Two Bassists - Calum Hood

Chapter 19:

Four more chapters...

December 2021

At my appointment in LA, I had a choice of three people: A middle-aged woman named Lucille who didn't interest me from the beginning one bit, an man who looked too old for his age named Rick who thought of me more as a Pop artist than I wanted to be labeled as, and the last session was amazing.

It was a younger guy no older than 30 who shook my hand and grinned so widely when we first met. His name was Dalton, but he insisted I call him Dally. He perfectly understood what I wanted to do as an artist and named multiple producers and I loved that he could get to help me write my album. We also had a similar music taste and we fangirled over Nickelback more than I ever had with Luke, which was saying a lot.

Dally also viewed me as an Alternative artist with Pop driven lyrics, Rock melodies, and RnB influences- And that was exactly what I viewed myself.

I loved this guy from the minute he started speaking, which led me to choose him as my manager.

Dally was so excited to work with me. It was quite adorable actually, he was just so giggly and bubbly.

A few weeks later, Dally set up a recording session with himself and his favorite producer, whom I'd never heard of, but I'd heard of the people he'd produced. So that day, I took my ten year old notebook, a pencil, and my bass to the session.

They had said they would supply everything, even my bass guitar, but I refused to use anything but mine. That old thing held many memories, even if it wasn't my oldest one.

The bass' body was a light gray color with black flecks. The head was navy blue, and the neck was a suede colored wood. There was multiple chips and dents in it, but other than that it was a good bass.

The producer's name was Derrel, and he was an older guy who had been in the business for about twenty years. He was a bit scruffy and laid back, but joked around a lot. Him and Dally got along well.

"I was thinking about doing a personal method with my songs," I explain to Derrel, "I wanted to lay out my songs in chronological order on the album, my first being something I wrote when I was fourteen."

"Personal," He repeats with a nod, "I like it. What's it called?"

"Gasoline," I flip to the page.

"Can I read it?" Derrel asks. When I hesitantly give it to him, he laughs.

"It's quite grimy for a fourteen year old to write," He smiles while skimming through my words, "But I like it. What's it about exactly?"

"It's kind of about my depression and kind of about how people idolized me on the outside, but didn't know me on the inside," I shrug a little, "Like I was perfect, but I had problems that made me the most imperfect human being. I also have a bass riff in my head for the intro and bridge," I point to the tabs and chords on the top of the paper.

"I like all the metaphors you use," Derrel comments, "What's the most recent thing you've written?"

"I wrote it six months ago," I take the songbook out of his hands to flip to one of the very last pages, "In June."

He reads it slowly, rereading over many sentences.

"This is one of the most multi-interpretating songs I've ever seen," says Derrel. "I read it a first time, then read it again and I get a totally different meaning from it. We get it's about a guy, you love him but there's complications, right?"

"Precisely," I nod, "Only certain people will understand the lyrics and that's how I want to keep it."

"Well, let's get started, shall we?" Derrel closes the book, leading me to the studio.

-

It's now December and we have one more song to record before my album is completely finished. Everything has been polished and perfected and I'm so proud of myself. Dally is also incredibly proud, along with Ella and my family. I didn't allow them any sneak peeks, though.

I dial Calum's number a few hours after my second-to-last writing session. I was curled up on my couch in my apartment rewatching Supernatural when it went to voicemail.

That's weird, I think, He never lets his phone go to voicemail.

I end the call and glance over to the box of notes. I had opened most of them, from the nightmares, to when my cramps were at their worst, when I was absolutely bored, and when something funny happened and I had no one to share it with.

I open the chest and pluck out the last four notes: When I Tell You I'm Coming, The Day Before I'm Coming, After I Come, When I Don't Answer My Phone.

I'm telling you, this boy had every single senario u
possible planned out. With a chuckle, I read the phone note.

Hey, sorry I couldn't pick up. Whatever excuse I made up for the reason I didn't pick up is irrelevant. I hate when people don't answer the phone, I kind of feel like I'm not important, you know? Anyway, I promise I will call you back when I get a chance. I want to make every second with you count.

- Cal x

"What a cutie," I find myself saying out loud. As if on cue, Calum calls me back. I grin, answering the phone with an even happier mood.

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Hey, I actually updated one a week like I'm suppose to! How cool is that?

You know what's weird? I've been focusing on non-published stories because I'm so obsessed with them instead of the stories I cared about enough to publish.

Anyway, I know it's a little short, just like all my updates today.