Only Fools Rush In (And I Ain't No Fool)

Maybe to most people the studio isn't as glamorous as the stage. There aren't hoards of fans and the music is much quieter. Most of the playing is rehearsing the same songs over and over again and sitting down to write new material. Lots of talking and disagreeing. No, it wasn't as exciting as seeing the band play onstage. But I thought it was even better.

I was Peter's shadow as we returned to the place where I had made a drastic fool of myself in front of the band. But it all seemed forgotten now as Peter led me back to the room we were in unscathed. "Now remember, Hannah," Peter said, hand on the doorknob. "Don't fall asleep before the sun goes down this time."

"Very funny," I mumbled, hiding my nerves. As Peter pushed the door open I was met again with potted plants and the coffee maker on the table. And...was that a cobweb? 

"Mornin', Peter," Malcolm said with his Styrofoam cup of coffee. The room was awfully quiet. It seemed Malcolm had been the only one in here. 

"Where is everyone?" Peter asked, letting the door swing shut behind us. He immediately went over to the coffee machine and got himself a cup, offering me one too. I politely turned it down. 

"Who knows," Malcolm said. "Well, no, Brian was in here a minute ago, he had to go talk to some lad downstairs." Peter found a couple of chairs and invited me to take a seat next to him. Malcolm remained standing. His guitar was hooked to a stand in the corner next to an amp. No other instruments were in the room. "Phil called an' said he might be late due to traffic where he lives. Haven't heard from Cliff yet. Sound engineers are all in the studio downstairs an' the roadies have the day off."

"Couldn't take it off, Mal, I had to get Hannah here," Peter said and I grinned. 

"Not a problem, you two can stay in the booth. If you're quiet," Malcolm said, eyeing Peter. Peter pointed at Malcolm's guitar.

"I see you've stolen your guitar, Mal?" he asked. "Shouldn't it be down in the studio with the others?"

"Jus' wanted some playin' to myself, ya' know?" Malcolm said. "Can't hear myself with all this runnin' around." Running through the list of people Malcolm explained the whereabouts of, I realized he had left someone out.

"Where's Angus?" I asked and wondered if I should have. Peter looked at me and raised that stupid eyebrow of his as if he were suspicious about something. But he must have noticed Angus' absence as well. Malcolm didn't notice anything unusual about my question and answered promptly. 

"Called me from home this mornin'," Malcolm said. "He'll be here."

A horrendous knock on the door scared the shit out of me. Malcolm didn't even flinch as he set his cup down and went to answer it. Peter elbowed me and grinned, surely thinking of all the ways he could tease me about Angus. Come on, was it really that out of the ordinary to ask about a man's brother? Ignoring Peter's smirk I turned to the door to see who it was. A man with thinning blond hair and a polo shirt was on the other side. "Everyone's just got here, Mal," he said.

"Let's get goin' then," Malcolm said turning to get his guitar. Peter and I stood up, awaiting Malcolm's orders. Unplugging his amp, Malcolm nodded toward the door. "You two better get your seats before someone kicks ya' out."

"We're going. Come on, Hannah." Peter led me past the blond man and down the stairs and through the endless hallways. Plenty of important looking people squeezed by us while some took breaks in the extra rooms. Peter spoke over his shoulder. "Don't get lost."

"Wasn't planning on it," I said, grabbing his arm. It wouldn't be hard for a group of passing people to scoop me off the floor and carry me in a different direction. Finally coming to a stop outside a door with a very large sign over it that said 'RECORDING', we stepped inside.