavily. So far, reactions were not good, but far from shocking. No one had yet to show anger or laugh in his face. He though that might change once they knew just how his arm ended up in a plaster cast.

“Just tell us now,” Brian said, his statement flying out of his mouth before he even registered the words. His eyes flicked up to the guitarist’s face before returning back to his arm.

“I tried, he’s not giving in,” Matt told Brian, still yet to take his eyes from the cast. He was just so confused.

Zacky remained silent again, ignoring his friends as they continued to stare. He rolled his eyes, getting angrier and angrier by the minute. There is nothing that interesting about the cast. Yes, it’s new, and yes, its gunna suck, but to stare at it for that long is just not right.

“Short shit, you little fucking dick!” Jimmy’s voice hollered out, his voice entering before the giant man could even reach the room. Johnny flew in, a shit-eating grin on his face as he slammed the door, the loud thud following indicating that Jimmy could not slow down in time. “I’m going to cut your heart out and squish it to a mushy pulp!”

“Hey guys,” Johnny said, slightly out of breath, as he looked away from the opening door to the three already inside.

“You realise you going to die,” Brian said, stating the obvious as Jimmy opened the door, a scowl on his face as he looked for Johnny. Johnny sat fearlessly on Mudrock’s seat, smiling at Jimmy.

“You little fucking assho-” Jimmy started, slowly approaching the bassist. Matt, not in the mood to deal with any more broken band members, decided to put a stop to Jimmy killing Johnny before anything could break.

“Zacky broke his arm,” he stated, rolling his eyes at the pair before returning his gaze to his left-handed friend. He still couldn’t quite comprehend it.

“What? Seriously?” Johnny asked, his head immediately snapping to Zacky before he returned a watchful gaze on Jimmy. He didn’t trust Jimmy to not do anything, even when his head was turned.

“How the fuck did that happen?” Jimmy asked, poised half way between hitting Johnny while staring at Zacky, his eyes flicking from his face to his arm.

“Now that your all here, I better tell you the story,” Zacky sighed, knowing his time to delay was over. Cringing, he recounted his story, finishing with the 3 hour wait in the emergency room while his arm was completely fucked up.

“Holy shit! That’s something I would do!” Jimmy laughed, the laughter flowing from his lips before he could even think to muffle it.

The others chuckled, realising the truth behind the drummer’s words before returning to Zacky, thinking of a million questions.

“How long is it in the cast?” Brian asked, his mind now wandering to how they would record his parts. Brian guessed he would have to do double the work now, and he was not impressed.

“Because of the severity of the break, the doctor said about 6 months,” he replied, hating the reality behind the situation. 6 fucking months of sitting around, doing nothing while his band created their 3rd album. It fucking sucked.

“6 months! Fuck! How bad is the break?” Matt shouted, originally underestimating the guitarist’s condition.

“Dislocated shoulder, broken elbow, broke both my radius and ulna, plus two broken fingers. They said I should have had surgery to set the bones in the right order, but the breaks were far enough apart that it wasn’t a large issue,” Zacky answered, recalling what the doctors told him, and what they had written down. He was under heavy painkillers when they were explaining it all to him, so they wrote it down, realising the man wouldn’t recall anything the next morning.

“Mother fucker! That’s… fuck!” Brian couldn’t even form the words to express his sympathy for Zacky. That’s a lot of shit to happen to one arm, and his hostility faded as he realised how much pain Zacky would have been in.

“Yeah, it fucking sucks,” he sighed, looking around his band mates. They actually looked sympathetic towards him, and he didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.

“Hey, where’s Mudrock?” Johnny asked, not noticing their producer anywhere. He was still keeping a keen eye on Jimmy, knowing the older man had not forgotten their earlier actions.

“I came in early and told him, then he left, saying something like ‘I can fix this’ or something,” Zacky shrugged, glad the line of fire was off him for a second. He decided to keep it off him by subjecting Johnny to a world of pain. “Why was Jimmy about to kill you before?”

“Fucking dick slammed the door in my face, TWICE!” the drummer yelled, moving again to attack Johnny, reaching the younger man and jumping on the seat he sat on. Johnny squealed a legitimate squeal, his hands rising to cover his face as Jimmy’s fist went into the bassist’s stomach. Johnny, used to being beaten up, laughed it off, trying to throw Jimmy off, but not succeeding.

“Fuck, I love watching Johnny get beat up,” Brian chuckled, the other three watching happily as Jimmy was dropped to the floor, Johnny having managed to push him off. Jimmy wasn’t happy with that, and dragged Johnny with him. The pair wrestled for a bit, Jimmy eventually sitting on the younger man’s stomach with a triumphant look on his face.

“And that is a normal occurrence,” Mudrock’s voice invaded the room, everyone looking to the source, including Johnny as he pushed one of Jimmy’s legs to get a view.

Standing next to Mudrock was his daughter Indigo. She was a seasoned session guitarist and could play anything from classical Beethoven to the industrial solos in Nine Inch Nails. He believed she would be patient enough to withstand the band’s dynamic and help produce a stunning album, yet didn’t plan on telling them their relation. He’d seen it too many times, bands judging her because she was the daughter of the producer, judging her because she was a woman, judging her on anything but her talent, and it made him angry every time it happened. Indigo understood exactly where her father was coming from and happily abided by his rules. She was just happy to have work.

“I can work with that,” she said, smiling widely at the group before her. They all gazed at her with confusion in their eyes. She was used to this reaction, and knew her father had yet to tell them while she was here.

“Boys, this is Indigo. Now that a certain guitarist is… out of action, she will be helping out. She will be working with you as Zacky’s translator of sorts,” Mudrock told the band. When he recovered from the initial shock of Zacky’s injuries, he realised that all Zacky needed was a way to express the ideas he would get in his head. That’s where Indy came in.

“Why can’t Brian do it?” Jimmy asked, not seeing the reason why the other guitarist couldn’t just play the chords Zacky does, and harmonise the solos.

“Brian will be too busy, and to meet the deadline Warner have given us, it’s our only option. While Brian writes and tracks the solos, which we know will take time because he’s a perfectionist, she can scribe Zacky’s opinions. It’s worked before, and will work again,” the producer described, trying to reason with the boys. Bands are never happy to accept the help of others, and even some producers become yes-men to whatever the band suggest. That rarely makes a good record, and if he wanted to produce something he and the band will be proud of, it was going to have to work his way.

“I fucking hate this!” Zacky exclaimed, anger in his eyes as he got off the couch and stormed out of the door past the two Murdock’s. The room was silent for a second before Brian stood, about to follow the footsteps of the upset guitarist.

“It’s ok, I’ll go,” Indigo said, her brow furrowed at the reaction. “He has the problem with me, not you.”

With that, she turned, jogging as not to lose sight of the older man. He opened the door to the kitchen area, slipping through before it shut loudly. Indy sighed, realising it wasn’t all going to be flowers and sunshine.

Jimmy stood, rising from his seat of Johnny, the younger man exhaling loudly with relief. “I’ll be back for you,” he warned.

“Where are you going?” Brian asked, confused at the drummer’s reaction to follow the two guitarists.

“Eavesdrop,” Jimmy stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was curious about this new girl, and wanted to see how she handled an angry Zacky. Before he could get any reprimanding looks or comments, he skipped out the door, silently following the pair.

Zacky sat in the kitchen, free hand rubbing his face as he tried to calm himself. This whole situation had made him feel so many conflicting emotions, and now they were all coming out as anger. He didn’t mean to be rude to Indigo, but she was just another symbol of his stupid accident that resulted in his depressed state. How was he meant to survive 6 whole months without playing guitar? 6 months of being stuck in the studio, doing nothing. It was his personal version of hell. He was too wound up in his own misery to notice the door open and Indigo in its frame.

“Come on,” she said, his head snapping up to look at her. His eyes showed a mixture of anger and confusion.

“What?” he asked, a hint of irritation mixing with his statement. Indigo didn’t even flinch at the inflection, just stood her ground, repeating her statement.

“Come on,” she said, “we’re going out.”

She turned, slowly leaving the room to give Zacky a chance to catch up with her. She wasn’t sure if his curiosity was strong enough for him to follow her, but was hoping that it was, and that she could calm him down. As she left the room, she saw a tall man approaching, his walk more of a skip than anything. She recognised him as one of the two on the floor, and she was 90% certain he was the one sitting on top. He was going to be fun.

“Yo, Zee. Where are you going?” Jimmy asked the guitarist, seeing Indigo leave the kitchen, Zacky following slowly after her. Damn, now he couldn’t listen in.

“I don’t know,” he replied, a puzzled look on his face as he followed Indy out of the corridor and left the drummer standing in the hall, confused as fuck.

Jimmy watched the two leave the studio; Indy with a determined step while Zacky wasn’t sure if he should follow or not. With a large sigh, the giant returned to the den, interrupting the conversation with a ‘hmmph’.

“They left,” he pouted, falling on the couch, ‘accidentally’ hitting Johnny on the way down. The bassist retaliated, almost daring him to continue. Jimmy ignored him and looked to Brian, hoping his best friend would know what was happening.

“What the fuck is happening today?” Matt asked, throwing his hands in the air as problem on top of problem arose. He didn’t like it when things went against his plans, and in the last hour alone, 3 things had thrown him for a loop.

“Well, I guess we should track those demo vocals,” Mudrock said, hoping to get some work done today amidst the chaos. He had faith that Indy would be back with a happier Zacky a bit later on, but wasn’t ok with doing nothing in the meantime.

With that statement, Matt broke from his rising anger and put it to good use, Brian stood and grabbed a guitar, working through parts of a solo he was crafting while both Johnny and Jimmy remained on the couch, Jimmy hitting Johnny once more before they started to wrestle again.

Meanwhile, Indy led Zacky down the street, visiting the little café she had found a few years back. It was in perfect distance of the studio, made awesome coffee, and was fairly well priced, so it instantly became her favourite place to escape to while recording. She opened the door to the place, holding it for Zacky as he caught up to her before finding a seat in the cozy shop.

“Coffee?” she asked Zacky, already knowing her order. She couldn’t help but smile as she saw the confused look on the man’s face. She doubted that he was used to women behaving so dominantly with him, and she took great pride in the fact he had willingly followed her with her basic command.

“Ah, yeah, thanks,” he nodded, taking in his surroundings as the girl strolled up to the register and ordered their beverages. He was curious as to what she wanted to talk to him about, but had an inkling it was to do with his outburst.

Indy paid the lady at the register, smiling warmly as they conversed. She had recognised the younger girl from the many times she had visited a few months ago, and Indy explained to the lady that she worked around the corner, and would be back a lot more frequently in the next few months. She smiled again as she made her way back to the table, taking a deep breath before the inevitable conversation.

“Why are we here?” Zacky asked as soon as she had returned. She hadn’t even sat down before the conversation started, and Indy knew it would be a long coffee break.

“You have a problem with me, and if we are going to work together, we have to sort it out. I refuse to work with someone who despises me, so we are going to sort out your issues, and get over it,” she explained, taking her seat, staring at Zacky intently. She was awaiting a shocked reaction at her blunt reply, but only received his contemplative look.

“I don’t despise you,” he stated, working through her reply semi-methodically. He hadn’t expected her to presume so harshly of him, but really couldn’t blame her.

“Well, that’s always good,” she replied, not sure if he was finished, but took his long pause as an end to the short sentence. “Why’d you storm out?”

“Lots of things, but knowing you had been called in to help me was the icing on the cake. I feel fucking useless and I hate it,” he spoke, saying more than he intended. It was easier talking to someone he didn’t know, and the words spilt out.

“You are in a fucked up situation, I totally understand that. You haven’t had a lot of time to get used to your current state, and it really sucks to have to let your band down because of something you have done, but why resist help? I’m not here to hinder you in any way,” she questioned, still unsure of his reaction. He may have unravelled part of the mystery, but far from all.

“I realise, but it just cemented the idea that I can hardly do anything, and can’t even record my own fucking album,” he defended, getting a reproachful look from the lady that delivered the drinks to the pair. He shrugged it off, used to being criticized for one thing or another, especially his language in public places.

“Coffee?” she asked, Zacky nodding to indicate it was his. She placed it in front of him and put Indy’s drink in front of her, smiling at the woman. “Anything else?”

“That’s all for now, thanks,” Indy replied for the pair. She watched as Zacky grabbed the sugar, pouring some into his coffee.

“Just holler and I’ll be here,” she told Indy before walking away. The two sat in silence for a bit, the interruption having halted the conversation flow drastically.

“Ok, well, I think I’d like to get to know the person I’ll be working with for months, so what’s your name?” Indy asked, starting a new conversation after realising she didn’t even know any of the band’s name, let alone the man in front of her.

“Zacky. Zacky Baker,” Zacky answered, surprised she didn’t continue her questioning about his reaction. He was more than happy to put it in the past. “And your Indigo.”

“That I am, but people call me Indy,” she nodded, confirming his statement. She agreed with her father about not telling the band of their relation, just in case it affected her position with everyone. “Age?”

“24, you?”

“23. When did you guys start the band?”

“In ’99. Johnny, the bassist, joined 2 years ago, but everyone else has been here since the beginning.”

“You live in the area?”

“Yeah, just down in Huntington. It’s about a 45-50 minute drive. Are you in LA?”

“About 5 minutes away. It’s pretty handy, really,” she replied, smiling as she sipped at her tea. It was a very relaxed conversation, and she was actually getting along with the guitarist. With his earlier reaction, she presumed he was going to be a prima donna, but was happy to be wrong. “Family?”

“Mum and dad still together, older sister Zina, younger brother Matt and a riotous little mutt called Ichabod,” he listed, sticking with his immediate family to answer the question.

“Who are the others in the band? I didn’t get any names,” she fired off her next question, happy with asking than answering.

“Matt is the singer. He’s tall, brick shithouse with the shaven head. Brian is the lead guitarist, he’s a little taller than me, black hair, usually in a fedora. Johnny, I told you before, and finally Jimmy. He’s our drummer, and one crazy son of a bitch. Beware of him, he’s insane, but mostly harmless,” he explained, giving the girl fair warning about the crazy giant. She needed it, knowing Jimmy and his ways.

“Mostly harmless?” she questioned, smirking at the response.

“Yeah, intends well, just… exuberant,” he classified, thinking of some of his crazy antics. He was sure there would be yet another ton while they record the album and she would understand then. “He is someone that must be experienced.”

“Was he the one sitting on the shorter, mohawked guy?” she asked, remembering the situation she had walked in on. Zacky nodded as he sipped his coffee. “Ah, gotcha. And the littler guy is… Johnny?”

“Nice memory,” Zacky commented, swallowing the coffee. It was surprisingly good, and he knew he would be revisiting the little shop.

They both continued to chat, Zacky filling Indy in on his life, giving her a hint of his personality when he wasn’t storming out of situations while she gave snippets of her own life in return, the pair creating a bond that would hopefully see them through the recording process.

As the pair was walking back, Zacky realised that they didn’t talk about how they were going to work together, Indigo being his ‘translator’.

“So, how is this going to work, the whole recording through you thing?” he asked her as they approached the metal door leading to the back of the studio. Indigo paused, her hand on the knob as she faced the older man.

“I think it will be better if Mudrock and I explain it to everyone at once. We’re here anyway, so saves telling the same story twice,” she explained, knowing that if she were to explain it now, she would be repeating herself to all the others as she would undoubtedly work with them all at one stage.

“Fair enough. Let’s go then,” he nodded, smiling as he hustled her into the corridor. Funny how he had said something very similar not an hour to go.

She laughed at his eager nature and opened the door, the pair walking into the den to see what had transpired in their outing.

No one paid them much attention as they walked into the room, all five sitting around Mudrock’s computer screen with headphones on, listening to the vocal track Matt had laid down.

“Sounds awesome dude!” Jimmy exclaimed, patting the singer on his back as the recording finished. Everyone was slightly surprised at the improvement in Matt’s singing voice from the last album to now, the singing lessons really paying off. He had managed to keep a rough, gritty tone in his voice while aiding his pitch and strength.

“Well done, Matt,” Brian concurred, high fiving the man before taking his headphones off. He was about to return to his guitar to continue working on small riffs and chord patterns when he saw Zacky and Indigo standing in the door, both slightly confused as to what everyone was talking about. “Hey, you’re back.”

“All sorted out,” Indy smiled, walking into the room further to introduce herself properly to everyone. She walked over to Brian, putting her hand out for him to shake. She viewed his features, trying to determine who he was by Zacky’s descriptions. “Sorry we never really met. I’m Indy.”

“I’m Brian, lead guitarist,” he replied, shaking her hand and smiling as he did so. He had the chance to take in her features as she smiled and moved around the room, formally introducing herself to his other band mates.

Indy was an average size girl, in between Zacky and Johnny’s height, with short, shoulder length copper hair. Her fringe swept to the left, sitting across her forehead and not over her deep blue eyes, her make up very subtly outlining her eyes without drawing too much attention to the fact she was wearing make up. She wore a grey long sleeved shirt with black skinny jeans, her feet clad with grey converse, her comfy clothes indicating she knew the studio routine. The seemingly innocent attire accentuated the round of her hips and swell of her breasts, displaying her feminine figure. She was pretty, and had a good body, and Brian sure as hell won’t complain about seeing that all day, every day.

“So, can you tell me how this is going to work now?” Zacky asked, shaking Brian from his checking out. Indy had said hello to all the boys, trying desperately to remember the names and faces, and sat on the couch, letting her father start the explanation.

“Well, this is a tough situation, but we’ll manage it. Basically, Indy is here to be your hands,” Mudrock started, regretting his choice of words in a room full of 20-something year old males. He hoped it would go unnoticed, but the small stifled laugh from Jimmy proved him wrong. The drummer pretended it was a cough while everyone else smirked at the statement. He hurried to continue, making up for his misuse of words. “She will play your parts to the album, playing chord progressions you think will work, or riffs that you and Brian play, or basically anything you do.”

Indy took over from her father, hoping that she could get the point across a little more eloquently. “Hopefully, in about a week or so I can nail your playing style, then I’ll be able to get into the music more, and understand the way you play as a unit. I’ll listen to your other albums, wrap my head around those, and we’ll take it from there. It’s a long process, but the best option.”

“I don’t really understand,” Zacky admitted, a little confused as to his role. Would he be picking chords and notes randomly, or would there be a system? He couldn’t quite comprehend the idea.

“Ok, well, say Brian came up with a solo and needed a chordal backing while he does his thing. We would listen to what Brian had, and work with him the same way you would work. I would play around with chords and stuff in the key, while you dictate what I should play, when, what sounds good, what sounds bad, all that kind of thing,” Indy tried to explain further. She knew it would be hard in the beginning, most guitarists jamming together to find the sound they were looking for, and now it was going to be a lot harder. She would still jam with Brian, under Zacky’s watchful eye, and would take initiative as to the role of the rhythm guitar. If the song needed chords, she’d play chords. If it needed a counter melody, she’d give it a counter melody.

“Ok, I think I get it,” he nodded, trying to formulate an image in his head that would model the whole ordeal. He knew that once they had all gelled together and understood how to work around this set back, it would be business as usual and the album would be on track.

“It will make more sense tomorrow once we start to play together,” Indy promised, knowing that once they started, it would get easier.

“Tomorrow?” Brian asked, wondering why they were waiting.

“I have to admit I’ve never heard your band before, so I’m going to listen to your stuff, understand the way we’re headed, listen to what demos you have and just understand you guys more as people before I head straight for the guitar. It works better when I feel like I’m not on the outside,” she answered honestly, her experience leading her to her methods. Once she feels like she’s part of the unit, she plays better and usually connects more to the people she works with.

“Does that mean we’re having an early day?” Jimmy asked, excited at the thought of leaving early. He did not do well when he was cooped up in one area too long.

Mudrock contemplated this question. While he and Matt still had a few demo vocals to lay down, he knew Johnny and Jimmy weren’t needed vitally, and Brian, Zacky and Indy needed to get to know each other as they would be working with each other the closest.

“I spose so. Go take Indy out for her initiation into the band,” he agreed, giving into the drummer while trying to keep them all together in a more casual environment. The giant shouted with glee as he bounded over to the producer, sitting on his lap.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeated, kissing Mudrock’s cheek. He leapt up before the producer could react, flying out the door and yelling back to the group. “Johnny’s, half an hour, first round’s on Zacky!”

“I see what you mean about him needing to be experienced,” Indy muttered to Zacky, her eyes on the retreating man as he galloped down the corridor and ran into the sun outside.

“That’s nothing. You should see him when he’s cooped up in the drum room all day. That is not fun,” Zacky replied, laughing at his friend’s reaction to fresh air. He was one of a kind, that Jimmy.

“I can just imagine,” she said, laughing along with the guitarist as their attention focused on the remaining group.

“Ok, I’ll see you guys soon,” Johnny said, waving to the others as he followed the steps of Jimmy, only slightly slower and in a more normal fashion.

“Where’s Johnny’s?” Indy asked, not knowing where they were all talking about. Was it Johnny’s house, or a bar, or what?

“It’s in HB, just near the turn off to the Pacific Coast Highway. You can follow me if you want,” Brian replied, putting his guitars back on his rack before he was ready to go.

“That would be great, thanks. I just have to unload my guitars from my car. It will take like, 5 minutes. Is that ok?” she asked, remembering her 3 guitars she brought in. She had only packed her electrics, her father telling her that would be all she needed for today, at least.

“That’s fine. We’ll help,” he agreed, taking a look at Zacky and amending his statement. “Well, I’ll help. I don’t really think Vengeance is up for it.”

“Vengeance?” she asked, leading the pair out of the den and down the corridor she had travelled 4 times in the last 2 hours.

“It’s my stage name, Zacky Vengeance,” Zacky explained, forgetting that she barely knew anything about them. “The others sometimes just call me Vengeance instead of Zacky, or Zee.”

“Oh, makes sense. Do you have a name?” she asked Brian, interested to find out more about the guys. She couldn’t help but internally chuckle at stage names, but reconsidered when she though of the amount of people that do use pseudonyms.

“Synyster Gates, spelled with ‘Y’s instead of ‘I’s,” he answered, smiling at the memory that led to his stage name. “Matt’s is M. Shadows, Johnny is Johnny Christ, and Jimmy’s it The Rev.”

“Actually, it’s the Reverend Tholomew Plague, but The Rev for short,” Zacky contradicted Brian, adding Jimmy’s whole stage name. It was an epic name, Indy would admit that, and she grew on the idea of stage names. They were actually quite cool, as far as stage names went.

“You guys don’t half do things,” she joked, opening the door that led to the parking lot. She led the boys to her car, popping the boot to get out two guitars and opening the back door to get the third. She placed them all in a row on the ground, picking up two and nodding to the third. “Can you get that?”

“I can take the other one as well, if you want,” Brian offered, grabbing the third guitar and motioning to one in her hands. He didn’t want to seem like he was a prick and making her carry two while he had one.

“It’s fine, just open the door,” she smiled, starting to head back into the studio.

“Even I can do that,” Zacky joked, hiding a fraction of self-anger by joking around. He hated that he couldn’t even help carry a guitar in. He felt capable, but he knew the other two wouldn’t let him, even if he had one hand perfectly fine.

“Then that’s your job, door man,” Indy joked back, not noticing Zacky’s hidden pain. They reached the door quickly, her car parked less than 50 feet away, and Zacky walked ahead to open the door.

“Mission accomplished,” he commented, once again hiding behind humour. It was the little things that annoyed him the most about this situation, and more and more things seemed to pile on the mound of things he could no longer do.

“Well done, sir,” she laughed, heading in first, followed by Brian, Zacky taking the end. She couldn’t help but think that she was going to get sick of this corridor and its boring beige walls. The company should do something to liven it up, add some art, or at least a new coat of exciting paint, if not for appearances, but her sanity.

“Didn’t you guys leave?” Mudrock asked the three, saving the work on the computers and shutting everything down for the night. He noticed the guitars in hand, and realised why they had returned so quickly. “Ah.”

“Yes, I thought I’d get help while it was here, and they are less likely to get stolen now,” Indy explained, placing the cases in a line against the wall. She wasn’t sure where she’d be working, so she stuck with the wall. She motioned for Brian to place the third guitar with the other two, then they were ready to head out.

“Oh, and here. I found these for you,” Mudrock said, giving Indy the two Avenged Sevenfold albums already produced. He knew she’d want to hear the stuff as soon as she could, and had found the albums in his work bag.

“Awesome! Thanks! I’ll come in early tomorrow to check out the demos you’ve done,” she told her father, thanking him for the CD’s before they left. She had wanted to talk with him about the band, this recording session and what was to follow, but knew better than to not go out tonight to know the others she was working with.

“Not a problem. Now go have fun, and I’ll see you all tomorrow,” he smiled, shooing the three away as he finished his nightly routine.

Indy looked at the CD’s as they walked down the corridor for the last time that day, reading the album track listings and looking at the artwork. She adored the work on ‘Sounding the Seventh Trumpet’ and liked the bat on ‘Waking the Fallen’.

“There are so many Biblical references here. Are you guys a Christian metal band?” she asked, putting 2 and 2 together and coming up with religion.

“No!” Zacky answered quickly. He didn’t have anything against religious people, but he wasn’t one himself, and didn’t like to be branded as such.

“There’s not that many references,” Brian added, opening the door to outside. He thought back on some of their stuff, trying to dig out religious influences.

“Come on, really? ‘Avenged Sevenfold’, ‘Sounding the Seventh Trumpet’, ‘To End the Rapture’,” she listed, catching a few names that had strong Biblical backings.

“Ok, fair enough. I’ll give you that,” he submitted, walking Indy over to her car as she continued to pour over the albums. “You sure do know a lot about religion to pick up those references straight off the bat.”

“I guess that’s what happens when you have gone to a Catholic school your entire schooling career,” she replied, shrugging. She noticed both boys look at her, tilting their head. She knew what the next question was. “No, I am not religious, my parents had the means to put me through private school, so they did. It just happened to be a Catholic school. Yes, we had uniforms. No, I don’t have it anymore.”

With a roll of her eyes, she walked to the driver’s side of her car, sticking the key in the lock. Normally she wouldn’t have said anything, but the conversation had flowed so naturally, she didn’t even think about what she was saying until she had to do the damage control.

“Um, ok,” Brian finally said, managing to speak again after the explanation. “So that’s my car there. Just follow me and we’ll have you at Johnny’s in no time.”

Indy looked up to see Brian pointing at his car, a gorgeous Subaru BRZ, bright red and immaculately clean. He was a car fanatic, and she could sense it from the shine coming off each individual part of the car.

“Ok, awesome. Thanks so much for all the help,” she said, smiling at the pair. She unlocked her car, opening the case to ‘Waking the Fallen’ as she did so. She was excited to hear what the band sounded like, knowing only what her father had told her as she came in. The drive to the bar was the perfect opportunity to do so. “I’ll see you boys soon then.”

“Ok, see you then,” Brian nodded, heading over to his car, Zacky trailing behind him.

“Drive safe,” the broken armed guitarist yelled out, not meaning to sound quite as lame as he had. Indy smiled and waved back, indicating she would do so as she readied herself for the trip.

“Drive safe?” Brian asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend. He had not expected Zacky to say anything, let alone ‘drive safe’. He wondered just what was going through his friend’s head.

“Shut up,” he mumbled back, going to his car that was parked near to Brian’s before quickly unlocking it and slipping in, away from the torment of his friend. He blasted his music, quickly accelerating away from the parking lot, leaving Indy to follow Brian.