Kiss Heaven Goodbye

‘Is this it?’ asked Pete with disappointment as they finally parked and climbed out of the van. It was evident from their faces that the rest of the band were feeling the same way. The club entrance was a tiny door set into a wall just off the main road: no sign, no posters; it looked like a storage room.

Disconsolately they humped their heavy gear in through the tiny door and set it up on the stage, fitting it into whatever space they could find. The sound engineer, a standard-issue balding guy in a black band T-shirt, ran around plugging cables into sockets and fiddling with the knobs and sliders on an enormous mixing desk at the back of the room.

‘All right lads,’ he said finally. ‘Can you play us something to get the levels?’

‘Shall we do “Evermore”?’ said Jez. ‘I think we should close the set with that tonight.’

Alex frowned. ‘What about “Wonderland”?’ It was his strongest song and the one they usually ended with.

Jez looked at him dismissively. ‘I thought we should mix it up a bit tonight.’

Alex felt unsettled. What Year Zero were desperate for was to get noticed. And as no one really came to see the support band, the best way to do that was to put your good material near the end, where people turning up for the main act would hear it.

‘We’re ending with “Evermore”,’ said Jez with finality.

Alex sighed. It was hard to railroad Jez into anything once he had made his mind up. The band was his baby and he was the undisputed leader. He was the one who rang all the venues and charmed the promoters and designed the posters. Alex accepted that and had no intention of usurping him; he himself just wanted to play music. But Jez had obviously become threatened by Alex ever since he had begun to take over musically. It was the elephant in the room for the band: everyone knew Alex was the better songwriter, and even with their meagre audiences, his songs got by far the loudest cheers. Jez – or Jez’s ego – was predictably in denial about it, so Alex always had to tread carefully and had become a master of psychological manipulation.

‘How about we open with “Evermore”,’ said Alex in placating tones. ‘Everyone knows you start with your best song and end with the next best. You’re right that “Evermore” is the best thing we’ve got.’ He smiled to himself. It was textbook reverse psychology: let the alpha male think it was all his idea.

‘All right then,’ said Jez, waving a regal arm. ‘It’s only a support gig anyway, isn’t it?’

‘Oi!’

They all turned to see the sound engineer standing in the middle of the tiny dance floor, tapping his watch.

‘If you ladies are quite finished, I’d like to get this sound check done before the punters get here.’

‘Hey, aren’t you that big rock star?’

After they had finished the sound check, Alex had headed straight out of the venue, wanting to get as far away from Jez as possible. Jez had agreed to the change in the set list, but as punishment, kept stopping the songs to complain about Alex’s playing or to ask him to tune his guitar properly. Head down, mind full of fantasies of strangling the singer, Alex had walked straight past the girl leaning against the railings smoking a cigarette. He looked up in surprise, then beamed. It was Emma.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Aw shucks, if I’d known you were going to come over all romantic with me, I’d have been here sooner.’

They both laughed and Alex slipped his arm around her waist to pull her in for a kiss.

‘I hadn’t expected to see a friendly face in this whole city, let alone you.’

She wrapped herself around him. ‘Hitler giving you a hard time again?’

‘No more than usual.’

‘Well, we thought you might need some support, so we drove down from Manchester this morning.’

‘Who’s we?’

‘Jemma from my course. Her parents live just outside Bath. She says you can all stay tonight.’ She sniffed at his shirt. ‘If you spend one more night in that van, I think the health and safety people are going to be after you.’

‘You mean I smell?’

‘Horribly.’ She grinned.

‘Well I’m glad you’ve got me a bed for the night, then.’

‘If you play your cards right,’ said Emma, patting him on the bum playfully. ‘And you can start by buying me a drink.’

Alex smiled as they walked hand in hand towards the nearest pub. He was glad she was here. In fact, it wasn’t until he’d seen her standing there that he’d realised how much he’d missed her. From that first night in the Snoopy nightie, it had been quite obvious she liked him, so the next day he had gone up and knocked on her door, boldly asking her out for a drink. Six months later, they were still together. Stronger than ever.