Something's gotta give

23 - Speak your mind

"I don't get it", Charlie said sitting close to Eddie at the kitchen table, listening on Eddie's iPod into some snippets of songs every bandmember was talking about. She pulled out the earphones and looked at him questioningly. "What the hell is this?"

They were alone in the kitchen section, everybody else was in the living room. "You just said it. We're all asking the same question." Eddie was playing with his iPod. "What's your opinion, then?" She leaned back. "Well... I'm not sure what to say, just... that's not the OneRepublic sound I used to know. Yours?" He laughed shortly and humorless. "Can you imagine us on stage? With one of these?" "Hmm... only if you were playing at a funeral." He took her in his arm and kissed her cheek. "Thank you. My thoughts, exactly. Now... would you go and... tell him?" She shook her head. "Even if you'd pay me a million Dollars... sorry to say so - but no."

They sat together in silence for some time. "What's the matter with him, then?" Charlie asked. "I mean... there was hardly one single 'Native' song I didn't like - without even knowing about your band! So... he CAN write songs which are getting at me. And a whole lot of other people. It's been a Platinum album, or am I wrong?" "You're not", Eddie answered. Smiling at her he added: "And I'm still amazed how unaware you are... or were... on our story." "Yeah... and I'm still ashamed of my ignorance! Stop taunting me, Fisher!" "Or?" he said, lurking. "No 'or'... what do you think - blackmailing's not my style." "I heard different", he said, chuckling. "Some people only get what they deserve", she answered sternly. "So... I deserve better?" He pulled her close. "You definitely do! You were the first one to welcome me, don't you remember?" "I do... but I was biased, from the beginning!" He kissed her softly. "Though I'm looking forward spending another night with you... this will only complicate things the more." "Between you and me?" "I don't hope so!" "Which things exactly, then?" He sighed. "You'll have to find out on your own." "You're such a disappointment to me sometimes!" But she kissed him back.

"So that's the major issue here, huh? All he's written so far is impractical material?" "Impractical at least for going on stage with it - if we don't want to play it to a depressive crowd." "Maybe that's the problem", she said in thoughts. "What is?" "Well, if someone is in a depressive state of mind himself he can hardly write something cheerful or thrilling."

It took him some time to answer. "You may be right. It's hard to tell because his mood didn't change that much recently. Except for his rage of hurting his foot and you - not being a man, of course." He was grinning and she frowned. "Yeah, that's my biggest mistake." "Not as far as I'm concerned." They were both laughing. "But you said something this morning about 'hate speeches' he'd given..." "Yeah... forget about that", he replied briefly. "I shouldn't have mentioned it at all." She hesitated for a while. "He told me something the other day. He thought it'd be better if I heard it from himself but from one of you guys." "Oh... that's new. What did he tell you?" "Not much. That he's messing with his wife. Might be the mysterious 'Gen' you talked about, huh?" "I'm surprised he talked about that to you", Eddie said evasively. "Don't you think this might be the reason why he's written such sentimental lame stuff?" "Probably." "Well, I think he should solve that problem first."

Zach came in. "Hey, you love-birds... I need to kidnap Eddie. And your presence is required, too, Charles." "Oh, fantastic", she sighed sarcastically. "I would like nothing better than to do that. Except for resting my naked ass on an anthill, maybe." She looked up to him. "Is this really necessary?" "Ryan asked for you." "I was afraid he did." Zach laughed. "You're afraid of nothing, as far as I can survey. Like Drew's already told you - we need your independent view on... no, your ears... on some melodies." 'Oh Zach', she thought, 'what would you say if I told you: My independence is long gone ever since I signed that damned contract...?'

"C'mon, baby", Eddie said, standing up. "There's no way out, so the sooner you'll get over it the sooner you're done with it." She raised her index finger and put it into her mouth, faking to throw up. "Yeah, you can do that afterwards", Zach replied nonchalant. "But your vote counts. And it'll weigh more than ours, altogether." "Thanks for not putting any pressure on me, Zach!" "You're welcome. Come on now! You know he disapproves of kept being waiting."

Back in the living room Ryan was occupying the whole couch propping up his injured leg. 'At least he is a tamed patient now', Charlie thought. The rest was lazily hanging either in their chairs or they were sitting down on the floor. Drew had his guitar with him, plucking on it randomly. Charlie, Eddie and Zach settled themselves on the floor, too - side by side.

"We're ready now, finally?" Ryan said on edge. "I want your say on the new material. Brian?" "No." Brian sounded almost merciless. "Drew?" "You're kidding me." "Brent?" "Never ever." "Eddie?" "Only over my dead body." "Zach?" Zach said nothing but gave Ryan the thumbs down. Ryan nodded. "Great. Thank you, guys. And what has the castigator to say about my works?" His eyes were fixated on Charlie. "I'm awaiting your... kiss of death."

"I like them", Charlie said to everybody's surprise. "Oh, what a stunner!" Ryan replied ironically. "It's essential for you to be an opponent, ain't it?! But at least someone with a little taste in music. Wasn't expecting you of all people to back me, though - so thanks for that!" "Errm... I like them to be played at my funeral." He stared at her in disbelief. "Have I told you lately I hate ya'?!" "Honestly? You said so, all the time. Even wordless." "Anyway! What's so bad about them? All of you! I need to hear reasons!" "The melodies suck", Zach was the first to tell Ryan the truth. "Let me add the lyrics and they won't suck at all!" "Says the songwriter who's always told everyone it's at first the melody listeners are responding to." "Fiddlesticks! I don't care! Drew?" "Disharmonious, no flow, no grip, boring, narcotic, chaotic..." "Yeah, I get the idea! Thank you! Brent, my friend..." Brent shrugged. "Charlie's right. Funeral music." Ryan was exhaling distinctly. "Nice. Brian?" "Depressing." "Okay, fine. I guess I don't need to ask... Ed?" "It's lame, thrilling like stale coffee and even the world's best drummer couldn't add any groove and drive to that. And I wouldn't play it for any money." "Young... err... lady?" "Uh... really? Me?" Charlie said entirely baffled. He nodded. "Well, from a completely unprofessional point of view... it's all sounding so dissonant. There's no harmonies. It's not getting me started, at no time. I know the rhythm sections are still missing and they're all rudimentary at that early stage but I've heard funeral marches that were more cheerful. And on top of all that..." He interrupted. "You understand the concept of ballades, do you? Even being a... 'non-professional'..." She ignored the mocking dig at her remark. "I do. But even if I imagine Brent's cello to be added, which I love, by the way... from what I've heard so far the songs are sounding all indentical. Namely... sad." He stared at her. "Wow. You won't believe it - but that was exactly my intention here!" "Oh... so this is gonna be a concept album only for the broken-hearted? Then... you've hit it." Promptly, his view turned glacial, not for the first time - and his voice sounded just the same. "Thanks for your opinion." "You're welcome", she was sounding all the same and managed to get up. "Are we done?" He nodded. "We are. You can go." "Thank you so much." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

She was about to leave the compartment when Ryan said: "Leave me your lighter, would you?" To her it wasn't a question or a plea but an order. "Oh... so now you wanna even inhibit me smoking? No problem..." She rummaged her pockets and found it. She threw it to him and he caught it, single-handed. "Thanks", he said. "And I don't want to save you from smoking, do whatever you like, it's your life. You already did what I wanted." "Oh... did I? What was it?" Instead of an answer he took all the sheets on the table, teared them into pieces, dropped them into a pottery bowl and set them on fire.

He was smirking at her. "Speaking your mind. That's what you did."