The Lighter That Shone Like A Star (Story of The South)

by Dan Cash

  Read her full review below.

  Haze chewed on his toast, scrolling through Scribbler as he liked to do every morning. They had arrived in Terexe’s second largest city, Greengate, in the early hours of the morning, giving them time to sleep for longer in a comfortable hotel bed rather than the cramped bus bunks, but Haze had not managed to drift off again. At seven o’ clock, just under four hours after their arrival, Haze called for room service.

  He knew he would regret his lack of sleep later, but at least the band had a whole day to rest before the gig. That’s what he told himself, anyway. It was not until he opened up Scribbler that Haze was reminded of the band’s upcoming television interview on Terexe Tonight, which would be filmed that afternoon.

  The day flashed before him: a ridiculous amount of time in wardrobe with people fussing over his clothes, hair, and make-up, a few dress rehearsals for the live performance, screaming fans waiting outside the studio, a famous interviewer asking questions they had answered a million and one times before, a quick bite to eat, and then preparing for the evening’s concert.

  Jimmie would be dreading this, he knew, but Haze felt optimistic. Busy days were usually fun; it was just a nuisance that he had not managed to sleep well.

  HazeLotL: Morning everyone! Busy day today. If you happen to see us boys, we could all do with a strong coffee. Ha! ~x~

  Haze finished his breakfast, shifting the tray from his lap to the bedside cabinet. Jimmie was awake.

  JimmieLotL: Don’t listen to , mine’s a tea. Three sugars.

  HazeLotL: Three sugars? No way. You’re hyper enough.

  JimmieLotL: You mean I’m sweet enough.

  HazeLotL: You’re an idiot. Come see me, I’ve been awake for ages and I’m bored.

  JimmieLotL: Be there in five. Order me some brekkie and a cup of tea. Three sugars.

  JaykeLotL: I’ll join your breakfast date! Strong coffee sounds good to me! Cheers boys!!

  ***

  The rest of the day was as Haze had expected. All the boys, except for himself, were buzzing with energy, feeling refreshed after sleeping in a proper bed. Even Freddie seemed more spritely – the dark bags under his eyes had lifted and, Haze thought he was imagining it at first, his hair was a brighter glow of blonde.

  But that soon changed when Zaak handed him a box of black hair dye he had bought from a nearby pharmacy.

  “Black?” Freddie questioned, unsure.

  “Hey, I risked being mobbed getting this for you,” Zaak joked, thrusting the dye into Freddie’s hand. “Besides, we’ll match now. Oh, and I got you these. I popped the lenses,” he added, whipping a pair of silver-rimmed glasses from his back pocket.

  Freddie mumbled his thanks and re-entered his hotel room, preparing for his minor transformation into Lynk.

  The band all pointed and laughed at Freddie when he resurfaced an hour later with one-tone black hair and unfashionable reading glasses. It wasn’t that the new look didn’t suit him, but his bushy eyebrows were still blonde and he had the glasses pushed firmly against the bridge of his nose.

  “Don’t worry,” Haze assured Freddie. “We’ll get Kazia to sort your eyebrows.” He giggled, reaching out a hand to sort out the positioning of his eyewear.

  “I look ridiculous,” moaned Freddie.

  “Nah you don’t,” Zaak said. “Just different.”

  The television studio was a forty-five minute drive from the hotel. Haze lay in his bunk and woke up as the bus pulled up to the building. He joined the others and peered out of a window, his eyes falling upon what must have been a hundred fans shouting and waving at the large vehicle.

  “Ready Freddie?” Haze asked.

  “A bit unsteady,” he smirked.

  “You’ll love it mate, it can be a lot of fun. Just stay close,” Naithain instructed, grinning with excitement.

  As the bus door opened, a wave of shrill screaming flooded the bus. The boys all piled out onto the concrete. Jimmie shouted something back to Haze, but he couldn’t hear over the fans. He looked around, smiling and waving, trying to catch everyone’s eye so they would each know that he was grateful for their support. It was impossible – there were just too many.

  “This is crazy!” shouted Freddie in his ear from behind.

  “Embrace it, Fre– Lynk!” Haze yelled back.

  As the band approached the large group of fans, held back by barriers, Haze realised that they had forgotten to make a decision: do they hang around or head straight inside. Jayke was at the front of the line, the decision ultimately falling to him.

  I hope they have pens, Haze thought as he patted his empty pockets.

  It was always fun, meeting the fans. They all reacted differently and improbably. Some girls would cry uncontrollably, unable to speak coherently. Haze often wondered if they later looked at the photos and regretted not holding it together.

  Other girls would scream, “I love you! I love you!” constantly, to which Haze would always reply, “love you too.”

  Then there were girls who treated the band members like actual people, asking them how they were and if they had had a nice journey, politely requesting a photo or an autograph. Haze liked this group the best, because he actually got the chance to talk with them, which was rare.

  There were scarcely ever any male fans waiting outside studios and concert halls, but this time there were a few. Haze made a special effort to speak to them, as did the other boys, because it was so uncommon to see them. Their female fans got so much attention on Scribbler, in newspapers, from the band themselves, and it seemed unfair that their male fanbase were so overlooked.

  Haze understood that it was probably ‘uncool’ for a boy to like Light on the Landing, but he also knew that that was completely stupid. They were a group of guys, after all, and it was very cool, in Haze’s opinion, that they inspired and reached out to other boys and men.

  Eventually, security crowded around the band and herded them inside. Haze was frustrated, as he was in the middle of signing a CD cover and the security guard had knocked the pen from his hand. He shouted ‘Sorry!” to the girl over and over, shooting the huge man beside him a filthy look.

  “That was insane!” Freddie shouted as they entered the studio. “They even wanted to speak to me because I was with you!”

  Jayke laughed. “Yeah, that happens. I bet they wanted you to pass on about a million messages to us, right?”

  “Yeah, actually. I don’t remember any of them though.”

  “That happens, too,” replied Jayke. “I’ve got about twenty Scribbler usernames in my pocket now.”

  “What do you do with them? Do you usually subscribe to their accounts?” Freddie asked.

  Each band member had a different answer.

  Zaak would subscribe to each of the names on the tiny pieces of paper that had been rammed into his fist. Naithain would Scribble to them all, saying thank you. Jayke and Jimmie sent a private message to each of the fans, subscribing to maybe two or three.

  Haze hesitated before answering Freddie.

  “To be honest, I usually forget. I mean, I leave them in my pocket and then by the end of the day I’ve forgotten and then lose them, or they get put through the wash. I know it’s bad, but that’s why the fans always send me angry Scribbles, I guess.” The group laughed.

  “Well I’m sure they understand that you’re busy,” offered Freddie.

  “Anyway, more to the point,” Jimmie interrupted. “What does Lynk do?”

  “What do you mean?” Freddie asked, confused.

  Jimmie retrieved a ScribblePad from his back pocket. “We got someone to go out and buy you a ScribblePad. We’ve set you up as , which was basically the only available username left. It seems suspicious if you haven’t got a Scribbler account, so here you go,” he explained, handing the device to the Terexian.

  “Thanks, guys. Really, you are all being so kind,” Freddie gushe
d.

  “Alright, calm down, don’t cry on us,” joked Naithain. “Right, time to get made up and interrogated.”

  Elisabeth Small, the host of Terexe Tonight, was sitting on her infamous pastel green armchair, reading from the autocue.

  “And my next guests are the five boys who have taken The South by storm. With their debut album going straight to the top in all four lands, and their current sell-out tour well underway, please give a warm welcome to Light on the Landing!”

  The band appeared at the top of a small staircase, greeted by applause and cheers and screams. Haze could not see out into the audience, the lights too blinding. They walked over to their host, embracing her in a customary group hug, and squeezed onto a sofa that was far too small for five people.

  “Sorry about the small sofa, boys,” Elisabeth said.

  “No worries, we’re used to it!” Jimmie chirped.

  “So, where do I even start with you lot?!” she exclaimed.

  “I find that the beginning’s always a good place,” said Jimmie, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. Elisabeth laughed.

  “They warned me about you, cheeky chappy! But you are right. Am I right in saying that three years ago you barely knew each other?”

  And so Haze, Jayke, Jimmie, Naithain and Zaak began the conversation that had become a routine, taking it in turn to answer questions that had been asked time and time again about Pipton, the school’s talent show, the tour-that-wasn’t-a-tour, ScribblePads, and their rapid and unprecedented rise to fame.

  “Wow, so without ScribblePads…”

  “We wouldn’t be here today. Honestly, we owe everything to our fans and to Scribbler. That cannot be said enough,” Jimmie said, the rare sound of sincerity in his voice.

  “Yeah, and we should know,” Naithain chipped in so quietly that Haze was unsure if Elisabeth had heard.

  “Well, truly boys, that is a crazy journey.” Elisabeth looked out into the audience, “It is unheard of! A group of guys not long finished school, playing a few covers in tiny venues – pubs mainly – and suddenly they don’t just become a famous boyband, but they become the most famous band in The South! Incredible.”

  The boys all smiled. Haze liked Elisabeth. She had something that other interviewers did not, but Haze was unsure what exactly. Later, when they spoke to her briefly after the recording, he would realise that she had a genuine interest in the band. She was a fan with an opportunity to interview the band and so Elisabeth had done all her own research, and had really tried to make the interview more personal. That soon became clear with her next set of questions.

  “Now, let’s play a game,” Elisabeth suggested. Haze shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The band had played ‘games’ during interviews before and they were not usually very fun. He thought Elisabeth had sensed the band’s sudden discomfort. “Don’t worry, boys, only a quick-fire round of true or false questions to clear up some of those rumours we see every day! We may have asked fans on Scribbler for a few of these, just to mix things up!”

  “Oh,” groaned Zaak. “Does this mean we have to actually tell the truth?”

  Elisabeth giggled, “Of course! Although I suppose we can never be sure!”

  “We’ll try our best to be truthful,” Jayke promised. Elisabeth beamed at the group.

  “Right, the first question is for Haze: true or false, your first extravagant purchase was a new car for your mum?”

  Haze smiled, remembering the look on his mother’s face when she first saw the brand new car in her driveway. His family had never had much, and his parents spent their entire lives working in order to pay for their house and provide for their family.

  When Haze announced that his band had signed a record deal, his mother and father could not have been happier. Their constant support was the reason for Haze’s desire to succeed, and so he owed them. The car was just a symbol, a thank you, a gift.

  “That one is true.” The audience aww-ed. “But I did buy myself a really expensive jacket about an hour later.”

  “Yeah, and he means, like, ridiculously expensive,” Naithain added.

  “It may as well have been made of gold,” said Jimmie.

  “And diamond encrusted,” chipped in Zaak.

  “And then he lost it one day, and he actually cried,” elaborated Jayke.

  “I did not cry! I almost cried.”

  The audience, and Elisabeth, laughed.

  The game continued for about ten minutes, the band each owning up to embarrassing moments, for example the time Jayke forgot to wear a belt causing his trousers to fall to his ankles while he was taking photos with fans, or the day Naithain wore his tee-shirt inside out and only realised when he saw the photos on Scribbler the following day.

  Elisabeth asked each of the musicians if they were still single, and they all said yes. Except Zaak, who smirked and hinted that “there may be a special someone”. But try as she might, their interviewer could obtain no more information about Zaak’s mystery woman.

  When she got to Haze and Jimmie, she asked, “And what about Jimaze?” with a cheeky grin.

  “Well, as much as I love the kid, Haze just doesn’t do it for me I’m afraid,” Jimmie replied.

  “Hey, I’m no kid, gramps,” Haze retorted. “Nah, Jimmie keeps asking and I keep knocking him back.” The room was filled with laughter as the boys continued their banter.

  “Yeah, I keep asking him to leave me alone but this one’s persistent.”

  “He loves me really, he just doesn’t want to admit it,” Haze said, jokingly punching Jimmie’s arm.

  Elisabeth was also laughing, covering her face with her cue cards. “Oh, you boys are so funny. I can see why the fans love your friendship so much.”

  Haze smiled. Friendship. She was the only interviewer who had avoided the word ‘relationship’, an ambiguous word with so many implications, and for that he was grateful.

  “Yeah, all five of us are the best of friends. I know people don’t necessarily believe that, but it is true. We literally never argue about serious stuff, and just have so much fun together,” said Haze.

  “Well I believe that, and after seeing you all today I think the whole of Terexe can see how close you five are. And of course, you have an honorary sixth member in Lynk!”

  Haze stiffened. She was not meant to mention Lynk, he thought Graham had made that explicit. He looked to his side, and could see the worry in all his friends’ faces. Luckily, Jimmie was as sharp as ever.

  “Ah, Lynk. Yeah, he’s such a good laugh and it’s been great having him along with us for the ride. He’s learning a lot about our crazy lifestyle, I can tell you!”

  “Yeah, I can only imagine,” said Elisabeth. She looked back at the autocue, and continued. “And how did you meet Freddie?” she asked.

  Haze froze. He could feel Jimmie tense up next to him as the whole atmosphere on the small stage changed. The studio had fallen completely silent; the band suddenly nervous, Elisabeth looking confused at what she had just read aloud, and the audience surely wondering who Freddie was.

  “Lynk. That’s meant to say Lynk, of course,” Elisabeth laughed uncomfortably.

  “Can we cut that?” asked Jimmie, looking around to where the show’s producer was standing.

  “Yep! Sorry, there must have been an error in the autocue script! Go from ‘How did you meet Lynk?’.”

  “Lynk’s my cousin, everyone knows that from Scribbler,” retorted Jimmie, a rare angry edge to his voice.

  “Oh… Umm… Okay, fine. Liz, link the guys into their performance.”

  Elisabeth smiled and composed herself, slipping quickly back into her chirpy demeanour, before looking back at the boys.

  “Well you really are living the dream, and there is so much more to see from you boys yet! I, for one, can’t wait to follow you over the next few years. And, of course, you’re welcome back to chat anytime you want! I’ve loved having you here today.”

  The band thanked her in unison, insisting t
hat the pleasure was entirely theirs.

  “And you’re going to perform for us next, I believe. What song are you going to do for us?”

  “Our next single, actually,” Jayke answered. “It’s the last one we’re releasing from this album, and then we start recording our second album in a couple of months when we come off tour.”

  “How exciting! Well, go and get yourselves ready. Ladies and gentlemen, performing their new single, I’ll Find You, for the first time – please give it up for Light on the Landing!”

  The band walked over to the performance area, where the stage had been set up with their instruments and microphones.

  Haze looked over towards the filming crew, where Freddie was standing, watching the show through a monitor. He was as white as a sheet of paper, streaks of blue flashing through his fading black hair, chewing his bottom lip nervously.

  That was no typo on the autocue. Somebody knew that Freddie Vassallo was with Light on the Landing. The young man’s safety did not seem so certain anymore and, once again, that meant that they were all in a tricky situation.

  Max

  “Clemari, you cannot put my father in jail. You simply cannot,” said Luc.

  “That’s funny, I thought I was king and everyone had to do as I say,” Max retorted.

  “We must, of course we must. But think of the outrage it would cause. The New Clemari imprisoning the Old Clemari – it would be highly controversial and nobody would stand for it. Perhaps you do not realise how loved my father was… is.”

  “What do you suggest then, Luc?” asked Max.

  “Anything but this. I implore you to see reason. My father is helping you become all you can be. You need him,” Luc urged, staring intensely into Max’s eyes.