The Hush Society Presents... Izzy Matias (read any book .TXT) 📖

neck down more than half of my pint. My chest begins to tingle with warmth, but it’s still not enough to take the tightness away. "I can’t believe he did this to me while I was doing my A-levels."

"C’mon, mate, you seriously wanna go down that road, tonight of all nights?"

He’s right, of course. I should be having a good time with my best friends. I should be celebrating because I’ve finally finished my A-levels, but I can’t help it. My mind keeps going back to that afternoon with Lewis.

"It’s not like I wantto," I grumble.

"He has been a dodgy lad from the beginning." Benji takes a swig from his pint.

The worst part is I quit my punk band with Elliot a week ago. Two projects gone in a week. A new record.

I picture the tightness in Dad’s jutted chin—one of the few things we have in common—and hear him say I-told-you-so.

The metallic taste in my mouth won’t go away, even as I gulp down more of my drink.

"Well…you're not the only one." Benji strokes his grizzly beard. I raise an eyebrow, but let him tell me more. "I quit my band."

"You what?" Eric's voice cuts in out of nowhere.

"Why?" I ask Benji. His metal progressive band was doing well. "You’d be throwing all your hard work away. You lads have been together for more than five years. Five years tops the longest relationship any of us has been in."

"They were treating me like utter shite," Benji says and necks down more of his drink. "Their heads blew up. They treated me as an inferior…calling me names, disregarding my opinions. It’s as if I weren’t part of the band anymore."

"I knew you guys were clashing from time to time, but I didn't know it was that bad," I say. He never told us they were belittling him. "Sorry to hear that, mate."

"Those gits." Eric chimes in. "If it’s any consolation, From Bones to Ashes are going to play one last show before disbanding as well."

I almost choke on my drink.

"Would you look at that." Benji cracks a smile. "We’re all on the same boat for once."

We haven't all been without a band at the same time ever before.

"To the unfortunate only!" Eric raises his glass.

"Don’t slight one of my favourite lines," Benji calls him out.

Eric rolls his eyes. We clink our glasses—a sort of pact that we’re in this together—and neck down the last of our pints.

"So, mission accomplished?" I ask Eric, spotting red ink on his skin.

"Hells yeah!" He shows us his arm. A number is scribbled on it.

"You couldn't have just asked her to key it in your mobile like a normal person?" Benji raises his eyebrow.

"Mate, you’re obsessed with technology," Eric says as he pretends to scan the menu.

"Get on with the digital age," Benji says.

I sing a modified chorus of Bowling For Soup's "1985" to fit our situation.

"The digital age takes away opportunities for real interaction. She held my arm, but we haven’t even gone on a date yet." Eric’s smug now.

"Date hack #374 by Mr. Baker." I laugh. "I’m keeping that on file."

"It’ll be useful—when you decide to start dating again, that is," Benji quips.

Bugger.

"It’s been three months since your Dutch bird dumped you," Eric says. "Three months! Time to get a-moving." He rubs his hands together. There's something mischievous brewing in his mind.

"I'll ask Amanda to introduce you to her mates," Benji teases.

"I don’t need help from her," I rebut. "I went on two dates last week."

A blonde waitress approaches our table.

Hallelujah!

I don’t want to talk about how I haven’t been dating much since Amelie left.

I’m not over her, but at least I’ve been seizing the moment. I ask out girls I find pretty, but it’s music that never lets me down. Never tells me I’m not good enough.

"Excuse me," our waitress says. "You guys ready to order?"

Eric gets a spicy tuna and two New York maki rolls, Benji a mushroom-tofu burger and I, of course, go for my glorious bowl of ramen. I’ve never been here before, so I order the house special: Tsukemen. The label on the menu says the noodles and soup are in two separate bowls. Ramen with a twist. How bonkers is that?

Benji’s futuristic two-second mobile alert goes off.

"This just in: they’ve added Marmont to the line-up at Willowfields!" Benji’s eyes gleam as his calloused hands grip his iPhone.

Marmont is the closest thing we have to The Gramophones since it’s bassist Callum Ford’s side-project. With his new band, Callum explored a different genre veering away from alternative rock to an indie pop sound.

"Yes!" I fist-punch the air. We’ve had tickets to Willowfields—one of Britain’s biggest music festival—since pre-sale. We’ve been going ever since we were old enough to.

"Any chance The Gramophones have come off their hiatus to join , too?" I ask as I stroke my chin.

The Gramophones—my favourite band—are from Beverley, East Yorkshire like us, but moved to Bristol after Uni. Before their hiatus they were already touring Asia and America. Did I mention they’re only five years older than me? They’re living the dream. The dream, I tell you!

"I haven’t heard any news." Eric frowns.

After we’ve devoured our meal whilst debating over our latest musical gems and speculating about secret sets at Willowfields, I head towards the bar for another pint.

I turn to my left and pass the sleek sushi station. It smells like raw fish, salt, and ginger. As I lean against the bar to order another pint, I notice the dim hallway next to it. I leave my empty glass to check it out.

There are three doors to choose from: the one at the end is for the staff, so I eliminate that. I go for the first red door, which leads to another hallway. Interesting. To my left, there’s a door with the famous "WC" sign on it.

The ambient Japanese music is gone. I expect silence, but instead hear live music. It’s heavy on percussion and rough guitars. The closest I can liken