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

innocent. "We have to get back to recording if we want to finish this today."

"Well played." I laugh. "But we’ll sort out the details."

Eric does an evil laugh and sits back at his throne.

We spend the rest of the day locked up in the studio.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Cigarette smoke blows in my face and I cough. "You could have blown in another direction, you know."

"Sorry," Eric says, coughing, and inhales deep from the passenger’s seat. He’s supposed to be my navigator, but he’s busy playing a video game.

"For an asthmatic, I can’t believe you’re smokin’ like that," Cassie tells Eric.

"Heh."

My days are measured in stoplights, long drives, and music. When we are not driving to a new city or preparing for our gig, we look for studio rentals and lock ourselves in for the day. I don’t remember the dates, only the days.

When this tour is done, I want us to put out an EP and have a launch party—the whole shebang—assuming we have enough money at the end.

It’s not been smooth sailing, but thankfully nothing major. They’ve mostly been technical glitches, tardiness, traffic jams and arguing about the budget when someone wants to use our pooled funds for something personal, irrelevant or extravagant.

"Can we please drop by Buckingham Palace?" Amber yells from the backseat. "I’ve always wanted to meet the Queen. And tell Kate Middleton that I absolutely love her fashion sense."

I turn the steering wheel as Waze directs us to our hostel. Our gig’s not for another two days, but we decide to drive down to be able to explore the place. The small countryside lad in me begins to show as soon as we enter the city. There’s always this flash of promise, of a brighter future at a big, vibrant city such as London. London is the halfway mark of our little nationwide tour.

"BOO YAH!" Eric shouts beside me, blowing another puff of smoke and I nearly slam the brakes. The dang game!

"I told you not to do that," I chastise.

"I’ve been thinking of names for our non-profit," Cassie says. "What do you lot think about Virtuoso Camp Foundation?"

She gets a unanimous no.

"Hmm what about Music Eye Foundation?"

"Girl, that sounds like the movie Eagle Eye," Amber says.

"Truth." Eric raises his hand.

We slow down as we enter the Tower Bridge. Oohs and ahhs chorus inside the van.

"The idea is to encapsulate our vision for musicians, so when people hear the name, they know it’s an organisation about music," Cassie says once we pass the bridge.

"The Hush Society doesn’t sound like it alludes to anything music-related," Benji says.

"That’s the point. We host secret gigs, so the name has to sound mysterious as well."

"What about Ear for Music Foundation?" Eric says, finally looking up from his mobile. "Since our students—correction—our beneficiaries have an ear for music."

"Good one, mate," I say.

"Eric, that’s pun-tastic!" Cassie laughs. "It is so much fun brainstorming as a group, so different from when I had to conceptualise The Hush Society on my own."

Benji’s fingers are at rapid speed as if he’s smashing the keyboard on his laptop.

"Cass, you did not just say ‘puntastic’!" Amber bellows in laughter. "Look what you lads have done to her."

The van rings with laughter.

"Quick Benji, do an online search to see if we can save the name. If the name’s free, get a-moving on securing the handles," Eric instructs.

"Beat you to it a minute ago," Benji says. "What do you think I was doing? Updating our social media pages?"

Eric confirms Benji’s guess.

"And…the name is secured," Benji says and we cheer.

"Thank you, Benji," Cassie says. "I posted in The Hush Society’s Facebook page a few days ago that you lads wrote a song for someone fighting anxiety whilst on tour with us. There’s already buzz circulating about how it’s a great idea writing songs for causes such as that."

Benji fires through the Internet.

"What people need the most is to hear they’re not alone." I say, pressing on the brakes as the traffic light turns red. "A lot of times people are ashamed to talk about mental health because they feel like they might be overreacting or people won’t take them seriously, but it’s a serious topic." I glance at them at the rearview mirror as I talk. "I’ve never experienced a panic attack before, but I know what it’s like to not talk about something for fear that people won’t accept what I have to say—that they’ll brush it off as me making a scene, creating a ruckus—or worse, telling me I can’t do anything right."

My dad’s glares surface from the back of my mind together with the veins protruding below his jutted chin.

"I’m lucky I have Eric and Benji who listened to my mad theories and everything I had to say without judgment, you know? Other people aren’t as lucky as I am." Eric looks up from his phone and gives me knowing look.

"I wish I had something like that to go to when I was…well...you all know," Amber says quietly.

"We’re here for you now," Cassie says.

"I know. Thank you."

"And this is why it’s so important for us to set up Ear for Music," Cassie says. "We can be that support group for those young musicians who need it the most."

"Benji, Eric, what do you lads think about putting up ‘Brick Walls’ online for a pound to contribute to our fundraising?" I ask, stepping on the pedal.

"Sounds good to me," Benji says. "I don’t mind."

"What if we give them the option to either download it for free in exchange for their e-mail, so we can send them updates when we release new music or name their price? That way they can donate as much as they want, but the minimum donation would have to be less than a pound."

"Wow. I would have never thought of it that way." I applaud Eric’s marketing skills.

"I can do that," Benji says.

"Do your magic, Benjamin," Eric replies.

"I can’t believe you’re giving away your song for free," Amber quips.

"Not everyone is money-hungry like