The Hush Society Presents..., Izzy Matias [cat reading book .TXT] 📗

do that, but I can’t help it. He’s my little bro. My hand is still on his head as he nods then finally walks out of my room.

Once I finish packing the duffel bag Mum lent me, I crash into my bed. I stare at the fading stonewashed walls, the ones covered in accumulated photographs, band posters, concert tickets and gig flyers. I close my eyes for a few minutes, taking the moment in with my other senses.

The smell of burnt toast and bacon wafts toward me as the Mumford and Sons record plays on. I tug at my pale knit jumper, playing with the loose pieces of thread. Mum calls out to Tamara. With my other free hand, I stroke the strings of the acoustic guitar on my bed.

#

We arrive in Manchester before noon and exit the train into a bustling station where people walk with purpose. As we lug our bags and instruments, we search for the nearest taxi rank. Eric hauls a guitar in place of his drum kit. We’ve been informed that each Hush Society hub has a drum kit of their own, so Eric need only bring his percussion accessories and a Cajon.

Once it’s our turn, we board the cabbie.

"Where ya lads off to?" His accent is thick.

Benji hands him a small napkin with the address scribbled on it. He grunts in reply and presses on the pedal. We pass brick buildings, terraced homes, Victorian-style structures, and—one of the things they don’t have in Beverley—skyscrapers. The sun’s rays highlight the structures around me. My mouth forms a circle, and the driver chuckles.

He glances at me from the rearview mirror. "Where are you from?" I ask, curious.

"Am from Yorkshire. What’s it to ye?"

"Us, too!" Eric lights up. "From Beverley."

"How long have you been in Manchester?" I ask.

"Couple o’ years. Moved here with mah family. Ye lads are here on holiday?"

"We’re here for work," Benji replies.

"Musicians?" our driver asks, turning to a side street. It’s almost been half an hour since we caught our cab. Cassie’s flat isn’t too far from the station. Twenty minutes, tops, she had said on mobile.

Benji confirms the cabbie’s guess and Eric tells him we’re going our first nationwide tour.

"The music’s thrivin’ ere. Lots o’ young ‘uns like ye move ere for it. Reckon ye lads should do the same. It’s half the price of livin’ in London."

I’ve been to London a couple of times. Manchester reminds me of it: the size, the people, the style of some of the buildings are similar, but the vibe is different. It’s not as hectic as the city life in London.

Eric and Benji are in deep conversation with our driver, Bates—probing him about his life.

"Excuse me, Bates," I interrupt, "are we almost there? We were told the flat was near the station." The place looks nothing like what Cassie described. It’s like we’ve gone to the other side of Manchester already.

"I ‘ave no clue!" Bates chuckles, throwing his hands up. "I’ve been ere fer years and I keep discoverin’ new places."

Benji whips out his mobile. "Don’t worry. I’m looking for it on Waze right now."

"Ways?" I ask.

"How are you living in the twenty-first century, mate, and not know Waze?" Eric asks, rolling his eyes. "It’s an app that gives directions."

I peek at this mysterious new app with small whale icons that swim on roads. Benji instructs Bates that we should take a left in the next junction.

"Before ye know it, they’ll be driver-less autos."

"Actually…" Benji begins.

After two more mishaps with Bates misunderstanding Benji’s directions, we pull up to a modern structure with brick pillars. There’s a Pret A Manger right beside the building, which Benji points out as we unload our gear. Eric dashes inside with some of our items after settling the bill with Bates, who gave us his mobile in case we needed a cabbie anytime soon.

"Cameron!" Ella rushes towards me from the glass door of the building. She acts like we haven’t seen each other in ages.

Dan follows behind her. "Welcome back to the society, mate. We’re glad you’ll be with us on tour. It’s going to be mad."

"Absolutely," I say, grinning as Ella crushes me in a bear hug.

My eyes trail behind Dan and spot Cassie. She walks towards us, greets my mates first because they are inside the building unloading their gear. My gaze follows her until she’s inches from me.

"Cameron," she greets me, pulling me in a hug.

"Hi," I say as I give her a squeeze before she breaks off. There’s a waft of lavender in the air.

After weeks of messaging each other non-stop, it’s good to finally be able to interact with her face-to-face, and not through a pocket-sized screen.

"—completely zonked off," Dan says.

"Who’s zonked off?" I ask, confused, and look around.

"You!" Ella points out, giggling, and interlaces her arm with Cassie’s.

"As soon as she"—Dan cocks his head to Cassie—"showed her face…" he trails off. His hands mimic an explosion.

We burst out laughing.

"I appreciate the presence of a beautiful lady," I say with a cheeky grin whilst looking at Cassie.

"The lad’s not at all bashful, is he?" Dan pats my back and we head in with me carrying my duffel bag and two guitars. "Just your luck, too. She’s single!"

Yes! I grin and wink at her. Maybe I’ve a chance since we have been messaging each other non-stop these last couple of weeks.

Cassie smacks my arm as we pass her. Her cheeks look like they’ve been pinched. I chuckle and walk into the lobby.

Ella whispers as she goes beside me. "You’ve just got to get through the ice because she doesn’t date musicians."

Wait, what?

I give Ella a questioning look.

Is that why Cassie rejected those two lads at The Verve? They were both musicians.

Shite. I’m a musician, too. Maybe I can be the exception. But first I’ll have to find out why she doesn’t date musicians. I’ll show her that whatever her reason, I’m hoping to be the exception.

"Or at least, she hasn’t dated a musician in