The Hush Society Presents... by Izzy Matias (best desktop ebook reader .txt) 📕

"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: