This Beats Perfect

by Rebecca Denton

  Well, that kind of explained it, thought Amelie. Maybe the break had changed Max’s mind. She was annoyed at herself for thinking of him and closed the social network windows abruptly, then she saw a notification in her inbox.

  ‘Maisie!’ she called. ‘There’s an email!’

  Maisie came rushing through, tossing a tea towel onto the growing washing pile in the corner of the lounge. ‘I did your dishes. And the kitchen.’

  ‘I can’t read it!’ Amelie said, covering her eyes. ‘You have to!’

  Maisie leaned over the computer and fiddled with the screen. ‘How do you …? Um … that’s it. Do I just click on the one at the top?’

  ‘YES!’ Amelie yelled through her fingers. ‘Oh god, what does it say?’

  ‘It’s just loading.’

  They both waited a moment as the computer took its time, slowly opening the window and then loading the image-heavy message.

  ‘Jesus. The suspense,’ Amelie whined.

  ‘Okay, okay, it’s up.’ Maisie started to read out loud, ‘Thank you for your entry to the Music in the Park wildcard placement competition. The panel have watched over 1000 entries …’

  ‘Oh god.’ Amelie’s heart sank.

  ‘ARGHHHHHHHHH!!!!’ Maisie shrieked.

  ‘I know. It’s okay, really.’

  ‘Listen! Listen! … and have decided that we would like you to represent us on the main stage. Congratulations, Amelie Ayres! Please fill in and sign the attached form to formally accept the place, and return it to us by the end of the day today. The public announcement will happen on YouTube at one p.m.’

  Amelie felt a smile creep across her face. ‘I did it.’

  ‘YOU DID IT!’ Maisie threw her arms around her friend and they hugged and screamed, jumping up and down until they collapsed onto the sofa in a heap.

  ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘I can, Amelie. You’ve worked so, so hard. You’ve worked hard and dedicated yourself and you’ve achieved what you set out to do. That is amazing. No one can ever take that away from you. Oh, your mum and dad will be so happy for you!’

  ‘I’m so happy. I can’t believe how good this feels,’ Amelie said, knowing the chat with her mum had to be next.

  Maisie jumped up. ‘Let’s get prosecco!’ She clasped her hands together, buzzing with excited energy. ‘I know a place that will serve us on Broadway Market.’

  ‘No, I just want to lie here for a sec,’ Amelie said, basking in the warm, delicious feeling that was radiating through her. ‘Then I need to call Mum.’

  ‘Oh, how can you just lie there!? We have to celebrate somehow!’

  Amelie smiled at her friend. Her energetic, excitable, beautiful friend, and felt a surge of compassion and love. Maisie handed her the phone and got up.

  ‘Okay, I’ll take a shower, you call your mum and afterwards, we have to celebrate. Okay?’

  ‘You got it.’

  Amelie waited until she heard the bathroom door shut and the shower run and then she snuck into her room and turned on her computer. She logged onto SoundCloud while she dialled her mother’s number, who answered immediately.

  ‘Amelie, I’ve been waiting by the phone. Tell me!’

  ‘Hi, Mum.’

  ‘Yes, darling. You didn’t get it? Or you got it? Amelie, tell me!’

  ‘I got it.’

  Amelie heard a loud crackle and the muffled scream of her mother, and couldn’t stifle a laugh.

  ‘Wow! Amelie, I’m so proud of you. I wish I could kiss you!’

  ‘I wish you could do. Maisie wants to go for prosecco. You’d love it.’

  ‘Oh, my darling, I’m so happy for you.’

  ‘Come back to London,’ Amelie said bluntly.

  Her mother sighed. ‘Amelie, we’ve talked about this. I just need this summer here, and then we can do what we want!’

  ‘We both know it’s not just the summer. Mum, it’s my last year of high school and really, probably, my last year at home. My music is here. Dad and the studio are here. My best friend is here. And I want you to be here too. In our little flat by the park. For one more year.’

  There was a silence on the line and Amelie knew her mother had heard her. Really heard her. She felt her stomach tighten and desperately wanted to reach out to her, but she held strong.

  ‘Oh, darling Amelie, I wish I had your determination and drive. When I watch you with your music, you’re so dedicated. You get that from Mike, lord knows, you don’t get it from me.’

  ‘Come home,’ Amelie said again.

  ‘I’ll think very hard about it, darling. I really will.’

  ‘Look, I have to go, Mum. There’s something I need to do.’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Amelie clicked on her SoundCloud profile and then ‘Update Image’. She searched on her desktop for a photo and found one of the headshots Maisie had taken in Paris. She clicked upload. She clicked ‘Edit’ and changed her display name to Amelie Ayres, her location to London. She then did the same on her YouTube channel.

  When they were both updated she looked at the screen. This was it. She hit ‘Share’ – and posted a message to Facebook and Twitter.

  You guys. I wanted to share some music I’ve been writing. If you like it, it would be great to connect. AAx

  CHAPTER 31

  Sun It Rises

  Max sat back in the swing on his parents’ porch, his father next to him plucking their family brand of country blues, just as he had for so many years when Max was growing up. It was hot and humid, and the smell of damp foliage and rotting magnolias filled the air with the heady scent of his childhood. It had been almost a month since he’d arrived at the meeting in New York to announce he was going solo and leaving The Keep, and he was nearly out. The rest had done him good; he was relaxed and ready to continue his next chapter.

  At the meeting, Geoff leaned back in his leather chair with his chest hair exploding out of the neck of his Hawaiian shirt.

  ‘Okay, I guess I win,’ he said, with raised eyebrows.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘With every pop group we create, me and the marketing team pick a horse. I mean, a member. You know, who will leave and go solo first.’ He smiled mischievously. ‘I picked you. Jacob out there went with Kyle, but I told him Kyle would come out before he got out.’

  ‘Oh.’ Max would have been angry if he’d had anything invested in Geoff or this record label, or anything to do with The Keep any more.

  ‘Anyway, the writing was on the wall after that stunt you pulled in London. Playing an open mic night? Fuck me. Rookie mistake, kid.’

  ‘Sorry about that. I got overexcited, I think. Yeah, it was dumb.’

  ‘Here’s how it will work,’ Geoff said, leaning forward and picking up a piece of paper from his desk. ‘You need to take a cooling-off period of one month, as per your contract. During that time, we will prepare the rest of the band as a four piece – I’m assuming you haven’t told them yet?’

  ‘I’m meeting the boys for lunch. Everyone’s here for the Christmas single video, so it seemed like a good time.’

  ‘Okay, cool. Well, you won’t need to do the shoot. We’ll pull your vocal. You can tell them that. Whinging little pricks. This is going to be a pain in my goddamn ass. Charlie will be thrilled, mind. Might get some lead vocals back,’ Geoff said, before adding with a smirk, ‘Or not.’

  Max shook his head.

  ‘You need to tell them this is TOP secret. They can’t tell anyone, Max, and neither can you. Got it? I’ll arrange for them all to come in tomorrow.’

  ‘After the month is up, we will get you all back together here in New York to put a statement together about the split. You need to follow our narrative for that, I’m afraid.’

  He smirked at Max, who was staring at the gold records on the wall behind Geoff; a catalogue of boybands and girlbands who had been through these doors over the last twenty years. He was just another one – another one who l
eaves to go solo. Even in leaving the band he was a cliché. It was inescapable.

  ‘Okay, so we do a press release or something?’

  ‘Yep. You are then contractually forbidden to record or release any new material for a set amount of time. Maybe another month or so, I’ll need to check.’ Geoff put his hands on the desk. ‘I know you’ve been recording with Dee. We might be able to find a way to work with that, but the record will have to be released under us, and maybe on Dee’s album, due to her contractual obligations. I’m not sure off the top of my head how that will work. I’ll need to speak to Legal.’

  Max was floored.

  ‘So, do you want to head back to Memphis? What are you going to do for the month? You can’t give anything away or you’ll be in breach of contract. To be clear,’ Geoff said, handing Max the piece of paper he’d been holding. ‘You will actually be in breach of contract if you take one step out of line in the next month. No one can suspect you’ve left.’

  ‘Why do we need a cooling-off period?’ Max asked, feeling aggravated. ‘I’m not going to change my mind.’

  ‘We need some time to decide how we want to present your story.’

  ‘My story?’

  ‘Why you’re leaving.’ Geoff picked up the phone. ‘Can you send Alexia in please? … Yes, your story. As to why you’re leaving.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to just ask me?’

  ‘I already know. You think the band is shit, embarrassing, and you’re old enough now to know that we’re the ones making the real money off your talent and you feel trapped? About right?’ Alexia walked in.

  ‘Hi, Max!’ she said cheerfully.

  ‘Hi, Alexia,’ he managed to squeeze out.

  ‘Can you tell John in Legal that Max will need to speak to him? Tell him to pull out the exit contracts?’

  It was moving so fast Max’s head was spinning.

  ‘Max, we’re sorry you’ve decided to go. But I’ve seen so many bands come and go in my twenty years here, I’m not going to beg you to stay. I’ve seen the tension building and in my experience it’s better to have someone go quietly than force them to stay and dance like a monkey to my tune. Literally.’

  ‘I guess that’s good.’ Max stood up. ‘So, one month then, and I can do whatever I want?’

  ‘Pretty much. Just not the Dee record, remember. I’ll contact the studio and get a copy of it, unless you could send one? We’ll take it from there.’

  ‘I’m not using the recording,’ Max said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘There was a better version, with a local singer.’

  For the first time, Geoff looked surprised. ‘Oh. Does Dee know?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I guess there’s no issue then. One month,’ he reminded him. ‘We’ll be in touch. Go back and spend some time with your folks, Max. I know you want to just get on with the next chapter of releasing some angsty fucking rock pop or a cover of “Freedom” or whatever, but trust me, taking time out is the best thing for your career right now.’

  ‘Okay.’ Max stood up and, to his surprise, Geoff walked around the desk and put his hands on his shoulders.

  ‘Kid, you’re a good musician. It’s a shame your career has been completely fucked by your decision to join The Keep, but maybe you can claw back a small ounce of integrity, somehow. I hope you can. There are not many youngsters I feel genuinely bad about putting through the factory – but you’re one of them.’

  Then he hugged him. A sweaty, stinky but sincere hug.

  ‘Good luck, Max.’

  And that was it. He was out of The Keep. Like so many things in the music business it was unceremonious, and a little bit dirty, and over quickly.

  *

  Max’s mum came out onto the porch and sat down next to him.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry we’re losing you,’ she said, resting her hand on his. ‘It’s been great to have you back.’

  ‘I missed you too, Momma.’

  ‘Are you ready for this?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Yeah, I’m ready,’ he nodded.

  His dad stopped playing and put his guitar down.

  ‘I’m proud of you, son,’ he said. ‘I mean, we’ve always been proud of you – but this feels right. You should never have been in that goddamn—’

  ‘Honey …’ Max’s mum warned his father, as she always did, when his temper was rising.

  ‘Well, Dad, it made me a lot of money,’ Max said, pointing to the beautiful but totally beaten up 1967 Chevy he’d bought his father – he knew he would like nothing more than to spend a good five years banging away in the shed fixing it up. ‘Even if you won’t let me fix the drive.’

  ‘Gah,’ his dad said, nodding at the car. ‘It’s going to take a lot of work, that car.’ His way of saying it was perfect.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ Max’s mum asked, rubbing his arm.

  ‘No plan really, Momma,’ Max sighed. ‘I’m going to go to London for a while. Then, I’m not sure.’

  ‘A long way from home,’ his mum sighed.

  ‘Well, I can come back more often now. I won’t be tied up in big world tours any more.’

  ‘That’s good news for us, honey,’ she called after him as he headed back inside.

  He hadn’t heard from Amelie, but on a number of occasions had tried to work out what she might be doing. She was on Twitter, although she hadn’t tweeted in weeks. He could see she was on Facebook – she had a photo of her old guitar as her profile picture – but since they weren’t friends he couldn’t see if she was active there. Nothing on her Instagram either.

  But that morning something changed. He’d flicked through the usual places to get a hint of what she was up to, and there was a tweet.

  @callmeamelie98: I’m alive. And I’m delighted to be playing at Music in the Park on the main stage this Saturday. Come say hi!

  She’d attached a link to the festival website where he skimmed through the main stage listings and saw that she had won the Google place for unsigned talent. ‘Amelie Ayres’, it read, ‘Google Unsigned Artist Winner’. She was on at four p.m. There was also a link to her winning entry, he clicked it.

  There she was, sitting on the stairs playing the guitar he had given her, singing a beautiful song of her own. A quirky and complex arrangement, beautifully written and perfectly executed.

  He wanted to speak to her so badly, his heart lurched.

  He picked up the phone and rang her father without hesitation.

  ‘Hey, Mike.’

  ‘Max? How are you doing? You never collected the masters.’ He was straight down to business.

  ‘Oh yeah, it was legal things, with the label. A long story, but I want to come back and pick them up in person.’

  ‘Okay, that seems a bit unnecessary.’

  ‘I heard Amelie got a place at Music in the Park?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Mike said, slightly hesitantly. ‘She did. I’m so damn proud of her.’

  ‘It’s brilliant news.’ He paused awkwardly. ‘I want to thank her myself. Is it possible, I mean, could I get her number?’

  Mike said nothing for a moment, and then his voice stiffened. ‘Sorry, mate, I can’t do that.’

  Max could tell by his tone that that part of the conversation was over. ‘Okay, no worries. Well, tell her I asked after her.’

  ‘Will do,’ Mike said. ‘When are you coming then?’

  ‘Maybe Friday?’

  ‘Oh, that soon. Okay, well I’ll have Julian pick up the masters then.’

  ‘Great. I’ve been writing. A lot,’ Max said nervously. ‘You were right. I wasn’t ready before but I think I am now.’

  ‘Well, you just call me and I’ll find the time.’

  ‘Thanks, Mike.’

  They hung up and Max wondered what his next step should be.

  He went back online and looked through Amelie’s followers on Twitter. Since the incident with Charlie there were many of them to go through, but he was determined to find Maisie.

&n
bsp; After about thirty minutes, he came across @aMAISIEng1 and recognised her face immediately. He clicked on her timeline and was thrilled to find she was active. He kicked himself for not checking sooner – there were a bunch of pictures of the two of them in Paris days before, including a gorgeous shot of Amelie that wouldn’t have looked out of place as a cool arthouse album cover.

  He had a quick look at Maisie’s profile and realised with delight that she was following him. He opened the direct message box:

  TO MAISIE: Hi. Sorry to bother you, but I want to contact Amelie. Could you ask her if I can have her number? Thank you so much. Max.

  Then he opened his phone and texted Alexia.

  TO ALEXIA: Can you help me with one last thing before I lose you?

  TO MAX: Absolutely. Still so sad you’re going. What can I do?

  TO ALEXIA: I need a ticket to London. For Thursday if poss. And can you find me a hotel in east London?

  FROM ALEXIA: You got it.

  He ran upstairs to pack. It didn’t take long to throw his stuff back into his suitcase and organise his passport and the rest of his belongings.

  Almost immediately he got a notification from twitter.

  FROM MAISIE: Hi Max. Nice to hear from you. I’m sorry but I don’t think you should contact Amelie. Sorry. Take care. x

  It was all so strange. He didn’t understand what was going on, the only thing he could think of was getting to London.

  CHAPTER 32

  The Ballad of Beginnings

  Amelie and Maisie climbed out of the car, Amelie’s guitar in her hand and Maisie carrying a backpack filled with bits and pieces for backstage. Amelie pulled on her wellies and strode up to the side entrance of the festival. She felt a surge of pride as they approached the two girls sitting at the desk under a sign that said ‘Artists’ Entrance’.

  The sun was beating down, it was stinking hot, and the queues to get in were starting to form at the gates.

  ‘I’m Amelie Ayres,’ she said with a big smile.