DISCLAIMER: The story that follows is a work of fiction. Many characters are completely fictional. Though some characters are based on actual persons, they should not be considered accurate or truthful representations of those persons. This story is not intended to reflect the behavior, work habits, personal hygiene, or sexual proclivities of any real person, living or dead, since the invention of rope.
WARNING: This story deals with homosexual themes. In order to frustrate my readers, these themes will be treated tastefully but in a positive light. If this offends you, read no further. If you are under 18 years of age, read no further. If accessing this story causes you break any laws applicable to your location, read no further. If you've been awake for several days working on your thesis and your eyes are aching from sleep deprivation, read no further and go to bed.
FEEDBACK: This is my first story of any length. (One early piece, "Just For Grins," is available here for you to read.) If you want to contact me and make any comments, please send them to michaelwashere@netzero.com. I'm interested in hearing --- well, reading --- what people have to say about my stuff.
THE STUDIO IN THE COUNTRY Part 1 - Monday afternoon
I watched the digital numbers get slowly bigger and bigger as the gasoline pumped into the van's gas tank. Finally there was a click as the pump shut itself off. Putting the hose back into its slot, I looked over to see if Robby was done filling the other van yet. He wasn't, so I recapped my tank and walked over to him.
"Just about done?" I asked my brother.
"Yeah, you got the card, right?" he asked looking up at me. When I nodded, he said, "Go on in. I'll be done by the time you get inside." I was halfway to the door of the station when he yelled out, "And get me a Dr. Pepper."
I yelled back, "They don't say 'please' on your home planet?" But we both knew I'd buy him one.
After paying for the gas, we pulled out of the parking lot and resumed our trip to the airport. On the interstate into Dallas, we had raced each other, but now that we were in the city, Robby preferred to follow me. He wouldn't admit it, but I think all the traffic intimidated him a bit.
Turning south, we entered the long highway that bisected the airport - largest airport in the world, the sign bragged. Glancing again at the flight information Mom had written on a 3x5 card for me, I watched the signs overhead to direct me to the correct gate. Finding the exit, I turned and looped around to the pick-up point for arriving passengers. Robby followed closely.
We pulled into two parallel parking spaces about fifty feet beyond the actual door, just like Mom had suggested. When we stepped out, the warm air of September in Texas air felt refreshing.
"Man, I hate waiting in airports," Robby said, walking up. "When does this get to be Mike's job?"
"Next time you wreck the van," I grinned at him. "At least we don't have to park. Pick up the guests and their equipment, then head home."
"I still don't get why I have to drive the equipment van," he pouted a little.
"Because I'm older. And because you've started listening to country music. I seriously doubt that the Backstreet Boys want to listen Hank Williams for an hour."
"I don't know," he said. "They may have surprisingly sophisticated tastes." He grinned wide, showing the three dimples he was so proud of.
A good-looking guy, my little brother. All three of my little brothers, as a matter of fact. And, during my less properly modest moments, I could even be made to admit that I look pretty good too. We all had our mother's blond hair and our father's straight nose and high cheekbones. Robby and Mike looked more like Dad than Ethan and I, but we all had Mom's blue eyes.
Over Robby's shoulder, I could see a group of seven people headed our way. Five of them were wearing caps and sunglasses. "Just a minute," I said to Robby, "and you'll get the chance to judge their sophisticated tastes for yourself. Here they come."
There were six men in the group, but the short woman in the front did the talking. "You're from Oakwood Studios?" she asked, indicating that very name painted on the side of the two vans.
"Yes, ma'am," I said. "I'm Benjamin Corbyn, and this is my brother Robert."
"Robbie," he corrected, shaking her hand.
"I'm Phillis Shaw. This is Ed Jameson," she added pointing to the only man not wearing a cap and sunglasses. "And these guys are the Backstreet Boys." Everyone introduced themselves; everyone shook hands. It was always a little comical to me, being introduced to people what I already know by sight and reputation. I'd done it maybe a dozen times, but it still seemed a little odd. Still, if they hadn't introduced themselves, if they'd just assumed I knew who they were, I would have thought they were full of themselves.
"Corbyn?" Ed Jameson asked. "The guy who runs the place is named Corbyn, right?"
"Our father," Robby said.
"It's a family business, Mr. Jameson," I said. "Two parents, four sons..."
"...no waiting," Robby added, repeating an old inside joke.
I looked at my watch. "We should get going as soon as we can," I said. "In about an hour, the traffic will start to be very busy and we want to be as far from the city as we can be."
"How far away is this place?" Nick asked.
"About an ninety minutes drive east of Dallas," I told him. "The studio is on our ranch in East Texas."
"Sounds peaceful," Brian commented, but AJ followed it with, "Sounds boring."
"You father assured us that the place was safe," Ms. Shaw said, her voice rich with condescension. "That's why we're traveling with no security. I hope he was telling the truth. I hope we weren't mislead"
My dislike for Ms. Shaw probably began at that moment, but it was to have many opportunities to grow during the coming eight days. "Ms. Shaw," I replied, hoping I didn't sound as angry as I was, "it is hardly good business for us to mislead our clients. Our studio is both secluded and well-protected. As popular as they may be with hordes of screaming teenage females, your people will be protected first by the fact that no one knows they're there, and secondarily by the security of our site. Your people will be quite safe, Ms. Shaw."
I risked a glance at Robbie, wanting him to tell me with a look if I'd gone too far. He was grinning at me. Sometimes little brothers are no help at all. But I did notice a couple of the singers grinning too, and AJ seemed to be trying to suppress laughter.
We were saved from further conversation by the arrival of two porters pushing a cart loaded with luggage which we began to load into the second van. Sometimes the "talent" is too big and important to move their own things, so Robbie and I have to act as slave boys for them until everything is loaded. But these guys joined right in with the packing.
"A ranch, huh?" Kevin said as he handed me a suitcase. "Are there horses on this ranch, by any chance?"
"Five." I grinned up at him. "You ride?"
"Whenever I get the chance. Brian, too. Sometimes Nick rides, but not often."
"Well, if you find time this week, we'll go out riding. There some nice trails in the woods."
"If Momma Phyllis lets me," he said with a grin.
At that moment, "Momma Phyllis" was on her cell phone. I could overhear enough to know that she was letting someone know that they'd arrived and were about to leave the airport. Halfway through the conversation, her tone changed a bit and she handed the phone to Ed Jameson, saying "They want to talk to you."
Once Ed had the phone, she looked over at me. "Why didn't our engineer come with you to meet us?"
I closed the rear doors of the now loaded van and looked at her. "Dave was planning to, but there was something not quite ready for your arrival. He thought he would make better use of his time by finishing whatever it was so that the group could get to work first thing tomorrow." Behind her, I could see the group tipping the luggage handlers. One of the men asked Nick for an autograph for his daughter. Nick wrote something on a piece of paper and began to pass it around to the other guys.
"What was the problem?" Phyllis Shaw persisted.
"I don't know." Seeing her frown, I added, "I'm sorry, Ms. Shaw, but I don't have anything to do with the technical side of running the studio. But we have the direct number into the studio booth. You can speak to him directly while we drive."
This seemed to satisfy her. Ed returned her phone, and we began climbing into the van. My van could hold eight people if they squeezed together. When she realized this, she elected to ride with Robby and the luggage. Seeing her climb into the passenger's seat, I said quietly, "I hope you like Hank Williams."
"I do," said Ed Jameson. "Why?"
"That's all Robby listens to."
"Then I'm riding with Robby," he grinned back. When he smiled, dimples appeared on his cheeks, but his eyebrows furrowed his high, balding forehead. "By the way, I'm Ed. But she's always 'Ms. Shaw'."
I thanked him for the warning and unlocked the passenger doors on my van. The guys climbed in, Kevin sitting up front. Brian sat behind Kevin, and Howie behind me. AJ and Nick were in the third seat. Seeing all the boxes in the rear of the van, AJ asked what they were.
"Food. We always get menu suggestions from the production companies and stock up on certain things before heading back out to the ranch."
"Jeez!" Nick exclaimed. "Is it that far out in the country?"
"Oh, we have grocery stores," I told him, checking the rearview mirror for Robby's wave that he was all set. Seeing it, I pulled out and we began our convoy out of Dallas, stopping only at the airport toll gate. "We have all kinds of stores. But it's more economical to buy it here, and some of the more unusual requests we have to take care of in Dallas."
"Did we make any 'unusual requests'?" Brian asked.
"No, pretty straightforward stuff this time." I watched his face in the mirror and decided to try a joke. "But I don't know which one of you asked for the inflatable sheep."
Brian hesitated a second, probably trying to decide if I was kidding. But Kevin could see my smile and knew I was. "It was Phyllis," he said. "She's got this weird Bo-Peep fetish." The guys laughed.
Now that the ice was broken, we relaxed and talked more. They asked me about the ranch and who we'd worked with at the studio. I asked them about the stress of constantly travelling. Their reactions were mixed: they liked seeing places, but hated sleeping in hotels and being away from their families for so long at a time.
That part I could understand. My family was very close, and I couldn't imagine being away from them. That's why I had come home to live after college. Ethan had graduated from college a year ago and had moved to Austin, but I was back at home with our parents. But since I could do my writing anywhere, why shouldn't I do it in the place I loved most?
Some time later, as the vans were heading east past the town of Forney, I heard Nick yelp in the rear of the van. Reacting, I scanned the rearview mirror and my foot touched the brake slightly to slow the heavy van a bit. Kevin had turned around to look at Nick. "Something wrong?" he asked.
"Man!" Nick said. "I just spotted all these games in these boxes."
I grinned. "Well, your company didn't make any odd requests for food, but they said you definitely wouldn't be impressed with our game system. So this week it's yours; then my little brothers get it."
By now, all that we could see of Nick and AJ were their backsides as they leaned over the rear seat to dig into the boxes.
"Careful!" Howie yelled. "That's our food in there!"
My cell phone rang. Answering it, I heard Robby's voice. "Is anything wrong? You hit the brakes back there."
"No, nothing. Nick just found the Playstation."
"Well, so much for trying the games out tomorrow."
"Maybe not," I said, raising my voice for Nick to hear. "Maybe Nick will let you play too, Robbie."
"Sure thing," Nick yelled up to me. "I need some new butts to kick." Robby heard him and laughed. "Wait a sec," he said to me. "Phyllis wants to talk to Kevin." I passed the phone to Kevin. He spoke into it for perhaps a minute before closing it and setting it back into the console between the seats.
"Problem?" Howie asked him.
"No," he answered. "She talked to Dave, and they want us to be ready to work at 8 in the morning."
There was a collective groan. "Eight!" Nick said. "I thought this was supposed to be an easy week."
"It is," Kevin started explaining. "If we get the basic tracks down tomorrow and Wednesday, then all we have to do on the other days is goof off while they mix - unless something has to be re-done."
"How many tracks are you working on?" I asked him.
"Just two," Brian answered. "The album's just about done, but we want to completely re-do one song and we may be replacing another song altogether."
"Well, you had enough musicians here last week for a small orchestra," I said. "Dave had the studio busy for about twelve to fifteen hours a day, all week long."
"That's Dave," AJ laughed. "One of the nicest slave-drivers you'll ever meet."
"The studio where we recorded the rest of the album is leased to someone else this week," Kevin said. "When we decided to make changes, we had to find a place fast. We're lucky your place was available."
"We're lucky you needed us," I said. "We have a great place with the best equipment available, but we're not very well known. So far, we work mostly with bands from Austin, but we're trying to attract bigger acts. But a lot of big acts don't want to be so far from a city."
"That," Brian said, "is what I like most about the sound of the place."
I could see Howie's grin in the mirror. "Now," he said, "if we can just keep AJ from getting bored."
"Try real hard," AJ said with exaggerated seriousness.
I laughed. "Maybe the place would be more interesting if I had little sisters instead of brothers."
"Maybe," AJ said.
"More screaming girls who hyperventilate instead of talking to us?" Nick asked. "No, thank you."
"Besides," Howie said, "Nick hasn't seen all of your brothers yet. Maybe he'll be interested." I didn't see Nick knock on the top of Howie's head, but I could hear it.