Kiss Heaven Goodbye

He beckoned to Alex and disappeared through the dark doorway. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the nerve centre.’

Alex followed him down a flight of narrow steps into a damp cellar lit by a single bulb. ‘Wow!’ he said. There was barely room to stand up, but every available inch of floor space had been crammed with musical gear. They’d obviously gone to quite a bit of trouble with makeshift soundproofing using old mattresses. Unfortunately, they’d become damp and the room smelt of mildew, mixed with the heavier aromas of cigarettes and sweat.

Jez inhaled dramatically. ‘Can’t you smell it? The scent of rock.’ He picked up a guitar and shoved it into Alex’s chest. ‘Greg’s guitar. He won’t mind,’ he said.

‘Come on then, genius,’ said Pete eagerly. ‘Let’s hear what you’ve got.’

Alex looked at the ceiling dubiously.‘Shit, Jez,’ he said.‘It’s twelve thirty. What about those girls upstairs?’

‘Don’t think they’re in. Didn’t see a light on, anyway.’

‘OK,’ said Alex, plugging the guitar in; he’d had too many snakebites to care much anyway. ‘Why don’t you play me one of your songs and I’ll jump in when I can?’

‘Let’s do “Blood Money”,’ said Jez.

They launched into a raw rock ’n’ roll jam, sort of like ‘Diamond Dogs’ meets ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’. It had an interesting groove, but it wasn’t very sophisticated; Alex had no trouble keeping up with the changes, and as his confidence grew, he laid a melody over the rhythm that completely transformed the song. From the grins on the band’s faces when they finally ground to a halt, they had been pleased with his performance. Alex wished he could say the same. Gavin was a solid bass player and Pete kept the beat, but from a creative point of view the rhythm section was a desert and Alex could see he would struggle to get much more out of them. Jez was more interesting; his songs were derivative and

his voice a bit thin, but he had a huge amount of charisma and Alex thought he’d be an arresting frontman. He was filled with a bubbling excitement. Together, this band had swagger and energy and above all potential. They could be great.

‘So what do you think . . .’

The rest of his words were drowned by a loud banging coming from upstairs.

‘Oh shit,’ muttered Jez, running up the stairs. They all put down their instruments and trooped sheepishly upstairs. Jez was standing at the door talking to a girl, or rather listening as she shouted. She was pretty, with dark red hair that hung messily over her shoulders in a Snoopy nightdress that skimmed the top of her thighs. She stopped her tirade as the other boys peeked around the door and firmly crossed her arms across her chest.

‘All right, Emma?’ said Gavin with a cheeky smile.

The girl frowned heavily. ‘No I am not. It’s one o’clock in the bloody morning.’

‘Is that the time?’ said Jez with a wide grin. Alex could see that his charm was cutting no ice with Emma. Either she wasn’t the one he had had sex with, or else she was and he had somehow pissed her off afterwards. Alex thought the latter was most likely.

‘First thing in the morning I am calling the landlord,’ said Emma to Jez. ‘We’ve warned you a million times, but if you insist on behaving like an ignorant, selfish bastard, I won’t lose any sleep if you’re chucked out on to the street.’

Alex couldn’t help chuckling and Emma rounded on him angrily.

‘I’m glad you find it funny. Remind me to ask you how funny it is when you’re rehearsing out of a cardbox box in Rusholme.’

‘Look, I’m sorry. We all are.’ Alex smiled. ‘But the muse came and we had to answer the call.’

Emma didn’t smile, but even when she frowned, Alex thought she was pretty. Even in that ridiculous nightie.

‘Come in for a beer,’ he said. ‘Come on, Snoopy, you know you want to.’

She pursed her lips but a half-smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. ‘Even if you weren’t a bunch of shits, I couldn’t,’ she sighed. ‘I’ve got an essay due in on Monday and I have to do some work in the morning.’

Emboldened by the snakebite, Alex sank to his knees and clasped his hands together. ‘Please stay, we’ll write a song about you.’

Emma looked down at him. Her face was still serious, but Alex could see she was fighting hard not to laugh.

‘Who are you anyway?’ she said.

‘Alex, Alex Doyle,’ he said, getting to his feet.

‘Well listen to me, Alex Doyle,’ said Emma. ‘As soon as I close this door I don’t want to hear so much as a single note. Do we understand each other?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘All right then,’ she said and turned away, but Alex saw the grin spreading on her face.