The Hush Society Presents...

by Izzy Matias

  "So are you going to say yes to that bassist that asked you out earlier?" Eric asks her. "Are you? Are you?" He looks like an energetic puppy following her.

  "Right after you left, I politely declined."

  "Ouch. That poor lad— " Eric says, pushing the door open. I don’t hear the rest of their conversation, but her words echo in my head.

  I glance at Benji, who shrugs. We head back to the dressing room.

  Before I’m able to say anything to Benji about Cassie telling us to finish the song, another familiar voice booms through the archways. "—managed to book us in. Did you hear that The Gramophones might be playing? We’ll be opening for them if what they say is true."

  I would recognise that raspy voice anywhere.

  His grey eyes turn into perfect orbs as soon as he catches me looking at him.

  I stare him down, feeling every bit like Captain Cold. Elliot’s new band mate winces, seeing my glare. The git said his wife wanted him to settle down; that it was time to trade it in for a real job in Beverley. What the hell is he doing here?

  "Hey, Cameron!" Elliot calls out.

  Benji curses at the sight of Elliot.

  First Elliot and then a week later Lewis, but here was Elliot apparently still in the music scene.

  "How’s your new job coming along?" I grit my teeth.

  "Whatever you do, don’t pick a fight with him," Benji warns me. He grips my shoulder back, restraining me.

  "The Mrs. changed her mind." Elliot shrugs.

  The cool air in the bright, fluorescent hallway has no effect on my rising temperature. The dark maroon walls swirl and blur around me. Elliot’s bulging face is the only thing that is in focus. My hand shakes.

  I slam my fist into an amplifier beside me. It hardly moves since it’s so huge, but a surging pain shoots through my knuckles. I don’t care. The pain only makes me want to hit the damn amplifier again.

  Elliot takes a step back as I walk towards him. His friend cowers beside him and says, "I’m going to step outside."

  Benji slaps my back. "It’s not worth it."

  "Elliot," I say, nonchalant. "You should have told me you wanted out because you didn’t want to work with me anymore. You didn’t need to make up some story about settling down and getting a proper job."

  "Sorry, mate. I thought you’d take it better if I told you I wanted to give it up completely." But he doesn’t sound apologetic.

  "You didn’t think I’d find out? Especially if your gig was at The Verve?"

  He shrugs.

  "Good luck," I say and walk past him, bumping his shoulder.

  "Oi, my shoulder!" he says.

  "Fucking drama queen," I curse under my breath, and head towards the dressing room.

  Benji says something to Elliot, but I don’t hear a word.

  I grind my teeth and slam the door to the dressing room shut.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I don’t know what upsets me more—Elliot lying to my face, or replacing me only to debut at The Hush Society.

  If Elliot had lied his way out, did Lewis do the same?

  As my anger dissipates, I think about why he would rather lie to me than tell me the truth. Did he think I couldn’t handle it? It’s not like I haven’t been through this sort of thing before.

  Five times, to be exact.

  I stare at the cracks on the dirty ceiling with the weight of five rejections hitting me.

  I’m just not good enough, am I?

  Cameron, get your act together. It’s the people who’ve let you down, who’ve made you feel like a prat for trying again and again. The music never let you down.

  The door bursts open—and none other than Callum Ford stumbles in. "Who are you?" he asks.

  "Cameron Evans," I say and snap upright.

  CALLUM FORD OF THE GRAMOPHONES!

  "What are you doing here?" I ask.

  "A fan told me about The Hush Society. Proper chuffed to hear our secret gigs inspired someone to turn it into a full-blown movement. Came out to show support. About time someone does." He plops down on the couch beside me.

  "Any chance…?" I trail off, not wanting to cross any lines.

  The look on his face says he’s understood my question this time. "Nah, mate. Afraid it’s just me."

  "I had to ask." I smile, drumming my fingers against the armrest.

  Look at me, having a proper chat with Callum Ford. If only Benji were here. I make a mental note to introduce them to each other later.

  "You part of the line-up?" he asks me.

  "No. Came here to support the show, like you. And well…my mates and I were hoping it was a comeback gig," I confess.

  He gives me a hopeful smile, but says nothing else about The Gramophones. "So you’re here to listen. But"—he nods at the guitar beside me—"you wish you were…"

  Playing. I complete his sentence in my head. My fingers brush against the guitar’s neck.

  "Of course, but I was chucked off my last band," I say.

  And the one before that.

  I withdraw my fingers from the guitar and cross them against my chest.

  "That’s terrible. I’ve been there."

  "Not five times, I suppose." I don’t know why I told him that. Great. The last thing I need is one of my musical heroes thinking I’m a reject, too.

  "Blimey. Not that many times, but hey, if it’s worth anything, don’t give up now. You might be closer to that aha! moment than ever."

  I nod. I want to say, Sure, but what if I’m tired of being rejected over and over?

  "Keep on swimmin’."

  I laugh at his movie reference. "How’d you know I was a musician?"

  "I didn’t." He smiles. "Just asked the right questions to see if you were."

  "Cameron, we still need your help out here…." Benji’s voice gets louder as he approaches the room. "I know having your ex-band mate play at The Hush Society seems a bit thick; he’s an arse for lying to you, but you have to get over it. It’s—" Benji gasps at the sight of Callum, who looks at me with pity. "Callum Ford!" Benji regains speech, but not movement.

  "He’s a fan," I explain, getting up.

  "Massive fan," he says composing himself. "I play the bass, too!" And goes on to tell him about his latest vintage bass guitar and takes my place on the couch.

  They launch into a technical discussion, so I excuse myself. I thank Callum for his advice, which he repeats—"Stop comparing your journey to others’. Be the better lad tonight."—and head back into the hallway and out to the mosh pit area, where Elliot and his new mate are doing sound check. Elliot ignores me, but his mate flinches.

  I chuckle, puff out a heavy sigh, and visualise the anger evaporating with my breath. I am not my anger.

  Elliot hesitates in between songs. There’s a moment of awkward, interrupted silence and he glances at his new friend for assurance.

  "What’s the matter? Isn’t the next song ‘Rise’?" his friend says.

  Rise? What a ginormous twat!

  It’s one thing to lie about wanting out of the band, but to play one of our songs on stage as if it’s only his? If it’s one thing that narks me, it’s egotistic, self-serving individuals.

  All eyes are on me. I must have cursed aloud. Being in here is building waves of toxicity; I dash for the nearest door, and slam it open, nearly knocking someone down in the process.

  Cassie gives me an irritated look, but composes herself. "You nearly ran me over!" Then she stops to observe me. "Why do you look like the Grinch?"

  I laugh and shake my head. The last thing I want is to sulk in front of a girl I fancy. Okay. There, I admitted it. I fancy her.

  "I started The Hush Society to spread positivity," she says with a softer tone. "You’re like a dark cloud ready to strike thunderbolts." Her eyebrows are furrowed.

  She looks cute when she’s concerned.

  I sigh. "I’d rather not spoil your afternoon, but if you want to get to the bottom of it, I suggest you talk to Elliot."

 
"What is wrong with that guy? You’re not the first one to complain about him today."

  "For what it’s worth, he is a talented individual." Am I defending my ex-band mate?

  "But from what I’ve been hearing this afternoon, he doesn’t have a great work ethic." I snort. "That means he’s not worth my time."

  I’m about to enumerate the guy’s mishaps when Callum’s plea to be the better lad taunts me.

  I decide on a compromise. "He’s great at what he does, but he tends to be half-arsed."

  Cassie raises a suspicious brow.

  "It’s your show," I say and shrug.

  She shakes her head—I can’t tell if she’s shaking it at Elliot. Then she walks away on her mobile, sounding frantic.

  I sigh once more and resolve to not let my foul mood or my ex-band mate get in the way of my happiness tonight.

  Be the better lad.

  Cassie turns around, mumbling to herself.

  "What happened?" I ask and follow her.

  "First the original venue’s electrical shuts off a day before our gig and now this?"

  "What do you need help with?" I ask as she slides her Samsung mobile into the pocket of her black leather shorts.

  "One of the amplifiers blew up and the guy who volunteered to man the sound booth is MIA."

  "Benji’s got a few extra amplifiers I’m sure he’d be willing to lend. That’s how your community works, right? Everything is on a volunteer basis?"

  She nods.

  "As for the sound guy, I can try to pull a few strings." I think of the crew at URadio. I reach for my mobile to call Judy or Nate—depending on who picks up first.

  "Thank you!" Her eyes go wide and she pinches my arm. "I owe you."

  "Buy me a pint after the show?" I offer, smirking.

  "Done." She smiles. "Pour your sorrows out on me. Maybe there’s a silver lining."

  I grin like an idiot.

  "For now, I’ve got last-minute technical issues to attend to. I’ll see you later." She squeezes my arm and rushes back inside The Verve.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  My ears ring from the whistling, screaming, and cheering. If my mouth could grin any wider, I would let it. Based off the look in Cassie’s gleaming, star-struck eyes, this has to be one of the biggest Hush Society shows she’s organised. Despite Elliot & Co—his new project name—performing, it’s an ace time. Having Callum Ford host a full-house secret show at The Verve was bloody brilliant.

  I’ve that same kind of hit that the elixir of life gives me. My hands are shaking. I can’t stop smiling.

  "Ladies and gents, the night isn’t over," a rough, male voice echoes through the pub speakers. "We’ve opened The Verve to the public once again, as well as the mic and our house guitar for anyone willing to give their music a go."

  Like that first night I’d stumbled into The Hush Society, crackles of electricity pulsate in the air. People bustle about the mosh pit area as crew members scramble to get the last of the equipment off stage and return the tables on the floor. The loud chatter is in tune with the vibration and cadence that lingers and overpowers the ambient rock music playing in the background.

  Cassie has disappeared somewhere in the pub—or maybe outside—as she ties up the loose knots of the show now that The Verve has opened to the public once again.

  Dan, carrying a couple of cords and an amplifier, is in a heated discussion with Ella, who seems to be swaying back and forth.

  Eric, Benji, Judy and Nate hover around Callum.

  There’s this warmth in my chest—a pull I haven’t felt since Elliot and Lewis cut the cord. I’m itching to put myself out there.

  I slither through the crowd and make my way to the stage. The spotlight exudes this brilliant, hypnotic light. Even the single, archaic wooden stool on stage has more charm than age. I grab the battle-scarred, steel-stringed acoustic guitar hidden in the shadow of the spotlight and lean against the only remaining amplifier on stage to tune it.

  After I’ve tuned the guitar, I close my eyes and tap into the buzzing energy around me. I let the pulsating energy throttle me forward. It sends enough waves of courage for me to set aside my doubts and remember the magical, addicting high nine-year-old me first fell in love with.

  I step into the shimmering light and sit on the stool, but don’t dare tap on the microphone to introduce myself. I allow the natural progression of the music take its course.

  My fingers strum a simple progression of major chords. I’ve garnered a couple of stares and looks of interest; the conversational hum quiets down.

  I jazz up my piece and ad-lib a guitar solo before I return to the simple chord progression. I make this instrumental piece into a medley of a song that I never got to share with Lewis. Since I have no one else but myself on stage, I lean in closer to the microphone and begin to sing.

  There’s a slight tremor in my voice as I sing the first verse. I ain’t no singer, but somehow, in this moment, I am compelled to try something I’ve never done before. I glance at the crowd. When I notice some of their vibrant, focused faces, I’m reminded that this is The Hush Society community.

  The sinister voice that could cause a potential meltdown is nowhere to be found. I enter the pre-chorus, strengthening my vocal timbre, and close my eyes. And up there, on that makeshift stage, surrounded by likeminded mates—new and old—I make a decision.

  I’m not going to Uni.

  Music is the life I choose.

  #

  "Two pints coming through!" Cassie approaches our booth.

  I stand up to meet her. As I take the pints from her, one of the lads who performed earlier cuts in front of me.

  "Cassie," he says, ignoring me. "I was looking all over for you."

  "Ben, this is Cameron," Cassie introduces us. I say hello. Ben nods, but faces her again. Huh. Can’t he see he’s interrupting us?

  "Thank you again for choosing us to be part of the line-up. It’s an opportunity like no other." I try to remember which band he’s from and what he plays.

  "Of course. Ella’s got a great radar for good music," she says, but shifts her weight from one leg to another. Right when I think I’ve identified him as the drummer, he speaks up again.

  "I was wondering if I could, you know, treat you to a meal. As a way of saying thanks."

  I almost scoff. Really? This lad’s timing is way off. Unless he’s trying to intimidate me. He could have asked her whilst she was alone.

  My hands are cold and wet from the pints I’m carrying. "Uh, I’ll go get us a table," I say. It’s too weird to be around when he’s clearly chatting her up.

  "All right. I’ll be there in a few." She half-smiles.

  I turn towards the table, still within earshot of their conversation.

  "That’s really nice of you, Ben, but I’ll pass. Thank you. Really."

  Ouf. I almost feel sorry for Ben, but I can’t help but smile as I walk towards a vacant table. Twice today, she’s refused to go on dates. Why is that? She’s single, isn’t she? She hasn’t said anything about a boyfriend, so…

  "Okay shoot," she says, as she’s sat across the booth and takes a sip from her pint. She unbraids her purple tinted hair; it’s a tad unruly, and my eyes widen. I don't say anything about Ben. Neither does she.

  "Pour out your sorrows on me," she says.

  "Can we defer them to another time? I’m too happy to talk about unhappy things. Let’s chat about how awesome tonight was!" I beam and almost put my hand on top of hers. I still can’t believe she managed to get Callum Ford here.

  She laughs.

  "And now we’re on the subject," I say, "how on earth did Callum Ford get involved? I know his side of the story, but I want to know yours."

  "He was the one who actually reached out. Can you believe it? Dan knows someone who knows The Gramophones personally and told them about it."

  "Wow," I say.

  "I know!" This time she squeals, but immediately covers her mouth. Her eyes dart from left to right, checkin
g to see if anyone noticed her outburst.

  "You are allowed to go bonkers if a member of one of your favourite bands is promoting your passion project."

  "I am freaking out on the inside, but I need to show professionalism right now," she whispers, glances to where Callum is—at a booth near the stage—then lets out another low squeal.

  "You’re so cute," I blurt out.

  She gives me this odd look, but laughs it off.

  I raise my bottle—a toast to this moment—and she clinks hers against mine, giggling.

  "Organising gigs is not exactly related to art," I say, putting down my drink and leaning in closer. "How did you get into it?"

  She runs both hands on her hair and shakes it. "I always thought you had to be someone who loved order and structure—two skills I do not possess by the way—to pull off things like these. But I’ve always toyed with the idea of secret gigs, ever since I heard about them through The Gramophones." She has a far-away look in her eyes, like she’s recollecting a specific memory.

  "What made you take that leap?" I ask, sipping my drink.

  "I love the chaos that comes with planning… even if it drives me mad at times. It’s like art." Her hands animate in different shapes and movements. "There are certain rules you’re taught, but there’s beauty in chaos when you let your imagination take over. And I also really love music: how it brings people together and is a beacon for hope."

  I nod before taking another swig of my drink.

  Cassie licks her lips before continuing. "I met Ella at one of The Gramophones’ secret gigs with her boyfriend, Dan. She’s helped me through tough times, so when The Gramophones announced an indefinite break, I wanted to continue giving music fans an avenue—in my own way—to connect with each other and encourage them to be their best selves."

  "There are loads of gigs out there, but I loved how passionate The Gramophones fans were," Her eyes are wide with excitement. "I saw how they built these genuine friendships from meeting each other at shows. When they announced they were on hiatus, I craved for that sense of belongingness through shows, so I started organising them.

  "It was a natural transition to have Ella and Dan co-organise The Hush Society with me and take charge of a couple of city hubs when we started expanding."