The resort was situated on a crystal clear lake, it’s water cold from the icy water that trickled down from the surrounding mountains of the Swiss Alps. The resort consisted of about 10 cabins, 5 of which had been taken up by members or staff of the band and one that had been converted into a makeshift recording studio. “The most efficient way to write and record an album is to separate yourself from any distractions,” the director had advised, “You aren’t required to heed my advice, you’re your own men with your own ideas, but it’s been my experience with other bands that this is the quickest and most effective way to channel creativity.” Matt had agreed wholeheartedly. The other two were reluctant to join, especially Chris, who had a large family to care for. But his family had always been understanding of his career and was no obstacle if he needed to disappear with the band for awhile. It was no different, really, than when they were on tour. And Chris almost always returned in high spirits, excited for what the future had to offer and happy to see his family again. Besides, there had been enough setbacks on this album as it was. It was time to get cracking. And so it was done. The band and staff relocated themselves out to the private resort. Things today were not going as smoothly as anyone would have liked though. Tom, in no way required to be there with the band but was anyway, had flown off to LA to take care of some PR stunts for the week and his presence was sorely missed. Tom’s humor kept things light in the studio and now, when tensions were running high, it was almost as necessary to the success of the recording as the recording equipment itself. Dom was distracted and it was bothering Matt. Dom’s mind was not on the music. He was performing up to standards but Matt could tell his heart wasn’t in it and Matt was getting snappy. Chris, tired of trying to keep peace between the two had given up and retired to his cabin for the evening. And Dom, irritated at being snapped at constantly by Matt had stalked off to be alone, God knew where, declaring angrily as he slammed out of the studio that Matt could go ‘fuck himself’ and ‘do the whole thing alone if he was going to be that particular.’ Matt, having certain ideas in his head that he refused to budge on was frustrated. He knew it would sound great when it all came together, and peace would be restored between them once they heard it the way he heard it in his head. Or at least he hoped that would be the case. However, the real problems were between him and Dom, and both of them knew, though neither wanted to admit, that the trouble went deeper than the music itself. Matt decided that what he really wanted was a drink and some social interaction with people not currently involved with the band. Closing up the studio early, he wandered over to the main lodge and waited for the shuttle that would take him into the nearby village. The shuttle ride was short but jolty, the driver speeding his way through the bumpy, windy mountain roads, leaving Matt feeling more than a little carsick by the time he’d arrived in the village. He rested at the memorial fountain that marked the center square of the village for almost fifteen minutes before he made his slightly wavering way to the bar. Once inside, he plopped down on a stool and ordered his favorite drink: a red wine. Tonight was a night for some cabernet.