CHAPTER 5
"THE DEMO"

I watched in disgust, as Lyrical raised his half eaten bowl of Frosted Flakes and poured it into his cavernous mouth. A volcano of chocolate milk and flakes flowed down his face and onto the table. He raised his arm and smeared the milk across his face, in a vain attempt to clean himself. He was like an untrained puppy, when it came to table manners.

“What are you smiling at?” Lyrical said looking up from his bowl.

“Nothing. Just happy to be sitting here with you Lyrical.”

“Yeah, whatever. There is something up with you today. You are usually a nightmare in the morning.”

What Lyrical didn’t know was that I hadn’t stopped smiling, ever since meeting Emma last night. My smile was permanently plastered across my face. My heart was beating with a musical flutter, rather than the usual dull pound. It felt amazing! I hadn’t experienced anything like it, since I was a teenager before my life in London dulled my senses to the beauty in the world. I felt like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. A big, beautiful, butterfly with big, beautiful, wings, that was ready to just fly around being beautiful and bringing joy to people’s lives.

“Where’s Loic?” Lyrical asked.

“He went to play basketball with some friends.”

“Does that guy ever stop? I bet he ran to and from the courts as well… probably with his shirt off too just to get all the housewives going. It’s not fair that he looks like that and he doesn’t even like girls. It’s a goddamn travesty is what it is.”

With almost perfect comic timing, Loic arrived. He strode out onto the deck, with his shirt off. His toned body was glistening in the sun like an oiled up Greek statue.

Loic grew up in a small town somewhere in Texas and was the son of two French-Canadian immigrants. Back in his hometown, he was a local hero after captaining his high-school football team to the county football championship two years in a row. It wasn’t until moving to San Francisco three years ago to attend UC Berkeley, that he realised his affections lay less with the opposite sex and more with the same sex. He had only recently come out to his parents, who were struggling to deal with it. He admitted to himself that he was still struggling to adjust his life to a new self-image. In reality, although he had realised he was gay, he was a long way away from embracing his sexuality.

“Put your goddamn shirt on.” Lyrical said, while spitting frosted flakes all over the table.

Loic ignored him.

“What are you smiling about Shane?” Loic said, as he turned to me.

“I knew there was something up with you this morning. It wasn’t just me!” Lyrical said, adding his approval to Loic’s diagnosis that I was indeed acting oddly.

“Did something happen at the Sweetwater last night that we should know about?” Lyrical continued, with a cheeky smile hoping to hear some dirt. I was too happy to play any games.

“Well now that you ask, I did kind of meet someone there.” I said.

“Oh reeeally? How lovely! Do go on.” Lyrical said in a mocking yet enthusiastic tone.

“It was just some girl, who came to the show.”

“Just some girl?” Loic probed to help Lyrical, like a team of archaeologists embarking on a dirt digging expedition.

“Yeah, she was in the crowd when I was playing. I talked to her afterwards.”

“Oh yeah? Did you manage to get any action?” Lyrical jumped up and almost fell off his chair with excitement.

“No, it wasn’t like that. We just had a quick chat, but there was definitely a serious connection. She knows that I play there every week, so hopefully I will see her next Sunday.”

“Oh, classic Shane Kevins right there, completely incapable of closing the deal!” Lyrical said, as he dove back in to finish his cereal.

I looked down at my watch. I couldn’t believe it. I was late again.

“Shit. I gotta go.”

I grabbed my bag and once again ran as fast as I could down the hill to the bus stop at the end of the road. I was on my way to the Sweetwater to pick up my very first demo tape! I had recorded it over two days at Justin DeBar’s studio the week before. It was finally ready! My excitement about picking it up was evenly tempered by a fear of what it sounded like. I had no idea whether it would be any good. They were the first five songs, I had ever written and I had never recorded in a studio before. I really didn’t want to be like one of those people on Pop Idol, who can’t believe they are actually shit.

“Who told you that you had a good voice?” Simon Cowell would say, with a stern furrowing of his brow.

“Well, all my friends and family say I am great.”

Cowell’s eyes would look to heaven as he leaned back in his chair, before breaking my dream in two. “Your friends and family are tone deaf. GOODBYE!”

As I had just moved halfway across the world to pursue a career in music, there was a lot riding on the demo being good.

The bus pulled up at the stop and the doors swung open. I expected to see Phil perched in his usual seat, ready to greet me with a chuckle and a smile. In his place, however, was a middle-aged woman, who sat with a scowl on her face and fire in her eyes. Her stare was daring me to ask her something, so she could have an excuse to bite my head off. I quickly paid my fare and moved down the aisle, out of her sight. The bus was oddly unfamiliar. I didn’t recognise anyone. I felt like I had just gate crashed someone else’s party. Everyone else seemed to know each other, in the same way I knew my Sunday evening bus crew. They knew I was not a regular. The conversations seemed to pause for a moment, as they looked up at the “new guy”. I sat at alone and stared out the window to avoid eye contact with the other passengers.

“The Sweetwater!” The bus driver yelled announcing our arrival.

“Thanks.” I said, as I stepped off, the bus doors slamming behind me .