Guillotine

By Eric Gutierrez Jr.

"Nah, keep it. When this song is out, I'm gonna get it back and then some."

Declan is having the time of his life being the sound engineer for Tony Hookz, a rapper who loves to shove him and litter him with showers of dollar notes. Not. He endures long hours in a cramped studio with Hookz and his jackal goons who stink of beer and rolled herb. His ego is bigger than the door – and it is slowly pushing Declan to the edge of his patience.

Nothing tells you about the person you really are until it all falls down.

Without his realization, these long hours and misery have seeped into his homelife with his girlfriend, Tiff, and their little son, DJ. Until one night he returns home to an empty house. It was a downward spiral that sucked him and swallowed him whole.

Everyone has secrets to keep, and they kept them well. But there's nowhere to hide when they are ripped out in the open and exposed.

Even on the brink of a mental breakdown, Declan stumbles through his routine (with a few additives), working with bands like Oath of July and people like Hookz. After one confrontation goes too far - Declan has one chance to build himself up, but it's all down to him to stand up for himself and his loved ones. When life decides to throw him more punches – He'll take pride and be more than ready to give it his own Killshot!

Welome to Team Killshot.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreaded Sushi Press
• Release date: Dec 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386624486

Eric Gutierrez Jr.

Eric Gutierrez Jr. is a Texas-native writer who dreams in code and beer. He’s the sexy guy behind Devil Sunrise, City of Doves, and The Exile. He lives in Laredo with his lovely, crafty wife, 2 children, and 3 Pomeranians who seem to act like hellish imps.

Book preview

PART ONE

It All Falls Down

Chapter 1

There he was.

Tony Hookz, rapped his latest sixteen for his latest single for his latest EP and his crew that behind me couldn’t help but yell and cheer for their cash cow. All while they smoked a weed-filled blunt that filled up the room with its distinct skunk odor. I’m not an idiot.

I went to high school.

None of these guys knew anything about BPMs, measures, or a goddamn gain. And yet I get the constant—

Needs more reverb! A random goon shouted.

Every. Fucking. Time.

I’ll add all that when it comes down to the final master, but for now we’re just trying to get the audio.

Yo! the rapper yelled through the booth, Are you giving my boy shit?!

I pressed the button that allowed me to speak over his end, I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear—

"I said! Tony yelled out, Are you giving my boy shit?!"

Nah man, I replied. I’m just telling him—

You don’t need to tell him shit, bitch. He talked over me again. You work for me, so if I tell you to shut the fuck up. You best do that. Y’heard me!

Sorry. I released the button and kept my eyes away from the rapper and kept it to my monitor.

Now let’s re-do this shit!

Okay. I pressed the spacebar on my keyboard to begin recording and as soon as the metronome introduced the instrumental he began his verse again.

The people behind me restarted their cheers and coughing as they passed the blunt to each other. I just hoped to let the shame and the heat from my red face pass. I hated working with him and I was pretty sure that’s why they kept giving me his projects. I wasn’t going to argue with him. He’s probably seen more fights than me. He carried himself with the authority of someone not to fuck with and here I was, some dumbass who gets caught in his crosshairs on a constant basis.

Play it. The rapper used his hand as he spoke to signal me.

I pressed play on the computer to let him hear what he did on the track. His facial expressions ranged between hyped to Did I really use that metaphor? and I wasn’t even sure which expression was the good one. I really hoped he was satisfied with the verse so I could save it and go home. I hadn’t been home in ten hours because of his sixteen bar verse.

To be fair, it was eight bars and he usually filled the blanks with sound effects and repeating the word Versace. Yes, he’s the top-selling artist of all time.

What do all y’all think? Tony emerged from the recording booth.

Hmm, one of his boys couldn’t even find a way to even fake looking sober, shit was tight bro.

For real?! The rapper’s face looked excited.

Yeah, bro! Another one of his crewmates, That shit is radio fuckin’ quality!

I can fuck with that. The rapper hand shook his friends while I sat down trying to look busy. Then he turned to me, Yo Devin!

That wasn’t even my name, but I turned around to avoid another embarrassing confrontation.

Play that shit again.

I obliged his wishes and began the track.

The heavy bass shook my audio monitors and he began to bob his head and move back and forth doing the latest trendy dance.

Let me snap this shit! Another friend of his, a bigger man who had more fat than muscle especially in the neck region reached for his phone and waved it around in front of Tony.

Tony lip-synched the track in front of the camera and like that, the song was going to go viral and everyone was going to want to hear that song, by any means.

Ain’t no one making these moves like me. Ain’t no one on this grind! Then to add more salt to my wounds, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a large wad of cash then proceeded to pour it over me.

Like if I needed more of this shit. I just bit my tongue and tried to play it off, but goddamn that sucked.

Then like the jackals they were, his goons laughed and filmed my embarrassing moment.

Thanks. I stood up and brushed off the cash from my body.

Nah, keep it. Tony’s arrogant tone stung my ears. When this song is out, I’m gonna get it back and then some.

I know, Tony. I fuckin’ know. Since I’m the one that’s going to stay up all night to equalize the audio while you go to your women and expensive nightclubs.

I’ll email your manager and I’ll let him know when to expect the track, I told him as I tried to pull a hundred dollar bill from the inside of my shirt.

Yeah, you do that. Tony brushed me off and reached for his own phone which was playing another one of his songs as the ringtone.

Yo Blue! What’s good, my dude?! He walked away to talk on his phone.

What a pain in the ass, I mumbled to myself while I started to save the audio files into my external hard drive so I can get a jump on it at home. This was going to keep on happening until all five of his songs were completed and we were barely on track number two.

I definitely felt that I did something to piss off the higher-ups because there was no way in hell that I got consecutively stuck to work on Tony’s projects while the other engineers get to work with folk bands and pop singers. The pay wasn’t even worth the headache of having to deal with a primadonna who feels intimidation and tight jeans are a good mix.

Who am I to talk?

I couldn’t even look him in the eye without being worried if he was going to hit me or do something to bring me down a notch.

I’m ready to head out. Tony gathered his goons and made his way to the door, Let’s roll!

Chapter 2

The recording session was now over and I found myself in the main hall of the studio where the other bands, singers, and rappers were exiting or entering for their own session. I was ready to call it a night and begin to go over Tony’s masterpieces. I shiver whenever he calls them that. The arrogance on him was nothing short of disgusting. He once made me stop wearing my headphones around my neck since I was biting his style and yet, everyone else was allowed to. He had a bone to pick with me and I wasn’t sure why.

Yo, everyone in this building is invited to go with me at Alter Native to celebrate the completion of my latest single! Tony hyped up the area and everyone cheered for the chance of getting free drinks and ride the coattails of a major artist.

The band next door to us couldn’t help but peek out of their booth to see what the disturbance was about. Their drummer, an Irish-American girl who wore a porkpie hat looked at him and then to me.

Hey, Declan! She waved at me.

How are you doing, Mely? I tried to boost my voice over the excitement.

Same old, just laying out the drum tracks for the album and you? She leaned further to look over to Tony. I see they got you your buddy again.

Yeah, I’m very ‘excited’ to work with him again.

That sucks, we were really hoping to get you on this album. Mely used her pouty face that seemed to win her countless of fans. I, however, grew immune to the look. After working with her band, Oath of July, they were able to keep up with the industry favorites and even got radio airplay. Not to toot my own horn, but maybe because the sound was crisp and clean. That sound wouldn’t have happened if I obeyed that face.

Besides, Oath of July appreciated it and always made it a thing to give me some kind of gift whenever they came by to record. Last week, they got me a beer growler that said #EngibeerLife.

I haven’t had a chance to use it, but after the shitfest in the booth earlier— I think today is a better time than any.

Who knows? Maybe after I finish this EP. I fixed up my backpack and prepared to make my leave.

Hey, you gonna go? The familiar, arrogant voice behind me caused me to almost drop my hard drive.

Nah, I’m—

I ain’t talking to you! I’m asking the female here! Tony shoved me aside.

Sorry, I’m going to be busy, you know, recording. Mely scoffed.

Come on, you can take a day off from singing those whale songs. Tony snickered.

Yeah, no and I’m a drummer, so like I said— no thanks.

Aight. Tony exhaled through his teeth and turned back around.

We waited until he left before we can continue our conversation.

What a dick. Melissa’s voice became a whisper.

Well, he keeps my bills paid.

You need to just step up to him and show him his place.

I know, but I’m really in no place to stoop to that kind of level. I shrugged and finally began to make my way out.

Fair enough, Mely winked and flexed her muscles, but if you ever need help with beating his ass just give me a call.

Will do, Mely. I laughed, Thanks.

The studio hallway began to grow quieter as the recording artists either retreated back into the booths or left with Tony Hookz to begin their celebration.

In a place full of music and noise, I never appreciated the silence any more than now. All I wanted to do was get home and be with my girlfriend and son. They were always patient whenever I had to work late like this and I always felt horrible that I couldn’t find the time to be with them since I brought the work home with me.

My son was growing and I wasn’t able to enjoy the infant or toddler years. That was always a shot to the gut whenever he told me what his latest achievement was or his favorite meme. I never cared for those things, but for him, I’d bleed for memes.

With the guilt beginning to reach its peak in my core I felt I’d be better off stopping by a store and buying them something as a thank you for being there. Plus with all this Tony business, I was in need of them even more.

The exit to the hallway was finally in reach as I walked down the stairs until I got to the lobby where the A & Rs roamed to make sure that their recruits were delivering the goods that they promised their bosses. I never envied that job. No matter how good the pay was. Lucky for them, they didn’t have to work past five and if they did, it’d be at some club scouting the talent.

I walked past a mop bucket and got to the exit. The night was a bit chilly, but the absence of wind made it a bit bearable while I stepped to my car. The parking lot was almost empty with just the studio cleaners, the remaining recording artists and engineers, and along with my car it made up the remaining space. I always parked in the back of the parking lot to avoid getting dinged and get my moment of exercise before I prepared for the day of basses banging my monitors and eardrums.

My car was a white Honda that was still in its prime even if it was five years old. I kept up with the maintenance and so far it still purred like a kitten. I got inside and fired up the ignition then waited for the heater to flow through the car to get my hands warm enough to grip the steering wheel before I left the parking lot. I shifted the car from neutral to reverse and backed out of my lonely parking space and drove away.

Fuck this job.

But I’ll be back tomorrow just like clockwork.

Chapter 3

The streets in the neighborhood were barely noticeable in the darkness. The only way I was able to see the road was with the limited coverage of the street lights. I took a few turns through the blocks before I got to a stop light and waited for it to change. I noticed a drug deal going on next to me with a woman who was wearing an oversized t-shirt stood with a man who looked younger than her, maybe my age. He passed her a baggie of something that she was really in the mood for and shook hands.

I tried to keep my eyes away from the deal, so I can avoid a confrontation with the dealer. He didn’t look like someone who wanted to take any chances with witnesses.

The light finally changed green and I hit the gas pedal to leave them behind. I peeked at my rear-view mirror to make sure that they disappeared into the distance. My house was just a few blocks down, except it felt longer tonight.

I PULLED UP TO MY DRIVEWAY of the two-bedroom home. The lights were off and I didn’t hear any commotion from the inside. No one yelling for DJ to get down from the sofa or to get ready for bed.

I didn’t hear anything.

Maybe they stepped out to one of her friends’ houses was my best guess. She usually told me her plans, but this was nothing for me to freak out about.

Thankfully, she didn’t forget to lock the door this time.