Angel Dares

by Joss Stirling

  Flicking through the jewellery case, my fingers picked a silver Celtic knot to go on my left index. With four different rings on each hand, a jingling ankle chain, and my crystal droplet necklace, I was fully armed for the performance.

  ‘With rings on her fingers,’ I sang, checking my reflection in the bulb-lit mirror backstage. ‘And bells on her toes.’

  Laughing at myself, I twisted to ensure the short silver-grey skirt did not ride up too high.

  ‘Looking good, Angel: looking good.’ I blew my double a kiss, Marilyn Monroe style. At least, I looked as good as I could. Frustrated by a genetic inheritance from parents who were more like hobbits than full-sized people, I have learned to boost my confidence by telling myself such truth-bending compliments just before going out on stage to sing in front of a packed house.

  Eeek: don’t think about that!

  My phone clucked. We’re standing front left. Break a leg. S, M and A.

  I hugged the phone. My badgering had worked. I had warned Summer, Misty, and Alex that if they didn’t come to the gig early and get right down the front to support me in my hour of need, I would do something awful to them—too awful to say (and I hadn’t yet thought up my revenge when I made the threat). They were my closest friends, sharing the secret of having a savant gift. Summer’s power gave her the ability to shadow minds—the mental version of what a spy did when trailing a suspect. Familiar with my thought patterns, she probably knew my likely retaliation before I did. I typed a quick reply. Great. See you after. xxx

  Once I had slipped the phone back in my sequined handbag, I realized I had nothing left to do but worry. Not good. I usually ignored nerves by keeping on the move and chatting but no one else was sharing the cupboard-like women’s changing room as the rest of the band was in the men’s. The Hammersmith nightclub didn’t run to many luxuries backstage—my guess that this dingy room served as storage space was confirmed by the mop and bucket of dirty water leaning against the clothes rail—but the club did still segregate the sexes, more’s the pity. Checking the time, I saw I still had ten whole minutes to go: ten minutes to wind myself up into a state where I could no longer sing the backing vocals. I was tempted to go and join the boys but then I’d have to breathe the same air as Jay, which was equally bad for my pre-show preparation.

  I picked up my black violin and tested the tuning. It wasn’t my favourite instrument—that was my battered old folk fiddle—but this one worked best for rock as it could be plugged into an amplifier. I ran quickly through a scale, warming up my fingers, then moved into the opening refrain. Jay, the lead singer of Seventh Edition, had big aspirations for his band and wrote music that really needed a whole orchestra to support the drums and guitar lineup. He was right that the music we made together had huge potential but the group was still touring the semi-professional circuit, yet to get that big break. Jay had had to make do with a female violinist and a male saxophonist rather than the National Symphony Orchestra. To be honest, he was a difficult guy to like as he had fallen into the bad habit of vastly over-estimating his own talent. He was good but much of the best came from other members of the band, contributions he rarely acknowledged. As I was never slow to tell it how it was, I knew I would have been given the push months ago if he hadn’t needed me so badly. Singer/violinists were hard to find.

  A quick knock sounded on the door. Speak of the devil: Jay Fielding himself had come to call on his lowly backing singer.

  ‘Everything OK, Angel?’ He rubbed his long fingers together, a sign of unusual nervousness. Normally he liked to pretend he was king of the world and our lord and master.

  I put the violin back in its case. ‘Yes, fine.’ I didn’t like him coming alone to see me. Not only did he give me the creeps, I had a little routine I kept to before going on stage; any disruption to that made me feel superstitious about the performance.

  Jay prowled the room, his eyes scrutinizing my appearance in an uncomfortably intimate fashion. Possessing an ordinary face with mean grey eyes, topped by extravagantly swept-back blond hair, Jay did not set my heart going pitter-pat as he hoped. I thought I had made that plain the last time he had cornered me.

  ‘It’s a big night tonight.’ He stopped beside me and bared his teeth in the mirror to check all was pearly white. Too perfect to be natural, that set must have made some cosmetic dentist a lot richer lately. Fortunately for him, Jay had wealthy parents to sponsor his attempt to make it in the music industry. They were as brash as he was about his ambition.

  ‘Um, yes, very big.’ I twisted the Celtic knot wishing I could teleport away from him. Beam me up, Scottie.

  He smoothed an eyebrow, loving himself in the glass. ‘I didn’t tell you before but the promoters for the Rockport festival are out front looking for acts for the summer lineup. If we impress, we might end up on the bill.’

  Now that news was worth the invasion of my space! ‘Really? Awesome!’ I bobbed on my toes, clutching my hands to my chest—the room didn’t allow for a more expressive dance of happiness. ‘I can’t believe we might get our break at last!’

  He stopped my movement with a hand on my waist, clammy fingers caressing the narrow band of bare skin. ‘So, Angel sweetheart, you’ll be a good girl for me tonight?’

  His patronizing tone made me want to sink my teeth into the straying hand. Although only twenty, three years older than me, Jay acted like I was his to command. But I couldn’t spoil the concert by drawing blood now. ‘I’ll do my best, Jay.’ Pushing gently against his chest with my palms, I tried to take a step back but he prevented that by putting his other hand on my waist so we stood face-to-face.

  ‘How about a kiss for good luck, babe?’

  Various replies ran quickly through my mind, ranging from ‘not in this lifetime’ to ‘yuck’.

  He tipped his head to the side, eyes looking at me through his fringe. Did he think he looked more persuasive in that pose? ‘Come on, Angel: I know you’re sweet on me.’

  ‘You do?’ How on earth had he drawn that conclusion? ‘But—’

  He nodded, his quiff bobbing ‘yes’ double-time like it had a mind of its own. ‘Yeah, I’ve seen the way you look at me across the rehearsal room.’

  What? He’d mistaken mild amusement for adoration, had he?

  ‘Babe.’ He leaned in for a kiss.

  I jerked back. ‘Jay, take your hands off me,’ I said sharply. What was it with guys? This was not the first man to try groping me in a dressing room. I had a good repertoire of self-defence moves, but I always tried reasoning first.

  ‘You don’t want me to.’ Jay nibbled his way to my neck, teeth threatening to leave a love bite.

  ‘Yes, I absolutely do.’ Every time I pushed him away from one part, he opened up a new attack elsewhere like some kind of writhing sea monster with too many tentacles to fight.

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘Just get your hands off!’

  ‘Hey, don’t be like that, babe. It’s just us—no need to pretend you don’t want this.’

  OK, enough already. He had been warned. Not having the muscle to move him, it was time to bring out the heavy guns of my power. Eyes fixed on the mop bucket, I called the water to me, an amazing feeling of connectedness where the H2O molecules in my body reached out and pulled the water to them. The dirty water rose up like a dull brown snake from a charmer’s basket and wound its way across to Jay. Concentrating hard, I directed the coil of water to the back of Jay’s neck.

  Down.

  Obediently, the water slid down his spine, soaking through his shirt and jeans, gushing out to the floor.

  ‘What the … !’ Jay leapt back from me, ardour cooled. ‘I’m wet.’

  Yes, you so are. ‘Oh, Jay, you’ve got water running out of your trousers!’ I shrieked with
false sympathy. I put a finger to my chin. ‘At least, I hope it’s water.’

  ‘Fecking hell.’ Shaking the excess from his shoes, he glared at me. ‘What else would it be?’

  I waved my hands in the air. ‘Oh you know: nerves get to us all.’ His face was so outraged the giggle I had been repressing bubbled to the surface. ‘Hadn’t … hadn’t you better go change?’

  His expression darkened as he heard my laughter. ‘You bitch, you did something!’ He stabbed the air with his forefinger.

  ‘Moi?’ I asked innocently. ‘What could I do: you wouldn’t let me go, remember? If there’s a leak, blame the roof in this dump, not me.’

  Jay scanned the ceiling but it showed no sign of water damage, but neither could he explain how I had been responsible for the sudden deluge from behind. ‘You … you … don’t laugh!’

  I nodded to the clock. ‘Sorry, Jay, but you really should go change. I hope you have another outfit?’

  Squelching to the exit, Jay turned. ‘This isn’t finished!’ He slammed the door behind him.

  I leaned back against the dressing table, hugging my waist in glee. ‘That was fun.’

  The gig went surprisingly well considering the backstage antics minutes before we were due to start. Jay had found a set of dry clothes, though the T-shirt looked wrinkled—probably dug out from the bottom of one of the band member’s bags. I could forgive Jay quite a lot when he got in front of the microphone. Though no Brit award contender, he did have a gift for songwriting and knew how to charm an audience. My part went well, with my violin solo in the track ‘Star-Crossed’ getting its own round of whistles and applause, led no doubt by my lovely friends. I could see them clearly from my position stage right: Misty notable for her bobbing mop of pale blonde curls; Summer dancing with a chic untouchable Audrey Hepburn air; gorgeous dark-haired Alex, Misty’s soulfinder, showing that a South African student could break out a few impressive moves when called upon. The air positively crackled when Misty and Alex danced together—even I noticed it up on stage. One of the challenging aspects of being a savant is that you have a partner born around the same time as you who is connected through his or her gift. If the match is a good one, like my friends, then the experience is amazing: your own gifts flourish and you find new things you can do together in a blending of powers. That’s not to mention the chemistry of attraction woven into the link: that is off the charts if Misty and Alex are anything to judge by. We savants can wait all our lives to find that special person who completes our gifts; Misty and Alex had stumbled over each other at the ridiculously young age of sixteen.

  Some guys have all the luck.

  I took a swig of my water bottle as we readied ourselves for the last set. That wasn’t fair of me: Misty had not been so lucky as she had practically had to die to get Alex. I was excited about the idea of meeting my partner one day but I didn’t think I had it in me to risk so much, not even for a soulfinder.

  The final number came and Jay took the applause; I bet he had practised that bow as it was the classic pose of the rock star clutching his guitar like a girlfriend. He then swept an arm to the rest of the boys in the band, but turned his back to me so I was edged out. He was such a loser. It was still worth it to have that priceless memory of him soaked to the skin. I had to be very careful how I used my gift as savants were supposed to keep their powers secret from ordinary people and mine was a more obvious gift than many, but I gave myself a pass on this occasion. Only a saint would have resisted the temptation of putting Jay in his place.

  ‘You’ve been a great audience.’ Jay replaced his guitar on its stand. ‘Thank you and good night!’ He ran off stage, pushing me aside as he headed for the wings.

  I was prevented from tipping over the edge of the platform by a quick grab from Matt, our drummer. Lacking the pretensions of the guitarists and saxophone player, Matt had managed to cling on to his place in the band despite the multitude of fallings-out that Jay had instigated. That’s why we were called Seventh Edition: once upon a time there had been a First Edition. ‘Hey, Angel, what’s up between you and Jay?’

  ‘Hound dog Jay wanted a snog before the show,’ I said blithely. ‘I turned him down.’

  Matt patted my shoulder in sympathy as we walked into the wings. ‘So how did he get wet a minute before we went on?’

  ‘Poetic justice I’d say.’

  Matt grinned. ‘He can be so retro in his attitude to girls. You shouldn’t have to put up with stupid stuff like that.’

  ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong: I don’t put up with it; I stomp on retro males and dance on their graves.’

  Matt tapped his nose. ‘I consider myself warned. You are a warrior: Joan of Arc of the dressing room.’

  He was a sweetie, always finding the right thing to say to boost my confidence. Most people assume I have bags of the stuff; only astute guys like Matt know most of it is me sassing to pretend I’m not afraid. ‘Thanks, petal.’ I went up on tiptoes and gave him a kiss. ‘We did good tonight, yes?’

  ‘Yep. We did good.’

  We grinned at each other and parted to talk to our guests backstage.

  ‘Angel, you were wonderful!’ exclaimed Misty, giving me a hug. As my friend was burdened with the gift of being unable to lie, I knew the compliment was sincere. ‘You stand out like a burning beacon of pure talent!’

  I chuckled. ‘Thanks, sweet pea.’ Only a little taller than me, she was a comfortable person to embrace.

  Next in line was Summer. ‘That violin solo in “Star-Crossed” is very special—it makes my toes tingle every time. Who composed it: you or Jay?’

  So she had realized, had she? Summer was alarmingly penetrating even when she did not exert her gift for mind reading. ‘Jay would have it that he wrote every note but actually most of it came out of a jamming session when I improvised. He won’t acknowledge that though.’

  Misty frowned, her freckled nose creasing in an adorable fashion. ‘Do you want me to go stand next to him and ask him?’ If she did that, letting go of the control over her gift, she would have him confessing all his most embarrassing truths.

  ‘So tempting, but no need. I’m happy working with the guys he’s managed to bring together—I think we’ve really got something good going. So I guess putting up with his ego is just the price I have to pay.’

  It was Summer’s turn to frown. ‘That’s not the only price he asked, is it?’

  I bit my lip. If Summer had dipped into my thoughts she would have picked up on my relishing of the dressing-room dousing. ‘It’s OK. I cooled him off.’

  Alex put an arm round my shoulder. Because I’m short, I think he comes over especially protective of me in a big brother way. ‘Did that jackass do something? Do you want me to put him straight?’ Alex has an awesome power to persuade with just the power of his voice.

  ‘It’s OK, Alex: I did that myself and enjoyed every moment.’ I told them about the encounter, producing the hoped-for gales of laughter. The others backstage began to cast envious looks in our direction as we were clearly having the best time. Jay threw one dark scowl my way but carried on with his earnest conversation with a couple I had never seen before. His gaze told me we still had to settle our accounts.

  That could wait. I checked Summer’s watch: eleven. ‘I’d best go and get changed. Meet you back here in ten minutes?’

  Dipping into my changing room, I quickly stripped off my stage clothes and dressed in more comfortable low heels, leggings and tunic dress for the cold ride home on the Underground. Packing up my jewellery, I stuffed everything into my bag and headed for the boys’ room. I found the band all gathered around Jay, who was in the middle of his usual post-match analysis of the gig.

  ‘Just saying goodnight!’ I said, poking my head round the door.

  ‘Wait a minute, Angel: you should be here for this,’ said Matt. ‘Jay said he’s got an announcement.’

  Jay folded his arms and kicked back on his metal-framed chair. ‘She can go. It doesn’t concern her
.’

  If he wanted me to go, then of course I had to stay. ‘No, it’s fine: I’d like to hear the news. I’ve got time before the last train.’

  ‘All right then.’ Jay swung tauntingly on two chair-legs, eyes fixed on me. He was up to something and it wouldn’t be great for me. ‘I’ve some spectacular news: the Rockport promoters have invited us to be part of the lineup this year. They’re coming back to me tomorrow with the terms and conditions but they’ve hinted that they’re generous.’

  ‘Oh wow!’ My exclamation was lost among the hoots and shouts of glee from the band.

  ‘It’s our big break, guys. The lineup this year at the festival is sweet. They’ve got confirmation that Gifted are going to play.’

  ‘Really!’ Gifted were only one of my favourite bands—indie but with an appeal to the mainstream. They were said to be awesome live but I’d never had a chance to see them. Now I was not only going to be able to watch but also I was part of the same lineup, rubbing shoulders backstage. I was going to have so many fangirl moments I was going to embarrass even myself.

  ‘So we’ve got to work hard over the next few months—polish our presentation, write some new songs.’ Jay sounded like a commanding officer ordering his troops into battle. ‘I don’t want us to waste this chance. Can I count on you?’

  Of course, we all offered our support. Jay may be a jerk but he’d got us this far.

  ‘There’s just one change to announce now. I told the promoters we were coming as an all-male lineup—it plays better in the publicity. A girl detracts from building a female fan base.’

  ‘What!’ I exploded.

  ‘Hey, you can’t do that!’ exclaimed Matt.

  Jay shrugged. ‘It’s done. Move on.’

  I saw red. ‘You’re … you’re just doing this because I wouldn’t let you kiss me!’ The water in the bottle on the dressing table behind him started to bubble but I was too irate to rein in my temper. Thankfully, no one noticed, as they were focused on my outburst. ‘That’s sexual discrimination—harassment—both! I’ll … I’ll sue you!’