A Different Kind of Forever - By Dee Ernst Page 0,78
blow this, you know?” He sounded exhausted, defeated. “I may have blown it anyway.”
“No, Michael,” she said quietly. “I know how important this is to you. You’ll get it done.”
“Maybe. No, you’re right. I’ll get it done, one way or another. I have to go.”
“Yes. Good-bye.”
“Diane?” She heard voices again, loud, arguing. “Diane, I have to go. Bye.”
Jasper jumped lightly up, balancing on her knees. She scratched his ears absently, thinking about London. It was one of her favorite cities. She would go to London to see Michael. Jasper purred, and she sat for a long time, phone in hand.
Michael leaned his head back against the wall and let the phone drop from his hand. He could hear Seth in the next room, raging at Prescott. Seth had started doing lines of cocaine at three in the afternoon, and now, all those hours later, Michael knew Seth was totally out of control. Prescott knew it too, but Gordon Prescott thrived on tension and discord. He was one of those people happiest when all those around him were miserable. Prescott had been a happy man for weeks now.
Last night had been the last straw. Michael refused to look at what Prescott had called ‘the final cut’ of the film. Michael had only two days before he finished what he thought was the last bar of music that he would have to write for Prescott. But Prescott had arrived at Seth’s house just outside of London with yet another version of his film, and Michael had finally, finally lost his temper. He would not re-write anything else. David had done all the orchestration, they had been recording all day. Michael could see a light at the end of what had become the longest tunnel he had been ever seen in his life. He was not doing another note.
Prescott had wheedled, promised and begged. Michael, drained and miserable, had walked out of the house. When he returned an hour later, after walking aimlessly around Seth’s posh neighborhood, Seth and Prescott were locked in a battle over the soundtrack.
It had been decided, way back in June, that Seth and Joey would produce the soundtrack, including all the cuts by the other contributors to the CD. Upon arriving in London, they found that Prescott had made an agreement with a new Irish band, Daemon Spirit, who was also going to be on the soundtrack. Daemon Spirit would produce their own tracks. With the tracks for NinetySeven complete, that left only four more songs on the soundtrack, and Daemon Spirit wanted to produce those as well. Seth and Joey had been fighting with Prescott and Daemon Spirit for weeks, in and out of the studio. Michael, having written a lovely ballad to be sung by Moira MacCauley, tried to stay out of it, but it was proving impossible.
Moira MacCauley had presented another set of problems. She was a beautiful girl, just twenty-two, all ready an established star in Europe. She met the band at a party given by Prescott early in September, a vast feeding frenzy for the press. She immediately attached herself to Joey Adamson, despite the presence of Joey’s wife. Joey had never considered his marriage a deterrent to any sexual detours he felt worthy of exploration. After ten days, his wife left for an extended tour of the Italian Riviera, and Moira became a fixture.
Michael, Seth and Stephanie had moved into Seth’s house, but Michael did not spend much time there. He had been locked in with Prescott and David Go, grinding out what he knew was some of the most interesting and innovative music he had ever written.
He had embraced the challenge back at the beginning of the summer, but now he was worn down by Prescott’s constant interference. He wanted the soundtrack completed, so that he could get back to the States. He missed Diane so much it became an almost physical effort to keep from driving to the airport and simply flying back to her.
Prescott had brought up Quinn Harris a few weeks before. Prescott, at sixty-five, considered Quinn Harris a weak upstart who would never get beyond the acclaim Harris had achieved when he directed his then-wife, a renowned actress. Prescott had read a bit in one of the tabloids about Harris in Manhattan, and had stormed into the studio to rant against him to whoever would listen. When he left, Michael casually picked up the paper and read the offending article.