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

to the final chorus, ignoring him. He should let me finish my song, out of courtesy, but he pushes past the crowd, shoving one of them.

I stop mid-chord.

"What’s your problem, mate?" I ask him. My voice is a notch higher. "I was gonna finish my song and leave. No need to be so rude."

He pins me against the wall and my face heats up. I smell rotting food and perspiration. What the—"Nobody steals my spot!" he yells into my ear.

I flinch at the volume then smell brandy.

"You sham!" he yells again.

I curse at him and push him away.

"Stop!" Cassie shouts beside me.

I pick up my guitar case then swing my guitar towards my back in a swift movement. I take Cassie’s hand with more force than I intend and walk away. I don’t look back, but he’s still muttering insults at us.

"I should have warned you about those kind of buskers. They’re territorial," Cassie explains. "For some of them, it’s their only way of making a living."

"He’s pissed. It’s lads like him that give buskers a bad rep," I say, walking towards the end of the stretch.

I peek at our intertwined hands.

We pick another spot where there are more people. This time, Cassie watches with the audience. Is it too much to assume that her proximity is her way of watching out for me when it’s me that feels this crazy protectiveness for her? I had to get us away from that insane bleach busker lad; he seems ready to pounce. All she did was to make me understand his point of view.

I’m on my second song when the shakiness and adrenalin from the brawl wears off. The audience of ten is clumped around me. Some of them even leave spare change at my feet. I should feel proud, but there’s this need to let those passersby— those barely giving me the time of their day—stop and turn.

I want to win them over.

Be so good they can’t ignore me.

I strum harder, sing louder, and pour all of me out to the strangers around me. The crowd dwindles down in minutes.

I launch into the next song—Hudson Taylor’s "Chasing Rubies."

My gaze fixates on Cassie. She jumps multiple times and she grins ear-to-ear. Mentally, I dedicate the song to her. It’s my ode to this moment; my way of telling her how I feel.

Everything around me blurs except her. Her eyes close. With a smile on her face, she sings along.

I leave my spot and move to her. She flashes her eyes open, hearing me approach her. With a pick in my hand, I clutch her wrist and pull her with me. Her face goes red, but I continue singing, motioning for her to join me. The audience around us whistles and claps, encouraging her. Flustered, she goes along with it and walks back to my spot—our spot.

I can’t contain the grin plastered on my face. I sing to her and she stares back at me, still blushing. I want to hold her hand, but can’t, so I try to tell her with my eyes, my voice, this moment.

It feels so good to perform for her.

As I sing the last line, the crowd erupts in cheers. I’ve forgotten about them and when I refocus, they’ve multiplied.

"Thanks for accompanying me up here," I tell Cassie.

She blushes, but retaliates—"Don’t ever do something like that again!"—then slaps my arm before re-joining the crowd.

I laugh. She looks cute even when she’s annoyed.

Towards the end of my set, two teenagers shove each other in the crowd. Cassie spots them right away and tries to stop them from fighting. One of them almost hits her when he tries to punch the other kid. I’m about to stop my performance when more yelling interrupts my momentum.

"There’s the sham!!" Bleach busker! No way! He points at me whilst talking to a man with dreadlocks who is carrying a multi-coloured ukulele. I can tell by their gestures and facial expressions that they’re angry.

The fight between the teenagers worsens. I scramble to put my guitar back in her case and zoom in on Cassie. She’s still trying to stop the fighting teens.

Bleach and Dreadlocks are ready to pounce on us. The audience is a confused mess, unable to locate the true source of the sudden shutdown of music: is it the fight? Is it the angry busking duo?

I run to Cassie, excusing myself as I pass through a couple of people. "We have to go, now." There is urgency in my voice and I signal my head towards the direction of the angry mob. In an instant, Cassie picks it up. "Uh-oh," she says and this time, she’s the one who grabs my hand and we make a run for it.

"Thas right! RUN!" Bleach yells at the top of his brandy-infused lungs before howling in what sounds like evil laughter. I think the worst is over, but when I glance back, Dreadlocks is still running after us, shouting that I stole his spot.

My head explodes into a string of profanities.

"Faster," I choke out in between breaths. My lungs are already tired from my set and being pushed to the limit as we scramble past throngs of people.

I focus on Cassie’s red Vans as we run, run, run.

She makes a sharp right turn, leading us into a narrow alley. I’m certain he’ll find us—we don’t exactly blend here—but Cassie pulls me further along and then makes another turn to a dead-end. She pushes me against the wall before risking a peep out into the alley.

"Where—" I begin, but she presses her hand against mine and shushes me.

We’re squished together in this dingy alley, hearts racing fast. It’s like I’m in a Stephen King novel, except instead of horror, we’re part of a thriller scene. I stare down at her worried expression. I move my face closer to hers, but she doesn’t notice—she’s still looking in the other direction, on the lookout for Dreadlocks.

"I think we’re in the clear," I whisper.

Her heads whips around to