The Hush Society Presents...

by Izzy Matias

  "Of course," Benji and Eric say in unison.

  "Like you had to ask!" Eric rolls his eyes, still bouncing with excitement.

  "We really thought you’d abandoned us," Eric says dramatically. "Leave us to the dust…Show up without you to a stressed out Cassie and tell her we can’t play because The Fortunate Only’s singer isn't showing up."

  "Oh, sod it," Benji says and we laugh.

  I search for gear.

  "We’re borrowing," Benji explains, seeing my eyes wander. "I mean, if you’re still going to play."

  "Of course," I respond. I am pretty knackered, but it’s as if I’d necked a couple of shots of espresso. I’ll be all right. I think.

  "Oi!" Eric chastises. "Do not jinx it. We’re lucky to have you back."

  "You sure Cassie will let us play?" I ask, as we walk to the right platform. "She probably hates me."

  "She’s been ringing me non-stop to confirm if we’re still playing," Benji says. "Now I can say yes." He whips out his mobile and fires her a message.

  "She has?" I raise my voice. "I’ve been ringing her for ages and she hasn’t returned my calls."

  "I wonder why," Benji says, deadpan.

  "If you were in her position, would you really want to start your first conversation since Willowfields with ‘are you still playing at the benefit music festival?’" Eric points out.

  "Guess not," I say. "But I’m going to make her talk to me if it’s the last thing I do… after we play our set."

  The train comes to a halt in front of us.

  "What made you change your mind?" Benji asks as we settle into our seats.

  "I bet it’s Cassie." Eric is smug. "It’s always about a girl."

  "Not this time, mate," I say and borrow Cassie’s words. "The music called me home."

  After we take our seats, I tell them about how my Dad was the one who changed my mind because of what Callum Ford said. I give them the general gist of Callum Ford’s interview as I load up URadio’s site and hand Benji back his mobile.

  "Callum Ford said what?" Eric shouts. Nearby passengers shush us.

  "Hear for yourselves. Go on," I say.

  Benji needs no further encouragement. His fingers do their job as he presses play.

  Eric scrambles to pull out his earphones and plugs it to Benji’s mobile. He offers me the other side. I shake my head and let them listen to the clip. I don’t need to listen to it again; I have almost every word committed to memory.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Our train has eased into the Manchester railway when Eric unplugs his earphones and pockets it.

  "That was good pre-gig hype," Benji says, grinning.

  "What time is it?" I ask, remembering that our stage time is at eight-fifteen.

  "Six o’clock. Call time is in an hour," Benji reads the time on his mobile. "We have enough time to get there."

  There's a massive commotion as we walk outside the station. Loads of people stand on the street. Some yell while others hold up placards.

  Of all days to get caught up in a rally.

  The moment I dive back into being in a band with my best mates we are already faced with a challenge. This first hurdle could be a sign that I shouldn't go back to playing again, but instead, I acknowledge that hurdles like these are necessary because it only makes the success worth it. Great success doesn't come easy, but it's only this time I truly understand what that means and how it's changed my perspective. There are loads of things that are beyond my control, but I get to choose how to move forward.

  Eric curses at the sight of the rally and at the prospects of getting any sort of transportation in this chaos.

  "Come on. There's bound to be one bus that can take us to where we need to be," I say and pat his back.

  Benji smiles at me. "We can always walk there."

  "Are you serious?" Eric tells him.

  I laugh.

  We walk a couple of streets to find a bus stop with a line that isn’t so long, but to no avail.

  A light drizzle begins and Eric grumbles aloud. "We’re going to have to board a cab," Eric says when we've passed all the bus lines, twice.

  It's almost six-forty. It shouldn't take long to get to the park, but there’s traffic everywhere, so we must board some mode of transportation now if we are to make it in time.

  "Bates!" Benji yells as if he’s having an epiphany.

  "What the fuck is Bates?" Eric yells back.

  "Our cabbie," I shout, recollecting the last time we were in Manchester. "Ring him!"

  Almost twenty minutes later, he pulls up at a corner that's nearest the station.

  "Ze musicians!" He greets us as we jump inside. "Where ye off to?"

  "Heaton Park," we yell in unison.

  "In a hurry, I see." We tell him our predicament as I stare out at the buildings and skyscrapers around us. It really reminds me of London.

  "So you lot are The Fortunate Only, eh? Have heard of ye lads," he says, snapping me out of my reminiscent thoughts.

  "You have?" I ask. "How?"

  "You listen to URadio?" Benji asks.

  "My daughter attended some sort o' secret gig in London. She goes to Uni there. Says you lads were good."

  At The Hush Society.

  No way.

  I grin.

  "I'll keep an ear out for you lads on the radio," Bates continues.

  "Thanks, Bates," Eric says and takes out a cigarette. He doesn't light it, though.

  Our cab crawls. We’re going about three to five miles per hour.

  At around seven-twenty, we’re a couple of blocks away from Heaton Park. If we wait, we might miss our set-time.

  "Still think Benji’s suggestion to walk is too much?" I turn to Eric. He bites his cigarette. "We’re going to have to take him up on it."

  "Oh, bollocks, fine," Eric says and rolls his eyes.

  "Bates, we thank you for accommodating us in this chaotic traffic situation, but we have to get out here," Benji says, not missing a beat.

  "Right," Bates replies and pulls over. As Eric pulls out a few notes, Bates motions for him to stop. "It’s on me. Enjoy Manchester, lads!"

  We thank him over and over as we exit the cabbie.

  "Off ye go!!" I laugh as he shoos us away.

  We still need to tune our instruments and set up, so in the next couple of minutes I forget my exhaustion to focus on getting to Heaton Park in time. With Benji’s mobile as our compass, we run, run, run towards the park.

  I imagine we’re in a music video where we’re under time pressure. This time, instead of using someone else’s music as the soundtrack, one of our tracks plays on loop in my head. My vision tunnels as the colours around us blur. Only Benji and Eric’s running silhouettes guide me to where I’m supposed to be. We only stop to cross roads, but other than that, we’re off like parkour specialists zigzagging around objects.

  As soon as we fly through the barriers that lead us backstage, Benji’s mobile goes off. In a panic, he answers it on speaker mode.

  We huff and puff as we continue our sprint backstage. I need to compose myself if anyone expects me to sing tonight.

  "Where are you?" It’s Cassie.

  The weird part is that I hear the voice twice.

  I look ahead. There she is.

  She spots us. The line goes dead.

  We gasp for breath. It’s as if my heart is threatening to jump out of my chest.

  "You lads know you’ve got half an hour until your set?" she demands. "You nearly gave me a heart attack thinking you wouldn’t show up…and then what would I tell The Gramophones?" Her face cracks a weak smile as soon as the last two words leave her mouth.

  "They’re here!" I say and smile.

  Eric and Benji freak out.

  She nods, breaking into a wider grin. "They’re doing a secret set for us tonight."

  We explode into a string of excited profanities. Eric clears his throat as he notices the tension between Cassie and me.

  "We’re off to grab our ge
ar," Benji says.

  As soon as they leave, the smile disappears from Cassie’s face and I’m left with another aftermath of my mistakes.

  "Cassie," I say and resist reaching out to her. Her eyes are hard. "I…" I can’t just tell her I’m a right foul git. Apologies with mates and an almost girlfriend doesn’t work the same way. "I am truly sorry." I start with that.

  I hurt her.

  I let her down on a massive scale.

  I pushed her away when all she wanted was to help.

  "You deserve enough arseholes in your life," I say, but obviously it doesn’t come out the way I meant.

  Her face is contorted—she’s holding back laughter, a step up from her hardened expression.

  "Right. That was off. What I meant was that I was an envious drama queen, a massive arse when you were nothing but kind to me. I am a jerk, who still fancies you, but you don’t deserve another arsehole in your life."

  "Then don’t be one," she says.

  My eyes widen. Does she mean she’s willing to give it another shot? "I really am sorry, Cassie," I say again, but this time I take her hand and squeeze it tight before I let go. "I want to sort this—our relationship—out, if you’ll let me."

  Her eyes shift from left to right before stopping on me. They register fear.

  "It’s my attitude to setbacks that have caused this massive mess and I’m working on it. I’ll keep on working on it and it will take a while because I’ve been like this my whole life. So I’ll need you and my mates to tell me when I’m out of line."

  The creases on her forehead disappear, but she remains silent, so I continue.

  "I want to be your boyfriend," I say and know how much it means for her to hear this label. She didn’t get that with Toby, and I want her to know I am not going to do what he did to her. I will do what it takes to earn back her trust, even if it means we can’t be together. "If that means that I have to go back to being your mate first, I’ll do that. I want to earn that label, not jump into it."

  Her mouth twitches. I don’t know if she’s going to walk away or agree to this, but I stand my ground.

  She moves forward, pulls me into a friendly embrace, and whispers, "Okay."

  When she lets go, she clarifies, "Mates first."

  I nod and break into a grin. I’m happy she wants to be part of my life. For now, that is enough.

  A bunch of crew members in charge of tuning and setting up rush by and yell out directions. Benji and Eric follow behind with instruments in tow. They nod at us and motion for me to join them.

  "Oh!" she says, remembering the chaos we’re in, and glances at her watch. "Four minutes ’til The Fortunate Only, then The Gramophones are up next. Better not delay their set time."

  I gasp. "We’re opening for The Gramophones?"

  She smiles.

  "You so fancy me," I tease.

  She laughs and rolls her eyes. "Bring on your A-game, Cameron. Callum Ford’s watching. He wants to set up Ear for Music as a non-profit and hire a bunch of us to launch it—specifically you and me to lead the whole team."

  On impulse, I kiss her cheek.

  "Oi!" She swats me away, laughing, though her face is reddish. "Mates first."

  "That was a friendly kiss," I say and shrug. "No proper ones until we’ve sorted everything out."

  She pushes me towards the direction of the stage. "Now, get."

  I laugh and salute her as I walk to the side of stage where a crew hands me a guitar. Right before I enter the bright lights, I turn around and say, "Thank you."

  After all, this journey started the night I walked into the basement of Tokyo Drift and met her. If Lewis hadn’t dropped me, then I would never have had this opportunity to grow, meet Cassie, form a band with my best mates, or play for an amazing community such as The Hush Society. Most of all, it’s pushed me to face my insecurities—ugly as they are—and strive to let go of constantly comparing myself to other musicians. So wherever you are Lewis…thank you.

  As soon as I step into the stage, the flashing lights drown everything around me into a white haze. The crowd cheers.

  When my eyes adjust, there’s a smiling Callum Ford centre stage with a microphone. "Well, Manchester, I believe it’s time for our next band, The Fortunate Only!" he says, tossing me the microphone.

  I catch it in time as Eric pounds his snare drum and Benji plays his bass line. We are connected to the crowd by this invisible line, this energy we're feeding and producing. There is nothing like the rush of being at a rock show.

  We're a pulse growing, swelling, ready to explode.

  We're a riot escalating to its peak.

  My head moves with each bang, strum and beat; sweat rains down my back.

  I grab the microphone to sing the first line.

  Our energies bounce back and forth with the crowd. I never imagined we’d be playing to one as massive as this—and with The Gramophones listening in somewhere backstage. I spot my family—Mum, Dad, Timmy and Tamara—going absolutely nuts, head-banging and dancing. I laugh aloud.

  The emotions I’ve kept at bay in the last two weeks, unleash themselves on the stage. The negativity releases itself into raw, bouncing energy.

  I couldn’t be more proud to have my best mates at my side. And to be able to play music with them on stage, hopefully for the rest of our lives. They chose not to give up on me when I was at my worst. Our journey is ours alone, but we don't have to go through it alone.

  A female voice screams for Benji—sounding a lot like Amber, no doubt. That’s when I spot more familiar faces. Judy and Nate wave at the middle of the mosh pit beside Amber. Beside them are some of our mates from The Hush Society. Lily’s beaming face is a reminder that our music makes a difference. The potential of what Ear for Music can do for others. She is proof we have something to fight for.

  My fingers are on fire with the metallic strings of my electric guitar. I scream as loud as I can, urging the crowd to go mad.

  "Sing it loud!"

  I let go of the stand and take the microphone with me. This is a risk, but maybe—just maybe—there are enough people who know the words.

  I close my eyes and hold out the microphone to the crowd.

  Their voices resonate as they sing to us.

  Benji and Eric sing along with jubilant faces.

  I stand on the amplifiers with my arms wide open.

  We conduct our orchestra: a sea of voices united to fight the battle.

  The crowd holds their hands in the air. They scream.

  I toss the microphone to Benji, who catches it without blinking.

  A mischievous smile is plastered on my face and the crowd knows. I swear they know what I’m about to do next. They’ll catch me the way music always has whenever I’ve felt down.

  So I dive in.

  The Fortunate Only has no label.

  No manager.

  No EP.

  No upcoming gigs.

  But in this moment, there are a hundred screaming voices catching me. And right now, that is enough.

  THE END

  If you enjoyed the book, you can leave a review on Amazon or on Goodreads. Thank you!

  

  Izzy Matias is an author, blogger, and content creator. With over 10 years of experience in different writing fields, she has written for multinational brands as well as startup companies. While pursuing her Bachelor's degree in Finance and Wealth Management, Izzy was the Editor-in-Chief of her university publication for two years managing both its print and online platforms. After graduation, she completed a Creative Writing summer program at the University of Oxford. She is a full-time blogger at izzymatias.com, and teaches a course on How to Start a Money-Making Blog (Your Creative Business).

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  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY