This Beats Perfect

by Rebecca Denton

  ‘I’m just going to catch up with some friends and I’ll join you,’ Julian nodded to a table of earnest looking uni students. ‘They will be discussing Blur and then Arcade Fire, and I’m going to interrupt them with talk of Tay Tay.’

  ‘One hour,’ Amelie promised Maisie, who gave her a knowing grin.

  ‘So it’s you and me,’ Maxx smiled as their little group parted ways.

  ‘And the music,’ Amelie laughed.

  Maxx reached for her hand and pulled her through the crowd towards the upstairs venue. In the corner of her eye she could see people looking twice at Maxx, good-looking enough to turn heads, and famous enough to invoke gaping stares. She blushed as she looked at their hands, feeling the warmth of his fingers curl around hers, and the hint of a stroke from his thumb. Was it a stroke? Her stomach turned. Suddenly her hands felt sticky with sweat.

  The band were already deep into their set when they made it into the crowd, and Amelie, fuelled by wine, pushed her way front and centre. The music was loud, incoherent and raw, and the mosh pit was starting to swell. She grinned at Maxx, whose eyes were on her and not the band. He looked amused and intrigued, and the attention fuelled her. She felt wild and loose. Suddenly, she was tossed sideways into his arms.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he said, pulling her up and into him. She felt the heat of his body against hers, and his breath hot on her neck.

  ‘I’m GREAT!’ she squealed, pulling away and throwing herself back into the mass of sweaty, heaving bodies before turning to him laughing. ‘Come on!’ She jumped up and down as the band’s jangly guitars and addictive beats lifted the tiny venue.

  Amelie felt Maxx slide in right behind her – a protective move, shielding her from the more raucous guys in the mosh pit.

  ‘Why won’t you cut loose!’ she yelled at him. ‘This is awesome!’

  He grinned at her, sliding his arm around her waist, pulling her into him he shouted in her ear, ‘I’m enjoying watching you too much.’

  Amelie felt everything melt away from her, the thumping groove of the music, the closeness of Maxx’s body, the energy of the crowd, and the arm that ran almost possessively around her. She turned to him and looked up into his eyes. For a moment he looked at her, curiously, before understanding her intention. She lifted her head up, and he leaned into her – when she was once again tossed sideways with a huge whack.

  ‘Oh shit!’ Amelie said as she hit the floor, landing awkwardly on her arm. Hands were immediately thrust down from all directions to pull her up; she searched desperately for Maxx’s. He had been swallowed by the crowd, so she accepted one from a girl with bright red lips and a black slip dress.

  ‘You okay?’ she shouted.

  ‘Fine!’ Amelie said, shaking off the pain in her right arm and craning her neck to find Maxx.

  ‘He’s over there,’ the girl pointed to him. ‘You better go save him!’

  ‘Thank you!’ Amelie said, pushing towards him.

  ‘That’s that boyband singer, isn’t it?’ she heard the girl shouting as Amelie fought through the crowd.

  Maxx was pinned to the far wall by a couple of girls who were pushing right up against him – one holding up a phone trying to get a selfie. He looked uncomfortable, ruffled and alarmed, until he saw Amelie.

  Amelie pushed through the mob, and this time it was she who grabbed Maxx by the hand, pulling him out of the crowd, down the stairs and through the doors onto the street. As the chilly evening air hit the sweat on her body, she felt immediately cold and alert and pulled her hand away. And then she felt the first drops of rain fall on her arms.

  Maxx, sweaty, dishevelled and out of breath, looked achingly hot. He stared at her curiously. ‘Are you okay? You fell. I’m sorry, I couldn’t find you.’

  ‘Let’s go find the others,’ she said quickly, her head spinning, her vision blurred. ‘I’m a little drunk.’

  CHAPTER 25

  To Hell With Good Intentions

  They squeezed through the narrow entranceway, past the smokers huddled round the awnings, and into a large room with a small stage at one end and a bar at the other. It was filling with all types of modern punks: dip-dyed rockabilly girls with huge tattoos running down their arms and flowers in their hair; men with undercuts and facial piercings in white singlets and ripped jeans. Lotharios, bohemians, groupies of all genders. Band T-shirts. Beards. Piercings.

  They pushed on through to where Maisie and Clint had found a cosy five seats around a small table.

  ‘Yes!’ said Amelie, delighted to get off her feet.

  She looked up to see Maisie ever-so-subtly sliding across so that Maxx could slide in next to her. Amelie felt Maxx’s thigh up against hers and she picked up her water to try to focus on anything other than his touch. It was quieter in here, and dark, and Amelie felt yet another rush of excitement. In her tipsy haze any thoughts of Dee or Charlie faded away and she decided to just bask in the feeling.

  ‘Your father will kill me if you drink any more,’ Maxx whispered.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not drinking any more now. I’m just going to sit here next to you and listen to some nice music. And try not to fall asleep on you,’ Amelie smiled brazenly.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind that,’ Maxx said, looking at the guy on stage adjusting his amp, and Amelie felt her stomach tighten and her toes curl. She smiled without turning her head to look at him, and felt his thigh press more firmly into hers. Their hands were just a few centimetres apart.

  Amelie didn’t care that his on–off girlfriend was arriving the next day, didn’t care that he was going to re-record their track with her vocals, didn’t care that she was leaving tomorrow and might never see him again anyway. She had never felt such a warm and delicious feeling as the one she felt right now, sitting right up next to Maxx, the warmth of his body matched by the warmth in her stomach. Tonight she could believe that he felt the same way as she did, and enjoy it for as long as she could without worry or guilt.

  The guy on stage plugged his electro-acoustic guitar in and spoke gently into the mic.

  ‘I’m going to play a song I wrote for my mother,’ he said earnestly. ‘Who I miss every day.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Clint whispered. ‘Interest level plummeting.’

  ‘Mother, I miss your face, a woman’s worth is measured by her grace. You birthed me and dressed me, and fed me and changed me …’ he sang, finger picking just two chords, in a piercing, whiney high-pitched voice. It was a completely failed falsetto, though there was no stopping him from wailing away.

  ‘It’s a faux-setto,’ Amelie laughed.

  ‘A fucked-setto, you mean.’ Maxx took a sip from his beer.

  ‘It’s gross. Too much information.’ Maisie stifled a giggle.

  ‘Dorkward,’ giggled Clint.

  Amelie took another sip of her water, and leaned down to grab her phone out of her bag, her hand brushing past Maxx’s on the way down. She fished around and pulled it out, and unsurprisingly had a text from both her mother and father.

  ‘Gah. I’d better reply,’ Amelie moaned, reading through them.

  FROM DAD: Have fun tonight, Tell Maxx I will kill him if you get too drunk and/or miss your train. What a great week. Proud of you. Have fun in Paris and let’s chat when you get back. Dad. X

  TO DAD: At open mic nite. Drunkin’ water. Love you

  FROM MUM: Don’t miss your train! Mum x

  This text was followed by an emoji of a cable car, a ‘thumbs up’, a glass of beer and a tree. Or was that the Eiffel Tower? Amelie shook her head laughing.

  TO MUM: I won’t. M packed n ready. X

  As the small audience clapped, a young punk bartender in a flannel shirt with a spike through his septum came around to collect the glasses from their table.

  ‘Hey, um … excuse me …’ he said to Maxx. The table went immediately quiet, and Maisie elbowed Amelie.

  ‘Hi,’ Maxx was polite, but if you knew him, you would know his voice was a little clipped.

  ‘Have we m
et? Are you Jean’s brother?’

  ‘Joan? No. Sorry.’

  ‘No, Jean.’ The barman looked confused. ‘I’m sure I—’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’m not from London.’ Maxx gave a quick smile, trying to wrap things up.

  ‘God, you look familiar,’ the barman persisted, shaking his head. ‘Sorry, I’m sure we’ve met before. Oh god!’ The penny dropped. ‘You’re from that boyband. Sorry to intrude, mate, how embarrassing.’

  ‘No worries.’ Maxx looked back to the stage and took another sip of his beer. As the bartender turned to walk off, Maxx smiled at the others, whose faces showed a mixture of embarrassment and concern. ‘Don’t worry, it happens all the time. I’m so used to it. It doesn’t bother y’all does it?’

  ‘What?’ Amelie looked up at him. ‘You don’t mind being spotted?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s not a big deal. It’s not like they know I’m recording – that’s the thing I wanted to keep shtum. I’m just a guy from a band on a night out. It can’t be much fun for you guys, though. Sorry,’ he added quickly.

  ‘No problem for me,’ Julian said, while Maisie nodded in agreement and looked at Amelie.

  ‘Anyway, look who’s behind the bar,’ Clint offered. They all turned to see Pete Doherty pulling a pint and spinning a yarn for a star-dazzled young man, in full Libertine performance mode. ‘You can’t compete with that, my friend,’ Clint laughed.

  Amelie shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, while taking another sip of her water. The next performer took to the stage – a white-haired girl with a candy-pink dip dye and long, white flowing dress.

  ‘It’s Dee,’ she whispered.

  Maxx rolled his eyes. ‘She has spawned a thousand sound-alikes. You should see the covers of her songs on YouTube.’

  Amelie detected a hint of bitterness in his voice, and felt ashamed that it gave her pleasure to hear him talk in a disparaging way about Dee. She watched with fascination as the girl even opened with a cover of Dee’s first single.

  ‘You must be looking forward to seeing her tomorrow?’ Amelie was now unashamedly digging. ‘You’ve been apart for a week or so now.’

  Maxx laughed. ‘Apart? Yeah, I guess so. I’m looking forward to finishing the track. It’s going to be so brilliant.’

  ‘So, you are still together?’ Amelie blurted out.

  He turned to her suddenly. ‘What? No, no. We broke up months ago. It’s not public yet. I always forget people think we’re still together.’ He smiled reassuringly at her, and there was a moment of pure electricity before Amelie turned quickly back to the stage.

  ‘That reminds me, I need to give you something before I go,’ Maxx continued.

  ‘But I won’t see you, I’m leaving in the morning.’

  ‘Damn.’ He smiled at her. ‘You’re going. I’ll leave it with your dad.’

  Amelie felt the room begin to come into sharper focus, and her head was starting to clear. She realised she desperately needed the toilet.

  ‘I’ll be back.’ She moved to stand.

  ‘Yeah, but I’ll be back in Memphis.’

  ‘No! I mean, I need the loo,’ Amelie laughed.

  ‘The loo?’ Maxx mocked her accent.

  Amelie hit him playfully, smiling.

  ‘Get a room, you two,’ Clint teased, making Amelie blush as she pushed her way through the sea of tables.

  The toilet had a long queue, and she could hear the giggle of a couple of girls inside taking their time, doing god knows what, and the wailing from the Dee-lookalike singer, who had exchanged her guitar for a mandolin.

  ‘Girl needs blisters,’ Amelie said to the girl next to her in the queue.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Blisters on her fingers. She needs to practise.’

  The girl smiled at Amelie, still not really understanding, and Amelie’s thoughts drifted back to Maxx. His eyes on her, his unbelievably warm and comforting smile, his hands brushing hers. Maxx. Who was not in a relationship with Dee.

  The toilet door swung open and Amelie rushed to lock the cubicle behind her.

  ‘Gotta go. Literally!’ Amelie shouted. She tried to take a deep breath but felt her chest tightening, making her unsteady on her feet, the broken cubicle light occasionally flickering on and off added to her sense of disorientation. She sat on the toilet with the seat down and put her head between her legs, trying to stop herself feeling sick.

  She looked up at the walls around her, the graffiti scratched into the paint, stories of who loves who, confessions, and declarations of war. An A4 poster with the venue’s gig guide from last month was taped to the back of the door, though it was impossible to read under the flickering light above her head.

  She thought about Maxx and Maisie and Clint back in the other room and wondered if it would be possible to slip out and send them a text once she was home. But her bag and phone were still tucked under the little table. She tried to pull herself together, when there was bang bang bang on the door!

  ‘Amelie?’ Maisie’s voice was full of concern. ‘Are you being sick?’

  ‘No, for god’s sake.’ Amelie was relieved to hear her friend’s voice.

  ‘What’s going on? Mandolin lady is finishing up, if that’s what you’re hiding from …’

  ‘I’m coming.’ She unlocked the cubicle, and Maisie gave her the look.

  ‘Jesus, what’s happened. Let me fix your make-up. You look like you’ve been crying?’

  Amelie looked at her friend, feeling doe-eyed and vulnerable. Maxx. She needed to say it out loud. ‘I think I really like him. I mean, I’m falling for him.’

  Maisie gave her a big hug. ‘I think he might feel the same, the way he looks at you. I mean, I don’t want to wind you up unnecessarily, but you’re like a couple of lovebirds in there. It’s super sweet.’

  ‘And he’s not with Dee.’

  ‘Okay, wow.’ Maisie said, surprised. She pushed past the queue and back into the bar. ‘Well, did he tell you that just now?’

  ‘Yes. He said they broke up months ago. But he still seems so attached. I dunno. The way he was watching her at the gig. And they’re doing this duet. Oh god, she’s so beautiful and talented. I can’t compete with that.’

  ‘Amelie,’ Maisie said firmly. ‘Enjoy tonight. Enjoy his company. He’s going back to America and this – whatever it is – is just for tonight. Just enjoy yourself. Quit with the second guessing. He seems straight up to me.’

  Amelie squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘Thanks, Maisie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  ‘Also, I have a slight confession to make.’

  Suddenly, Amelie was aware someone was calling her name. As the room came back into focus she realised it was someone on the mic.

  ‘Amelie Ayres?’ said the voice.

  ‘You didn’t!’

  ‘I did. Well, Julian and I did.’ She smiled as the microphone squealed with glass-shattering feedback.

  ‘Why does that ALWAYS happen?’ Maisie said, covering her ears.

  ‘It’s like a fear klaxon,’ Amelie said, remembering her audition.

  She squirmed, but was totally trapped. She looked across at Clint and Julian and scowled, and then she saw Maxx’s face.

  He smiled at her and nodded his head towards the stage. ‘Do it!’ he mouthed, grinning.

  ‘There she is!’ shouted Julian, pointing her way.

  Amelie looked at Maisie and then back at Maxx.

  ‘Fuck it,’ she said, as she took a deep breath and marched forward to the stage. ‘I have literally nothing to lose here.’

  Amelie took to the stage, picking up the house guitar. She looked out, the basic lighting shining into her eyes, obscuring most of the room – she knew they were there, but she couldn’t see them. She looked across to Maisie, who looked like she might explode with excitement, and then she locked eyes with Maxx, who smiled in gentle encouragement. With the warmth of the wine in her veins and the first flush of love in her heart, she began to play.

  This was
nothing like the studio, or at home uploading anonymous tracks to invisible listeners. Here in this room, with people watching, there was a warm exhilaration that lifted her up and transported her right into the heart of the lyrics.

  As she played the last note, she closed her eyes, and heard gentle clapping fill the room. She opened her eyes and, as they adjusted to the light, she grinned over at her friends.

  ‘Hi, everyone. I’m Amelie. I think I’m allowed to do another song but I’m going to need help from my friend.’

  She looked at Maxx who, for the first time, looked more uncomfortable than she did.

  ‘Come on, Maxx. Don’t leave me hanging,’ she begged.

  Maxx sighed, looking down at his hands, before taking a slow and steady sip on his drink. Amelie’s heart began to sink. Come on, Maxx, she thought. They’ll love you.

  He stood up slowly and shook his head at her. He seemed annoyed and she felt her cheeks begin to burn. The silence in the room hung heavy. Just as Amelie thought he might turn to leave, he began to slowly walk towards her. He stepped up on stage and, like a pro, pulled a stool over and took a seat.

  ‘Hi, I’m Maxx,’ he said into the mic while he shook his head at Amelie. ‘Max with one X. Max Cooke’. He paused to smile to himself. ‘And this is a song that she basically wrote most of.’

  ‘You should play it,’ he said, nodding at the guitar.

  As their voices wound around each other in beautiful harmony – and as they stared into each other’s eyes, Amelie knew that she was utterly, completely, hopelessly falling for him. She remembered his words, that first day in the studio. It’s just acting. You just have to pretend.

  It was just pretend. But she was happy to get lost in it.

  CHAPTER 26

  Sleepless

  Max knew it had been a reckless, but for the first time in years he felt good.

  He hadn’t meant to do more than accompany Amelie on that one song, but sitting up on that stage, playing in that authentic, pared-back way – this was what he wanted. And there was no stopping him.