CHAPTER THIRTY
Our train has eased into the Manchester railway when Eric unplugs his earphones and pockets it.
"That was good pre-gig hype," Benji says, grinning.
"What time is it?" I ask, remembering that our stage time is at eight-fifteen.
"Six o’clock. Call time is in an hour," Benji reads the time on his mobile. "We have enough time to get there."
There's a massive commotion as we walk outside the station. Loads of people stand on the street. Some yell while others hold up placards.
Of all days to get caught up in a rally.
The moment I dive back into being in a band with my best mates we are already faced with a challenge. This first hurdle could be a sign that I shouldn't go back to playing again, but instead, I acknowledge that hurdles like these are necessary because it only makes the success worth it. Great success doesn't come easy, but it's only this time I truly understand what that means and how it's changed my perspective. There are loads of things that are beyond my control, but I get to choose how to move forward.
Eric curses at the sight of the rally and at the prospects of getting any sort of transportation in this chaos.
"Come on. There's bound to be one bus that can take us to where we need to be," I say and pat his back.
Benji smiles at me. "We can always walk there."
"Are you serious?" Eric tells him.
I laugh.
We walk a couple of streets to find a bus stop with a line that isn’t so long, but to no avail.
A light drizzle begins and Eric grumbles aloud. "We’re going to have to board a cab," Eric says when we've passed all the bus lines, twice.
It's almost six-forty. It shouldn't take long to get to the park, but there’s traffic everywhere, so we must board some mode of transportation now if we are to make it in time.
"Bates!" Benji yells as if he’s having an epiphany.
"What the fuck is Bates?" Eric yells back.
"Our cabbie," I shout, recollecting the last time we were in Manchester. "Ring him!"
Almost twenty minutes later, he pulls up at a corner that's nearest the station.
"Ze musicians!" He greets us as we jump inside. "Where ye off to?"
"Heaton Park," we yell in unison.
"In a hurry, I see." We tell him our predicament as I stare out at the buildings and skyscrapers around us. It really reminds me of London.
"So you lot are The Fortunate Only, eh? Have heard of ye lads," he says, snapping me out of my reminiscent thoughts.
"You have?" I ask. "How?"
"You listen to URadio?" Benji asks.
"My daughter attended some sort o' secret gig in London. She goes to Uni there. Says you lads were good."
At The Hush Society.
No way.
I grin.
"I'll keep an ear out for you lads on the radio," Bates continues.
"Thanks, Bates," Eric says and takes out a cigarette. He doesn't light it, though.
Our cab crawls. We’re going about three to five miles per hour.
At around seven-twenty, we’re a couple of blocks away from Heaton Park. If we wait, we might miss our set-time.
"Still think Benji’s suggestion to walk is too much?" I turn to Eric. He bites his cigarette. "We’re going to have to take him up on it."
"Oh, bollocks, fine," Eric says and rolls his eyes.
"Bates, we thank you for accommodating us in this chaotic traffic situation, but we have to get out here," Benji says, not missing a beat.
"Right," Bates replies and pulls over. As Eric pulls out a few notes, Bates motions for him to stop. "It’s on me. Enjoy Manchester, lads!"
We thank him over and over as we exit the cabbie.
"Off ye go!!" I laugh as he shoos us away.
We still need to tune our instruments and set up, so in the next couple of minutes I forget my exhaustion to focus on getting to Heaton Park in time. With Benji’s mobile as our compass, we run, run, run towards the park.
I imagine we’re in a music video where we’re under time pressure. This time, instead of using someone else’s music as the soundtrack, one of our tracks plays on loop in my head. My vision tunnels as the colours around us blur. Only Benji and Eric’s running silhouettes guide me to where I’m supposed to be. We only stop to cross roads, but other than that, we’re off like parkour specialists zigzagging around objects.
As soon as we fly through the barriers that lead us backstage, Benji’s mobile goes off. In a panic, he answers it on speaker mode.
We huff and puff as we continue our sprint backstage. I need to compose myself if anyone expects me to sing tonight.
"Where are you?" It’s Cassie.
The weird part is that I hear the voice twice.
I look ahead. There she is.
She spots us. The line goes dead.
We gasp for breath. It’s as if my heart is threatening to jump out of my chest.
"You lads know you’ve got half an hour until your set?" she demands. "You nearly gave me a heart attack thinking you wouldn’t show up…and then what would I tell The Gramophones?" Her face cracks a weak smile as soon as the last two words leave her mouth.
"They’re here!" I say and smile.
Eric and Benji freak out.
She nods, breaking into a wider grin. "They’re doing a secret set for us tonight."
We explode into a string of excited profanities. Eric clears his throat as he notices the tension between Cassie and me.
"We’re off to grab our gear," Benji says.
As soon as they leave, the smile disappears from Cassie’s face and I’m left with another aftermath of my mistakes.
"Cassie," I say and resist reaching out to her. Her eyes are hard. "I…" I can’t just tell her I’m a right foul git. Apologies with mates and an almost girlfriend doesn’t work the same way. "I am truly sorry." I start with that.
I hurt her.
I let her down
