Page 138 of Verses

“So does that sound like something everyone can get behind? Focus on ten or twelve new songs and maybe five or six old songs. Get really good at them and incorporate them into a setlist. Aim for like an hour-and-a-half to two-hour show. That’ll give ‘em a hell of a show. Then we’ll gauge how our audience responds and go from there.”

Pedro asked, “So what date are you thinking, dude?”

“I can’t say. We still need to come up with a few more new songs. So even though I’d like to put a date on that, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Creativity is a well and sometimes you have to let that well fill up before you can draw on it.”

I smiled. “How poetic—but how true.” But it felt like I could cause that well to fill—I’d discovered that the more lyrics I wrote, the more I thought about songs and the more words came to mind more easily. It got easier and easier as time went on, and it was because of the focus I gave it. But I didn’t know if everyone at the table felt the same way.

Pedro leaned forward, his eagerness palpable to the rest of us. “So do you want us all to try writing stuff?”

Wolf said, “It’s up to you but if you feel inspired, I say bring it. I don’t think songwriting should just be limited to just one or two of us. I think if any of us—Adrian, you, Kyle, Hayley—if any of you feel like you’re inspired, bring it to practice. Adrian, say you’re banging on the drums and you come up with a really cool rhythm that you think needs a song, bring it to practice. Hayley, if you have lyrics that you don’t want to hang on to until the perfect riff comes along, bring it. Or you can write the music too—not just the lyrics if you want.”

Ah…but he knew my dirty little secret. I just smiled, not planning to give that away. Maybe Wolf thought I’d learn quickly.

Wolf continued, “Kyle, you too. Maybe you’re just plunking on the guitar and come up with a really cool riff but maybe you don’t feel like you can develop it. Bring it to practice. You and I and Pedro can work with it. Or, if you don’t want to do it during practice, we could set aside some other time but we’re in a really creative groove right now, guys. We’re starting to mesh together. Things are starting to gel and we’ve got some good momentum. If we just keep going at the pace we’re going, maybe by spring we’ll be ready to rock and roll the crowds.”

Pedro slammed his hand on the table. “Yes!”

Kyle said, “I don’t have a problem with that. But, you know, when we started this band, we didn’t know shit, but we weren’t afraid to try anything. So I mean, we played all kinds of crazy shows half assed, sometimes blitzed out of our minds and the crowds loved us. So I don’t know why we have to worry about being so perfect. Like, I don’t know why I have to be able to play something in my sleep.”

Pedro said, “Dude, that’s got merit. Like I was saying, sometimes you’re not perfect or ready, but you go out there and you do it anyway. And the more you do it, the better you get.”

Wolf picked up his glass. “That’s true. But do you want our audiences to watch youpracticingor do you want them to watch you playing like professionals? I don’t know about you guys, but I want to be known as a professional right out of the gate. And when audiences see us for the first time, I want them thinking we’re so damn good, we’ve already signed to a label. That’s what I want. Do all the songs have to be that perfect? No. But I think that if they are, that’s half the battle right there. If we already sound professional, then we get a good following. We get fans supporting us. And then we can start looking for a label.”

“Do you even know how to do any of that?”

“No, but we can figure it out.”

What Kyle said next was a reminder that he still had a lot of struggles going on inside him. More than that, he still had a lot of work to do on himself. “You know, Wolf, you’re a hell of a guitarist. You’re a hell of a guy. You are one hell of a musician—but I don’t think you’re a fucking musical genius. And if you have to look this shit up, then you don’t know any more than we do. So I don’t think we should give your opinions any more weight than we give ours.”

“I wasn’t saying that. That’s why I called this meeting. I wanted us all to talk about it and agree on something.”

“Yeah. You come in and yousaythat’s what you want. You say you want to talk about it and you say your opinion doesn’t matter more than any of ours and yet you’re the one bossing us around, telling us what we need to do.”

“Okay.” Setting down his glass, Wolf put his hands up as if in surrender. “I can stop right here and let you all come up with a plan. It was not my intent to be the boss of anybody and we don’t have to doanythingthat I suggested. But we need a plan, whatever it is, because otherwise what will stop us from practicing in The Apothecary for three years and having shit to show for it?”

Kyle’s face was red—but the man who’d taken our order appeared with three plates and started setting them in their proper places. Even when he left to get the other two, we sat in silence.

He could have kept mine in the kitchen, because I wasn’t hungry anymore.

After he’d brought in everything, including a bottle of mustard that he placed in the middle of the table, he asked, “Can I get you anything else? Any refills on drinks or anything?”

We all indicated—mostly by muttering and the shaking of our heads—that we didn’t need him to bring anything else.

Everyone ate in silence while I pretended. I squirted a little ketchup on my plate and dabbed one of the crispy fries in it, but it lay on my tongue as I stared at my glass. How was it that I came up with all the words to our songs but, when we talked as a group, I found it hard to voice my opinions?

Finally, Kyle said, “All right. Fine. You know what? I don’t care how we do it, Wolf. You were right about one thing: We need to plan. I would much rather feel like I’m pressured and like you’re being a bossy asshole but we get it done, than—like you said—three years from now, we’re still in the same place. Because that’s where we wound up before.”

Everyone stopped eating—not due to a lack of appetite, like I’d done, but because they were giving Kyle their attention. Maybe because he wasn’t just raging and out of control for a change.

His blue eyes had a watery quality, like they were filling with tears, but it must have been my imagination. “My brother was an amazing fucking artist. He was an inspiration to me and will always be an inspiration to me, but we were…killing ourselves. And if he had lived, we probably would still be where we were musically. Not growing. Not changing. Not challenging ourselves. Not writing new material. I don’t want that and I know Liam wouldn’t have wanted that. So I’m just gonna shut my fucking mouth and I’m gonna let you guys decide what we’re gonna do and how we’re gonna do it.”

When I heard those words, I knew we had made progress that day. Maybe Kyle didn’t think Wolf was a fucking genius—but this meeting was proof that he actually probably was. And as the five of us began talking details—and actually eating—I felt better about Intent to Murder than I had in a long time.

Maybe ever.

But could those good feelings translate into success?

Only time would tell.

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