When Worlds Collide
Chapter 1
By: Bella
**Disclaimer: I don't know or own Benji or any of the members of Good Charlotte, blah blah blah. The band Pacifica and all its members are purely a figmet of my imagination, and so are the names of the representatives from the record labels mentioned. (Well, except John Feldmen ... and no, I don't know or own him either. Sorry.) Any other names, places (except for major cities that you will most likely be able to recognise), etc. will be probably fictional. Enjoy, and feedback would be greatly appreciated. Contrary to popular belief, I like negative feedback too ... so don't be shy and hit me, baby.**
"I can't do this. I won't do this. It was bad enough when we were playing for losers in bars and on open mic night at fucking Nathan's Coffee House, but now you expect me to do this in front of 4 major label record execs? You must be out of your fucking mind, Matt," Tristen said with tears in her eyes.
"Tris... God, c'mon. You know we need you. We can't go out there without you. Do you know what I went through just to get them to give us a chance? It's three songs. That's it. Please, our fucking futures all depend on the next 15 minutes, you can't back out of this," Matt replied with a hint of desperation.
"'Back out?!?!?' Ohhhh no, don't you dare. You tell me you've found a new practice space and then five minutes before we're supposed to perform you decide to tell me that this is not a practice, but an actual performance that our fucking futures depend on and tell me not to 'back out?' You are a stupid son of a bitch!" She yelled as she turned to face the wall behind her as tears rolled down her cheeks. She hated it when people saw her cry.
"I'm sorry, Tris. I really am. But the guys and I knew that you'd freak out and we wouldn't even be able to get you here if you knew what this was all about. Please, if you do this for us we'll be forever grateful. I know that this has never really been your thing, but it's our dream and we want you to be a part of it. I'm begging you... I'll even get down on my knees and kiss your feet if you want me to..."
She wiped her tears, sniffled, and turned around to see him start kneeling with a pleading expression on his face.
"Matt, don't. I'm in, but next time you better fucking tell me about this kind of shit or I'll shove my foot so far up your ass it'll be days before you even crap out my shoe laces," Tristen warned as she walked out of the small backstage room that they were in and headed to the backstage area to find where she had left her guitar five minutes before, just as the drama had begun.
"Always such a lady," Matt commented as he gave her a peck on the cheek and gave the other members of Pacifica a thumbs up. The other members breathed sighs of relief as they located their instruments and prepared to grace the stage with their presence.
---
The band consisted of five members. Matt on lead vocals, Tristen on guitar and vocals, Trevor on guitar, Casey on bass, and Will on drums. Matt, Trevor, Casey, and Will all had between three and five years of experience in music and formed Pacifica during their freshman year of college. All attended Stanford University. Tristen had never touched a guitar until she shared a dorm with Trevor during their sophomore year. Once Trevor taught her the basics she became hooked and began playing with Pacifica soon after.
Their audience consisted of representatives from four record companies. Jim Medina, Allison Hicks, and Stephen Reading of Maverick; JJ Berman and Tom Marshall of Wind-Up; Madeline Hernandez of Island; and John Feldman and Benji Madden of Wounded.
"I didn't listen to the demo. Are these guys any good or am I wasting my time yet again on one of the only days off I have this year?" Benji asked his partner, John, rather impatiently.
"Nah dude, they sounded good. I wouldn't have brought you here if I hadn't thought that they were worthy of our time, now would I?" John replied.
"Know anything about them?" Benji asked.
"Not much. There are five members... four guys, one girl. They all look to be in their early twenties, all are 'hard working and dedicated musicians,' and whoever sent the demo has nice handwriting. That's all I've got."
"All right, well I hope they get out here and play soon because I've gotta be at Paul and Sandy's by 7:30. You know how they are about being late. The last time I was late for dinner at their place I swear I saw veins bulging on their faces, and I'm pretty sure they were being sarcastic when they were complimenting my Rolex all night long."
---
(After Pacifica's performance)
"So man, what did you think?" Benji asked with a skeptic look on his face.
"I thought they were pretty good, actually," John replied with a shrug.
"I don't know ... did you see the chick? She was sorta hot, but totally preppy. How can a punk rock band have a preppy chick in it? I don't know about them man, I just don't think people will buy it," Benji said.
"Yeah, I noticed that. But, I mean, maybe she doesn't always look like that. Maybe you could give her one of your famous 'punk rock makeovers,'" John suggested with a grin.
"Yeah, like that's gonna happen. I just don't think this band is going anywhere. They aren't the kind of band that we're looking for. C'mon, let's blow this popsicle stand," said Benji as he got up and stretched.
"Ok, whatever," said John.
---
By the end of that month, Pacifica was signed to Island Records after playing that three-song set. That summer the band members rented a small house in LA and recorded their first major-label debut album. Good Charlotte's hectic schedule had slowed down a bit as they, too, were recording an album, as well as focusing attention on their various side projects. Among the side projects included Benji (GC) and John's (Goldfinger) new record label, which was considered a success.
Once Pacifica's record was released, the band toured almost nonstop, playing at radio shows, festivals, and opening for other bands. They were invited to perform on the Warped Tour the following summer and excitedly joined the tour, who's lineup also included Good Charlotte.
*********