The Hush Society Presents...

by Izzy Matias

  "You sound cray cray," Amber replies.

  "Like using the phrase ‘cray cray’ instead of awesome?" Eric says.

  "Oh, boy. Here we go," I say.

  #

  There’s a traffic jam on the highway and we’re crawling. We are less than an hour away from Bristol, but at the rate this is going, who knows?

  "I just got off the mobile with Dan," Cassie says. "He and Ella are coordinating with Kai."

  "The Pyschedelic Glitch Kai?" I ask.

  "The jolly same one who is in charge of the gigs in Bristol. They’re okay with starting the event a little later than planned, but the max they can do is thirty minutes without the crowd getting rowdy."

  Two back-to-back Hush Society gigs starting late. Not a good sign.

  "They’re playing tonight?" Benji asks. "Mark’s injury can’t have healed that fast."

  "They found a temporary drummer for tonight, but they still won’t be joining us on tour," Cassie says.

  "Poor Mark. He must be dying to play," Amber says. "He really wants to play in Manchester though."

  "If his doctor gives him the go signal then good. But it’s not smart to play if he’s not a hundred percent healed. He might worsen the injury," Eric says out of experience.

  Cassie sighs. She rests her right cheek on her arm.

  "Think positive," I say for the second time today, but still hold on to the hope that our gig will be rescheduled.

  #

  Cassie’s mobile goes off again and this time she puts it on loudspeaker.

  "Cass, where are you lot? The crowd’s gettin’ narky." Dan’s voice is choppy, but we can make out most of what he says.

  "We’re stuck on the M4. It doesn’t look like we’re going to make it on time if this continues."

  "We shoulda checked Waze," Benji comments.

  Dan curses and covers the microphone of his mobile with his hand. He relays the news to Kai and Ella. Judging by the volume of their voices, they are beside him. One of them says "cancel" before they start to quarrel.

  Cancel? I never wanted them to cancel altogether…

  "Call you back in a few," Dan says curtly before the line goes off.

  We sit there in silence, stunned at the possibility of a cancellation.

  "Have you ever cancelled an gig before?" I ask what everyone must be thinking.

  "Never," Amber replies. Cassie’s face is ashen.

  Great. This is just the trouble that Cassie needs.

  I must have some unfortunate charm following me. Our first stop of the tour our host got a panic attack due to the stress of putting together her first ever Hush Society gig. And then our car had to get water in its tank—probably from the last petrol station we topped up in—the day we move to the next city. Traffic is horrible and there’s a possibility of a cancellation because two out of the three performers are stuck on the M4.

  "Is it too far to walk to?" I ask.

  "You’ve got to be kidding," Eric says. "I’m not walking that."

  "We won’t be able to carry our gear and besides, we could get into trouble for unloading in the highway," Benji says, siding with Eric.

  "It’s too far," Cassie replies and sighs. "Look, I don’t blame anyone for what’s happened tonight, okay? We’ve just had horrible luck today."

  Cassie mobile goes off again and she answers before it hits two rings.

  This time she doesn’t put it on loudspeaker. She doesn’t say anything at first and listens to whatever Dan has to say. She tries to keep a stony expression, but her face gives her away. "I understand. Thank you, Dan. Please extend my gratitude to Kai, Ella, and the whole team. Bye."

  "So?" Eric asks, not peeling his eyes off the road. The pace picks up, but it’s not enough to get us on a continuous ride.

  "Gig’s off." Cassie’s voice cracks.

  My chest is a balloon floating into the atmosphere. At least we won’t have to perform in the presence of Callum tonight. I want to sigh in relief.

  Cassie sneezes. Her eyes are reddish.

  "Cass, this is awful!" Amber says, giving her a sad look.

  Eric and Benji express their sentiments, too.

  The tension and pressure of living up to Callum’s massive expectations have been lifted and is replaced with guilt.

  I pull Cassie into a side-hug. "I’m sorry," I whisper into her ear.

  A stain in her glowing reputation as an events organiser.

  "It’s not the expectations of people that I’m glum about. It’s the experience that they’re going to miss out on." My eyes go wide at the way she thinks. Even if her reputation is on the line, she’s thinking about others.

  It’s then I get what she’s trying to say. The community is more important than her reputation.

  I truly am horrible for wanting us to not make it, but I never wanted the gig cancelled.

  "For all you know, they’ve bonded whilst waiting for the show to start," I say. "So what about The Psychedelic Glitch’s performance?"

  "They didn’t want to perform without us. Kai’s keen on rescheduling, but no definite date yet. We’ll have to fix the itinerary again," Cassie says before sinking into the right side of my body. I pull her closer and rub her arm. At least there’s a possibility of the gig being rescheduled.

  After fifteen minutes of more crawling, the traffic gets lighter. Finally, we’re cruising at normal highway speed again.

  As we turn into the M32 towards Bristol, I glance at the time on my mobile. Huh. If they hadn’t cancelled, we might have still made it. The Psychedelic Glitch had a thirty-minute set before Amber.

  Tonight doesn’t have to be a complete waste.

  "Have they really called it off and people have left?" I ask Cassie.

  Her eyes flicker open and checks the time on her watch. She looks exhausted, but smiles. I have a feeling she knows what I’m implying. "Let me check."

  Instead of calling Dan, she fires up a message. And within seconds he replies. She shows me his response.

  Dan: Yep. ☹ Most of the lot have left, but there are a couple of old timers who decided to hang around and do an impromptu jam session with The Pyschedelic Glitch. Man, I love this community.

  I smile. "Anyone fancy going to the pub?"

  It’s time for The Fortunate Only to make their first pub appearance.

  "Pub?" Eric shouts. "Someone said pub. Time to grab a couple of good ale to salvage the night!"

  "Sometimes I want to strangle you," Amber says. "You can be so thick!"

  "What kind of pub you thinking of, mate?" Benji asks, grinning. He’s holding up his mobile. "There’s free Wifi!"

  "Work your skills, man!" I say and laugh. There’s still time to salvage the night as Eric says… just not the same way he was thinking.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  If there’s one thing I love about Bristol it’s the new places that pop up all year ‘round. Aside from Beverley, Bristol is the only other city I’m well acquainted with since Benji has a house here. The many summers we spent in this city has allowed me to see turnover of new shops, restaurants, and pubs. There are places we keep coming back to and The Seven Mermaids is one of them.

  It’s one of the oldest pubs in Bristol, but the way it’s managed is up to date—they’ve got events, live acts, and of course great ale.

  "Open mic night?" Benji asks as soon as the words The Seven Mermaids rolls out of my mouth.

  People don’t expect much on open mic night. And though there are probably other pubs hosting open mic night because Bristol is a bustling city, we love The Seven Mermaids.

  "Do you think you can get Dan, Ella, and the others to come over?" I ask Cassie. "It’s a shame to waste a night like this when there are people expecting a gig. What do you think?"

  Cassie smiles and calls Dan to relay the message. "They’ll be there," she says and puts her mobile in her bag.

  We enter the pub, welcomed by its familiar aroma—Arbor ale and pinewood—and scan the area.

  "You sure about this?"
Eric asks, doubting.

  "Yes," I say. "What’s the worst that can happen?"

  "Hecklers," Eric replies. "That’s what."

  "Haven’t encountered any of them here before," I assure him.

  "That doesn’t mean they won’t be here tonight."

  "Have some faith, will you?" I pat his back and approach the bar.

  The staff greets us with nods. "The usual?" Pam asks me, grabbing an empty pint glass ready to fill it up with one of the ales lined up on the bar table.

  "I was gonna ask if there’s still room in tonight’s open mic."

  "You sing?" she asks, surprised.

  Three of my previous musical ventures were during College, so it was the usual: play at someone’s party, or sign up for battle of the bands or at a College event if you were good enough. The last two projects I had—the one with Lewis and the punk band with Elliot—we limited ourselves to talent showcase nights or really small gigs. It’s the first time I’m juggling band practice, music composition, and a constant stream of gigs.

  "Yes," I answer Pam. "My mates are playing as well."

  "Eric and Benji?" she says.

  "You got that right!"

  "Let me ask," she says and disappears to the back as another bartender attends to the people beside me.

  "A musician, you say?" a male voice asks.

  I whip my head to face a man in his early forties. He clutches a pint in his hands. His eyes are sunken and he’s in the early stages of growing his facial hair out.

  "You heard right. We’re on tour this summer." I don’t know why I’m telling a complete stranger this, but I guess part of me wants this validated or to get a recognition of sorts—like hey! He’s on tour, so he must be good.

  Pam comes back out and approaches us.

  "Yer doing it full-time, you say?" He looks at me with a puzzled look.

  I confirm, smiling.

  He’s about to tell me something, but Pam beats him to it. "There are more than enough slots for you and your mates. Only one other person has signed up and he’s not here yet. You can go up any time. Floor’s open."

  Middle-aged man gives me a puzzled look.

  "Thanks, Pam. We’ll set up our gear and get on it!" I say, winking at her.

  "Now I know why you have that cheeky charm. You musicians," she says and giggles.

  "What cheeky charm?" I shrug whilst grinning and give the middle-aged man a weak smile before locating my mates.

  They’ve gotten a spot at one of the red couches at the corner. Dan, Ella, and The Psychedelic Glitch are there. They’re with some people I have never seen, but Cassie greets them with warmth—like old pals—so I assume that they are the community’s old timers.

  "Hey!" Dan calls out. "There’s the lad."

  "What did I do this time?" I say. "It wasn’t me."

  They laugh and I’m introduced the rest of the community. There are so many new names and I repeat them as I am introduced to them, taking a mental snapshot of each person, committing their faces and names to memory.

  "Thanks to this lad’s quick thinking, our efforts are not completely put to waste," Kai says.

  A twinge of guilt pulses in my stomach. He doesn’t know that this is what I hoped would happen…though I do regret the disappointment it brought to everyone else.

  "You lot were already out. I simply provided a different avenue for the community to still watch the live acts tonight," I say. "Now, there’s a bonus with performing in a pub: pints aplenty."

  "We don’t have these at The Hush Society," agrees Kai.

  "Hey!" Cassie calls out.

  "You have to admit the attendance would increase if you allowed pints to the show," Dan says.

  "I’ll think about it," Cassie says and gets hoots and hollers from our table.

  After we greet everyone, I motion to Benji and Eric to grab our gear from the car to set up and sound check. I can feel the nerves coming on whenever I get excited. Like a shot of espresso, I tell ya!

  We plug our gear and arrange everything like clockwork as the crowd from the pub goes on their usual business: drinking and socialising.

  My shoulders loosen up as I position my guitar in front of me. As we tune our guitars and Eric tune’s his drum kit, I observe our audience for tonight. It’s a diverse group. There are tourists—I can always tell who they are because of the way they’re always snapping photos documenting every aspect of their trip, and the way they mention "pub crawl" at least three times. There are the Uni students, old timers at the bar, and a middle-aged lot.

  "Hello, Bristol!" I breathe into the microphone and tap it to get the crowd’s attention.

  Aside from The Hush Society crew, no one else knows us. Cassie’s beaming face and words replay in my head as she told us about Callum. What if he’s wrong? What if I’m not worth this attention?

  All my life I’ve been ace at being mediocre. Always the last of three at home. I know my parents love me, but there’s nothing too special ‘bout me to get that proud, beaming looks from either of them. So what if our debut was beginner’s luck? Luck can run out.

  "Oh here we go! Mediocre entertainment train about to depart," a rather loud, slurred voice says. Ouch. He hasn’t even heard us play…

  My body tenses up. This is no stage, so the lights stay… not exactly bright, but they don’t switch it off or dim it either. I look for the culprit of the insult. It’s someone my age. He looks posh, in a collared cotton shirt with a knit sweater tied around his shoulders.

  "Shut up, Greg! You’re just bitter," another voice—female—chastises him.

  I bite my lip as my forehead creases. I love The Seven Mermaids. I don’t want to have to give them a reason to kick me or my mates out if I call Greg out.

  Mediocre.

  The word swirls around and taunts me, but there’s no backing out now that we’re on stage. I lean towards the microphone to introduce our band.

  "Hi! We’re The Fortunate Only from Beverley, East Yorkshire. I’m Cameron. These are my mates Benji Stone and Eric Baker. Hope you enjoy our short set," I say and we launch into our first song—the same one we were supposed to play at tonight’s Hush Society episode. We open with "Electrified" and follow it up with two upbeat cover songs. Even though we put as much energy into it as we can—we are exhausted after a long trip and the crowd ignores us. Aside from our loyal fans at the corner couch seat, the rest of the crowd is lost in their worlds. The audience is chatty. No matter how hard I strum and pluck or how loud I sing, there’s no use.

  We’ve completely lost them.

  I glance at Benji. His jaw is tensed—he can feel it, too. I turn around to check on Eric. His body’s rigid as he hits the snare.

  Argh! I want to slam my fist at something, anything, to let my frustration out. I can’t act like this on stage though, so I settle for curling my palms into tight balls after we end a song. I knew it! Look at their reactions. They won’t even give us the time of day.

  I glance at Pam, who smiles and nods. At least she’s listening whilst giving out orders. I guess she thinks we’re all right.

  But what if I really am a boring performer?

  Boring—that’s the worst word anyone can call a musician.

  I continue to scan the room. Did we deserve our warm reception at The Hush Society? Comparing it to this, The Hush Society feels like a shelter, a safe haven for budding musicians. Here and now: this is the real world. This is how our music may be accepted (or not) by the majority of Britain and it’s a horrific response.

  I’ve failed, but I have one more song to get through.

  I talk to the crowd as Benji prepares our gear for our final song, "Brick Walls." We agree on doing a stripped-down version for tonight since we’re knackered and Amber still has a set of her own to do.

  "Today has been a long day," I begin.

  "Who cares?" someone from the back shouts. Another person chuckles. People—probably someone from THS—hush the person.

  I curl and uncurl my palms. Not
once have I encountered hecklers during open mic nights at The Seven Mermaids—it’s like they’ve all gravitated here tonight.

  I swallow my anger down and continue. "We drove up from Brighton to perform at a secret gig—if you guys haven’t heard of The Hush Society, you better look it up. Whilst on our way here, we encountered loads of mishaps: our car breaking down, losing our mates in the hills of a city we’ve never been to before, getting stuck in horrendous traffic—only to have our gig cancelled tonight."

  "No wonder they cancelled!" The same voice continues. "You suck!"

  Benji and Eric are horrified. Eric’s face is red, almost maroon.

  My bright idea has sure gotten us into a spectacular situation, but to stop playing right here and now would be surrendering and giving up. I cover my microphone and say to my mates, "We just have to get through this last song." Even if I do want to stop right here and now. What’s the point if they hate us anyway?

  Benji nods, goes up to Eric and gives him a hard pat. Eric sighs, muttering.

  I curl and uncurl my palms.

  Halfway through the song, the heckler throws another insult. This time, I spot Amber and Cassie walking over to the heckler’s group. I can’t hear what’s being said, but I can tell it’s a quarrel about to explode.

  It’s not in Cassie’s nature—from what I’ve seen—to fight back. That bustling situation in Manchester proved it. Why pick a fight now?

  Who cares about finishing this set when Amber and Cassie might get harassed by a rude lad? I let go of the microphone stand I’d been gripping hard and glance at Pam, who seems as agitated as I am. She holds her hand up to me as if telling me to wait, so I do.

  I get the microphone from the stand, trying to interact more with our nonplussed audience as I strum my guitar. My eyes are on Pam, Cassie, and Amber.

  Pam escorts the boisterous heckler outside and Amber and Cassie walk back to their table with triumphant smiles.

  As we enter our final verse, I itch to get off stage.

  This performance is horrible. Just as I had presumed it would be. Imagine if Callum had seen us tonight?

  "Thank you for having us, Three Tuns," are my only words before we quietly pack our gear in a rush—me exhaling a loud sigh—and approach our table. Aside from The Hush Society crew, nobody bothered to clap at our performance.