The Love Hypothesis

by Laura Steven

  Haruki follows the car with his gaze almost . . . wistfully? Remembering his own strained relationship with his absentee dad, I reach out and squeeze his hand. He pecks a light kiss on my cheek, and it’s so sweet I can’t help but smile.

  ‘Are you excited?’ he asks me, our faces close together as we join the end of the line. ‘You seem excited.’

  ‘Yeah! And a little nervous, I guess.’ It’s true. I’m jittery as hell. I have no clue how Keiko does this.

  ‘Why nervous?’ Haruki says. He wraps his arms around me, and it’s nice, but I’m kind of overheating in the evening warmth.

  ‘I want her to do well,’ I say into his chest. ‘She’s so ready to kick this thing to the next level, and tonight could be the night she makes a real break.’

  Haruki frowns and looks up at the sign for the club. There are lights out in the name, and the black paint around it is peeling. ‘Really? Here?’

  ‘It’s apparently the place a bunch of stars were discovered in the eighties and nineties, and everyone from music journalists to record-label scouts still hang out here on the reg.’ I scan the queue for anyone who could be a booker or scout, before realizing they probably don’t queue with the cattle. ‘It may look small and dingy, but the fact she got booked here is legit awesome.’

  Haruki kisses me on the forehead. ‘I love the passion you have for your friends.’

  By the time the doors open, the line trails down the block and wraps around the corner. The bouncers check our IDs and give us different colored wristbands to those who meet the drinking age, so the bartenders know they can only serve us soft drinks. The club’s ethos is that nobody should be excluded from great music just because they’re teenagers, and honestly I think that’s pretty cool.

  The place may look seedy as hell from the outside, but inside it’s just laidback and comfortable. The booths have cracked leather seats in deep emerald green, and there are those chic industrial lights hanging over each one. The floor is exposed concrete, and the black walls are covered in black-and-white pictures of all the famous people who’ve performed here over the years.

  Haruki and I grab a booth near the back, away from the stage. Haruki goes up to the bar to get a couple of sodas, and I text Gabriela to let her know where we are. She doesn’t reply.

  Within minutes, the place is packed out. It’s still a half hour until Keiko takes to the stage – she’s the supporting act for Jaxon Zentner, the singer-songwriter who’s headlining. I’ve heard his stuff and honestly, he’s not as good as Keiko. I’m not just saying that. He sings his lyrics without really feeling them, whereas with Keiko it comes from the soul.

  I’m a bundle of nerves, and when Haruki returns with two lemonades, I can barely focus on what he’s saying to me. Something about what kind of music he’s into, and whether or not I’m a rap girl. I mumble noncommittally, crackling with anticipation for the moment the background music dims, the spotlights crank on and Keiko takes the stage.

  For some reason, when it finally happens, I jump a little in my seat. That’s how on edge I am. Gabriela still hasn’t even replied, let alone arrived.

  Keiko’s band takes the stage first, and I immediately notice that her drummer, Chris, has abandoned his usual kit and is carrying a huge taiko drum – as are two other girls I’ve never seen before. In fact, her entire band has multiplied. There are a couple of guys each with a different type of flute, a girl with a bronze gong. Kiera is there with her acoustic guitar, and Jocelyn is on bass, but there’s also a lute and a mouthpiece resting on an amp.

  What are you up to, Kiks?

  They start up, and it’s like nothing I’ve never heard. It’s a little like gagaku, a type of ancient Japanese court music Keiko played for me once. But where that was a little screechy, a little coarse, this is something new entirely. It’s bouncy and uplifting. The taiko drums make your heart beat faster, and the flutes add a sweetness, but there’s still something very Keiko in the quirky guitar riffs. It shouldn’t work, but my god, it really does.

  Keiko walks on stage to rapturous applause and wolf-whistles from the crowd. Lots of people have abandoned their booths and are standing in the wide open space in front of the stage, but when Haruki asks if I want to do the same, I tell him I want to stay out of sight.

  She. Looks. Killer.

  She’s wearing this buttercup-yellow mini dress with a huge, structured ruffle of fabric snaking from her shoulder to her hip. Her super high shoes are metallic with a block heel and gemstones on the straps, and she wears chunky silver bracelets and giant hoop earrings. Her lilac hair has been curled and backcombed to within an inch of its life, and cascades down her back in lavender waves.

  As the taiko drums suddenly die down, the air is thick with anticipation. She leaves it for a perfect beat, just long enough that we’re desperate for more, but not long enough that it’s getting weird. Then she opens her mouth and launches straight into Upside Downside.

  Everyone screams like she’s literal Beyoncé.

  The song has been remixed, reworked, and while it was once your traditionally great rock song, this has style and flair. It feels fresh and new. It’s rock mixed with gagaku mixed with something quirkier. Something entirely Keiko.

  It goes too fast. I want to listen to it forever.

  ‘Whaddup, Charleston?’ she yells. ‘How are we doin’ tonight?’

  The charisma bleeds from her. The cheers and screams wash over her, and I can almost feel her drawing power from it.

  The next few songs of the set are other old classics – Mess You Up, Power of Pretty – but all reworked in this new style. Her voice is deeper, raunchier, more certain than before. It was always smooth and easy, but there’s a fierceness, a forcefulness to it now. It’s electric.

  She sounds young and old all at once.

  As I listen to Fight Or Flight, I cannot believe how hard she’s been working. Sure, I know she’s often busy with band practice, but this? This basically inventing a new genre of music? She must be up all night, every night, mixing and remixing with her headphones on while Momo sleeps in the bed beside her. She is . . . astounding. And yet she still always has time for me.

  Suddenly it seems so absurd that I ever thought she was self-absorbed, always talking about her music. She’s been creating something groundbreaking. Of course she wanted to talk about it with her fucking best friends. Did I ever really ask any questions, though? Or did I just let her ramble, tuning her out, not fully listening to the fact my best friend is a genius and a pioneer? I’ve missed out on watching this amazing thing unfold, this thing that might just make musical history, and for what? Because I was too busy chasing boys, and getting annoyed when she didn’t ask me enough about it?

  I can feel Haruki’s gaze on me as I watch her absolutely owning the stage, but I can’t tear my eyes away for two seconds to return his look. He scoots closer to me and rests a hand on my thigh, but I barely notice.

  The song ends, and Keiko takes a sip of water, then grabs the mic from its stand.

  ‘Are y’all ready to hear something new?’ she shouts. The crowd cheers and whistles. ‘I know, y’all, I know. You just wanna be able to sing along, right? How can you do that if you don’t know the song? But you just gotta trust me on this. It’s called Bones and Stardust.’

  Jocelyn starts plucking a simple baseline. Chris and the other two taiko drummers kick in with a beat that’s somewhere between uplifting and urgent. Then the flutes, and the acoustic guitar. I know I’m not doing it justice, but it’s the kind of combination you just want as the backdrop to your entire life. The music you listen to when you want to feel happy, but you also want to get shit done.

  Then Keiko starts to sing.

  Why are you so afraid?

  Why are you so afraid of your own reflection

  When your reflection is the stars you love

  The sky above

  Is in you

  Why are you so afraid when you are the universe

  And the universe i
s you?

  Everything in me heats up.

  I can’t explain how I know. It’s something in the way she sings the words. Yes, it’s in that new, deep, raw style. But it also has the same quality of her voice when it’s just me and her, talking about nothing. It’s both informal and passionate. It’s comfortable and assured. It’s laughing about beauty and blazing vaginas on her bathroom floor, her hands around my face, smelling of jojoba almond soap.

  It’s for me. She’s singing about me, and the way I see myself.

  Before I’ve even registered what I’m doing, I’m sliding out of the booth and on to the floor. I push toward the front.

  Why are you so afraid?

  Why are you so afraid of your own dimensions

  When your dimensions are your history

  There’s eternity

  Within you

  Why are you so afraid when you are the universe

  And the universe is you?

  The final bodies part, and then I’m there, I’m a few feet away from her yellow dress and her lilac hair and her fiery eyes.

  She spots me right as she’s about to launch into the chorus. When our gaze locks, there’s a tiny catch in her throat, and I can tell she’s missed her cue by a few milliseconds. She lets the band play an extra bar, tugs her eyes away from mine, and lets rip.

  You are bones and you are stardust

  And you must, you must not betray

  Your reflection, your dimensions

  Not to mention

  The love that burns inside you

  Like bones and stardust

  By the end of the chorus, her voice is a roar.

  Something dormant awakens in me, then. And it’s so overwhelming that I cannot even begin to understand it.

  Firstly, obviously, the song is about me. Keiko was so moved by my lack of self-love, so frustrated and tormented about it, that she was driven to put pen to paper, words to verse. I picture her working late into the night, headphones on as Momo sleeps beside her, only now I see her writing about me. Finding the perfect melody, the perfect instrumental arrangement. My heart aches.

  Secondly, there’s something so life-affirming about seeing her up there, like this, inches away from me but light years too.

  It’s like she’s sharing her power with the room. Sometimes you hear a great singer and you think, oh, I wish I could sing like them. But this isn’t that. Instead of making me wish I was like her, Keiko makes me want to be the Keiko of whatever I do. It makes me want to rock the world of astrophysics with my own flair, my own quirks, my own power. It’s like she’s giving me permission to go after what I want, to be unapologetic and authentic, to embrace where I came from.

  I don’t know what this feeling is: this heat that spreads through my chest, the raw energy pulsing in my veins, this yearning and this sense of purpose.

  I stay up there at the front for the rest of the set. Haruki joins me at some point, cups his hands around my waist as I sway to This Neverending Night and Rise Up. Keiko doesn’t look at me again, and I can’t tell if she’s mad I came. Still, I don’t regret it.

  When it’s over, it’s clear nobody wants Jaxon Zentner to take the stage. Keiko yells goodnight, and the crowd goes wild. I feel their screams in my bones.

  Halfway into Jaxon’s set, Haruki and I meet Keiko at the bar. When she taps me on the shoulder, I jolt like I’ve been electrocuted and spin around to face her. The grin on her face spreads from ear to ear. I throw my arms around her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers, squeezing me back. ‘Thank you for coming. And not hating me.’

  So she wasn’t mad I came.

  Maybe . . . embarrassed? That I heard her song before I was supposed to? Before she made sure it was okay that she wrote about me?

  I pull away. We keep our faces close so we can hear each other over the noise of Zentner’s gravelly solo. She smells of the silver conditioner that comes with her hair dye. ‘It’s okay. Really. I’m sorry I said you were jealous.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ She pauses and nibbles her lip. Her hair is kinda mussed up from our hug. ‘I’m sorry for being jealous.’

  I smirk in probably not an attractive way. ‘So, you admit it.’

  ‘Oh, shut up.’ She nudges me with her hip. ‘You’re not a cute winner.’

  I study her then, my best friend in the world, my best friend with this huge, huge talent. It fills me with pride and emotion. ‘You were amazing, Kiks. Hell, amazing isn’t a big enough word.’

  ‘You’re such a dork.’ She drops her gaze in a bashful way, which is . . . not her usual style. ‘But thanks. That means a lot.’

  We just look each other then, and I don’t know what she’s thinking. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m thinking, other than playing the lyrics to Bones and Stardust over and over and over in my head.

  Why are you so afraid when you are the universe

  And the universe is you?

  I have so many questions about that song, and no real way to ask them without giving away that I know – or at least suspect – it was about me.

  Haruki shuffles awkwardly beside me. Keiko doesn’t even ask where Gabriela is.

  I start speaking at last. ‘When did you –’

  ‘Keiko.’ A heavily tattooed woman with gauged ears appears beside Kiks, a coy smile on her pixie-ish face. Her name badge says Marieke, and I think she’s the manager of the bar. ‘There’s someone backstage I’d like you to meet.’

  Keiko’s eyes light up. ‘Is it . . . ?’

  Marieke shrugs playfully. ‘You’ll have to wait and see.’

  Keiko turns back to me, twinkling. ‘This could be it.’

  Any disappointment I felt about having this conversation interrupted evaporates. I squeeze her hand. It’s clammy and a little shaky. ‘I’ll text you later. I want to know everything.’

  Not long after she heads backstage, Vati picks us up outside the venue, and the whole ride back, Haruki chatters animatedly about how amazing Keiko was, how inspired he felt. And it’s weird, because I’m not jealous. The Caro of a few weeks ago would’ve probably been bitter that my boyfriend (STILL WEIRD) was more obsessed with my best friend’s performance than with the girl sitting right next to him, but how can I be mad when that’s how I feel too?

  Thoughts of Keiko eclipse all else, to the point where I don’t even notice when Vati picks up an Argentinian hitchhiker on the freeway.

  17

  When we get home after dropping Haruki off in his very fancy neighborhood, Dad whips out a breathalyzer kit and makes me blow into it, then makes me walk up and down the hallway in a straight line, all while Sirius is going to town on my hip. So just your standard Saturday evening in the Kerber-Murphy household.

  I shower, take off my makeup, brush my teeth and get into bed, and by the time I do, there’s a string of messages from Keiko in the group chat. (She’s one of those people who sends a million short texts instead of one long one.)

  SO

  Guess what??

  The person Marieke wanted me to meet was . . .

  Wait for it

  BELLA BALZER

  AN ACTUAL LITERAL MANAGER

  Who represents so many of my favorite artists???

  Like Miranda May, Beach Street, Amelia Lovell, Joe Johnson & The Jaguars

  And she honestly was so so complimentary of my set, she super GOT the gagaku stuff you know?? I could just tell she was so excited by it

  ANYWAY SHE OFFERED TO REP ME!!!

  I HAVE A MANAGER NOW I GUESS???

  Then there’s a whole bunch of celebration dance gifs. I break out into a huge grin, warmth spreading through my chest. The success feels like my own. Keiko’s happiness feels like my happiness.

  But then I see the reply from Gabriela:

  that’s cool hey! sorry i didn’t make it tonight, lizzie got caught shoplifting lol what an idiot

  I could kill Gabriela, actually kill her, for this response. This is the biggest thing to ever happen in Keiko’s career, and
all she has to say is ‘that’s cool hey’ and a half-assed apology for bailing? Plus, why is she blowing us off to hang out with people who shoplift for the lols? Is this just what happens when old friends grow up with different interests? When they turn out to be totally different people?

  The thought of that happening to me and Keiko fills me with dread. I don’t think I could survive growing apart from her. I refuse to believe it’s just an inevitability of getting older and going your separate ways come college.

  I shake off my fear, instead focusing on how good it feels to be talking to her again, and send my own reply.

  KIKS OH MY GOD!! That is seriously fuckign incredible?? So incredible I clearly cannot fuckign type! So so so happy for you, and not at all surprised. You absolutely slayed tonight! So what happens now? What does Bella do next? Ahhhhh!

  I can’t bring myself to respond to Gabriela, or ask any more about the shoplifting. I won’t let Keiko share this moment with a basic bitch delinquent like Lizzie.

  Okay so as well as managing your schedule, booking gigs, and generally making sure I’m heard by the right people, she’ll also be trying to get me signed to a record label????

  Which would be HUGE for me obviously

  It’s just such a massive show of faith you know?

  It was such a risk to try out this new style and it was so so much work to get the whole set to that level, and to find musicians who could pull it off, and the fact it’s been worth it is just . . . oh god I’m crying

  After a little more back-and-forth with no replies from Gabriela, we take it away from the group chat and message privately.

  What she writes next genuinely surprises me.

  Anyway enough about me! Please update me on all your things. How’s it going with Haruki? And how’s the MIT application coming along? And has Vati finally managed to grow his turnips? (Not a euphemism GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER)