by Izzy Matias
Guilt creeps in as I think about my selfish choices. I abandoned my family at a time they probably needed me most. "Man, I'm such a prick." I let go of the worry that she'll judge me because I know I don't have to impress her in that way. I'm resigned to the fact that maybe all we'll be is mates, so I tell her about the state I'd left my family for tour, how Mum and Dad are on the brink of divorce, Dad not talking to me even if I send him an e-mail update from time to time about tour to let him know I'm all right, how Tamara and Timmy must be doing being caught in the middle of a mess I made.
She doesn't interrupt me, nor does the way she looks at me change. By the end of it, it's like I've unloaded my baggage. She takes my hand, squeezes it, but drops it right away. "Music should connect people, not tear away those most important to you."
She’s not trying to take sides, so I don’t know why this flares up anger within me, but it does.
"This is my fault," she gasps.
"Of course not," I snort. "Why on earth would you think that?"
"I asked you to join this tour." She covers her face with her hands.
"It was my decision to not go to Uni. Not yours," I say. All anger has vanished. "You didn’t know that."
"I feel somewhat responsible."
"Don’t," I say, holding a hand up.
"NEXT!" The man in the liquor station shouts and our conversation pauses. I tell him our orders and he asks for ID. After returning our IDs, I face Cassie. "Drink’s on me."
She thanks me, and turns red from embarrassment.
The bartender pushes two ice-cold cups of Jack Daniels and I give one to her. We turn our backs and head to the next stage.
"Callum wants to meet up sometime soon to discuss Ear for Music in detail," Cassie says and sips her drink. "Says he has a lot of ideas and wants to bring a load of people to help us with it."
"Look at you. Mobile pals with Callum Ford." I whistle then take a swig of my drink.
She laughs.
A few metres from the liquour station, there's a small, unlabeled side stage.
"What's that?" Cassie says, spotting it the same time I do.
"Let's find out." Together, we make our way to the side stage—our footsteps in sync with each other.
A clump of curious people—like us—approach the stage where a duo are singing a stripped-down cover of a rock song. The turnout is sporadic: a compressed lot up in front and then some farther away. There are chunks of blank spaces and people scattered everywhere, most of them sporting a plastic cup in their hands. We hover near the photo pit area of the stage and watch until the duo wraps up their set. When they re-join a group near us, I realise they aren't wearing the official festival passes.
"Excuse me," I say as I approach the duo. The group’s boisterous chatter weakens. "I was wondering how you two were able to perform on stage without an official pass?"
"The stage is open to all. If you wanna play, just go up," One of them says.
"So it's like an open mic stage?" I say and he nods.
This is new to the festival. I ring Benji since he's with Eric and tell them about it. We agree to meet up in a few hours to play at the open mic stage. This means we can't get too pissed.
After the last band we all want to catch, my best mates huff and puff as they lug our gear in tow. I dash to them, get my acoustic guitar and set-up on stage.
"What if someone from a record label sees us and discovers us here?" Eric bounces on stage.
"Definitely a possibility," Benji says, biting the guitar plectrum in his mouth.
When we’re ready, Eric taps his Cajon, counts down, and we dive straight for the cliff. Cassie and Ella watch us from the side of the stage.
"Hello." I beam at the crowd. It's a pretty good turnout considering there are still a few more bands on the main stages. "We're The Fortunate Only from Beverley, East Yorkshire."
Somebody hoots at us. "Yeah, represent!"
Eric responds with a double tap on the Cajon and raises his hands in the air.
"We're going to play a short set for you lot. Hope you enjoy. This one's an original called ‘Ignite.’"
It's a rowdy response. I expect this much, considering more than half of the people watching us seem pissed.
"Some of you may know The Gramophones," I begin. The crowd erupts in whistles and hollers. "They've been a massive inspiration to our band. This next one's a tribute to The Gramophones," I say and we launch into a cover of "Burn Brighter."
"Do you have room for two more?"
As we pluck the enigmatic intro, I see Cassie and Ella's shocked faces.
I know that voice.
Eric curses and stops.
Benji can't even form a coherent sentence.
Callum and Josh Ford emerge from behind Cassie and Ella, holding two pints. The crowd screams with excitement.
…
Callum and Josh Ford!
A string of profanities explode in my head.
"There’s always room," I say and continue plucking. Gotta play this cool. Besides, Callum and I have already shared an awkward moment back at The Verve, so there’s no point in getting awestruck again.
But Josh Ford—who’s been underground for the last two years—is here.
People flock towards them. A mob forms.
I try to wrap my head around the fact that two-fifths of The Gramophones are in our midst.
"We’ve no extra instruments though," Benji says.
I don’t know how I am not going completely bonkers when the bassist and vocalist of one of my favourite bands has asked if they can join us on stage.
Eric’s mouth is agape.
I laugh.
"Doesn’t matter," Josh slurs. He stops beside Cassie—a little too close—while Callum leans against a tree, drinking from his cup.
"Carry on!" Josh instructs us and motions with both his hands. "From the top…three, two…" He skips the number one, shouts "Go!" and sings the intro to their song.
We scramble to try to catch up with his singing, but all of a sudden the crowd is singing at the top of their pissed lungs—albeit out of tune. My grin widens and turns into laughter. Josh is laughing, too.
Our voices rise to a crescendo. I would not trade this moment for anything.
Josh motions for our guitars as soon as we hit the final note of "Burn Brighter" and joins us on stage. He and Callum strum another song of theirs while Benji captures this on his mobile and Eric taps to the tempo. Josh plays the intro, but doesn't sing. He stares at me and nods.
I stare back, dumbfounded, for a few moments before he snaps his fingers in front of me. "You gonna sing or what?" he says and repeats the opening chords.
So I sing.
"Yee-haaa!!" Josh shouts mid-song.
If I close my eyes, I can pretend that this is The Gramophones comeback show. For a couple of seconds, it’s as if it is.
Once the song is over, Josh turns to me and says, "That was super fun!" He slaps my shoulder and then burps.
"Excuse mah brother. Pissed to heaven’s high. Good thing our set is tomorrow," Callum says.
Set? Does that mean…?
"Marmont, 7:20 tomorrow," Josh slurs, crushing all hope. "Be there or be a rectangle!" He salutes, sways away, and gives Cassie a sloppy peck on the cheek.
Her eyes go wide.
The crowd is in a frenzy.
If Amber were here, she would be lecturing Josh about consent and how you can’t just go around kissing a stranger without asking for permission first. I’m about to say something when a group of fans—Eric being one of them—swarms to Josh, blocking me from him.
I glance towards Benji. He and Callum talk about our culminating music festival in Manchester.
"We’ll be there," Callum says. "There's much to discuss about Ear for Music. Looking forward to that meeting with you lot."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I almost forgive Josh Ford for kissing a gal I fancy. Though technically it's unfair because 1) He is the lead singer of The Gram
ophones and 2) He’s the lead singer of The Gramophones. He has gals storming at his feet. I forgive him—at least for this moment—because I am on a high from playing music with two members of one of my all-time favourite bands.
Eric curses in disbelief. "Does this mean we’re mates with Josh and Callum?"
"Callum, definitely," Benji says, grinning. "He’s given me his mobile!"
I sling my guitar over my back and walk towards Cassie. She leans against a tree looking perplexed.
"Omigosh," Cassie squeals. Her hand covers her rose-coloured cheek.
"Josh Ford kissed you," I tease, even though my stomach churns.
"Callum said he would come to our Manchester festival," she says, ignoring my first comment. "Imagine if he brings other industry people."
My tension dissolves as I laugh my jealousy away. Cassie is ecstatic not because Josh Ford kissed her, but because he is going to her music festival.
I poke her arm.
"I can't believe Callum is so involved with Ear for Music. The Hush Society’s been buzzing ever since we decided to turn the music festival into a benefit show."
I nudge her and give her a smug look.
She has this delicate look on her face as she turns her face away from me. She sighs and we walk away from everyone and stroll towards our camp.
"Still day dreaming about that kiss?" I ask as I bump my hand against hers.
"About a kiss, yes," she begins and looks at me different. Her fingers brush against mine as we walk side by side. "How I wished it were…"
Wished it were me?
Once I cross that line, there's no going back. But then, there's never going to be a right time. I think about how much I've gotten to know her in the span of a few months. Maybe I am good enough for her. Good enough to break her no-musicians rule.
I take her hand. Warm energy surrounds me. I look straight into her eyes—as if asking for permission—and she steps forward, her nose inches from mine. I move closer until our noses touch. I've been craving for this moment, but wait for her permission.
"Kiss me," she whispers.
I smile and, for once, do as told.
Our lips crush into each other. As my eyes close, I take in this moment, this kiss, with my other senses. My hands make their way to Cassie’s hair, neck, shoulder and arms. Our mouths are glued until I break away.
A flash of hurt registers on her face in a matter of seconds. I grin wide to let her know that this is no mistake. I kiss her again until we’re both gasping for breath.
#
I'm running on four hours of shut-eye, but I'm more awake than ever. What's left of the fire crackles before it dies down completely. The last twenty-four hours have been the best of this tour. I do not want the day to end, so I fight back drowsiness.
I am alone, but I am far from lonely. The dead fire radiates a bit of heat and I move closer. It's quite a chilly mid-morning. I strum my guitar and sing while thinking of Cassie, who is passed out in her tent. I need to process my emotions somehow. All I can think is that she let me in. I got through her rule.
Every inch of me is a live wire and I savour it. I play on, as the sky transitions into a bright canvas of colours. People stir, entering a new dawn.
"Oi!" Eric waves a hand in front of me. Benji’s iPhone is on record mode.
Cassie and Ella stifle their laughter.
I jolt back to reality.
Shite. I fell asleep in front of the fire, hunched over with my guitar. How long have I been out? Last I remember the sun was rising.
"Classic," Benji mutters, holding back full-on laughter.
"You crazies," I tease them as I set my guitar back on top of its hard case. I roll my shoulders back. Pain jolts as my muscles come back to life from an unsettling position.
"Good morning," Cassie says. Her sweet tone gives away our secret and gets us a cheeky chorus.
"Better get rollin’ if we want to catch Mumford and Sons," Eric says.
It can't be two in the afternoon already, can it? We missed the first couple of bands for the day. Naaaaw!!! "Why didn't you wake me earlier?" I demand.
"Too busy getting golden footage of you," Benji says and shows a snapshot of me drooling.
I laugh as I stand up and take Cassie’s soft palm in my calloused hand. She squeezes it and leans on me as we walk towards the sea of sound.
"Wonder when and how that happened," Eric insinuates with cheeky humour.
I react with a smug face and Cassie slaps my arm.
The morning dew—long gone—is replaced with hot, sticky air as we wriggle our way past people protecting their beloved spots.
#
We arrive in time for the next act before Marmont comes on stage. The current band is mid-way through their tight set. Ella motions for us as she squeezes in between people. We inch closer to the stage. The closer we are, the stickier it gets. A drizzle of sweat slides down my chest and back. Benji and Eric are a few inches away from us and Eric leads the way until we slither into every festival goer’s coveted spot: the crash barricade. Marmont is in our top list of bands to see, so there’s no other way we want to experience them but at the right spot. We get slitted eyes, glares, and insults from fanatics that must have been standing here since the crack of dawn. Cassie apologises as we pass, but I couldn’t care less. I squeeze her hand tight in anticipation of the best night—if it can top yesterday: playing with my musical idols and getting the gal I’ve been fancying for months.
Our abdomens crash against the barricade and I inhale deep as if to preserve this moment of anticipation, elation, and contentment. Life turns out good if you keep facing your demons and choose bravery over doubt. If I hadn’t taken a chance, I wouldn’t have even met or played with two-fifths of The Gramophones. And now, I’m with a beautiful gal about to watch a Marmont show.
"Who’s playing now?" I ask. After the last twenty-four hours, my brain has turned to stew mixing up set times and bands—all except Marmont’s.
"ELCO. It’s a new band, I’m guessing," Cassie says, checking the app. "Haven’t heard of them before."
"Huh. For someone new to go on before a band as big as Marmont that speaks heaps. They must be amazing," I say. I wonder who ELCO is and how they got so popular to land a coveted festival set time.
The band gets off stage and in come a swarm of techs and tour crew that move swift, like clockwork.
"What about The Honeybee Trees?" I ask. "What time do they go on?"
"We missed their set. It was two hours ago at a different stage."
Benji curses.
"Shh!" Eric slaps him. He tells Benji something in a low tone that I can’t make out, except that it involves my name.
"What is it?" I ask.
Benji shakes his head. "Nothin’."
"You’re a horrible cover-up." I laugh.
"Cameron, it’s really nothing," Eric says, flicking his cigarette.
My eyes follow Benji’s gaze. "He’s gonna find out anyway!"
"Cameron—" Cassie tightens her grip on my waist, but I strain my neck back to see what everyone’s staring at. What don’t they want me to know?
I glimpse at Cassie. She squishes her body against mine and cups my chin, directing me to her gaze. I scan her face, but before I can ask what the matter is, her nose is inches from mine.
I don’t know what distracts me from what could be an intimate moment, but it’s as if an invisible hand twists my head and tells me to look over Cassie’s shoulder. I squint my eyes to look backstage. Is that Lewis? It can’t be…
Before I can take a better look, Cassie’s soft lips brush against my cheek and another tight squeeze in my hand sends me back to where I’m supposed to be.
"Sorry," I say, looking at Cassie. Her cheeks are blotchy.
"You’ve let the poor gal down," Eric teases. "Turning a snog into a peck. You sure he’s into you at all?"
Cassie gives Eric a playful shove.
I squeeze her next to me and say, "I’ll show you," and gi
ve them a sight to behold.
Once I let go, Cassie’s cheeks are even redder, especially since Benji records the whole thing on his iPhone. Eric, Benji, Ella and a few other concertgoers holler and whistle.
Cassie punches my stomach and says with a grin, "I wanted to keep it PG-13."
"Every rule has exceptions." I shrug. "I’m not exactly a model citizen."
"That you are not." Cassie laughs.
"Maybe we should come back later?" Benji says. "When Marmont is on." He shifts his weight from one leg to another.
"And lose our spots?" I counter. "I don’t think so."
"Benji’s got a point…we don’t even know who ELCO is," Eric says. "What if they sound horrible?"
"Ella and I could save it for everyone for when you come back later," Cassie offers and Ella nods, grinning. She’s been uncharacteristically quiet.
"You lot are bluffing right?" I ask. "What is it?" There’s got to be something more to this. We’ve already gotten prime spots. There is no way we’re giving them up after the effort of squishing ourselves through the crowd.
But the point is moot; the next act has come on stage, music drowning out their voices. The drummer and guitarists play a fast, hard rock intro. The only one missing is the singer.
In an instant, I decide I like their sound. I shake my head, saying, "We’re staying. They sound good." My mates, including Cassie, protest, but I wave them off. We’re not going to miss this. They could be the next big thing. My music geek is on full-auto mode. I turn sideways and face Benji, Cassie and Eric. "Let’s give this band a shot."
They answer me with mortified looks; their eyes dash—like a flashing light—from me to the stage.
As the first line is being sung, I whip head around and come face-to-face with the singer towering over me.
It’s as if I’m in a time loop—frozen for a couple of seconds.
I zoom in on the pass dangling around his neck. Beneath the big black, bold letters of the band name ELCO is a thick red highlight with white letters with the Willowfields Music Festival logo and the word Artist.
