I like this place. No one is afraid to be who he or she is.
Ella flips Dan off and flashes him a boyish grin as another gal from across the room calls for her. "Tune with you later, Cameron," she says slurring the words out. "I’m coming, Lily!"
Her colourful skirt sways as she saunters away.
"Is The Hush Society a record label or something?" I ask. It's been boggling my mind all night. It's not a band, that's for sure.
"It's a movement," Dan answers. "Cassie, the girl over there"—he points out the beautiful gal with deep red lips, the one I’d been staring at earlier—"is the mastermind behind all this."
"This is amazing."
"Yeah. It began in someone's house with an aim to back local musicians starting out and promote their music."
"Now you're at the basement of Tokyo Drift," I finish for him. I spot Eric and Benji milling with the crowd, as if we've belonged here our whole lives.
"The girl works magic."
"Does everyone know each other?"
"There are some regulars," Dan says. "Then they start bringing their friends and the reach grows. We've become more than spectators of this musical bonfire; we're friends."
"I brought my mates along. They're up front talking to the lads in black." I point them out individually. "I'll introduce you later."
"I see they've meet The Psychedelic Glitch," Dan says. "The Hush Society celebrates individuality and positivity." He looks around before continuing. "So as long as you've got an open, accepting mind, and don’t bring any bad karma or negativity in, we welcome anyone who loves music the way we do."
"Where has this been my whole life?" I exclaim and Dan laughs.
"Come on, let's get a good spot. The Rioteers are up next."
As we make our way to the stage, Benji and Eric approach us. Benji saunters while Eric bursts into a run and reaches me first. I introduce them to each other. Benji and Eric tell me they've met The Psychedelic Glitch, who gave them free copies of their EP. Eric waves his copy of the EP with pride, beaming at me.
"Hiya, we're The Rioteers. Thanks for coming down to The Hush Society's thirteenth episode. Don't worry, folks. We don't believe in that unlucky number, so you shouldn't either."
"We make our own luck." The lady with blazing auburn hair seated on the cajon winks.
The band starts a youthful folk melody. Within the next few seconds I'm convinced I love them.
I decide to approach Cassie, standing beside the refreshment booth.
She doesn't see me coming. Her body moves to the rhythm of the upcoming chorus. Fix you, Amelie. I'm chasing rubies tonight.
"They're fucking brilliant," I say.
She turns her head slowly, but doesn't look surprised to see me. She's braided her hair on one side of her head revealing an ear full of piercings, and is wearing a black leather jumper over a colourful printed skirt. "I'm so proud of them." She beams at me. "I was out in Milton Keynes for a gig one time. When I heard them, I knew they had to play for us."
"I'm Cameron Evans," I say.
"Officially Cassandra Cavern, but please only call me Cassie." She tilts her head to the side of her shoulder. Her nose scrunches up. It's cute. The left side of her jumper falls with the sudden movement and reveals a bit of skin. She has a gold henna tattoo of a bird in flight on her shoulder.
"How did you find this place?" she tests me. Her bracelets rattle as her arms circle the space around us. "This gig is a word-of-mouth thing."
"I heard the music from upstairs."
She looks confused.
"If you're worried about the volume, it's barely audible."
"The music called to you." She smiles.
"Lured me in and trapped me."
I peek at the table to see what refreshments they offer, but Cassie beats me to it.
"We don't serve alcohol, only coffee or tea."
I would have been devastated, but here I was talking to an artistic wild spirit. "What is this hipster place?" I tease.
"Take it or leave it," she asserts, and this reminds me of Dan's little spiel earlier.
I turn my attention back to the music. The Rioteers have transitioned to their next song. The keys of a xylophone accompany their quirky, upbeat sound. Cassie's positivity spills over to me. She's one with the energy in the room. And I am too.
I stand there and let the feeling of being alive sink in.
These are the moments I live for.
CHAPTER THREE
They say a musician's day starts at noon. Not in this household.
Tamara summoned me at seven-thirty in the morning to help her cook breakfast. Such an unholy hour.
It’s been a couple of days since I finished my A-levels and the initial awe and grandeur of celebrating a milestone has come and passed. Never mind that I’m on summer holiday. Summer only means that I have more hours to earn at my part-time jobs.
My head is heavy and my body a deflated punching bag. It’s been two days since my mates and I went to a Marmont gig at our local neighbourhood pub, and almost a week since I discovered The Hush Society, but my body’s still recuperating.
It doesn’t help that I stayed up last night tinkering with my Fender classic design acoustic guitar, even after Tamara told me to shut it.
I would much rather be getting some more shut eye, but when the big sis wants something, she won’t shut up until she gets what she wants.
At least we're tuned in to URadio, my favourite radio station. Listening to music makes getting up this early in the morning bearable. I tap at whatever's good enough as a makeshift drum kit: the countertop, Tamara's arm—she waves me off—the plastic containers. I hum along to an Arctic Monkeys song as we finish frying bacon.
The smoke creates a languid haze—a contrast to the bacon’s sharp aroma.
"Hand me the eggs and cheese, would you please?" Tamara says without looking up from the
