Waiting for the Punchline

by Natasha West

  At that exact moment, Phoebe, who’d just come out of a solo that she knew had gotten the crowd revved up, glanced down at the front row and saw someone trying to push out along the barrier, unsuccessfully.

  It was Megan. They locked eyes.

  Phoebe’s continued to sing, to play her guitar, but she almost forgot she was in the middle of a gig, playing to tens of thousands. Because Megan Hunter was looking up at her from the front row. Phoebe had known she was at the festival, that there was a chance she might bump into her if she was unlucky. But she hadn’t expected her to be in in the front fucking row of her gig.

  Megan’s old wavy hair was gone, her dirty blonde locks now straightened, sleek, highlighted. Her mischievous face had new cheek bones. And her clothes didn’t hide her body anymore, which looked like she’d been hitting the gym. She’d grown up. She looked far more gorgeous than Phoebe would ideally have wanted her to. There really was no justice.

  As they looked at each other, Megan felt a pressure to do something other than gape like a fool, and she felt her hand come up, giving Phoebe a finger waggle wave. It was utterly awkward, nowhere near as cool as she might have hoped for.

  On the stage, Phoebe watched the wave and thought ‘Look at that, waving at me like we’re just a couple of old friends. The bloody nerve of it.’ Just at that moment, the song hit a drum solo and Phoebe’s hand was freed up so she raised it. But she didn’t wave. She gave Megan the finger.

  Down in the crowd, Megan’s eyes widened in horror and her hand dropped mid wave. Phoebe Fitzgerald had seen her and she’d told her, in no uncertain terms, to fuck directly off, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred pounds.

  That confirmed it. This was a serious error in judgment. She started shoving people out of the way, fleeing the crowd at speed, running from the enclosure, mortified.

  On the stage, Phoebe was in the final bars of the song and she watched Megan leaving. She couldn’t help but smile. So that was that. She hadn’t felt embarrassed or ashamed to see the girl who had rejected her. Quite the opposite. It had been perfect.

  Thirty

  Phoebe woke up to a bird tweeting outside her window. The sun streamed through a gap in her curtains, bathing her face in a golden glow. She was smiling, still warmed by the previous night’s events. It was all her Christmases at once.

  It wasn’t as though she’d spent the last seventeen years thinking about revenge. She didn’t even believe she’d felt ill will toward Megan, not after all this time. It was only a sense of embarrassment that made her want to avoid the woman. But when she’d seen her looking up at her from the crowd, waving at her like it was no big deal, she’d felt a flicker of surprising anger at the casual greeting.

  And then, instead of feeling a pressure to wave back and pretend it was no big, which was absolutely a normal Phoebe reaction, she’d told Megan to sod off in a brief, simple mime. She’d rejected her. She supposed that was why she felt so good, because she’d turned the tables. So maybe she had wanted revenge all along. People said that it never made you feel better. But they were wrong. It felt like she’d exorcized a demon out of her system. Megan Hunter, the power of Christ compels you to get out of my face.

  Her phone rang. It was Emily. She answered cheerfully. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Wow, you sound perky!’ Emily exclaimed.

  Phoebe considered trying to explain the source of her good mood but she didn’t think there was any way to do it without coming off as petty. Plus, she’d never told Emily the Megan story. ‘The gig went well last night. Still buzzing’ she lied.

  ‘Look, I was thinking, are you still going to be at the festival today or are you going on to the next gig?’

  ‘It’s not till Friday so we’re going to hang around. Why, are you thinking of coming down?’

  ‘Only if you want.’

  ‘Sure’ Phoebe lied, uncertain if she did want to see Emily right now. It was a strange time.

  ‘I’ll get there about lunchtime. Call you when I arrive.’

  They hung up. Phoebe sighed to herself. Her girlfriend was coming to see her. Shouldn’t she be happy about that?

  Megan awoke in a decidedly less cheery disposition than Phoebe had. She hadn’t slept well, for a start. And when she did sleep, her dreams were unpleasant. It was like she was having flashbacks to when she was eighteen. She kept seeing the last time she’d spoken to Phoebe, playing on a loop. Only it was worse. Because now she wasn’t a confused teenager making a hard choice. She was awful, monstrous, cruel. And Phoebe cried and cried and could only say ‘Why?’

  But that hadn’t been what happened. Yeah, it had been painful for Phoebe at that time. Megan knew that. But it had been a tough situation for her too. And Phoebe hadn’t been as understanding as Megan thought she could have been. So why were her dreams telling a different story?

  And why had Phoebe given her the finger up on that stage? It didn’t feel fair.

  Megan climbed into the shower, grumbling to herself under her breath, a habit she thought she’d grown out of. But all it had taken was one look at a person she hadn’t seen since her school days and she was being sucked back to the girl she’d been then. ‘Since when did she start flipping people off? Clearly, success has changed her. Well, I hope she swallows her own bloody plectrum’ she grumbled.

  And with that, she considered it the end of the matter. But as she showered, she kept thinking about Phoebe. However, it was less focused on the bird flipping. She kept thinking about how good she looked. And even though Megan was angry at her, she found herself reaching for the shower head, pulling it off the hook, adjusting the stream for a concentrated trajectory. She didn’t want to think about Phoebe as she came a few minutes later. But apparently, her body and her head were not in agreement about that. She came harder than she had in years.

  Twenty-Eight

  ‘Look what I found on the train down’ Emily began once she’d settled down next to the fire pit near a vegan burger van, getting her mobile out and swiping through to a picture. ‘What’s going on here?’

  Phoebe took Emily’s phone and looked at a photo of herself flipping the bird to someone in the audience. It was apparently doing the rounds on Twitter. People seemed to realise that it hadn’t been a general fuck you to the audience, that it had been aimed at someone specific. But no one knew who. The general chatter seemed to indicate that Phoebe was known to be unusually polite amid the arrogant arseholes of indie rock so it was being passed around with the gleeful hashtag #WhoBrokePhoebe. People were saying she was flipping off her manager, her Mother, someone who burnt her breakfast. After a few minutes of looking at the phone in mild horror, Phoebe’s attention was caught by a cough from the phone’s owner.

  ‘So… Who did get Phoebe to break?’ Emily asked, amused.

  Phoebe exhaled noisily, playing for time. She hadn’t thought she was going to have to have this conversation today. It still felt too fresh. She’d wanted to maybe tell Emily about this months from now, as an amusing tour anecdote. If she mentioned it.

  ‘It’s kind of a long story.’

  ‘I’ve got time’ Emily said, placidly.

  ‘It’s… Someone I used to know. She turned up at the gig-’

  ‘She?’ Emily asked, picking up on the subtext quicker than Phoebe would have liked.

  ‘It’s not like that. Or, well, it was but that was a million years ago.’

  Emily began to look decidedly less amused. ‘Care to elaborate?’

  Phoebe licked her lips, thinking, Why haven’t I told Emily this story before? Come to think of it, had she ever told anyone this story?

  ‘Her name’s Megan. We were friends when we were kids,’ Phoebe began. And then she didn’t really know how to explain the rest of it.

  ‘Then what?’ Emily demanded. She was clearly going to wring every last drop out of this.

  ‘When we were eighteen… Things developed. We made plans to go to Manchester together. But then she changed her mind.’ Phoebe took a sip of tea
. It was weak as piss.

  Emily blinked. ‘That’s it? She broke a promise, what, seventeen years ago and you were still angry enough to get yourself trending on Twitter because she came to your gig?’

  ‘It’s bound to sound crazy when you reduce it like that.’

  ‘So what else?’

  Phoebe realised she didn’t quite know how to explain exactly what had made her so angry when she’d seen Megan. It did seem a little mad.

  ‘You’re right. I guess it was an unreasonable reaction’ Phoebe replied, hoping to put the matter to bed.

  They sat in silence for a while and then Emily cleared her throat. ‘It’s funny, I’m just realising we’ve never actually had an argument.’

  Phoebe nodded, agreeing. ‘Yeah. That’s what I like about us.’

  Emily went quiet again, turning something over in her mind. Phoebe began to think she’d misinterpreted what Emily had just said. It hadn’t been meant positively.

  ‘Do you know what’s bugging me about this?’ Emily asked.

  ‘I really don’t.’

  ‘That she could still get under your skin after all this time. I don’t think I’ve ever made you get that het up.’

  ‘But that’s good. We’re not a dramatic couple.’

  ‘I agree. Drama’s bad. But there’s also passion. You losing your temper with this Megan was passion.’

  ‘Very, very old passion, I can promise you that.’

  ‘Still. I’ve never even seen that side of you. Not once. You don’t feel very passionately about me, do you?’ Emily asked sadly.

  Phoebe’s breath caught. ‘Emily-’

  ‘Tell me you love me. If you do, say it now.’

  Phoebe almost did. But she knew it wouldn’t be true. ‘It’s not… We’re still new. I need more time.’

  Emily shook her head. ‘I don’t. I was falling for you from practically the first minute we met’ she said and stood up.

  Phoebe looked up at her, aghast. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘It’s alright. It’s not your fault. But I think time would just make things worse. Because I know what the end result will be. And I’m too old to play those type of tricks on myself.’

  Phoebe didn’t know what to say. She liked Emily very much. But Emily was right, she didn’t love her. But wasn’t there still a chance that if they gave it more time, that it could grow?

  ‘Emily’ she began, a note of pleading in her voice. But Emily was already walking away.

  ‘Bye, Phoebe’ Emily said quietly and she was gone, vanished into the crowds.

  An hour later, Phoebe was still at the fire pit, staring into its orange and red flickers, something growing inside her. She was thinking about Megan. Specifically, she was thinking that Megan had just wrecked her life for the second time. All because she’d turned up at her gig. Well, Phoebe thought to herself, two can play that game.

  Twenty-Nine

  Megan listened from backstage as her warm up act, Billy, went into his final few minutes. The audience sounded responsive, a good crowd. It boosted Megan as she got herself ready to go on. And then she heard the Billy do his introductory spiel and then her name. Show time.

  She came out to cheers and took the mic in hand, beginning ‘Hi, everyone…’

  And that was when she saw her. Right at the front. Phoebe. She was looking directly at her, unflinching. Megan’s voice trailed into nothing.

  Immediately, Phoebe cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, ‘Boo! Get off the stage!’

  Megan took a split second to feel a wave of shock slap her around the face and then, thank Christ, her mouth did that thing where it kicked in without her. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, that boo came courtesy of Phoebe Fitzgerald of Subatomic. It was a bit off key but I guess anyone that bought their album isn’t surprised.’

  Phoebe smiled bitterly up at her but said nothing so Megan continued.

  ‘What’s the difference between your guitar and a vacuum cleaner?’ she asked Phoebe.

  Phoebe shrugged.

  ‘When you unplug a vacuum cleaner, it doesn’t suck anymore.’

  That got a few light laughs but Megan wasn’t done. ‘Hey’ she asked the crowd ‘How many musicians does it take to change a light bulb?’

  The crowd played along, shouting ‘How many?’

  ‘One. They hold it up and the world revolves around them.’

  There were a few titters. Megan couldn’t expect more than that. The stuff coming out of her mouth wasn’t exactly her A-game material, but she was patting herself on the back that she could speak at all.

  Phoebe suddenly spoke up. ‘Jesus, do people pay to listen to this? I’ve heard more laughter in a hospice.’

  The crowd laughed the loudest at that, which pissed Megan off no end and delighted Phoebe to the moon and back.

  ‘Look, this is my job. I don’t turn up at your work and choke to death on my own vomit.’

  Megan felt the crowd come back to her, but Phoebe wasn’t done, and she stepped right up to the stage. ‘Oh, this is your job? Looking at the size of the crowd, I thought you were the cleaner.’

  ‘That’s a low blow. Which is coincidently what your Mum said to me last night’ Megan said, leaning down.

  By this point, Megan and Phoebe were essentially face to face, inches away from each other. It was the closest they’d gotten since that row seventeen years ago. Megan waited for Phoebe to say something else. But she simply shook her head and walked away. Megan considered aiming one last jab at her. But in the end, she turned back to the crowd. ‘Sorry, folks I thought that was going to turn into some hot angry sex for a second.’

  Everyone laughed uproariously at that. And Megan continued her set. She was almost entirely present. But there was about ten percent of her mind that was still on Phoebe. That close after all this time, it had shaken her anew. But she was angry too and that was easier to deal with so she grasped the emotion gladly.

  The second I’m done here’ Megan was thinking, while her mouth worked the crowd, ‘I’m going to find that stuck up little muso and show her what a heckle really is.’

  Thirty

  Phoebe was furious with herself. That had not gone the way she’d pictured it at all. The idea had been that she wouldn’t let herself get angry. That she’d just throw a few shots and leave, just so Megan could be left with a taste of her own medicine.

  But instead, Megan had gotten the better of her again. She’d pulled her into a ridiculous public row. Phoebe could only hope to god no one tweeted it this time.

  As she walked through the crowds, she thought it might be time to go. The guys weren’t leaving till tomorrow, but she didn’t have to wait for them. She could get a train out tonight, head out early to the next tour site.

  She left the festival, throwing her pass in the bin on the way out and headed for her hotel, half a mile away. There was a direct road but it was meant for cars, not pedestrians and Phoebe knew she should have called a taxi to take her there, but she didn’t want to wait. She wanted to be packing. She wanted to get the hell out of Deepwoods.

  She walked along the dark country road, facing toward traffic. Because it would be obsoletely fitting if she got ran over tonight, the way things were going. Luckily, there was no one out on the road tonight, and she got back to the safety of the hotel without incident.

  Ironically, it was at the hotel where the trouble really started.

  As she walked into the lobby of the Blue Peaks Hotel, she walked straight up to the reception desk, to let them know she’d be checking out and to request a taxi to take her to the train station. As she got within a foot of the front desk, a voice spoke from a chair in the waiting area. ‘Oy. I want a word with you.’

  Phoebe turned to see Megan sitting in the large leather chair, hands on the rests, one leg thrown over the other. She was only missing a cat to complete the bond villain look completely.

  Phoebe crossed her arms across her chest, fury rising in her. ‘What the hell are you doing here? Are you
staying here?’

  ‘Oh no, of course not. This place is only for the rock stars who play to thousands of hipsters. Us comics, who only play to a few hundred man-bun-less types, can’t expect this fancy place. Speaking of which, you ruined my set.’

  Phoebe realised that the receptionist behind the desk was eavesdropping. He was holding a piece of paper, pretending to read something on it, but the hotel logo was on the back of it and it was upside down.

  ‘Bar’ Phoebe said and walked toward it. Megan stood and followed.