The Hush Society Presents...

by Izzy Matias

  Carry on, yeah, carry on.

  Benji and Eric’s solemn looks shift as I flash them a smile, acknowledging this moment. They do the same.

  When all you’ve known is darkness

  A lack of light, no sleep is tight

  When you feel like your life is a mess

  No blinding light, no will to fight

  Well, let me tell you this…

  Amber smiles and leans towards the microphone.

  The world is at your fingertips

  Take a deep breath

  Close your eyes

  Carry on, yeah, carry on.

  We repeat the chorus twice until we enter the outro of the song. The holiday lights complement the ambiance of the piano notes. The percussion falters into an echo as Benji strums the last chord. The last sounds that resonate around the room are our voices—mine and Amber’s—blending.

  Cassie and Lily stand up from their pillow seats to give us a standing ovation. Even if they are the only ones to do so, their support means lots.

  "Thank you, Brighton. It’s a pleasure to debut our music here," I say, and slip off the strap and carry my guitar with my left hand. "We’re The Fortunate Only!" I unplug my guitar and switch off the amplifier.

  "If you like what you heard, we will be uploading a video recording of one of the songs we performed tonight in our website." Benji shamelessly plugs. "Subscribe to TheFortunateOnly.com and follow us on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter @thefortunateonly."

  "Benji!" Eric shouts from behind the drum kit.

  I jump back in front of the microphone to switch it off before the crowd can hear our quarrel.

  "What?" Benji says to him and shrugs. "Aren’t you the one always saying that exposure is good?"

  "It’s true." I side with Benji. "I know you hate shameless plugs, but how else are they going to listen to our music if they don’t know where to listen?"

  Eric grumbles as he gets off his throne and stashes his sticks in his back pocket. The crowd bubbles in conversation.

  Lily rushes to us as we pass the grand piano and head towards them. She pulls me first—I’m at the head of the line—and gives me a tight hug. "Thank you." Her voice cracks. "That was incredible!"

  "You’re welcome," I say into her ear. "Hey, we can’t have you in tears just yet. One more act, yeah?"

  Lily laughs. "It’s just, err, no one’s ever written a song for me before."

  "Don’t be so smitten," Eric says in a mischievous tone. Lily lets go of me and hugs him next. He whispers something in her ear and her face goes tomato red.

  "Can’t compete with him," Benji says as he sits beside Amber.

  "You don’t have to." She winks and gives him half a hug.

  "You were amazing, Amber," I say and pat her shoulder. "I’m proud of you!"

  "I’m glad I did that," she says. "Thank you for encouraging me to."

  "We have the rest of the tour to help you with it," Benji says.

  "You will record it, won’t you?"

  "We have," I say, thinking of the video recording. It’s still on!

  "I mean, a proper studio recorded version. Your idea is great, but you’ll want to put out your music on Spotify, SoundCloud, YouTube…"

  "Of course," I shout, running to the tripod at the back to stop the recording. "But first…"

  "Whoa, there. I think we’ll take it step by step," says Benji’s fading voice.

  Ever the realist.

  I get to the tripod and press the stop button. I can’t wait to see what we sound like on video. Benji has to do his tech magic, but still. This is exciting. And the possibility of recording is even better. I am so ready for it. After all, I should have been working on an EP with Lewis.

  Oh, Lewis.

  But I’m hit with the realisation that remembering him, Elliot, or Alex from my College band doesn’t bring that bitter aftertaste that it used to. And I’m not just talking about wanting to be a musician, like what Nate had asked me at URadio weeks ago, I’m actually doing something about it.

  The Hush Society is making me see the real things that matter. Like the way music helped Lily. Or the way Amber acknowledged that though the piano reminds her of her old self, she risked facing her insecurities, even going as far as playing to help Lily. Just like Eric, Amber used music as a tool to overcome negativity.

  It’s better to hold on to positive energy than basking in negativity. I don’t need to add to that bad energy going ‘round. There’s plenty enough of that with people doubting themselves, afraid of their own demons.

  "Hello," a breathless voice says into the microphone. "One, two, test."

  I look up from the camera. A young lad—around my age with curly dark hair—stands in front of the microphone with a guitar slung over his chest.

  Lily approaches the stage, beams at him, blushing, before borrowing the microphone from the stand.

  "We’re nearing the end of today’s episode," she begins. "Our last performer is a native of Brighton. I found him by accident, one time at the pier, as he was busking about. I’m glad I did."

  His guitar-playing style reminds me of Lewis—heavy on the folk, but it’s his voice that gives that distinctive sound. He can easily jump from an edgy type of croon to a soulful ballad. He sings mostly of heartbreak and it makes me wonder what he’s been through.

  Writers spill their thoughts on a notebook, artists use a blank canvas to paint their emotions and musicians—well, you know the drill. Our music is the soundtrack of our lives, an auditory re-telling of our sorrows, hope, heartbreak, and dreams. It’s the way we process our emotions.

  That’s the beauty of art: the way it takes something you feel—something intangible—and turns it into something tangible. The way it turns sadness into a poem, a song, a photo or a painting. The way music can speak for unspoken moments or those words we are afraid to say.

  Tragedies and heartbreaks transform into ballads. Joys and moments of bliss into anthems. Dreams into a battle cry of hope and inspiration.

  #

  Cassie pushes back our departure date for the next city by two days to be here for Lily. We surround Lily with kind words and let her show us around her hometown. Our days and nights are filled with music—from entertaining the buskers on the pier to being buskers ourselves on a couple of occasions (safe to say no one’s chased me down or thrown me out. The buskers here are nicer); rummaging Lily’s favourite vintage music shops, purchasing vinyl records to add to her parents—they had arrived during James Watson’s set—growing collection to writing music on the seashore. We polish "Brick Walls" (Lily’s song) and plan to record a better version at our next show.

  Since the night before our debut gig, Lily’s fears have been silenced. When her parents arrived that day, they’d been nothing but accommodating though I never heard Lily mention her incident. I guess she wouldn’t discuss it while we’re around, but still, I expected some sort of "hey mum and dad, I’m okay" when they kept asking her how she was, as if they knew something was up.

  The first stop of this tour and already so much has happened. I update Judy and Nate about the turnout of the show. They’re keen to watch us play when we do our gig in Bristol, but they’ve both gone on a backpacking adventure for the summer. I inform them of our gig date in Manchester in hopes they’ll be able to catch that one, but have yet to receive a reply.

  Giving out information about the date is somewhat against the rules—it’s an unspoken agreement—but the e-mail list with the rest of the summer dates is set to go live in a week, so I’ve simply given them an edge.

  We load the last of our gear into our van: a basic nine-seater splitter with a trailer for our equipment. It was Cassie’s dad’s back in the day.

  "Oh no you’re not," Eric chastises Amber who makes her way to the driver’s seat as I slam the trailer door and lock it.

  "We’ll get to Bristol faster," Amber replies, putting a hand to her hip.

  "We’ll get there half alive," I say, teasing her.

&nbs
p; "You’re all scaredy-cats." She throws her hands up in the air and walks to the passenger seat. "If I’m not driving, then I’m shotgun."

  "I don’t know what’s better." I laugh as Eric mumbles to himself.

  Cassie approaches us. "All set?" Lily staggers behind her and Cassie hugs her.

  "Thank you for hosting us. You should be proud of yourself for a successful gig. Keep me in the loop, okay?"

  I nod at Lily. "We’ll have your song uploaded soon, so whenever you’re feeling like it’s going to happen again, you can listen to ‘Brick Walls’ and hopefully, it calms you down."

  "Thank you," she whispers and glances at her parents. They wave at us from inside their house.

  "You ring us anytime. We’re here for you," Amber calls out from inside the van. "Don’t be shy. Whether it’s at 3 PM or 3 AM, my mobile is always on. Never on silent mode."

  "Booty call!" Eric shouts from inside the van and we laugh.

  "We better go if we want to make it in time for tonight’s gig," Cassie says.

  She’s right. We have to leave now if we are to make it in time for sound check at 5:30 PM.

  Cassie gives Lily a long hug before joining us inside the idling van. I expect her to take the front row, but she takes a seat beside me. There’s a whiff of lavender again.

  "Have a safe trip!" Lily calls out as I jump inside the van and slide to the middle row.

  "Adios," Eric shouts as he presses the pedal, and on we go.

  Cassie’s been on the mobile non-stop with Ella and Dan every day so they can align with each other. I can’t imagine what that’s like, to organise a massive simultaneous multi-city tour. Makes me wonder if she’s ever considered becoming an events organiser.

  Benji lounges at the back row with his thick headphones on, editing last-minute touches to our first video before it finally goes live in a few hours. We decide to post it whilst in transit to create hype for tonight’s show, the way Callum Ford of The Gramophones did at The Hush Society gig. I am no Callum Ford, but I like how he promoted the shows via Twitter. Benji taught me how to create an account, and using one of Cassie’s photos as my profile photo, I am now visible to the Internet. I only got one because Eric insisted I needed it, since I was now a brand. I’ve got twenty-seven followers and though the number is small, being able to read whatever anyone has on their minds is an overwhelming task.

  No, I don’t care that you ate a beef burrito for breakfast this morning.

  Give me depth.

  Give me philosophical musings on the most mundane things.

  Yet, here I am, trying to craft a promotional message: Come see me and my band The Fortunate Only tonight at 8PM. #TheHushSociety.

  It sounds so bloody pathetic. I slam my Blackberry on the seat and huff. I’d rather read a book.

  It’s a bumpy ride getting out of Brighton with the cobbled streets and holes on the ground.

  "If I were driving, it wouldn’t be this bouncy," Amber says.

  "You are not driving again," Eric replies and swerves to avoid another pothole. "You’ll get us killed."

  "Or worse…" Cassie begins and then completes the Hermione Granger reference. We burst out laughing.

  "Says the lad with sharp swerves." Amber tuts.

  "And curves," Eric quips. "Boom!"

  Amber grumbles.

  "Are they going to go on like this the whole trip?" I say to Cassie in a low tone.

  She giggles. "That’s just Amber. Wanting to get her way."

  It should only take us two hours and fifty-three minutes from Brighton to Bristol. That’s if we don’t run into any traffic jams. But if Eric and Amber don’t stop arguing, I dunno how I’m going to make it out of this sane. I could tune them out with my earphones, but I’m not one to pass up this opportunity to talk to Cassie.

  Cassie props up her knees and uses them as a makeshift desk for her sketchpad. She tucks her hair back, pulls it into a messy bun, and grabs a pencil from her sling bag.

  I observe her as she sketches the Brighton pier from memory until she clears her throat and faces me with a shy grin. "You might as well poke a camera at me."

  "I’ve always wanted to see art as it’s being made," I say.

  "It’s a tad distracting," she admits.

  "Oh, sorry."

  "It’s different when you know there’s a person watching you sketch."

  "I get it," I say. "I’ll go listen to music and let you do your thing."

  Bugger. I was hoping to launch into some sort of conversation with her.

  "Thank you." She puts her hand on my arm a few seconds longer than necessary before going back into her art. "I’ll show it to you when it’s done."

  I smile at her.

  We are lost in our creative worlds when Cassie taps my arm, and I slide my headphones to my shoulders. Her eyes are wide. She waves her mobile with a massive grin. "So Callum Ford had loads of good things to say about The Fortunate Only."

  "What?" I shout. "No way!"

  Eric and Amber are yelling at each other and Benji’s deep into editing our video for them, so they don’t even notice my reaction.

  "I posted snippets of each performance the other night and sent him the links," Cassie continues. "He just replied to me and he particularly loved how you guys wrote a song for Lily to help her with her anxiety. He’s so into that idea."

  I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. A massive grin overtakes my face.

  "You lads did a great job." Cassie beams at me. "See what happens when you take a risk?"

  "It’s all thanks to you for giving us an opportunity like this," I say then nudge her arm.

  Before I’m able to process it any further, Eric takes a sharp turn to the nearest exit. Can’t say his driving is any better than Amber’s if he’s going to continue this way. He stops the car by the road and puts on the blinkers.

  "What’s going on?" I ask.

  "There’s a weird red blinky thing on the dashboard. I’ve never seen that symbol before," Eric says, panicking.

  "Oh calm down, would you?" Amber says and strains her neck to take a look at the board.

  She curses. Eric squeals. We all jump and comment if we should get out of the car. He yells the car’s going to burn up in flames.

  "Just kidding." Amber laughs. "There’s water in the gas tank, but I need a second opinion. Benji!"

  "You mad woman," Benji grumbles from the backseat and he is in the most uncomfortable position—his headphones askew, his limbs in odd positions, and his laptop on his face—we all laugh and he gets out the van to inspect the damage.

  "Yes. That means there’s water in the petrol tank."

  "We’re going to have to bring it to the nearest auto repair centre," I say. "Wherever that is."

  "Great," Amber says. "They’re going to have to empty the tank, clean it, and change the fuel filtre."

  Benji gives her a look.

  "What?" Amber asks Benji. "I like cars."

  "Me too!" Benji replies with excitement as he turns the ignition on. "Vintage ones, to be more specific. I used to work at an auto shop before. I know what to do to remedy this, but we don’t have the equipment for it."

  "We could look for a handy shop, but that would take time," I say.

  "Shouldn’t we get it towed or something?" Eric asks, hopping inside the first row and slams the door.

  "Too costly and there’s no need," I say. "Benj, can you check where the nearest auto repair centre is?"

  "Already on it," Cassie says. "It’s up ahead. Turn left on the first junction, then right on the second street."

  Benji and Amber launch into a detailed discussion about cars, so I put my earphones back on. Cassie plays navigator and Eric props his legs on the armrest as he takes a break from driving.

  "Hey, how come when Benji is behind the wheel you don’t insult his driving?" Eric calls out to Amber.

  "I like his driving."

  "Not just his driving," I mutter.

  Cassie laughs.

&nb
sp; As we enter the driveway of the auto repair shop to park our car, I pause the music. Amber gets out to talk to the nearest mechanic.

  "Are we far from Bristol?" I ask. "How long is it going to take?"

  "We were an hour and a half away," Eric responds, not looking up from his iPhone. "But that was fifteen minutes ago."

  I snap my attention to Cassie. There’s panic in her eyes.

  "We hadn’t factored this in," she says. "I thought we’d be there an hour early for sound check—even with traffic—but now, who knows?"

  "Mechanic says we’re third in line to be serviced," Amber says. "But once it’s our turn, it shouldn’t take long. All they have to do is drain the petrol tank and clean it up. We’ll have to load up on petrol again though."

  "Petrol ain’t cheap," I say, sinking in my seat. I would know, since I helped Cassie a few nights ago with the tour budget. The guy who struggles with maths helping out with the finances? I may not be good at maths, but when it comes to practical uses of money, my dad taught me well. "How much is the repair going to cost?"

  "At least ninety-nine pounds," Amber says.

  I curse. "Maybe we should have gone with option one—buy the equipment ourselves."

  "Out of budget?" Benji asks.

  "Way, waaaay out of budget."

  "It’s better we went to a repair shop," Cassie says. "We don’t want grease on our musicians’ hands before a show. Not a good idea."

  "But this is a costly option," I protest. "It isn’t too late to cancel."

  "Don’t worry, we’ll find a way," Cassie reassures us.

  "Okay. I’ll see what we can do to offset this," I say. "As long as we don’t encounter any other run-ins."

  "Ha." Amber says. "Now you just jinxed it."

  "Think positive," I counter.

  We get out our car and stay at the centre’s waiting lounge. The gals are off to look for a café to grab us snacks.

  "So, Amber, huh?" I ask Benji.

  He sits to my right whilst Eric grabs free coffee at the reception area. He laughs, but nods at my unspoken inquisition. "She’s lovely."

  "Glad you’re moving on from Amanda. Amber seems to think the same about you, mate."

  "Eh…can’t be too sure. She’s giving me mixed signals."