Gus smiles and tips his chin. "S'up, Helena?"
She raises her hand to wave. She's nervous as hell but her grin is ear to ear. "Ohmygod," she whispers.
"Helena is a Rook fan, man. She's a new friend of Gem and me." I turn the phone toward Gemma so he can see her. They trade salutations.
"Hola, Gemma."
"Hiya, Gus."
And then I turn back to Helena and me.
Gus joins in because he's nice and always knows what to say. "Any friend of Gemma and Franco's is a friend of mine."
We all talk for ten minutes, and by the end Helena is perhaps the happiest woman in the state of California. Gus and I have promised to send her Rook t-shirts, signed vinyl, and two VIP tickets for the L.A. show of our upcoming tour for her and her sister, who's also a fan.
After the Mr. Knott, Stupid Slag downers, the night ended on a good note.
As we're leaving, I take Gemma's hand in mine and stroke the back with my thumb. "Thanks for sharing your creation and talent with me, Gem. It was an honor to be there holding your hand tonight."
She smiles. "Thanks for your kind words. Your approval means a lot to me. And ditto, it was an honor to be there holding your hand tonight. I thought Helena was going to cry, you and Gus made her so happy. It was lovely."
"The woman deserved a medal of honor for putting up with Stupid Slag, it was a small consolation to call Gus and give her some tickets. It was probably no different than watching people fawn all over you tonight. People love you, Gem. I hope you realize that. You put out this light that people can't resist being drawn to. That's a gift."
She smiles. "I meant what I said earlier tonight, your mum raised a good lad."
"And your dad raised a good woman." He did.
Thursday, January 25
(Franco)
It's the big man's birthday today.
Gus is twenty-three.
Here's a little fact about Gus. He's a t-shirt whore. He loves them. So a few years back Jamie, Robbie, and I started gifting Gus the most horrendous t-shirt we could find on his birthday. Here's another thing about Gus—if he receives something as a gift, he'll wear it no matter what because he's sentimental as hell and he honestly doesn't give a shit if people laugh at him. I think he looks forward to seeing what kind of abomination we can come up with to celebrate his big day now that it's become tradition. Last year was downplayed because it was the month from hell, so this year the boys and I have been searching high and low for just the right tee to make up for it.
The laugh Gus barks out when he unwraps his gift tells us we brought the thunder and then some. "Oh shit, you've outdone yourselves." He immediately strips off the one he's wearing, shrugs on the birthday tee, and then spins in a circle to model for us.
Jamie turns to me and looks defeated. "It doesn't even look that bad on him. What the fuck?"
"He's too fucking pretty, Jamie. That's the problem." I have to laugh because only Gus could pull off a mint green t-shirt with a taco eating cat riding a unicorn on the front, and not look like a complete asshole. "We'll try harder next year. There's a shirt out there that's going to make him look awful and we're going to find it, goddammit."
Robbie tosses a bag at him, it's the other half of our gift. "And because we're enablers. Happy birthday, Gus."
Gus catches it and peeks in the bag. "You shitheads are too good to me. Thanks. This should last me a few days." It's fifty packs of gum. Literally, fifty. And he's not exaggerating, it will probably only last him a few days the way he burns through it.
We sing "Happy Birthday" to him, and stop at the donut shop on the way into the studio because it's the closest thing we'll get to cake today. We've got a long day planned out and lots to get done trying to get the last few songs fine-tuned before we go back to the apartment tonight.
MFDM can't look at Gus with the damn cat shirt on with a straight face the entire day. That alone was worth it.
Day made.
Friday, January 26
(Franco)
We went surfing early this morning at Trestles. Rented boards and wetsuits, because we all needed to unwind and get in the water. Surfing is critical to wellbeing for all of us, being away from it for too long manifests itself in negative ways. Riding, being one with the ocean, appreciating nature, is religion for me. The guys are much the same. It was an hour well spent. Therapy.
And besides the restorative, zen-like aspects, a sea lion popped up in the water two feet from Gus and he screamed like a terrified little girl. It was priceless. A spectacle that everyone within thirty feet of us in the water thoroughly enjoyed. Gus was heckled by friends and strangers alike, with absolutely no mercy. It's a good thing he's such a good sport.
Our last day as a band in the studio was gold after that.
The perfect ending. We're all happy. You know it's gone well if we're all happy. It's not that we're tough to please, we just have high standards. So, when we've reached a certain level of agreement, it's a sign that the planets have aligned, and the rock gods have blessed the project.
We picked up some tacos and a case of beer on the way back to our temporary home. A quiet celebration ensued on the balcony of the apartment. Redemption, in so many ways, is a reality.
Gus went to bed early because he has to be back in the studio to record a final guitar track early in the morning. He held off on it so his girlfriend and her cousin could be there with him.
Jamie and Robbie got in some Xbox time. Which is vital to their existence.
And me? I walked over to see Gemma.
She asked me to spend the night again.
I couldn't say no.
We're getting attached. I love it because I haven't felt this way about a woman in a very long time, if ever. And that scares me because deep down I know it's deceptive optimism. We will end. In a matter of hours when I leave in the morning, most likely. I'm trying not to think about it but I know it's true. Until then, I'm an ostrich sticking my head in the sand and choosing to blow off imminent reality. I've never done that before and it's a daily effort to ignore my nagging, doomsday subconscious.
When she flips off her bedroom light, I tell the realist in me to back the fuck off and I strip down to my boxer briefs and crawl into her bed.