A Helping Hand

Raising a timid hand, Indy knocked on the door before her. After there was no response, she tried again, this time making sure to put some power behind the movement. She couldn’t help that her hand was shaking, her nerves building since she woke up this morning.

Though her mind was feeling a little more settled after her long chat with Reba, she had yet to hear back From Zacky, and her stomach was churning at the thought of today. Not only did she have to deal with however Brendan was going to react to her, she was also meeting an idol. She had never been star-struck before, even when working with bands she had admired, but this was a whole different kettle of fish. This was Jack White!

Indy lifted her hand to knock once more, but was surprised when the door opened before her fist made contact with the wood. Standing inside the frame, was Brendan.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted, stepping forward and going to wrap his arms around Indy. Today, she was prepared for his actions, and quickly stepped out of the way. Before he could speak, she decided to take the reins.

“I thought we were going to be professional?” she asked, reminding him of his promise yesterday. As far as she was concerned, he was not to refer to her in any other way.

“Sorry, you are right,” he agreed, stepping back to the edge of the door. Without a word, he bent down and took two of the guitar cases at Indy’s feet. “Let me guess. Your Les Paul?”

“Of course. I couldn’t leave him at home,” she replied, not being able to help a small smile appear on her face.

“Oh no, of course not,” he agreed. “Come on in.”

Indy picked up the case for her semi-acoustic and followed in his footsteps, making sure to close the door behind her. She stepped into the hallway, and was stunned at what she saw. This was no usual studio. Judging by the pictures that littered the hall walls, the cosy looking den they passed, and the kitchen they had to walk through to arrive at a set of stairs, Indy assumed this was actually his house.

“I take it you have been working on your studio, then?” Indy asked as they ascended the stairs towards the attic.

“Just wait until you see,” he replied, turning his head as he spoke so Indy could see the excitement on his face. It did not surprise Indy that since she had last seen him, he had overdosed on recording equipment. He was never happy with what he had, and even before she left for LA, he owned enough to run a small studio by himself. He could only imagine what he had amassed in the past 2 years.

They reached the top of the steps, a door blocking their path. Brendan put down one of the cases on the step before opening the door, grabbing the case once more and walking through. With the heavy door open, music flowed through to Indy’s ears immediately. The sound of an upright bass being tuned made her excited to see what was in the room.

Entering the room, Indy quickly shut the door behind her, making the room soundproof once more. She saw Brendan place her two electrics along the wall, and she followed suit. Once the guitars were out of the way, Indy took in the room. It was a huge space, no walls separating the room at all, and scattered through the room were microphones at differing heights. In the corner stood a man with shoulder length, dead straight black hair, his attention on the upright bass Indy had heard earlier. Across from him stood another man, guitar strapped around him as he fiddled with a mic stand, lowering it to his height so he could sing through it. It was Jack White.

“Boys,” Brendan said loudly, getting the attention of the two men. They both turned to Brendan, their gaze quickly flicking from him to Indy. “This is Indy. Indy, this is Jack Lawrence, or LJ, and this is Jack White.”

Brendan indicated to the men, as if Indy had no idea who Jack White was. LJ stayed in position, giving Indy a smile and small wave before returning to his tuning. Jack White, however, stopped what he was doing and walked over to the pair. He extended his hand to Indy, and she put hers in his, shaking it.

“Hey, nice to finally meet you,” he said with a smile. Indy was floored for a moment, unsure if there was any hidden meaning behind the words. She knew he and Brendan had been friends for a while, but had no idea if he would have spoken about her in the past.

“You too,” she finally managed, her smile widening at the reality that she was shaking hands with Jack White. She couldn’t help the next few words that came from her mouth, outing herself as a fan. “It’s an honour.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, joking. With a wink, he returned to his previous position, once more trying to get the mic stand to his preferred level.

Thankfully, the door opened once more, Indy’s attention turning to it rather than staring at her idol like the maniac she felt. She had given herself a stern warning not to behave like a creep, and was trying so hard to shake away the fan-girl inside of her. Another man was walking through the door of the recording space (Indy hesitated to use the word studio), coming over to Indy and Brendan.

“You must be Indy,” he said, also extending his hand. Indy shook it while nodding her head.

“I am,” she replied, confirming.

“I am Patrick,” he told her, smiling widely. “Glad to have you on board!”

“Thanks, I am excited to be working with you all,” she said, genuinely. Though part of her was very wary of Brendan and his intentions, she was excited to see what music they quartet would create, and how she could help.

Patrick moved around the room to sit behind a drum kit, awaiting for his band mates to set themselves up.

“So, how is this going to work?” Indy asked Brendan, the only one that was currently unoccupied. Though that didn’t last long, Brendan moving to pick up his own guitar, a yellow Telecaster that Indy had admired for a long time.

“We will play you the one song we have written so far, and go from there,” he replied, lifting the strap of the guitar, placing it over his shoulder and moving to his rig. Indy recognised most of it immediately, the Marshall Offset rig always being one of his favourites to play through. “That sound good with you guys?”

A chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘ok’ sounded through the room at Brendan’s question, each of the members getting ready to perform the song for Indy. She moved to a couch that was at the end of the room while the others finalised their gear.

Patrick was sitting at his kit, eagerly awaiting the chance to play, LJ had finished tuning the bass and was lightly plucking its strings to double check the tuning while Brendan was plugging a lead into the microphone that sat in front of his mouth. Indy was fascinated to watch Jack, or more accurately, his guitar. It had a beautiful almost-mint colour top, the green tint barely there, and had been personalised for Jack himself. It was obvious due to the triple humbuckers that sat between the bridge and the neck, the slew of knobs and switches that had been added, and what looked like a microphone sitting where the input jack usually sat. Indy was eager to hear the tones the Frankenstein could create.

Once they were set, Patrick started the song with four taps of his sticks before playing a drum-only intro. Soon after LJ started with a catchy riff. Not long after, Jack played a very basic guitar melody on top before playing chords. He then sang, Indy listening to the lyrics of the verse as the melody flew from his mouth. The verse hit, Brendan finally playing alongside his bandmates and singing backing vocals with Jack’s main vocal line. The song was catchy, Indy gave them that.

As it wrapped up, Indy couldn’t help but applaud as the final notes were sustained. Indy enjoyed the song, the blues-rock vibe making it sound almost like a more filled out version of the White Stripes crossed with the pop-aspect of Brendan’s music.

“That was wonderful,” Indy said to them. She was excited to hear more of their creations and the recording started. Brendan made his way over to her guitars, pointing at the Les Paul and then motioning to the Supro amp that was not being used. Indy took the hint and started to get herself set up.

“Thank you,” Jack said to her, humble as ever.

When he and Brendan had discussed getting a session musician in with them while they recorded, he was a little apprehensive, but after his friend assured him that he would get someone they could rely on, he was more open to the idea. He didn’t think Brendan would get his ex-girlfriend to fly out to Michigan to fill the role, but Jack trusted his friend when he spoke so highly of her skills, and was open to another input on their experimental band.

“Have you been recording lately?” Jack asked, trying to make conversation as Indy took her black and cream Les Paul from its case.

“I actually wrapped on two months of recording a little less than two weeks ago,” she replied, putting the strap over her shoulder and moving to the table next to the couch she had sat on. It held an array of leads, one of which she grabbed as she moved past.

“What kind of stuff were you doing?” Patrick asked from behind the kit, also intrigued to know a little more on the woman in the studio.

“It was some guitar work for a band called Avenged Sevenfold. It’s their third album, their first through Warner, and I was called in to finish off the rhythm work for their guitarist after he broke his wrist,” she replied, plugging in her guitar, leaving the amp off for the time being. She was sure they had more questions.

“That sucks,” LJ piped up, Indy hearing his voice for the first time. She looked over to him and smiled.

“That it sure does!” She agreed.

“So what style are they?” Jack asked her, keeping the conversation going.

“Heavy metal, so lots of power chords, crazy tempos and duel solos, which were great fun,” she replied. “That being said, they have their acoustic moments too, so there was a whole spread to play.”

“Sounds like you can play nearly anything,” Jack noted, impressed with her range.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said, modestly. “There are still a lot of styles out of my reach.”

“Like what?” Brendan challenged, knowing that she was selling herself short. When he had seen her play last, she could play along with almost anything. He was sure she had only improved since then.

“I don’t know… flamenco?” She said, her reply more of a question than a firm answer.

“Have you ever tried?” He asked her, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” She admitted after a slight pause. “So that proves I can’t play it!”

The guys laughed at her reply, the playful banter making her feel more at ease. It was the same with every job, the initial anxiety dissipating as the group interacted.

“Ok, so what are you guys actually wanting from me?” She asked them, trying to figure out where she fit in this situation. “I was told that you wanted someone for guitar work, and maybe some piano.”

“We aren’t really recording this in the ‘normal’ way. Just whatever you feel you can add, you should add, whether it is guitar, keys, banjo, whatever,” Jack told her, shrugging.

Indy nodded, enjoying the chance to have some musical freedom in her work. She had enjoyed recording with Avenged immensely, but she would be lying if she said it hadn’t felt a little constrictive at times. Being able to jam was one of her favourite things, and now she had a chance to jam and record. She was thrilled at the prospect.

“Let’s play a few of the other things we have been working on, and Indy, chime in whenever you feel the need,” Brendan suggested, taking the lead and trying to help Indy fit in.

Indy couldn’t help but send an appreciative smile his way, thankful that he was trying to get her comfortable with the new process. Patrick hit his sticks together once more, starting with a slightly faster tempo than the last song Indy heard and it wasn’t long before the music swept her away, no lyrics sung this time around, only melodies and countermelodies flying between Brendan, Jack, and even LJ as they jammed.

They played for a few hours, stopping here and there for constructive criticism, praise, or instrument changes. There was a thrum of creativity in the air that was making Indy fall in love with the creative process once again. Patrick called a stop for a lunch break, claiming his stomach was about to eat itself and he couldn’t go on without food. Indy chuckled, his statement reminding her of Jimmy and his tendency to over-dramatise.

Taking the opportunity, Indy headed outside while the others spread out over the house, Patrick heading straight for the kitchen, LJ to the bathroom while Jack and Brendan finished their conversation over the last half of a song. Indy made her way through the house the same way she came in, slipping through the front door before taking the opportunity to feed the cigarette habit she had yet to quit. The anxiety over today had mostly subsided, but there was still a little nervousness hanging around the back of her mind.

She took a cigarette from her pocket, the packet all but empty and severely crushed from the amount of times she had sat on it. She lit the cigarette, placing the lighter back in the pack along with the remaining 4 sticks. She bit her lip, trying to decide if she should stop for more on her way back to her hotel, or take it as an opportunity to quit once again. She looked back at the front door, reminding herself of her situation, and she knew she would be stopping in to the small gas station she had passed on her way here.

Breaking her from her reverie, her phone rang, the tone loud enough to pierce the eerily quiet yard.

“Hey,” Indy greeted, answering the call before the second ring. She took a puff of her cigarette, slowly exhaling as the other line spoke.

“Hey,” Zacky replied, surprised that she answered. “You answered.”

“Yeah, we are having a lunch break,” she said, screwing up her eyes as she tried to think what time it was in LA. Being 2pm here, she realised it was around 11am for Zacky. “Well, a late lunch break.”

“That’s a good sign, right? Late lunch means that it’s all going well?” He asked her.

“Yeah, it is. No recording yet, we have just been jamming.”

“That’s cool. I know how much you like a good jam sesh,” he said, and Indy could hear the smile in his voice.

“That I do,” she agreed, smiling widely when she realised how much he paid attention to her when she spoke. “What are you up to? Should you be in the studio yourself?”

“I should be, but decided to take a smoke break.”

“Me too,” she laughed, holding up her cigarette, temporarily forgetting he couldn’t see her.

“Still stressed then?”

“Not as much, but definitely still have nerves. It is Jack White, after all!”

“Like I told you, just be your amazing self, and he will see what we all saw.”
“I hope so,” Indy said wishfully, hoping he was right. “How are you boys going? Got a record for me to listen to, yet?”

“You're better off asking your dad, not me,” Zacky replied with a chuckle. “It's up to him, now.”

“All the recording is done?” She asked, amazed at the progress they had made last week.

“Managed to get the choir done last Friday, and that was the last of it,” he reported proudly.

“That is great news! Well done,” she congratulated, excited for them all.

“You shouldn't be congratulating me. You more than anyone know that I did nothing.”

“Zack,” she sighed, hating when he fell into one of his slumps. “You wrote the album, I just played it for you. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, waving it off.

“Tell Brian to give you a hug for me,” she instructed him, a little disappointed she wasn't there to help him.

“Oh, speaking of Brian, he told me to tell you to call him,” Zacky said, changing the subject.

“Tell the asshole that the phone works two ways,” she replied with a laugh. She took the final drag of the cigarette, putting it out on the stones beneath her and making sure to pick the extinguished butt back up to throw out later.

Zacky laughed at her reply, missing the banter they had on a daily basis. He felt a lot better finally getting in contact with her as they hadn’t managed to talk since Saturday, only sending a stream of text messages to one another with small updates. Hearing her voice helped calm the chaotic thoughts that had plagued him when she hadn’t answered his calls yesterday. He hadn’t realised she had tried to call him back until this morning, and had only just managed to find the nerve to try and ring her now.

Indy heard the door behind her open and close, she turned her head to see Patrick with a cigarette between his lips. He was patting down his pockets, trying to find a light. Indy fished hers back out from her pack and handed it over.

“Hey Zack, I gotta go,” she said, taking another cigarette out of the pack now it was open once more.

“Already?” He asked, disappointed that they couldn't chat longer.

“Yeah, sorry. Some of us have to work,” she teased, accepting her lighter back from Patrick. “I'll text you later.”

“You're funny,” he replied sarcastically. “Talk soon.”

Indy hung up the phone and lit the end of her cigarette.

“I didn't meant to interrupt,” Patrick said, leaning against one of the pillars as he smoked.

“You weren't interrupting,” she assured him. “He just managed to call at the right time.”

“Boyfriend?” He asked.

“Uh, not really,” she replied, unsure how to class her relationship with Zacky. She knew it was something more than friendship, but as they had yet to discuss the kiss, what it had meant, or even what would happen when Indy returned to LA, she was hesitant in labelling the relationship as ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’.

“Sounds complex,” he commented, smirking at her answer.

“Only a little,” she said, shrugging. Indy decided to get the conversation away from her personal life, not comfortable discussing it with someone that was essentially a stranger. “Did you get some lunch?”

“Yes, finally! There are some leftovers in the kitchen, I think,” he answered her, gesturing vaguely to the house with the cigarette between his fingers. “Just in case you are hungry.”

“Thanks,” she said warmly, touched at the gesture.

The pair finished their cigarette, a few ‘getting to know you’ questions flying between them, but most of the time in comfortable silence. They went inside, Indy stopping by the kitchen and grabbed a quite bite before she headed back upstairs to join the group.

Over the short break, Jack and Brendan had routed all the mic leads into a mixing board which connected to a desktop they had set up near the couch. This style of recording was the polar opposite of what Indy had just completed with Avenged Sevenfold, and she was excited to be able to explore the sounds they could capture with the right combination of microphones, angles and amps.