Date: Thu, 9 Dec 1999 21:36:53 -0600 From: Michael Ellis Subject: The Studio in the Country, part 2 DISCLAIMER: The story that follows is a work of fiction. Many characters are completely fictional. Though some characters are based on actual persons, they should not be considered accurate or truthful representations of those persons. This story is not intended to reflect the behavior, work habits, personal hygiene, or sexual proclivities of any real person, living or dead, since the invention of rope. WARNING: This story deals with homosexual themes. In order to frustrate my readers, these themes will be treated tastefully but in a positive light. If this offends you, read no further. If you are under 18 years of age, read no further. If accessing this story causes you break any laws applicable to your location, read no further. If you've been awake for several days working on your thesis and your eyes are aching from sleep deprivation, read no further and go to bed. FEEDBACK: This is my first story of any length. (One early piece, "Just For Grins," is available here for you to read.) If you want to contact me and make any comments, please send them to michaelwashere@netzero.com. I'm interested in hearing --- well, *reading* --- what people have to say about my stuff. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * THE STUDIO IN THE COUNTRY Part 2 - Monday evening I exited Interstate 20 and pulled onto the service road, followed by Robby. Turned north onto a small, two-lane country highway, we drove over the interstate and into thick woods of oak and cedar. Five minutes later, we pulled into the ranch's driveway. Robby waited behind me as I punched the keypad buttons to open the electronic gate. Inside the fence, we drove up the long driveway toward the cluster of white, Colonial-style building on the hilltop. Before we reached them, I turned right, taking us to the studio office instead of the house. "Whoa!" I heard Kevin say. "This is some ranch." I smiled, proud of the place. "Actually, very little of it is ranch anymore. We have one barn for both the horses' stables and the few cattle we have. The building facing us now is the recording studio. Our house is on the opposite side." "What's the tall building?" Brian asked, pointing at the three-story white buillding that made up the north side of the compound of buildings. "That's where you'll be staying," I told him. "Sort of a hotel we run for the artists who use the studio. It's only a year old. Dad decided that if we wanted more important clients, we needed better accommodations for them." I parked the van outside the studio office. I was climbing out when Robby pulled past me and parked in front of my van, so that his rear doorS were closer to the building's entrance. Before everyone was outside, Dad and Dave stepped outside. Dave introduced him to both Ms. Shaw and Ed. When Dad stepped around to meet the singers, he smiled at them. "If I had daughters instead of all of these sons," he began, "I'm sure I'd know you're names. Am I forgiven for not knowing?" "Sure," Brian said. "I'm Brian Littrell. This is my cousin Kevin Richardson." "I'm Howard Dorrough," Howie said, shaking my father's hand. AJ and Nick introduced themselves as well. "Well," Dad said, "I hope you like our place here. If you like peace and quiet, we've got it. If you want fun and excitement, we'll do what we can. If you want dancing and girls..." He paused, holding the guys attention. "...then just tell yourself 'It's only a week. It's only a week'." The guys grinned. Dad could charm anybody when he wanted to. Ms. Shaw was about to say something when she was interrupted by Mike's arrival with a luggage cart. "This is Michael," I said. "Another brother," Michael added, "if the blond hair didn't give it away." "Hey, Nick," I could hear AJ saying, "maybe you're their brother too." "We didn't make any room assignments," I said. "We thought you might want to choose for yourself. Dave is in one of the two ground floor suites, but the second and third floors are still open. I suggest we unload the luggage and identify whose it is. Then we can deliver it to you after you've chosen a room." "My son, the task master," Dad said, reaching over and squeezing my shoulder. "I'm sure you want to hear what Dave has done already, but Ben's right. If you get settled first, then you can relax and listen to the tracks. We can even bring dinner to the studio if you want. The singers helped Dave, Robbie and me set about unloading the luggage and piling it onto the sidewalk, sorted by owner. Dad lead Ed and Ms. Shaw inside to see the rooms. Mike took the van keys from me so that he could drive the van around to the house to begin unloading the food. Seeing the confused pile of cans and cartons around the boxes in the back, he asked through the van's window, "What happened here? Did you hit a lot of potholes or something?" "No," Howie said, "just one big pothole." "...named Nick," Brian and AJ said at the same time. They laughed at thinking the same thing. I explained to Mike that Nick had found the new Playstation and wanted to see all the games. When Nick told him about volunteering to 'kick Robby's butt' at the games, Mike laughed. "And then I'll kick yours," he said before driving around to our house. The luggage sorted, we went inside so the guys could pick their rooms. Just inside the doors we entered the front office. Stacey, the receptionist, was on the phone. "Hold on just a second, please," she said into the receiver. Pressing the hold button, she looked up at the guys. "Hi, I'm Stacey. I promise not to gush, giggle, annoy or ask stupid fan-magazine questions while you're here." "In that case, we like you," AJ said, shaking her hand. She returned his grin and held on to his hand for a little longer than necessary. "C'mon," I said. "Stacey has a whole week to flirt with you. Let's find some bedrooms for you." On our way through the front office I showed them my office on the left and the hallway on the right that led to the two studios and their control booths. We could here music from the larger one: Dave was getting ready to show everyone the instrumental tracks. Beyond the workroom, we entered the long hallway that ran the length of the "hotel" we'd build for our clients. I knew that Dave was using one suite on this floor, so when I saw Dad letting Ms. Shaw into the other one, I knew the guys would be on the second floor. Unless necessary, we kept the third one empty to save expenses. I pushed the button for the elevator. "What's this?" AJ asked, stepping through the french door on the south side of the hallway onto the long porch. "That's the pool. The building on the left is our house. In the corner where it connects to this building is the dining room. We'll bring your meals to your room if you want; otherwise we all eat in the dining room. Breakfast is a buffet so people can come and go between 7 and 9." This comment reminded the guys just how early they had to be at work in the morning. There was a little good-natured grumbling and the elevator doors opened, but I didn't move, preferring to finish my oral tour. "That building in the opposite corner, jutting out from the house, is the gym. It stays unlocked if any of you want to use it. There's also a couple of showers in there, so we use it as a poolhouse too. Behind it, on the other side of the driveway, is the garage. Next to that is the tack room and then the barn." Kevin peered out toward the barn. The upper half of the Dutch doors on the stalls were open, and I could see Tico's head sticking out of one of them. "That's Tico," I told him. "He's my horse. If we go out riding, you'll need to borrow one of the others. They're all easier to get along with than Tico." "Can we go see the horses?" he asked, still looking at the barn. "How 'bout after dinner?" I offered. "I have to check on them then anyway. You can come with me." "Sure," he said, with a big grin. "Girls or no girls," Howie said quietly, "Kevin's in love." I pushed the button again to re-open the elevator door. "Hmmm. Playstation, Stacy and horses. That takes care of three of you. What are Howie and Brian going to do with their time off this week?" "Sleep," Howie said. "Yeah, sleep sounds good," said Brian. "No, I called sleep," Howie said, following the others into the elevator. "Get your own hobby." The suites - one at either end of the hallway - each had three bedrooms, two baths, and a small kitchenette. The balcony of one faced east, the other west. After checking things over, Kevin and AJ took the east suite, and the other three each took a bedroom in the west suite. Making a mental note of who was in what room, I went to get their luggage. An hour after delivering the luggage to their rooms, I was in my office recording the various little charges that the Backstreet Boys and their people had incurred so far. Ms. Shaw said that she needed a running total of what they'd spent in case her boss ever asked. I wasn't worried about keeping her or her boss happy: I knew how much time cost among the bigger studios, and we were going to save them money. A year ago, Dad, Mom and I had contacted the others, posing as potential clients to get their prices. We had then planned our price system carefully: low enough to attract business but not so low as to make our organization seem anything but professional. I was just about done, when someone tapped on the doorframe. I turned from my computer terminal to see Brian smiling at me. "Hey, Ben. Hard at work?" "I was," I said. "Just finished. What can I do for you?" "You can get me out of here," he said. "Is anything wrong?" I asked him. I've dealt with unhappy clients before, but never has anyone asked to leave after only an hour. "No, no," he said, realizing that I'd taken his meaning wrongly. "I spent all morning sitting on a plane. I spent the afternoon sitting in a van. I am not going to spend the time before dinner sitting in a studio. Is there someplace where I can wander around outside?" "Sure," I told him. "If you don't mind the company, I'll show you the place." We walked down the same long corridor, this time continuing into the dining room and our house beyond it. As we passed through the dining room, I looked into the kitchen, hoping to introduce Brian to Mom. Dinner was in the oven - pot roast, by the smell of things - but no one was around. In the house, I showed Brian the game room and the library, both on the right of the long hallway that stretched the length of the house. When we reached the staircase at the far end of the house, I asked him to give me a minute. "I want to get some hiking boots. What you're wearing is fine, but these shoes aren't made for tramping around in the woods." "You want me to wait here?" "No," I said, "come on up. You might as well get the whole tour." At the top of the stairs, we stood at one end of another hallway just like the one below. I stepped through a door on the right into my rooms. Brian followed me, closing the door behind him. I stepped down this smaller hallway to my bedroom, waving him to continue on into my living room. "Why do you have a hallway that runs parallel to a hallway?" "There used to be five bedrooms up here. A few years ago, we remodeled. My parents added the new kitchen and dining room and put their new bedroom above it. The bedrooms were broken into two little apartments with two bedrooms, a bath and a living room. Now if my brothers get married, they can have an apartment of their own inside my parent's house." "Are you married?" "No, none of us are. Have a seat in there. I'll grab my boots and be right out." Minutes later, I was in the living room with hiking boots under my jeans. I found Brian standing near the little fireplace, looking over my bookcases. "I thought you said the library was downstairs," he joked. "The real library is," I said. "Those are the books I brought back from college." "You have varied tastes." "Liberal Arts major. We're expected to know a little about a lot of things. C'mon, let's go." We went back downstairs and out through the gym so he could see it. "This will make Kevin happy, too," he said. "Did I hear you tell my Dad that he's your cousin?" I asked him. "Yeah, he invited me into the group when they were forming. He's my cousin, but he'd become everyone's big brother. He takes good care of us." "I know a little something about playing big brother." I said, opening a door on the back wall of the gym. "Through here." We stepped out onto a concrete floor with lines painted on it and a basketball goal at one end. "You didn't mention this during your talk by the elevator," he said. "I forgot it. Is it important?" "It answers the question of what I'm going to do with my time. Nick and I play all the time." "You can take on Mike and Robby. I don't play basketball; that's probably why I forgot it was here." We walked across the driveway. Finding the path between the garage and the tack room, we followed it past the remains of Mom's kitchen garden and into the woods. This path was a wide one because we often rode our horses along it. Reaching a steep-sided creekbed with very little water in it, we walked over a wooden bridge with a small gate at one end. Beyond the gate we followed the path east along the creekbed. "You said you had three brothers," Brian said. "I've only met two." "Ethan is the other one. He lives in Austin now. He works as a computer artist, but he also advertises our studios to bands there. Most Texas bands that want to hit it big play in Austin." "You're the oldest, right?" "Yeah. Ethan is a year younger. Robby is two years younger than Ethan, and Mike is two years younger than that. Mike just graduated high school last spring. Do you have any brothers?" "One older brother. He's back in Tennessee with my parents." We walked on up the path skirting a pasture and compared stories of growing up in Tennessee and Texas. After maybe fifteen minutes, we came to a spot where the sides of the creekbed were low and wide. "Have you walked enough yet?" I asked him. "Why? Do I look tired?" "No, but this is a good place to cross and head back. If everything's on schedule, dinner will be served in about thirty minutes, so we should head back." "Let's do it. I'm not tired, but I am hungry."