Family Values

Chapter 8

The next day, we all head into the studio to start recording. Along the way, Jeremy tells me which song they were doing (House of The Rising Sun) and was going to happen: first, Zoltan and Chris would record their parts for the song. While they were doing that, Ivan would take me into another room to hear me sing. Then Ivan and I would record our lyrics. Finally, Jeremy and Jason would record their parts.
I had listened to the song prior to coming, and remembered most of the words. So I was pretty much ready as Ivan leads me into a separate recording room and stations me behind a mike.
A sheet of lyrics were resting on a music stand behind the mike, with certain verses highlighted in pink. I guess those were mine.
I peek over at Ivan's stand, and his verses were outlined in blue. I roll my eyes. Talk about gender assumption.
I look over the sheet, which shows that Ivan would be singing the first and second verse, then I would finish with the last two verses, then we would be done. I frown a little. I wasn't singing that much.
Deciding to keep my mouth shut, I look to Ivan, and he nods, ready to begin.
He leans to the mike and begins to sing:
There is, a house, in Sin City... They call the Rising Sun...
And it's been, the ruin, of many a poor boy, and God, I know, I'm one...
My mother, was a tailor... She sewed my new blue jeans.
My father, was a gambling man, down in Sin City.
Now the only thing, a gambler needs, is a suitcase and a trunk.
And the only time, he's satisfied, is when, he's on, a drunk...
He steps away from his mike, and I begin to sing.
Well, I've got one foot on the platform... The other's on the train.
I'm going back, to Sin City, to wear, that ball, and chain.
Well, Mother, tell your children... Never do what I have done.
Spend your lives, in sin and misery, in the House of the Rising Sun...
In the House of the Rising Sun!
Well, there's a house in Sin City... They call the Rising Sun...
And it's been the ruin, of many a poor child...
And God, I know... I'm one...
I step away from my mike to meet an angry Ivan. "What the fuck was that??" he snaps.
I step back in surprise. "What do you mean?" I ask, confused.
"'Ruin of many a poor child?' I didn't say that!" Ivan says, glaring at me.
I begin to get angry as well. "Well, what did you want me to do? I can't say 'boy' because I'm not one! I just..." I pause, searching for the right word. "I just improvised," I finish, crossing my arms. His eyes narrow and he moves toward me. "You don't improvise," he sneers. "You follow the fucking LYRICS!" He stabs the paper with a finger.
"Well, then change 'boy' to 'child'," I growl. "Or is that too hard for you?" Ivan snaps, "I can't change the lyrics. It's not my song; we're doing a cover. Follow the lyrics and maybe we won't get a lawsuit."
From the corner of my eye, I see his hands ball into fists.
However, before he could inflict any damage, he turns and storms out of the studio.
I roll my eyes irritably and follow him. Exiting the studio, I stomp to my room and slam the door.
I flop down onto the bed to pull out my phone. I tap Corey's number, lift the phone to my ear, and listen to the ringtone. I wanted to hear my father's voice, even though I had only been away for a day.
Finally, the phone was answered, except it wasn't Corey; it was Sid. "Hey, Col! How's it going over there?" Sid says cheerfully.
I smile. "Hi, Sid," I reply. "So far, it sucks." I groan, then continue: "I don't fit in here, Sid. I've never listened to Five Finger Death Punch before, except two days before I left. The band members... They scare me, especially Ivan Moody, the lead singer. The only one I like here is their drummer, Jeremy Spencer, and even he has his moments. I-I don't feel safe here, Sid. I wanna come home." I run a hand over my face. I hear Sid sigh on the other end. "I'm sorry, Col. I want you to come home, too... Here, let me get Corey."
There was rustling on the other end, some muffled conversation, then finally, Corey's voice. "Hi, baby," he says. "Sid says you don't feel safe over there?"
"Hi, Dad. Yeah, not really... I wanna come home." I reply, rolling onto my stomach. "Mr. Moody and I got in a fight today, and... I don't know, but... It looked like he was ready to hit me." I shiver at the memory.
I hear Dad snarl on the other end of the line. "We'll come get you right now. Pack your things."
"Okay. See you soon, Dad." I answer. "See you, hon," he replies before hanging up. I shut off my phone with a satisfied little smile. Ivan will soon know why you shouldn't mess with the Slipknot family.
Rolling off the bed, I turn and was startled by Jeremy, who was standing in the doorway with a devastated look on his face. "You're leaving? Why?" he asks. I sigh. "I don't fit in here, Jeremy. Plus, I don't feel safe," I explain, going to the closet and pulling out my clothes.
I toss them on the bed and reach for my suitcase, which was under the bed. I pull it out and was about to open it when Jeremy gently grabs my wrist. "Colleen, wait a sec," he says quietly. "I need to tell you something."
I look over at him. His cheeks were a little pink, and his eyebrows were drawn together into a determined look. I mentally wince. It was the same face Rick had when he told me he was in love with me.
So I wasn't too surprised when Jeremy declares, "Colleen, from the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me. Even though it's only been a day since we met, I couldn't stop myself from falling for you. I-"
I stop him with a finger on his lips. "Jeremy," I say, "That's sweet and all, but... You're wrong. I'm not the one for you, because I can't be. For one thing, you're five years older than me. For another, your bandmates don't like me and I don't like them. And right now, I can't... I can't be in a relationship that I know won't work. I wouldn't be able to take it. So... I'm sorry. But I just can't."
His face falls and he steps away, dropping my wrist. "O-Okay," he whispers. "I understand." He turns and slowly walks out of the room, his shoulders slumped and his hands in his pockets.
I watch him go, then turn back to my suitcase, shoving clothes in it and trying to hold back oncoming tears.
Once I had packed everything, I walk downstairs.
Jeremy was nowhere to be seen, but Ivan was in the living room. As I head to the front door, he stands and tromps irritably into the front room, where I was. "Where do you think you're going?" he snarls. Clearly he was still sore from our earlier fight.
I set down my suitcase, face him, and cross my arms again. "I'm leaving," I say coldly, looking him in the eye.
"Like hell you are," he replies. "You're mine for the next two weeks."
I laugh in his face. "Oh, yeah? Tell that to my dad when he gets here."
His eyes narrow.
This time, he raised his hand and slapped me, hard. I fell to my knees, my cheek burning. I hear Ivan growl, "You give me some respect, you little stuck-up bitch."
I stand up shakily. "I will when you give me some," I reply with a little smirk on my lips.
He slaps me again and I stumble, but keep my feet. He grabs my shoulders to slam me up against the wall.
He was about to punch me when the front door crashes open.
My dad, Mick, Chris and Shawn run in. Mick and Shawn yank Ivan off me, and Corey picks me up to carry me out to the tour bus.
I hear Chris dialing the police as Corey pulls the bus door open and hurries inside with me in his arms.
Sid, Jay, Alessandro, Craig and Jim were in the bus as well. When they see me, they immediately hurried to get ice packs while Corey carefully sets me on one of the couches.
Sid approaches with an ice pack, and kneels beside me. Applying it to my swollen cheek, he growls in anger. "Moody's gonna pay for this," he says furiously.
Craig, who was next to him, nods in silent agreement. I could sense his anger from the tenseness of his shoulders, and the way his jaw was clenched.
If I didn't know any better, I would say they looked like they were ready to kill.