Chapter 9 - Making Music

“I’ll see what I can come up with,” mused Stuart.
Here was a twenty year old lad who was just finding his way into the world of work. While studying at college he had been doing odd jobs, working in retail, in telecoms, even a brief office stint. Although the office stint wasn’t his ideal role, it gave him a bit of an insight into how there was some sort of hierarchy within a business. His current role now he was out of college, was following a journalism apprenticeship. Always being given deadlines, and a brief outline of what story was expected, it was a tough business to get into. Even as an apprentice with a hands on approach rather than learning through theories and textbooks, it was a struggle. Yes he was paid to go anywhere in the world, but he was often in the cheapest B&B’s or hotels, and trying to maintain an above board morality, would not get anywhere. He would occasionally have to hide under a bush in order to get a scoop on a story. For all of the hard work and rather energy sapping requirements he was putting in, it wasn’t something he was prepared to back out of for now.

One particular day, Stuart was troubled. He was given a hotel booking, in the same place as a famous celebrity, but there was one snag. He’d have to fork out the rate for the room for the two nights he was there, out of his own pocket because the expenses fund had mysteriously dried up. This gave him very little to work with, although he did have breakfasts and dinners included. And yet he still had to get a recording or even ask a question of the a-list celebrity that was in town for the two nights. How he was going to do this he didn’t know.

Sitting in his little studio, Keith had a couple of instruments with which he felt reasonably comfortable with, but struggled to develop far enough to get anywhere. He’d applied to be playing in pubs and clubs, but when many of them had heard his demo tapes, they weren’t convinced he was good enough or had enough good material to be able to play through a two hour set or longer. Playing covers was ok, but not every single night the same ones. Having not been creative lately, he decided to go and take a wander around the local shops. There could be inspiration in there to write new material, but there could also be something different for him to consider trying.

It was on this walk around the shops that Keith and Stuart stumbled across each other for the first time. Keith was only a year older than Stuart, but wasn’t a former college student, although his academics would have suggested that he was knowledgeable to a sufficient standard to have gone. Browsing through one store, they found themselves both looking at stationary. Keith was ideally looking for manuscript to continue jotting his ideas down, and Stuart was looking more for a little notepad.
“Hello,” Stuart looked up at Keith timidly. “Are you ok there?”
“Not really,” explained Keith. “I’m struggling with a bit of creativity. Came here for manuscript in order to jot ideas down. How about you?”
“Well I’m an apprentice journalist,” replied Stuart. “I’m struggling a bit myself, having to even pay for my own stay at the next hotel I’m in because my company’s expenses fund has dried up.”
“Bit shocking there. They should look after their employees at all times in my opinion.” Keith was pretty sure that it was a bad etiquette.
“You would have thought so,” Stuart’s frustration started to show. “They haven’t even told me to get a receipt to claim back either.”
Keith was a bit more supportive. “I think you need to distract yourself with something else if you can find anything. When do you go to this hotel?”
“Its not for a week yet,” moaned Stuart. “Wish I hadn’t made this choice but I have to stick with it now.”
Keith offered a little business card. “Here’s my number if you want to talk about anything over a coffee. I’m free anytime, as I live for my music.”
“I’ll be sure to bear that in mind,” Stuart sounded less frustrated, more grateful this time. “I’m sorry, I have to go for now. Thanks, Keith,” he finished with after glancing at the business card.
“Not a problem. My phone’s on all day, every day. Usually for no reason but its there all the same. You take care, was nice to meet you… oh, I didn’t catch your name?” Keith enquired.
“Stuart,” came a reply. “See you around.”

Early afternoon rolled around. The sun had started to peer out from behind the clouds, offering a little respite from the gloominess of the day. It hadn’t rained, it had just been overcast, but it sure didn’t feel like it was going to be a good day. The children at the local school had just gone back into lessons after their lunch break, pubs were opening up, and little catering company vans were off looking to fulfil bigger businesses with their lunchtime requests of multiple sandwiches, wraps, rolls, and other snacks.

“Hey Keith,” shouted a voice from across the road. “When are we going to hear you on the radio?”
“Tony, do you really think I could make it? I’m not so sure!” Keith yelled back.  “Been rejected from pubs, don’t see where a record label is going to pipe up from.”
 Tony crossed the road. “Better than shouting for everyone to hear,” he admitted. “How would you particularly know if you don’t actively put any personalised efforts in to digging that little deeper? Take your music to the stations, find record labels and send your demo tapes off again. Don’t give up, there’s multiple stations and multiple labels.”
Keith thought about this. He didn’t have an answer to give, so muttering a brief, “I’ll give it a go,” he shook Tony’s hand and headed on down the path to his place.

Arriving at the hotel a week later, Stuart found himself wandering aimlessly around trying to locate the entrance. It wasn’t clearly signposted, neither was it easily locatable. A bit strange for a hotel that a celebrity was meant to be staying at. Or was he just being blind? He seemed to have forgotten his specs that morning, although they were only packed in his bag somewhere.
Finally locating this hotel entrance, he strolled in and turned to the receptionist.
“Hello, I have a booking in the name of my company,” he said, showing a business card. “They’ve asked me to pay for it, so how much is it likely to be?”
“Hello and welcome to the Serenity Hotel,” the reception manager, Jasmine, said amicably. “The booking is for two nights, is that correct?”
“Yes, that is right. It should have breakfast and dinner included,” he continued.
“That matches up with what we have on our system,” she agreed. “That will be £179.90.”
“For just two nights?” Stuart queried. “It seems a little high for my liking.”
She looked directly at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t personally make the prices for the rooms. It could be because we have an a-list celebrity in house tonight as well. That normally pushes prices up.”
“I guess,” he said, handing over nearly every penny he had on him. “If there’s anything I can do to help out to maybe earn a little lunchtime food, then just dial.” With that, he took off towards his room.

She sat there, on a bench in a public park, guitar in hands, strumming away. Occasionally interjecting with a rather distinctive sounding voice, she had been busking around for the last four years. Most days she’d make enough to find somewhere to stay overnight, and move on to another town. This time she was intent on staying in the same place for two days not one. Short, blonde hair, barely enough for a ponytail, eyes as blue as the sky, she was, potentially, a record labels dream. At least, for musical talents, there was something to back up the highly sought after figure that she had. There wasn’t that many people blessed with a natural set of curves.
Keith had really lost his creative spark over the last week. Every idea he’d been coming up with had been falling after a couple of lines. He was struggling to expand them, or put any music together. Walking through the park a little disconsolately, he couldn’t help but hear the strumming of a guitar. What he was hearing was different to anything he’d ever come up with before, so he tried following the sound. It wasn’t easy, there were a lot of other noises of kids running around in the fields, dogs barking at one another as their owners stretched their legs, but he was intent on finding this guitarist. What he didn’t expect was the look, the figure, or even the gender of the person playing it. She was as good looking, in his eyes, as he felt he was ugly. He wasn’t completely convinced that he would be able to approach her, but he seemed frozen to the spot, entranced by the spellbinding music he was hearing.

Stuart was sitting in his hotel room. He didn’t have much left over after paying for his room, although he’d remembered to get the receipt in case it was needed. He had been upgraded after finding a fault in his initial room of a broken spring in the mattress, so the view he had of the surrounding area was immense. It was still a few minutes away from the local harbour, but there were no buildings in between so the top half of many of the boats were in view. In between there were glimpses of the sea. A few buildings were under construction to the east side, but that assisted in blocking out the early morning sunshine that would usually penetrate the room at the start of the day. It was mid-afternoon though, and the sun was shining directly into the room. Very little breeze left it feeling humid and rather sticky. With not a lot to do, and not a lot of time either, he was rather bored.

While strumming away, she was aware that someone was around and not moving. Casting her eyes in his direction, she looked him up and down, before saying “Just give me a moment to finish this, then we’ll chat.”
He nodded in agreement, not wishing to disrupt her. The more she played, the more people walked past dropping loose change, which enabled her to travel to nearby locations. Keith was a bit nervous about putting a halt to her day, but she had earned a fair bit already, although it was only twp in the afternoon, and the after school rush had still to pass through.

Pausing for a moment to count up what she had made, she placed her guitar down alongside her. “Do sit down,” she beckoned him over, “I don’t bite.”
Edging his way over he spluttered out “Hi.”
“Hey,” she replied. “I’m Grace. And you are?”
“Keith,” his response was a little strained. “How long have you been playing for?”
“About five years now. Was a mix of self teaching and occasional lessons once I got started properly with the busking side of things,” she explained a little.
“Really? You didn’t have proper lessons until you could pay for them? How long did that take?” He was really surprised.
“Only a few months. I self taught using my parents laptop before they kicked me out as I was driving them crazy. Ever since I’ve been moving around into different locations, often daily,” she sighed. “Just to make enough to eat and move on again.”
“How would you like to come back to my place? I have a spare room, and a garage in which I practice a lot to myself,” the offer was enticing. “I also make my own creations at times, but I’m always trying to learn new songs already famous.”
She pondered for a moment. “Would it cost anything?” she enquired.
“For you, no charge. Seems like you could do with a decent nights sleep,” he was just trying to help out. He’d been that way for a long time and not been known to be any different. Regardless of what personal circumstances he found himself in, he never stopped offering help to others.
“That sounds like it could be fun. Your own personal studio?” she was interested to find out more. “What instruments do you play?”
“I’ve been more on the production side lately, but I’m a pianist firstly and a bit-part guitarist, usually rhythmic with basic chords,” he was a little disconsolate. “Not as good as you are,” he added, ruefully. “I’ve had the time, but not the patience.”
“I didn’t have much choice,” she replied, hesitantly. “I was very rarely included in anything at school, or college, always left to my own devices, so I thought I’d learn this as I was often wasting time slaving away over coursework or occasional cooking of dinners.”
The two of them agreed it wasn’t the best of combinations for a young, appealing, talented individual. “Mind if I have a quick strum?” he asked.
Immediately replying, she was quick, “Sure, why not. Can’t hurt anyone’s ears more than hearing the same voice over and over again all day.”
He picked up her guitar, and was quick to notice that it wasn’t standard tuned.
“Do you want me to tune it up for you?” she was unnerved by this, it was normal practice for most people to request for standard tuning.
“That would be ideal,” he responded, “I’ve not really delved into other tunings yet.”
Taking the guitar from him, she pulled out a tuner out of the front pouch of the guitar. She knew what frequency the ‘A-string’ had to be, so when that was set she tuned the rest by ear. It wasn’t too difficult, although she did have a quick warning for him. “Because it’s spent so much time at my style of tuning,” she warned while she tuned, “it’s likely to go out of tune a little at the start.”
“It’s ok, I’m sure I can get it back to normal,” he replied, awaiting the tuned guitar eagerly. “I do have my own one at home.”
She finished tuning the guitar and handed it back to him. The guitar itself was well looked after, although the fret board looked like it had been worn down a bit because of her continuous busking. He sat upright, and started to throw a couple of rhythmic tunes out. He didn’t feel like he was in the same class as her, but started to sing along and got a real feel for the new guitar that he had for the first time in his hands.
A few people passed them by while he was doing this, and one of them stopped. They recognised the tune but could not picture who it was by. When he’d finished, they asked him, and he answered. “So that’s who it is!” exclaimed this elder statesman. “I thought I recognised the words, I have all his albums.”
“Well that’s impressive,” Keith answered, knowingly. “I have a few, I’m not sure I have all yet, I must need to get hold of them somehow.”
Grace watched on, amazed to see this relative stranger pull out a note from his pocket. Even more impressive, was the business card that he removed from his wallet. “Here’s my number, call me if you would like to discuss any potential future development. And here’s something for you both,” he added with a wink. Handing the note to Keith, he added, “I best be on my way. My wife will wonder where I am. I’m only on lunch.”
With that the man took off. Hopeful in the knowledge that he would receive a call from them. Keith was confused and excited all in one. “Did that… just happen? Or do I have to pinch myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream?”
Grace replied, “You don’t need to pinch yourself, that’s definitely a twenty you’ve got in your hands. Perhaps I will take you up on that offer of coming back to yours. But I think I shall stay here until around four-thirty. There’s more to be made.”
He handed back the guitar. “You play away. I shall come back for then, and we will see just what happens afterwards.”
She nodded her head. “That sounds like a plan. Perhaps we could go get a bite after too.”
He agreed. “That would be rather nice.” It wasn’t like he was doing much else with his time. Leaving her sat at the bench, note and business card in hand, he headed off home. There was something good about what had just happened and he was still in a reasonable amount of disbelief.

The red carpet was rolled out. He had freshened up, after a spell of helping out in the kitchen to earn a bite to eat. Looking rather polished he approached the journalists chairs seated in one of the conference rooms. There were nearly eighty other people sat there already, although he spotted a vacant seat on the front row, which he quickly snapped up. No-one was going to make him move from this seat, as it was that kind of dog-eat-dog business which didn’t involve niceties. No chairs could be saved for someone else, it was tabloid versus magazine, broadsheet versus television. After making their grand entrance to the hotel, the a-list celebrity was ushered into a central seat and started talking about their new film which was due out later in the week.