Uproar

Chapter 13

"See when you sing, you have one solid tone to your voice. But when you sing aggressively, I hear maybe about two or three pitches in that one more your singing." 

Chester stared at him and chuckled, "Well I don't know exactly how I'm doing it."

"It's just your talent," Don said and then beamed at him. Chester's face lightened up for a moment then his expression was gone the moment he looked at me. I was glaring at him. I also knew he was gonna be showered with praise. He always was.

"So how about we get some dates set up? For these next five days, we'll discuss genre, lyric theme and sound. After that we'll get this rolling and start our recording and writing process."

***

"Mike we gotta talk about yesterday."

I groaned and knew Brad had finally cornered me today. "Look Brad, I don't need shit from you today."

"All I'm asking is to get along with him! I saw you mad-dogging him while Don was talking. The entire time!"

I scoffed, "Yes because that's gonna help. I'm sorry Brad but even if we do get along, I'll still hate him."

"He doesn't even need to stay at your place. Dave and I will try to make space."

"He's fine in his car," I pushed passed Brad and gathered my things. I patted my pockets down for my keys and realized I didn't have them. Groaning I picked up my bag and searched for them. 

"Dude he can't! Someone has got to limit him on his drug intake. It's way too late to stop him now Mike. The only thing we can do is make sure he doesn't kill himself with all these drug habits he has.

"Mike, I swear he could've died y-yesterday," he choked up for a moment. "If only you had lis-"

"Stop! I don't want to hear it!" I grabbed my keys from my bag and stormed out of the studio. My neck and face felt got and my nostrils flared. Nothing was going to change my mind about Chester. He lied to me and betrayed my trust. And now nothing I do will fix his mistake.

Chester

I felt the shaggy carpet against my fingers. It was soft. Like it's scrubbed twice a day every week. I giggled and rolled onto my stomach, pressing my cheek against it and running my fingers through it again. It's so soft...

"Is he on something?"

"Probably."

I heard voices above me but I ignored them. This carpet is my new friend. I nuzzled my cheek against the material, the fibers tickling my nose. "See Brad I told you my cleaning skills will come in handy."

I hugged the floor and felt myself drift. I can sleep here.

"He's sleeping now," someone muttered. "I'm leaving now."

I giggled and fell asleep.

When I woke up, my mouth felt dry and my head pounded. I let my eyes peel open to find out where I was. I was in the middle of Dave and Brad's living room. I rubbed my eyes and squinted at the floor, searching for my glasses. I felt around and finally felt the thin frames on my fingers. I slipped them on and say there, waiting for the throbbing in my head to subside.

Brad walked into the living room moments later, trying his hair with a towel. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah. The floor is great."

He chuckled, "Think you might've had too many at the studio?" I let out a dry chuckle and remembered I was parched. I stood up and made my way to the kitchen, hoping I can find something to drink. I opened the fridge and pulled out a gallon of apple juice. Hey it's better than nothing.

"You seemed kinda off today. Something bothering you?"

"Um, sorta," I replied as I poured a generous amount of juice in a glass. I took a pretty big gulp and faced Brad, knowing he wanted to play therapists again like all the other guys. 

"Is it Mike? I tried talking to him before coming home."

"Yeah."

He sighed and played with the towel in his hands, looking down at it as if it had answers. His hair was still damp. "I--I don't know what to do anymore. I hate watching my best friend hurt my other best friend." He looked up and it the look he had broke me. His eyes were watery and his bottom lip was trembling. I've never seen Brad liked this. Maybe all this drama between Mike and I was actually getting to him.

I put my glass down and put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it to give him some sort of comfort. "I know Brad. Things like this happen. Maybe it's better if Mike and I aren't friends."

"I just want this band to progress without all this--this drama," he says as he twists the towel around in his hands. "I also don't want you hurting. I told Mike that maybe help for you is too late. All we can do is limit you."

I looked at him in disbelief. They finally gave up on me. They knew I wasn't gonna kick my drug habit. I signed and let my hand drop. I felt bile rise up into my throat, but I swallowed thickly, forcing it back down. "I'm sorry."

It's quiet for a while, my head still throbbing and my heart beat loud in my ears. "I really want to do this too Brad. That's why I'm here right?" 

He laughs softly and loosens his grip on the towel. "Yeah. We wouldn't be in our own studio with a producer of you weren't here."

I chuckled and rubbed the back of my neck and then my lengthening hair. "True." Brad then fixed his posture, beaming.

"Then let's make this album."