Page 51 of Mic Drop (Passionate Beats #3)

Tristan runs his palm over his five o’clock shadow, even though it’s not even two. Without meeting the gaze of his new bandmates, he says, “I know. But I’ve always thought the song was missing a little something.”

007 doesn’t let this statement hang for a half-second. “It’s missing Darren.”

My body tenses. The new keyboardist is playing with fire, but I believe he’s coming from a good place.

He honestly wants to improve upon the song, even if it stayed at number one for three months straight.

More pressing, though, is he’s messing with Darren’s fingerprints on their last masterpiece. And Darren’s gone.

Silence. Tension ricochets throughout the room. Without moving my head, I confirm the cameras are capturing every second. This moment belongs to Untamed Coaster. As reimagined.

The lead singer exhales with an audible sound. “This is fucking hard. Coop, Río, 007, why don’t you take a break? I want to talk with Tristan.”

The other two nicknames I understood right away. Took me longer to figure out Pierce’s—he was nicknamed 007 because Pierce Brosnan was playing James Bond when he was born. Without responding, they simply abandon their instruments and stalk out of the room.

Bennett catches my eye and sighs. He shakes his head and walks over to the new keyboardist. Stopping a few feet away from Tristan, the singer begins, “Buddy. I appreciate what you’re trying to do by putting your stamp on the song.

Feel free to add to anything else in our playlist. But ‘Crushing Blow’ is sacred.

It’s all Darren.” He pauses. “007’s best friend. ”

I suck in my breath as the puzzle pieces fall into place. Tristan continues, albeit in a lower tone. “I wasn’t trying to?—”

Bennett raises his hand. “I get it. It’s tough coming into an already formed band.

UC’s been on top of the charts for the better part of a decade.

We need to get back to playing our songs the way our fans know them.

You can add notes to our new stuff.” He gives a sideways glance toward the camera. “Once we have new material.”

Tristan’s shoulders deflate. “I get it. But if you would only listen to the slight change I was making?—”

“No.” The leader singer’s interruption is forceful and final. “‘Crushing Blow’ can’t be changed. We haven’t been able to play it until now, and we’re only doing it for the fans who will expect to hear our last number one. Play it the way it was written. How Darren intended.”

The keyboardist stares at the black and white keys. “I can do that.”

“Good.”

Tristan takes a step closer to the lead singer. Extends his hand. After a moment’s pause, Bennett offers his and they shake. Then the vocalist leaves the room to retrieve the rest of the band. The keyboardist focuses his attention on sheet music.

I release my pent-up breath. Not an overwhelming truce, but a truce nonetheless. I make eye contact with the lead cameraman, who gives me a thumbs up. This will make for a great interlude in the documentary, so long as Untamed Coaster can get it together. The jury’s still out on that.

As I’m looking over my notes, the door swings open again. The original four band members re-enter the room, slapping each other on the back. Tristan plays “charge” on the keyboard, and the band laughs. Perhaps this was a turning point?

Bennett takes his place behind the microphone. “Let’s play ‘Crushing Blow’ again. Make Darren proud.” River starts with the bass drum and soon the song is back in full force. Tristan doesn’t deviate from the original this time.

When they finish the song, the music hangs in the air for a while.

Their first full performance of their last number one was technically great, but something was missing.

I think it was heart. How will they be able to recapture the magic?

Not my job. I’m here to document how the band is taking strides to return to the stage following the death of one of their own.

Not offer advice. Besides, what do I know about their craft anyway?

I’m wrung out and want this rehearsal to end, yet it continues. No wonder they used to be known as one of the most hard-working bands in the industry. They play ‘Crushing Blow’ at least two dozen more times, until the pain surrounding it isn’t so, well, crushing.

At five o’clock, 007 takes off his bass and places it on the stand. “Guys. I’m done. If I have to strum another C major, I’m gonna puke.”

Coop plucks the strap of his electric guitar. “I could be persuaded to go out for a beer.”

Río jumps in. “Or ten.” He performs a drum roll, ending with his sticks flipping around his fingers and pointing at the lead singer.

From the mic, Bennett laughs. “Sounds good.” He cranes his neck toward Tristan. “You in?”

“You had me at beer.” Looking pleased to have been invited, he shuts down the electric keyboard.

With an upbeat “See you tomorrow!” the five men plus their manager leave me and the camera crew in their quest to quench their thirst.

Today was the best day of filming we’ve had. Perhaps they’ll actually be ready for the party in a month? Guess it doesn’t matter either way. We’ve been hired to capture their progress, not to pass judgment.

I collect my notes while the crew stashes their equipment in the corner. Following our goodnights, I do the one thing I’ve been avoiding all day. Turn on my phone and check my texts. Mom. Jackie. Paige. Gary. Ignoring the rest, I click on his.

Glad you’re back on this coast. Check in after you wrap today. I’ll be waiting.

Gary took me under his wing and showed me the ropes before I headed out for the West Coast. Given my body’s still on California time, I have enough energy to catch up with him tonight. I send him a quick thumbs up emoji.

Once we’re all packed up, the crew and I exit the rehearsal building.

Turning away from them, I walk the ten blocks to DocuStudios’ offices.

Wanting to be prepared for meeting my boss, I stop in my office and dump my notebooks onto the desk.

I’m nothing but meticulous, as I’m often reminded by the crew. My notes have notes.

I review everything I’ve jotted down over the months, from our initial meeting to today’s session where they finally were able to play their biggest hit.

For their fans’ sake, I hope they’re able to get it together.

Not to mention for Moray Distillery, which hired them to headline their launch party.

No pressure, right? No wonder they snapped today.

Ready for the meeting, I enter Gary’s office and walk toward a chair facing his desk, which is covered with piles and piles of papers. He’s been in the industry for longer than I’ve been alive. He has great insights and offers even more amazing advice.

The grey-haired man stands. “Let’s sit over there.” He points toward an empty round table at the windows. Off to the side, his television plays an entertainment channel. Once we’ve settled in, he asks, “How’s it going with Untamed Coaster?”

Softball. I open a red notebook, which is reserved for his wisdom. “Today was a breakthrough of sorts. They actually managed to play their last hit, the one Darren wrote.”

He rolls a Mont Blanc pen on the top of the table. “That’s good. Only took them five months. Other bands might never recover.” His wise blue eyes study me. “How did it sound?”

“Good.” I push my hair off my face as I relate the first time they tried. “They got better the more times they practiced it. The first time, though.” I shake my head. “I’m glad our cameras captured it. I think this will be a pivotal point in the documentary.”

“They mess up?”

“Not really. The new keyboardist added a few extra notes that caught everyone off guard.” I remember Tristan’s change. “It was only a couple of additions but stopped practice dead.”

Gary leans forward, abandoning his pen on the table. “Did they fight?”

“Nothing so dramatic. His riff didn’t land well, but they talked it out. Rather, Bennett and Tristan did, while the rest took a walk.”

He presses back against his chair, stroking his mustache. “So Bennett is the true ringleader, as I suspected. The others fell in line once he hashed it out with Tristan, I take it?”

“Yeah.”

He nods. “You’ve been working with them for months. What slant do you want to take with the rockumentary?”

This is the question I feared the most. I have no idea where I’m going with this, other than wanting to present the real Untamed Coaster.

“I’m not sure yet. I certainly can show footage of them working together and getting used to the new dynamics.

” Remembering how Tristan tried to put his own slant on today’s song, I wonder how long his full integration will truly take.

A lot longer than the remaining month I’m filming, I fear.

“Give it a little more time, and I bet a theme will appear. Although, if things continue this way, it may be more of a crash and burn.” His fingers play over his mustache. “Might play better in theaters.”

I’ve had enough of explosions to last a lifetime. I don’t want this group to be another casualty, even if they implode from within rather than from external forces. “I’m rooting for them.”

Our conversation veers into lighting and blocking and locations as I pull up today’s dailies sent to me by the camera crew.

“I see what you mean about missing a spark. The music’s there, just not the ‘it’ factor.

” He rolls his pen again. “I know you’re there to document rather than direct, but what do you think about suggesting a slight change?

The band’s been rehearsing alone for months.

Maybe things would loosen up if they got in front of a crowd? At a small venue?”

I consider his proposal. “Perhaps. While they sound pretty good, I can tell they’re not in the same groove as before. And if I can discern that, true fans will notice too.” I shrug. “I’ll suggest it to their manager tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”