Chapter 8: Temperance

Atascadero, California

December 11, 2000

Jake was driving his brand new vehicle up Highway 101. It was a 2001 Lincoln Navigator with all the bells and whistles, black in color, and he had put 93 miles on its odometer since purchasing it from the Lincoln-Ford dealer in the San Luis Obispo Automall a week before. The purchase had been partly of necessity, partly of celebration. They needed an extra vehicle for the Never Say Never Project (as they were calling the Intemp reunion attempt) so that Charlie, the only one of them who had not driven from his home, would have something to drive while in town. He had been loaned Jake’s BMW. The celebration was because after weeks of IV therapy and pain pills, Jake was finally, officially on the mend. There had been no further runaway infections and some of his strength had crept back in (not all of it though, not by any means). He still had the PICC line and still had to have daily infusions of antibiotics, but Dr. Gamble switched him to a new drug called Linezolid, which only needed to be infused over one hour every twelve hours instead of an hour and a half every six. He would be doing 8:00 AM and 8:00 PM infusions for the next two weeks and at that point, it was hoped, he would be able to switch to oral clindamycin and have the PICC line removed.

And so, one of Jake’s first excursions out of the house other than doctor’s appointments and lab draws was to the car dealer where he’d paid forty-six thousand out the door for his new vehicle.

“It’s so ... big,” Laura told him when she saw it for the first time.

“I get that a lot,” Jake replied.

She rolled her eyes at him. “What’s the deal, sweetie? You don’t have anything to compensate for, if you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” he said, “but I’m not buying a small dick vehicle here. I’m not going to raise it high off the ground like Dr. Dave. This thing is practical. It has four wheel drive and it can seat seven people comfortably. No more arguing about taking your minivan and my BMW if we have more than four people going somewhere. We’ll only have to have that argument if we have more than seven.”

“I suppose you do have a point there,” she had to admit.

“And, if you ever have to rush me to the hospital because I’m delirious and septic again, no need for the minivan. Just push me into this thing.”

“The minivan would be a lot easier to park,” Laura pointed out.

“We don’t do things the easy way,” Jake told her firmly. “We’re Kingsleys. We adapt and overcome.”

“Right,” she said with a shake of her head. “Will this thing even fit in the garage?”

“I already measured when I was researching,” Jake said. “We’ll have fourteen inches of clearance from the rear bumper to the garage door and thirteen inches from the top of the roof rack to the arm of the garage door opener.”

“That’s kind of tight.”

“No such thing as too tight though, right?”

Another roll of the eyes. “Right.”

Now, at 8:55 on this Monday morning, Jake came to the security fence that guarded the KVA Audio Recording and Engineering Primary Campus (as they had officially named it, the wording being Nerdly’s idea, of course), or as everyone (even the Nerdly’s) called it: The Campus. Somehow The Campus sounded more high-tech than just calling it The Studio.

Jake turned onto the access road where signs declared the official name of the facility and warned those who had no business there that a guard booth was ahead and staffed 24/7 by trained security personnel. Another sign advised visitors who did have business there to dim their lights and stop at the booth for authorization. The signs were very straightforward and serious, which was how the head of security liked to do things.

Jake pulled up to the booth. Ryan, the day shift guard manning the booth, looked a little tense until he saw Jake’s face. He did not recognize the vehicle. Once he saw it was the boss arriving he took his finger off the emergency button that would summon all the interior guards and the San Luis Obispo Sheriff’s Department, leaving it unpushed.

“Good morning, Jake,” he said with a professional smile. “New wheels, huh?”

“That’s right,” Jake said. “Just picked it up last week. That’s why Charlie has my BMW now.”

“Makes sense,” Ryan said as Jake handed over his access card. Ryan swiped it, logging Jake’s arrival in the computer and authorizing him to open the gate for entry. He did so and then handed Jake the card back. “I’ll make a note of your new vehicle in the pass-down report.”

“You do that,” Jake said with a nod. He then glanced over at the main building. “I see they didn’t burn the place down last night.” Coop, Charlie, and Matt, with Kim Kowalski and Jim Ramos in tow, had all arrived at the Campus last night and had spent their first night in the housing area together.

“That’s a good start, right?” Ryan, like all the security staff, knew that Intemperance was going to be playing together and trying to make a new CD. They had all been sworn to secrecy regarding this. Jake did not expect that secrecy to last for very long though. These were private security guards, not secret service agents, and they had sworn no oaths other than signing standard non-disclosure agreements which would be pretty much worthless if the person or persons who leaked the information did not identify themselves by name. But that was okay. Jake actually wanted the information to leak out at some point. It would drive interest in the project.

He took his foot off the brake and accelerated down the paved road. The contractors had now finished completely with the main building and the former equipment storage building that was now the rehearsal studio. There was still construction ongoing. Currently, they were building a permanent security building to replace the double-wide trailer that was now serving that function. After that, they would construct a covered parking garage for visitors, employees, and guests. After that, they would construct an outbuilding to house all the vineyard maintenance equipment.

Jake drove past their work trucks and pulled into what used to be the winery’s parking lot. His BMW, Kim Kowalski’s Mercedes, Coop’s new Mustang convertible, the Nerdlys’ Honda Accord, and Jim Ramos’ Chevy Camaro were all parked there. Pauline’s vehicle was not present. She knew the project was underway (and was more than a little dubious about its possibility for success) but they had no need for legalities or managerial issues to be resolved just yet. No contracts had been signed or even proposed. No promises had been made. They first needed to see if they could even work together. And that experiment started today.

Jake parked his behemoth SUV next to Coop’s Mustang and got out, wincing a little as the twisting motion aggravated his injured side. The pain was much better than it had been immediately after the second surgery, but still there during certain movements. He was almost completely weaned off of the opioid pills now, down to just one in the morning and one at night, not because he needed them for pain but because he needed to avoid serious withdrawal symptoms. Next week he would cut down to a half of a pill in the morning and the other half at night for a week and then try to stop completely. So far the only withdrawal he had experienced from weaning had been some diarrhea and nausea.

He left his keys on the front seat of the vehicle and left the door unlocked. If someone managed to steal his vehicle from here he was going to need to find a new security contractor. He walked to the main entrance and swiped his card to open the door. There was a clank as the lock retracted and he pushed it open.

No one was down on the studio level. Jake could hear the faint sound of conversation coming from upstairs. He made his way to the staircase and walked up slowly. He had some of his energy back but stairs were still a bitch. He arrived at the top and walked into the large kitchen and dining area. He found the other four members of Intemperance along with Sharon, Kim, and Jim sitting around the dining room table eating pizza that looked like it had been left out on the counter all night (except for Charlie, who would not even eat vegetarian pizza if it was not fresh from the oven—he was eating a salad).

“Hey, everyone,” Jake greeted. “I’m glad to see that no one killed anyone else.”

“I didn’t even fuckin’ maim anyone,” Matt said.

“How did it go last night?” Jake asked carefully.

Matt simply shrugged. “It was okay,” he said. “We had pizzas delivered, we drank some booze, smoked a little ganga, and watched Pulp Fiction on the DVD player.”

“An epic fuckin’ movie,” Coop said.

“I still don’t understand why it’s not in chronological order,” Charlie said.

“It’s an unconventional presentation technique,” Nerdly explained. He had not been here last night to watch with them, but Pulp Fiction was one of his favorite films. “Some consider Quentin Tarantino to be a cinematographic genius. I would be one of those people.”

“I think they used the F-word entirely too much,” said Sharon. She did not share her husband’s love of the film. “I had to forbid Kelvin from watching it with Bill because of that.”

“The fucks bothered you but the graphic fuckin’ violence didn’t?” asked Matt.

“Well ... that was a little over the top too,” Sharon said. “Kelvin hears enough of the F-word from Caydee.”

“She uses it in proper context though,” Jake said. “You have to give her that.”

“Speaking of ganja,” Matt said, “if we’re going to be here for more than a week or so, I’m gonna need to hook up with a local source. I’ve only got a little more than a quarter with me.”

“I’ll need in on that action too,” Coop said.

“I’ll probably need a fuckin’ coke dealer pretty soon too,” Matt added.

“The ganga we can help you with,” Jake said. “We have a guy that lives in SLO. Quality California grown shit, he’s reliable, available during office hours, and delivers for a small fee. Never known him to be out. Never had him sell us any crappy shit.”

“Sounds cool,” Matt said.

“We’ll hook you two up with him. He’ll be happy to have the business.”

“Does he do coke too?” Matt asked.

“I don’t know,” Jake said. “We’ve never asked him.”

“Can you?”

“Uh ... yeah, I guess,” Jake said reluctantly. He certainly did not like the idea of Matt doing cocaine—his heart was already fucked up enough and Jake did not really want felony level drug possession existing on the campus, but, Matt was Matt and you could not talk sense to him. If Jake did not help him here, Matt would just go out and look for a coke dealer on his own, and he might end up arrested for his efforts. “I’ll give him a call when I get home today. If he doesn’t deal in it, I’m sure he can give you a referral.”

“Good to know,” Matt said, nodding in appreciation. “Make sure he knows I only buy pure, uncut shit. I don’t want no fuckin’ middle-class blow that’s three-quarters powdered milk in my nose.”

“How about I make the introduction and you discuss the details with the man?” Jake replied.

“Fuckin’ fine,” Matt grumbled.

Jake shook his head a little and then grabbed a piece of the pizza. It was a combination and it tasted wonderful.

“All right then,” he said when everyone was finished eating, “how about we see if we can do this thing?”

“Let’s fuckin’ do it,” Matt said, standing up.

One by one, they left the main building and started the walk across the open area to the rehearsal warehouse. Sharon was carrying a camera with her. She took a few shots of the five musicians walking together.

“What did you do that for?” Jake asked.

“If this project works out, it will be a historical photo,” she said. “One we could use for publicity shots on the lead-up to the CD release. I plan to take a few more of you actually playing together.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Jake said.

“What if the shit don’t work out though?” Matt asked.

“Then I guess no one will ever see the photos but us,” she said.

“Let’s try to see that the photographs become useful,” Nerdly said. “I honestly think we can make this work.”

Everyone looked at Matt, knowing that if it turned out the experiment could not work, it would be because of him. The other four had already been working together for years after the Intemperance breakup. Matt saw and felt their gazes on him and knew what they meant.

“I want this shit to work too,” he said. “Probably more than the rest of you. I’m the one that suggested we get back together in the first place, remember? I’m the one who has a lot of fuckin’ motivation to make it work.”

“All right then,” Jake said. “Let’s get in there and make some fuckin’ music together.”

Of course, it was not as easy as just walking in and picking up their instruments and starting to play. It would not have been that easy even if the Nerdlys were not involved. KVA had paid a work crew to deliver from KVA’s office and studio in LA all of the instruments, electronics, and other equipment needed for the band to rehearse. There were amplifiers, a sound board, multiple speakers, dozens of effects pedals, Coop’s rehearsal drum set, Nerdly’s electric piano, two Brogan bass guitars for Charlie, two rehearsal Stratocasters for Matt, Jake’s sunburst Les Paul, his Brogan Les Paul knockoff, his Ibanez acoustic-electric, multiple microphones and stands, a dozen chairs, a dozen music stands, a mile or so of cables and wiring, and boxes full of headphones, guitar picks, extra guitar strings of varying material and length, drumsticks, tuning forks, blank score sheets, pencils, and every other little thing that was needed in a project such as this. All of this stuff had been dropped just inside the slide-up vehicle door. Most was still in boxes and cases. Nothing was assembled, tuned, or wired.

“All right,” Jake said. “I guess we should get to work.”

They got to work. Jake was not able to pull his weight with the project but he did the best he could. No one begrudged him for being a slacker. They understood the reason. They assembled the instruments in the center of the concrete floor where a small, portable drum platform had been moved. The power supply for the equipment consisted of three separate 220 volt outlets that had been wired into the walls. The lighting was simply the overhead fluorescents. The building did have a top-of-the-line HVAC unit that they set for 68 degrees to keep them comfortable in shirt-sleeves while they worked. For rehearsal purposes they wired everything together instead of using the transmitters and the in-ear monitors. If they ever made it to tour rehearsal, the boxes and the ears would be utilized at that point.

It took the better part of two hours to get everything assembled and capable of making organized noise. It took another thirty minutes for all the instruments to be tuned. It took another hour for the Nerdlys sound check to be completed. Jake or Matt did not have to tell them that enough was enough already. The catering truck arrived, signaling lunch and that effectively ended the endless tweaking of levels.

Lunch was submarine sandwiches (including a veggie sub for Charlie), potato salad, and a variety of non-alcoholic drinks. When the food was brought in, Matt stayed out of sight to avoid giving the Intemperance reunion away so easily. They sat in chairs or on the drum platform and ate. There was little conversation as they munched and chewed and swigged. After policing the trash from the meal, everyone took their positions.

“All right now,” Jake told everyone. “The only way this is going to work is if we keep our egos out of things and play together like we did back in the day, back before things went bad. I am not the boss here in rehearsal. Matt and I will present our tunes and we’ll work on them as a band. If we get to the point where we are recording the tunes, I will be the producer and the Nerdlys will be the engineers, but we will remain open to any and all suggestions, just like we did when we were working on your CD, Matt. Sound cool?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “I’m down with it.”

“Good to hear,” Jake said. “I thought that maybe we would start with my song Dark Matter. Four of us musicians and Sharon are already familiar with the piece as we worked it up considerably a few years back so it will probably be the easiest for us all to plug into for the start. Any objections?”

“That was a really good tune,” Nerdly said fondly. “I think it will make an outstanding Intemperance composition.”

“Yeah, it was the shit, Matt,” Coop said.

“Let’s fuckin’ hear it then,” Matt said. He was sitting in his chair, his maroon Strat in his hands, multiple effects pedals at the base of his microphone stand.

Jake, from his own chair, stepped on one of his pedals, putting the Les Paul into clean output, so it would sound like an acoustic guitar. “I’m going to play it as I wrote it originally,” he said, “and then, after everyone starts to feel the melody, I’ll play it with the distortion riff I came up with.”

“All right,” Matt said, watching.

Jake began to strum out the primary melody. His fingers were a little clumsy at first because he had not played an electric guitar since the last show of the Millennial Tour but he got used to it quickly and began to strum with more confidence and authority. He repeated the melody nearly ten times before he opened his mouth. He then began to sing the lyrics into his microphone, going through the first verse, the second verse, and then the bridge. There was an abbreviated third verse before the transition to the outro melody but he did not bother with it right now. He brought the tune to a halt.

“Still a good fuckin’ tune, Jake,” Coop said.

“I concur,” Nerdly said.

“The lyrics are deep,” Charlie said.

“Thanks,” Jake said. He looked at the guitar player. “What do you think, Matt?”

Matt nodded his head. “I like it,” he said. “Like Frea—uh ... Charlie said, good deep stoner lyrics. Show me how you converted it to distortion.”

Jake stepped on another pedal, giving the instrument distorted output. He strummed once to check the sound and then grabbed his G-major chord again and began to play at a faster tempo, the same basic melody but with overdrive coming out of the speakers now in classic rock and roll fashion. He ran through it five times and then silenced his strings.

Matt was nodding his head again. “I like it,” he said. “Simple, but it has soul.”

“The way we had it worked up before,” Jake said, “was that the rhythm guitar would play a slightly distorted version of the primary melody at the same tempo as the riff. Nerdly would throw in some piano fills on the changeovers and during parts of the verses.”

“Same tempo for verses and choruses?” Matt asked.

“I had ideas to change the tempo up for the choruses but I shitcanned the tune before we ever starting working on that.”

“I see,” Matt said thoughtfully. “Let me play out that riff and see how I do with it.”

“Do you need me to note it out for you?”

“Naw,” he said. “Simple three-chord progression. I got it.”

Hope it’s not too simple for you, Jake thought a little sourly, then repressed it.

Matt played out the riff slowly as he had no muscle memory for it and had to consciously think about each note, but he played it correctly. He went through it a few more times, getting his fingers used to the progression and then began to speed up until he reached the tempo that Jake had laid down. He then began to play it with a little more confidence, a little more power.

“This does grind, Jake,” Matt told him, smiling a little. “Are you up for me modifying it a bit?”

“Of course,” Jake said. “That’s your job. Why we keep you around.”

Matt chuckled a little and then grabbed the neck of his guitar again. “How about something like this?” He then ground out the same basic riff but with a little more flare at the end of the rep before going into the next one.

Jake was impressed. He really is good at that shit, he thought. “I like that, Matt,” he said. “I like it a lot.”

“I’ll play around a little more with it later, see if I can tweak it up some, but for now, how about we just go with that and try throwing in the rhythm and see how it sounds?”

“Let’s do it,” Jake said.

They did it. And, for the first time in more than eleven years, Intemperance played together as a band. It was rough going at first, not because of egos or anger or communication, but because it was their very first day, their very first hour with a new tune and such things were always rough. They worked primarily on the rhythm of the song, plugging in Charlie and Coop and Jake’s rhythm guitar. Nerdly began to plug in the piano fills as they went through it over and over. Jake did not sing the verses. The idea was just to become familiar with the rhythm.

“They really are amazing together,” said Kim at one point. She was sitting behind the soundboard with Sharon, watching in awe.

“I agree,” said Sharon. “And so far, no fighting.”

“This is a historic fuckin’ moment,” said Jim, who was just as awed. “I’m glad I’m here to witness it.”

They worked until 5:00 PM and only reluctantly called a halt at that point. They closed up the rehearsal studio and then walked back to the main building. Jake sat down with everyone and they all opened beers to celebrate the successful first day of collaboration. They had not accomplished much yet, but they could see that it was possible to work together. At least for now.

“Who wants to burn?” Matt said, pulling out a moderately fat joint.

“I’m willing to inhale THC vapor if Sharon does not mind driving home,” said Nerdly.

“You got it, Bill,” she said with a smile. “We’ll get home quicker that way.”

“I’m down,” said Coop, which had not really been necessary. Coop was always down with toking up.

“I will smoke some if I can use my pipe,” Charlie said. He liked getting high as much as anyone but did not engage in the passing of the joint ritual for fear of microbes.

“Fuckin’ A,” Matt said. “What about you, Jake?”

Jake knew he should not. He had matured enough over the years to decide that driving while stoned was not a good idea. But this was an historic occasion. “Sure,” he said. “Fire it up.”

The joint was lit and passed around while Charlie was given a little bud to smoke out of his pipe. Everyone except Sharon took a few tokes until the joint was but a mere roach that Matt swallowed while it was still burning. It was good shit, more of Matt’s medicinal stuff grown in a hydroponic farm in East Los Angeles.

Jake used his cell phone to call Laura and tell her that he would be home a little later than planned and to put his dinner plate in the microwave.

“Okay, I guess,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“We just toked up in celebration of a successful first day,” he told her. “I want to wait until it starts to wear off a bit before I drive home.”

He could sense her wifely disapproval coming through the phone before she even replied. The little brief exhalation of breath confirmed his feeling. “You be careful driving home, Jake,” she said sternly.

“I will, hon,” he told her.

“I trust this will not be a regular occurrence?”

“It won’t,” he promised.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll tell Elsa you’re running late. You will be home for guitar and sing time and your antibiotic, right?” This was not really a question.

“Right,” he told her. “Love you, babe.”

“Love,” she almost grunted and then hung up.

Sharon and Nerdly left right after Nerdly toked up. Coop and Charlie decided to drive into Atascadero and eat at one of the restaurants there. Jim decided to tag along with them. Matt ordered some Chinese food from one of the delivery places in town. He then called the guard booth to let them know that a delivery driver would be arriving in about forty-five minutes and they should let him drive up to the main building.

“So ... what do you think, Matt?” Jake asked when it was only he, Matt, and Kim left.

“I think you’re pussy-whipped,” Matt said, shaking his head. “That’s what I fuckin’ think.”

“What?” Jake asked.

“I heard you explaining to your old lady why you were gonna be late in that pussy-whipped voice. Goddamn, dude! Never thought I’d see the fuckin’ day that Jake fuckin’ Kingsley had to explain to a bitch why he was comin’ home late.”

“That was not pussy-whipped,” Jake said patiently, “that was maintaining marital harmony with my wife and the mother of my child. I’m sure you do not understand the concept.”

“I’m sure you’re fuckin’ right,” Matt said.

“I thought it was cute,” Kim said. Matt gave her a dirty look.

“In any case, I wasn’t talking about my relationship with my spouse or her pussy, I was talking about our rehearsal today. I think it went well. We exchanged no unkind words with each other. We worked together and it felt good, it felt right. Did you feel the same?”

“Oh... that’s what you were talking about.” He thought for a minute. “Yeah, I think we did some good work today. It was like the old days kind of. So ... yeah, even if you are pussy-whipped, I think this thing is going to work.” He considered. “As long as your old lady keeps letting you come to rehearsal.”

The next day, Celia Valdez had another date with Ron Grover the helicopter pilot. It was their fourth date, the first that he had actually asked her out on (and she had had to hint wildly that he should do so before he did). He was taking her to the Museum of Flying at Santa Monica Airport and then to dinner at Gordon’s Steakhouse in Mar Vista near his home. Celia had already been to that particular aviation museum once (she had gone with Greg when he had been prepping for So Others May Live) but she had not told Ron that. She was just happy that he had finally asked her out even if she was not all that thrilled with the destination.

So far there had been very little in the way of physical intimacy between the two of them. After their first date, he had shaken her hand, thanked her for the meal, and then simply walked up to his door and disappeared inside. After the second date she managed to kiss him lightly on the lips before he got out of the car and went inside. After the third, she kissed him again, this time a little longer but he broke the kiss before it could get any start to approach the level of passionate.

It did not seem to her that he was shy or lacked confidence. He had no problem talking to her while they were together. He was not awkward around her and he was a proper gentleman, opening doors for her, pulling out seats for her, letting her order first. The problem seemed to be that he just could not wrap his head around the thought that she might want to be more than friends with him, even though she had pretty much spelled it out to him in multiple ways, some subtle, some not-so-subtle. He just could not seem to believe that the world famous Celia Valdez would actually be trying to romance a mere pilot.

As she drove from Santa Monica to Mar Vista to start the date, she pondered her own thoughts about the burgeoning relationship. She was a little bit confused about how she felt. She enjoyed his company and enjoyed the excitement of a developing romance in progress. He was easy to talk to and a good listener, never monopolizing the conversation. He was attractive and she wanted to put her hands on him, feel his hands on her, but, at the same time, there was no clear chemistry firing in her brain, no obsessive-compulsive behavior, no fireworks. She looked forward to their dates, but did not think about him all the time like she had when she and Greg had been dating, or when she, Teach, and Rev had first started their sexual relationship, or even like when she and Susie had started theirs. Was it the relationship itself she craved more than the man himself?

She did not like to ponder that question. Whenever it surfaced, she banished it, sending it down a deep dark hole in her brain. But it always managed to find its way back to the surface.

We’re still getting to know each other, she told herself as she turned into the residential neighborhood where Ron lived. That’s what dating is all about, right? Of course, right. The chemistry will come as we spend more time together.

Ron lived in a forty year old bungalow on a small lot on a small street. There were two palm trees and a sycamore in the front yard. The lawn was neatly cut and trimmed. Ron’s car, a blue 1997 Volvo 850 sat in the driveway that was situated next to the house. There was no garage on the property. Celia parked her Mercedes (she had treated herself to a brand new S-600 when she came home from Rev’s first bout in the hospital) at the curb in front of the house and got out.

She was dressed for walking in a pair of black slacks and a maroon sweater with sensible shoes on her feet. Her hair was attractively styled and she had put on a dab of Chanel number 5. Her nails were done to match her sweater. She had no makeup on her face, just a bit of lip gloss. Diamond earrings were in her ear lobes and she was neatly shaved everywhere a woman needed to shave just on the off chance that someone other than she might be looking at or touching those areas. She did not plan to try to seduce Ron but a girl had to be prepared for any eventuality. Her panties were a sexy, lacy black that matched her bra exactly.