by Izzy Matias
"Yeah," Benji says, locating the notebook and tossing it to me together with a pen. "We could tie-up with the youth organisation centre I work with."
"Bloody wicked! We could start as early as now, too. Do you think Cassie would approve if we used the music festival as an avenue to raise funds?" I rip off the pen’s cover and scribble all our ideas as fast as my hands allow.
"I’m sure she’ll love it!" Benji says as he packs up his Gibson Thunderbird IV bass guitar into its case as I do the same.
"All this planning and excitement’s got a lad famished. It’s time for some food." I pat my stomach after I hand him back his notebook. It’s flatter now that it grumbles. There’s usually more podge in it. "Where do we treat ourselves?"
"Actually, mate, looks like you’ve got a lunch date already," Benji says as we finish packing our gear. He cocks his head behind me.
"Hi," Cassie says to me. "I owe you for the other night. Want to grab a bite? Lunch is on me."
Benji gives me love eyes and wiggles his eyebrows up and down.
I laugh. "Well. See ya later," I say to Benji and wave.
Cassie turns around and starts walking. I catch Benji winking and gesturing something inappropriate as I turn to follow Cassie.
I gesture back at him.
"You told me once that you like Indian food, so I found this place a few blocks from here. If you’re up for the walk," Cassie says.
"Always," I reply. "So there’s been a development with the mentorship program I was telling you about the other night."
"Okay," Cassie says with a sweet tone. "What is it?"
"I told Benji and Eric about it and they’re on board with the idea. Benji even gave a couple of great suggestions to up the movement. He said that we should turn it into a non-profit organisation that nurtures and guides budding musicians—a full program on how to build a sustainable career in music. We could teach them about the industry, about dealing with rejection, supporting a worthy cause or charity, spreading positivity through their music."
"Oh, Cameron, I absolutely love this development," Cassie beams. "It’s perfect. The sort of thing that would fit in so well with The Hush Society. I didn’t know it before you mentioned it, but this is what I’d hoped The Hush Society could do."
"I’m glad to hear that," I say. "What do you say to transforming the Manchester music festival into a benefit gig? We could raise the money there to put up this non-profit. I’d love for you to help me spearhead this movement."
"Done and done," Cassie says and hugs me. "All the more reason to treat you to lunch."
"You don’t have to buy me lunch, really."
"Yes. I do. Really. Like I said, it’s to make up for the other night."
"If it eases your conscience, then by all means."
She elbows me in the stomach, laughing. "Any embarrassing stories you would like to share with me? To even out the score?" Cassie asks.
I laugh. "Not a chance."
"No embarrassing tales at all?"
"Too plenty to choose from," I say.
"Don’t be greedy. Go ahead and share them."
We walk out to the side street.
"I swallowed a coin once and almost had to undergo surgery just to get it out."
She screeches to a halt in the middle of the road.
I pull her by the elbow and usher her to the other side of the street.
"How on earth did you do that?" Cassie asks, bewildered. "I was going for more cringe-worthy type of stories, but I need to know how this starts and ends."
"Benji, Eric, and I were bored out of our wits one afternoon. I suggested we take turns balancing as many coins using our lips. When it was my turn, Eric had said something funny. I accidentally swallowed one while laughing."
"What?" Cassie almost shouts, but resists her laughter.
"And Benji had to record history unfolding." I shake my head.
"So there’s a video of you swallowing a coin?" Cassie covers her mouth with her hand.
"Yeah," I say. "In all its glory. Me acting all cheeky about it, laughing, and then the eventual choking and swallowing."
"Omigosh!" Cassie squeals. "What happened next?"
"I’m still alive, that’s what." I laugh. "Eric panicked and rushed me to the emergency. They resorted to other methods of getting it out of my system, but if I didn’t pass it out, they told me I’d have to undergo surgery."
"You’re a riot." Cassie shakes her head.
"Thank you very much."
"How do you come up with these ideas?" Cassie asks, laughing.
"I’ve got a brilliant mind." I tap at my temple. "It’s your turn."
"Oh, I don’t think any of my stories can top that one."
"I won’t be able to tell you if it’s the top scorer if you don’t share."
Cassie laughs. "All right."
We pass vintage shops and hole-in-the-wall restaurants before turning to a side road beside a park.
"My mates and I were in Primark one time. One of them told me to meet her at the register. After I had my chosen bunch of clothes, I spotted her in one of the registers, ran to her, dumped my stash beside her, and hugged her." She gestures the story as she tells it. "So she turned around and screamed at me. I heard snickering after that. It was not her. I swear, the height, build and even the hair from behind looked like her. I was mortified! I left my clothes and dashed to my real mates, who wouldn’t stop laughing about it for weeks," she finishes, laughing.
By the time she finishes her tale, my stomach is cramping from the laughing. "It almost beats my story," I say in between breaths.
She gives my arm a playful punch. I continue laughing and put my hand on her arm, moving her closer to me. "Almost!"
"Ha-ha," she says and pushes the door to a colourful Indian café. As soon as I smell the spices, I am right at home. My stomach growls loud.
I zoom in at the menu, scanning at what to order.
Cassie gasps, smashes into me, apologises and reddens. I’m thinking about Murgh Kari—my favourite chicken curry—when she runs out the store. It takes me a few seconds to process what’s happened before I run out after her.
I push the door and the ringer sounds off.
Cassie’s a couple of meters away, leaning on a brick wall with her head buried in her hands.
"This isn’t about the money, is it?" I say, attempting a joke as I approach her.
"You have got to be kidding me!" Cassie looks like her eyes are about to pop out with anger. "Even in a different city, I’m bumping into my past."
It clicks. "Toby’s in there?"
"With his girlfriend."
"So change of venue then?" I ask, but I was bent on ordering Murgh Kari.
She doesn’t answer me. Her face is torn.
"You’re going to keep running into him, like it or not, especially since you both are in the same scene. You can’t live in fear forever. Besides, now is the perfect opportunity to step up, like I told you."
After a long pause, she nods. "You’re right."
"I can be your pretend boyfriend if you need me to," I tease. Part of me is also testing her to see how brave she wants to be.
"No. It’s all right."
"I am already proud of you." I wink at her.
"Let’s see how this turns out then."
"Who knows? Maybe this will be another entry to your cringe-worthy list?" I say.
"Cameron!"
I laugh and hold the door open for her. She takes a deep breath, stands up straighter with her head held high as she walks in. This is the gal that I fancy. She just needs a reminder every now and then of what she’s capable of.
She believes in me and I believe in her.
"So where’s the lad?" I whisper, curious who to direct all this hullabaloo at.
"I don’t see him," she answers me, looking around. "Maybe he left?"
"Let’s get some Murgh Kari." I clap as we approach the counter. "To celebrate a moment you were ready to face your fear."
/> "More like a pre-celebration, you mean."
I shrug. I’m happy the queue is short, so it's our turn. After I order my meal and reach out to pay, Cassie slaps my hand. "I said I was paying."
"All right!" I say, slightly taken aback at her slapping my hand. "Thank you, but violence is never the answer."
She giggles. It takes a while before she places in her order. I laugh when she asks the server what the least spiciest item is in the menu.
His face warps like he, too, is trying to stifle in laughter. "Are you sure you’re in the right place?" he says.
"Yes," she replies. "So what can I get?"
"You can get a mild version of our Tandoori Chicken. I highly recommend it. It’s our best seller."
"YES! You can never go wrong with Tandoori," I interrupt.
After we get our meals, we head downstairs with our bowls and drinks in tow.
I almost bump into Cassie, who doesn't bulge once we hit the last step.
I apologise again.
"I knew it was too easy," she says and then sighs. "Toby’s on the left of the only free table."
"You can get through this." I smile and my gaze goes to the empty table. I scan to my left. There’s a curly-haired blonde lad with brown eyes. At first glance, I don’t see why she fancied (fancies?) him in the first place.
My hand is about to reach out to hers when I take a good look at Toby and realise who I’m looking at. I drop my hand and curse.
Cassie looks at me in alarm. "What?"
"You didn’t tell me you dated Toby Jones!" I try to keep my voice as low as possible, so that he doesn’t hear me. "He’s a legend!"
Toby Jones was named as one of the best drummers in the U.K. We did a full report on each drummer on the list at URadio.
Even I look up to this lad. No wonder she fancied him.
Cassie doesn’t respond to my comment, but instead saunters to our table. Toby doesn’t see her—his back is turned, but his bird narrows her eyes at Cassie. Ha. So she knows Cassie. This has gotten more interesting.
I can’t get over the fact that Toby Jones is seated beside us at this hole-in-the-wall Indian food joint. A part of me wants to start a conversation with him, but the other part can’t believe he’s the same lad that broke Cassie’s heart. I had so much respect for this lad—as a musician, of course—but knowing how he treats his gals lowers that respect.
Just when I think Cassie is going to sit on our table and go unnoticed, she ignores Narrow Eyes and taps on Toby’s shoulder. Most exes would have ran back up if they’d bumped into the person who broke their heart.
His eyes turn into perfect orbs and regain their normal shape within seconds. I stifle a laugh. "C-Cassie?"
"Hello, Toby," Cassie says with such calm and grace that I would think she was saying hi to another one of her mates, had I not known the backstory. She even greets Toby’s girlfriend.
His girl is giving her the look, but replies dryly. If it’s anyone who should be giving dark, menacing glares, it should be Cassie, but she is beaming.
"Hi. I’m Cameron Evans," I say to Toby, but resist the urge to offer my hand. We are entering dodgy terrain here, but I can’t help it.
"He’s one of our latest musicians at The Hush Society," Cassie explains.
I nod. "Congrats on being named as one of the best drummers in the UK this year." Oops. Did I really just say that? And in front of Cassie, too. If I were her, I’d be glaring at me right now, but she seems unfazed.
"Thanks," he replies curtly. Toby stares at me, as if sizing me up. His face shows disinterest and he turns the other direction.
Well then.
Cassie turns around and sits down at our table.
What an arse. A fucking talented arse, though. I glance back at him and slump my shoulders as I take the seat across Cassie. There’s no way I am good enough for Cassie if she dated a freaking legend. What can she possibly see in me?
Cassie takes a bite of her Tandoori and wrinkles her nose.
I laugh. "I take it you’re not exactly into Indian?"
"I told you I was treating, so of course I had to let you choose the place," Cassie says.
Toby looks at us, confused. Is he jealous?
"I would have easily agreed to a lesser spicy place," I tease.
"Don’t think so," she retorts. "So, uh, any other stories you’d like to add to the cringe-worthy list?"
We try to ease back to normal conversation, but the unease and the restraint from Cassie is palpable. Understandable—her ex is within earshot, eavesdropping on our conversation.
"There was this one time I tried pranking Benji…but it back-fired horribly."
"How so?"
That’s when I notice that Toby and his bird are not speaking.
"Uh, Eric and I tried to video him while we scared him, but somehow he beat us to it. We thought he was coming down the stairs of his house when he was actually behind us and played this high-pitched scream recording that had our eye balls popping out and hearts stopping."
A screeching chair stops us mid-conversation. Toby’s bird stomps past us and heads straight to the stairs.
I raise my eyebrows at Cassie. She shrugs. Toby has risen from his seat. I expect him to be irritated or angry, but he’s in a neutral mood as he approaches our table.
"You two should check out this gem I discovered recently. He’s performing at a book shop launch within the hour." He looks at us both and then winks at Cassie. "Don’t worry. I won’t be there, but it’ll be a good follow-up to your… date." He churns out the last word as if it’s acid in his mouth and heads towards the staircase.
What. A. Massive. Arse.
The picture of Toby Jones—the one I previously regarded with respect and awe—has shattered into a thousand ugly shards.
Now he’s playing cupid whilst flirting with Cassie? "What’s his game?" I spit out. He treats Cassie like shite, flirts with her when he thinks she’s on a date with me—even though we aren’t—and then goes on to invite her to a gig. "As if he isn’t going to be there."
"His girl hates going to gigs," Cassie says.
I raise my eyebrow at her, still fuming.
"I’d know because she was one of my mates."
"Ouch," I say. My anger is replaced with sympathy. "Why am I even surprised?"
"I was!"
"You’d be a fool if you weren’t. This is right out of a reality show."
"You got that right."
"Are we going to this gig?" I say and motion my eyebrows up and down. "You know… extend our date." I don’t really mean it as a date—only to tease her.
I’m not worth breaking her no-musicians rule for. Not after learning that her ex is Toby Jones. And I’m a freaking musician who’s trying to break into the scene. Who can top the Toby Jones? Not me. That’s for sure.
Cassie slaps my arm and I take this gesture as a yes. We’re both goners for live music.
"Was that his charm?" I ask.
"What?" Cassie clarifies.
"His taste in music."
"One of the many," she answers and rolls her eyes. "I dunno why I was so afraid the other night."
"Girl, he’s not worth your present," I mimic Amber.
"You have to stop doing that!" Cassie laughs again. "It’s terrible."
Just when I think we’ve gone off topic, she corrects me. "By the way, it’s ‘girrrl.’"
CHAPTER TWENTY
We enter a narrow, dimly lit bookshop brimming with people our age.
The crowd sways and nods to the beat—the pulse of the music. My fingers tap and my head bobs along. This rhythm is ace!
Even though I’m an inch above six feet, I’m not the only one with the advantage of height in the crowd. I strain my neck at weird angles to catch a glimpse of the band performing this catchy alternative rock song as Cassie and I inch our way forward.
One of the guitarists—the one on rhythm—lets his long orange hair fly in circles. Once he stops head banging, his messy shoulder
length hair rests on his face.
"Alex!" I shout, but the music is too loud for him to hear me.
Cassie’s past is following her ‘round and so is mine. First in Beverley and now here.
In front of me, Cassie spins around. "Who’s Alex?"
"The lad with long orange hair on guitar," I tell her. "He’s my mate from College. We were in a heavy-metal band back in the day."
So this is the band he was telling me about. I can spot a few heavy elements in their riffs, but other than that, it’s completely changed. Their sound is tight. Much, much better than we ever were.
"They’re good. Really good," Cassie shouts back at me. "Maybe we can get ‘em at one of the shows."
"That would be great," I say, grinning.
They finish their song and the crowd cheers.
"Thank you. Have a lovely afternoon," the lead singer says and they start unplugging their gear. Chatter fills the air around us and we make our way upfront. The crowd is like a rubber tire letting out air, decompressing.
"Excuse me. I’ll go have a chat with Alex." I pat Cassie on the shoulder and move against the current.
"Alex," I shout.
The turf of messy orange hair flips my way. His cloudy green eyes are poking out. "Cameron?"
"Yeah, mate." I beam. "You lads were ace!"
I meet his hand in the air for a high-five. His free hand passes me a cold bottle of Pims and I take a swig.
"So what have you been up to?" I ask Alex.
"You know, this and that."
"Always so secretive." I laugh. "C’mon, mate. I’m not going to tell the whole world…oh, wait. I was a radio jock."
He laughs, but doesn’t explain anything.
"What are you lads called? You sounded pretty tight."
"The Honeybee Trees."
I give him an odd look. It sounds like an indie band rather than an alternative rock band.
"I'm just going with it." He laughs, shrugging. "We’ve already signed with a label, so no use in switching names."
"When are you lads releasing your debut album?" I ask, remembering that Alex was obsessed with getting signed even whilst we were still in College. I was, too. It’s like a measure of success, innit? A label seeing your potential and investing in your growth as a musician. All that money to get experts to produce an album and then all the strategising that comes with marketing the band and organising a tour. Not a lot of musicians realise it, but a massive chunk of success in the music industry revolves around the business side of it. That’s what Eric tells me time and time again.
