Angel Dares

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Angel Dares Page 8

by Joss Stirling


  ‘I bet. OK, must go.’

  ‘All right, but don’t do anything, you know, Angel-ish before we’ve had a chance to plan this.’

  I wrinkled my nose. ‘I should’ve phoned Misty. She would have encouraged me to just go for it.’

  ‘That’s why you phoned me. Deep inside, you know you needed a counter balance to—’

  ‘To being Angel. Yes, I do, I know. I’m stupid.’

  Summer hates it when Misty and I run ourselves down. She can always be counted on to bolster low self-esteem. ‘You are not stupid! You are wonderful—vibrant—talented.’

  ‘But seriously lacking in caution?’

  ‘Well … yes.’

  I chuckled. She understood me so well. ‘Let the others know what’s going on and I’ll phone later.’

  Seventh Edition were practising in the performers’ lounge, a tent set aside for tune-up and run-throughs. I arrived on time with Black Adder under my arm to find Jay was already scowling.

  ‘I can’t see how we’re expected to perform at our best if we can’t get onto the stage beforehand.’

  Henry checked her clipboard. ‘Sorry, Jay, but the stages are either being made ready for tonight or there are already acts performing. Only the headliners get to use them in advance—we just can’t accommodate all the bands who want to do their own tech.’

  Jay squeezed the neck of his guitar so his knuckles went white. ‘This is a crap system.’

  Henry carried on with her kind and reasonable tone. ‘I’m sorry if you don’t like it but there is nothing I can do. Make sure you arrive at least twenty minutes before your set and check your sound requirements with the team. They’re very experienced at a quick setup.’

  Matt started playing the high hat, a little brush of percussion to remind Jay that time was a-wasting.

  ‘All right, I suppose we’ll have to make do.’ Henry gave him a curt nod, me an eye roll at Jay’s behaviour, then hurried out.

  ‘Angel, pleased you’ve finally decided to join us,’ snarled Jay.

  ‘I’m not late.’ I opened my case and took out Black Adder. ‘Do you have my amp?’

  ‘As a session musician, you are responsible for transporting your own equipment.’ Until this point, Seventh Edition had always included my amp on the bus. I hadn’t thought Jay would sink so low as to sabotage the band’s sound just to spite me.

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘It’s OK, Angel, I’ve got it here. I made sure it went on with my kit. Jay knew I had it—he just wanted you to sweat a bit.’ Matt pulled it out from behind his bass drum box.

  ‘Thanks, Matt. Not funny, Jay.’ I glared at the louse and set up as far from him as I could manage without actually leaving the tent. ‘Oh, I have some good news.’ I kept my tone purposely airy.

  ‘Not now, Angel. Some of us don’t have time for gossip. We’ve got a gig to prepare for,’ said Jay stiffly.

  ‘No, really, you’ll want to hear this.’

  ‘I really wouldn’t.’

  ‘Bet you your classic rock vinyl collection that you do.’

  He snorted. ‘I’m not taking that bet. OK, tell us. You won’t shut up otherwise, will you?’

  I plucked a string to check tuning. ‘I ran into Kurt Voss this morning and he has invited us back to his trailer this evening for pizzas. Gifted and Black Belt are all going to be there.’ I looked up and watched the shock roll through the boys.

  Jay gaped. ‘Invited who?’

  ‘Me and my band mates—but I suppose if I’m not officially in Seventh Edition, only a session musician, I don’t have a band and I’ll have to go alone.’ I ran a scale on Black Adder.

  Kyle dumped his bass guitar and scooped me up for a celebratory spin. I held bow and instrument out like wings. ‘You are not going anywhere alone, Angel. That is so awesome! Hey, guys, Angel’s in the band, isn’t she?’

  ‘Sure is,’ agreed Richie, then played a little flourish of notes on the sax.

  Owen grunted and gave a thumbs up.

  ‘I never said she wasn’t.’ Matt winked at me. ‘Jay?’

  ‘I … ’ Jay looked as though he was chewing razorblades.

  I knew exactly the carrot to hold before the jackass. ‘Think of all those useful contacts, Jay. Record producers, industry movers and shakers. Oh and Kurt also said he’d try to come and listen to us play today.’

  ‘You’re joking?’

  ‘No. Deadly serious.’

  Jay swallowed. ‘Of course you’re in the band. I don’t know where you got the impression you aren’t.’

  This was such barefaced cheek, even from Jay, that I was left speechless.

  ‘Girls—chicks like you—get these strange notions in their mind, make a big deal out of a few disagreements. Irrational hormonal reaction.’ He settled his guitar across his chest. ‘Now we know we’ve got a special audience, we’d better get down to some serious practice.’

  ‘Do you even stop and listen to yourself?’ I muttered. ‘You make politicians look like straight talkers.’

  He ignored my insult. ‘If Kurt has taken a shine to Angel, I think we’ll kick off with “Star-Crossed”, OK?’

  In the end, far from having an opportunity to talk things through with Summer and Misty, I only had time for a hit-and-run raid on my tent to grab my clothes for the performance.

  ‘Sorry, guys: in a rush here!’ I shouted as I darted past my friends seated on the grass waiting for me. They looked very comfortably settled, knocking back a few beers and some soft drinks in the sunshine. ‘Jay had made us practise until my fingers were bleeding.’

  ‘He did what?’ said Will, all ready to go and pound some sense into the idiot.

  ‘OK, I’m exaggerating,’ I called out through the canvas. ‘They’re a little bit sore but you get the picture. Where, oh where, are my rings?’ I chucked a few T-shirts over my shoulder in a vain attempt to find my jewellery case. ‘I finally forced him to call a halt by pointing out that we had only two hours to get in our costumes and set up.’ I didn’t add that I’d also told him I needed at least that long to prepare—it was a hormonal chick thing, I claimed. Jay allowed my rebellion against his-band-his-rules. His be-nice-to-Angel mood was still lingering like a benign fallout cloud from the shock explosion of my announcement. ‘Who has stolen my belt? I can’t seem to find anything!’ I wailed, rooting through a jumble of clothes.

  Summer crawled in next to me. ‘Campbell, get your butt outside this tent. Tell me what you want to wear and I’ll find it for you.’

  Looking about me, I saw that I had reduced the tent to a shambles in the few seconds of frantic search, upending my bags. ‘Oh cripes. The new silver dress please—belt and jewellery to match.’

  Summer started putting the belongings back in my empty rucksack.

  ‘Do you want me to help?’ I hovered at her shoulder, ashamed of the mess I’d created.

  ‘Out.’ She jabbed her finger in the required direction.

  I reversed out the low doorway. ‘I think she’s cross with me,’ I told Misty, who was peering in and laughing. ‘Hey, Uri, Victor, you’re here!’ In my haste I had blasted past the new arrivals.

  ‘How observant of you.’ Uriel, second oldest of the fabulous Benedict brothers, smiled, knowing my ways very well.

  I jumped up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. With light brown hair, warm eyes, and a wiry athletic stature, he was a gorgeous example of a man. He had a lovely, approachable air to him, like a warm bakery on a cold day. ‘How’s Tarryn, Uri?’

  His smile broadened even further at the mention of his lady. ‘Good, thanks. She’s got an interview in a school in Colorado Springs the day after tomorrow or she would’ve been here.’

  ‘Oh, that’s great. I really hope she gets it.’ It looked like Uriel and his South African soulfinder were finally getting their lives to mesh. ‘Tell her I said “good luck”.’ I turned to the other new arrival, Victor, the scariest of the brothers who did something very hush-hush for the FBI. It was odd to see him out
of his sharp suits and wearing festival gear of T-shirt and jeans, like seeing your head teacher on holiday. ‘Um, hi, Victor.’

  ‘Hello, Angel,’ he said solemnly, though I think he was teasing me. As a mind reader, he would know that I was terrified of him—not what he would do to me but what he would find out about me. It felt like a foretaste of the final judgement standing before the all-seeing, all-knowing Victor.

  His lips quirked, his grey eyes crinkling a little at the edges. ‘You’ve got that wrong, Angel. I don’t know everything—far from it.’ He leaned closer. ‘I just make people think I do—gets results.’

  I grinned and gave a theatrical shiver. ‘Works on me every time.’

  Summer emerged from the tent carrying my dress and belt draped over one arm and shoes in the other. ‘These what you were looking for?’

  ‘Shoes! I’d forgotten about them.’ Just looking at those high heels made my arches scream but a girl has to sacrifice comfort for fashion when she is performing before Kurt Voss. I let out a little squeak of excitement. ‘This is just the best day of my life and I love you all to pieces!’

  Will laughed. ‘Now we’ve got that settled, do you have time to tell us what the hell’s going on with you? Leave you five minutes and you have wormed your way to a dinner invitation with the hottest band on the planet and identified a suspect for your own soulfinder.’ He rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. ‘I thought this was about me.’

  I checked the time on Uriel’s watch. I had five minutes before I had to run back to the performers’ zone. There were dressing rooms available for artists that were much better than trying to wriggle into that dress in a metre-and-a-half-high tent. I plonked myself down on the grass and took a deep breath.

  ‘OK, here’s how it happened.’

  When I finished my summary of the day, Victor was already on his phone.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘Texting my colleagues. If these guys are unregistered savants then they’re in danger and could be a risk to our community. I’m checking them against the grey list.’

  ‘Grey list?’ asked Alex. He was sitting with his legs and arms around Misty so she could use him like a backrest.

  ‘The one we keep off the Savant Net. Some people ask not to have their names out there.’

  ‘A secret annex to an already secret list,’ mused Alex.

  ‘Like being ex-directory,’ suggested Summer.

  ‘Good idea if you’re mega famous like Kurt,’ I said.

  Misty threw a daisy at me. ‘“Kurt” is it now? On first-name terms, are you?’

  I grinned and threw it back. ‘Absolutely. You should’ve seen me rub Jay’s face in it when I announced I was Kurt’s new BFF. He’s even let me back into the band on the strength of it. He couldn’t resist the ace chance to schmooze.’

  That set off a round of not very flattering comments about my lead singer.

  I jumped up and brushed off the seat of my leggings. ‘Sorry, guys, but I really have to go.’

  ‘Just a moment!’ Will grabbed my hand and tugged me to a stop. ‘I know you want to test out whether this Marcus guy is your soulfinder—of course you do—but promise me you’ll only do it when you are sure you’re in the clear. I don’t know how sensitive that psychic detection device can be.’

  ‘It picked up your telepathic messages to me when you were commentating on Alex’s debate at my school, Angel,’ said Misty. ‘Davis didn’t know at the time it was you though, so I guess it works in a largish room and is not very focused.’

  Will nodded. ‘So best to be cautious, OK, sweetheart?’

  There was so much going on, my head was whirling. I spelt out my agenda for them, tapping each finger. ‘Right—no irresponsible telepathy, check. Give one show-stopping performance to impress rock god, check. Avoid kicking Jay in the you-know-whats at after-show pizza party, check. Ditto to said rock godling with insulting song, check. Find Will’s soulfinder, check. Have one hell of an evening, check.’ Giggling, I grabbed my costume and shoes from Summer and started jogging back to the security gate.

  ‘Jewellery!’ called Summer.

  I turned and Alex lobbed me the travel case. I caught it against my chest. ‘What would I do without all of you, hey? See you later.’

  Nerves made my insides ripple like wobbly jelly. I leaned against the stairs leading up to the stage from backstage, taking deep calming breaths like Summer had tried to teach me. Normally I would play with the water in my bottle, making it spin and bubble to settle my mind, but I couldn’t risk it. Banned from my usual pre-show ritual, I had to make do with yoga breathing—and I suck at the mindfulness stuff that everyone else seems to like. Stop and be quiet: that’s when I panic.

  Matt ambled up, chewing on a crisp from packet of salt and vinegar. He held it out. ‘Want one?’

  I shook my head. ‘How can you be so calm?’

  ‘I’m not calm. This is my sixth packet. If I stop eating, I’ll throw up.’

  ‘Oh Lord, oh Lord,’ I moaned, pressing my hand against my tummy. ‘Why did you have to mention that?’

  Jay strode over, giving us his version of a military inspection. ‘Everyone here?’

  ‘Yeah, Jay,’ the guys mumbled.

  ‘Angel, you look sweet. Nice dress.’ An unsnide compliment from Jay—the world was surely about to end?

  ‘Thanks.’

  Gathering his thoughts, he looked about him. We could hear the crowd massed on the field in front of the second stage. Our performance area was built near the woods at the western edge of the festival ground. It was probably good for me that we were away from the sea. One result of my gift is that I am tuned into any moving water. The sea sets my instincts buzzing. I had enough going on without having to clamp down on the urge to play with the waves. The only downside here was the mosquitos that came out at twilight; otherwise it was a real boost for our band of newbies to make it on to the evening programme on one of the proper stages rather than a session tent. We might even get televised if the cameras were looking for some new action.

  Jay laced his fingers together and squeezed them hard. ‘Just play your best, guys. I’ve every faith in you.’

  I couldn’t get used to this ‘nice’ Jay. It was like that Lego character—good cop/bad cop. I kept expecting his head to spin round so it would be back to the normal foul character.

  ‘You too, mate,’ said Matt, filling in the awkward silence.

  The lights came on stage, which was our signal to set up.

  ‘OK, let’s do this!’ Jay ran up the stairs. I followed with Black Adder tucked under my arm, trying not to teeter on my heels. As we walked out on to the stage, the audience gave us a welcoming round of applause even before the announcer gave our name.

  ‘Yo, Angel!’ bellowed Will.

  I shaded my eyes to find my friends right down by the barrier. The three Benedict boys and Alex formed a formidable honour guard for Misty and Summer.

  ‘Looking good!’ called Uriel.

  Misty and Summer waved. Alex gave a sharp whistle. Even Victor was smiling.

  Feeling a little more settled, I plugged in Black Adder and checked the tuning. The other guys in the band were doing their pre-show checks but everything seemed very efficient and there were no blips. Jay waited to meet our gaze, making sure his troops were in position. ‘Good to go?’

  We nodded.

  Jay signalled the stage manager that we were all set.

  ‘And now!’ thundered the announcer. ‘Kicking off tonight’s programme we have a debut band from London. I’m sure we’re going to hear much more of them after this. So give it up for Seventh Edition!’

  The crowd gave us a roar of approval. I glanced over the faces, wondering if Kurt had kept his promise to come. But he wouldn’t be out there among the herd of music lovers on the field, would he? That would cause a stampede if he were spotted.

  ‘Thank you for your great Rockport welcome. We’re going to start with a favourite song of ours called “
Star-Crossed”. I really hope you enjoy it,’ said Jay, wooing the audience with more charm than he usually showed to people when he met them in the singular.

  I couldn’t see Kurt anywhere front or backstage, which was a shame as this was my biggest number.

  Head in the game, Angel. I closed my eyes, counting myself in from Matt’s percussion intro. And play.

  The song was going really well. Jay delivered the lyrics with an emotional charge he would be totally unable to manage in real life, as his empathy was the depth of a kiddie’s paddling pool. He reached my favourite verse just before my solo.

  I see you standing at your window

  My life starts again

  Love falls like stars

  A glitter of pain.

  Then something happened inside me; it was like a key change from minor to major. As I reached my section, I took off and began to fly. My fingers were playing—my violin was singing—but it was like they no longer belonged to me but were fellow birds in a flock of music. It was scary and exhilarating at the same time; I felt out of control, connected to the ground only by the notes resting lightly to the stave, birds on a telephone wire waiting to soar. Even stranger, I could feel this mood was flowing out of me and touching the audience. They were linked to me, enraptured as I was.

  I reached the end of my riff and the crowd sang out their pleasure, subsiding only to hear the final verse and chorus. I had to nudge myself to remember to provide the harmony to Jay’s voice. ‘Star-Crossed’ came to an end and we received a prolonged barrage of applause, shouts and whistles. Jay’s face was gleaming with a mist of perspiration and pleasure. Matt gave me a thumbs up. I was still shaken, convinced some strange alchemy had taken place inside turning me into a very different sort of musician.

  It was then that I noticed Marcus and Kurt. They were standing in the wings, watching our performance alongside the stage manager. Both were dressed in black so they looked like members of the backstage crew but I would recognize them anywhere, the relaxed posture of the rock god and the defensive vigilance of his younger friend.

 

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