AGE 15
Islice my hand through the air in a cutting motion when my sister sticks her fingers in her ears, instantly silencing the room. I don’t blame Ash. We’re fucking terrible. Toxic Gods, my arse. We’re more like Toxic Gobshites right now. My sigh is heavy as I turn and look around at Conor, Jamie, and Aaron. We need to get our act together before Simone Sullivan’s birthday party in eight days, or we’ll never hear the end of it.
Initially, Ma had said we could have the play barn for band practice, but after a week, Da and Shane cleared out a smaller concrete shed that was full of old rubbish a bit farther away from the house for us. We all pitched in to buy a secondhand sofa and a table and chairs as well as some other bits of equipment we needed. We want this to be a creative hub where we write and perform music.
I threw Toxic Gods into the mix as a suggested name for the band, and it was the only name we all agreed on—Ash’s very vocal protests didn’t count. A few days later, Shane showed up with a large board bearing the name, tacking it to the wall, and now it’s official. My brother also got us a coffee machine. We’ve had our ups and downs, my brother and I, but he’s been reallysupportive of the band, and I’m finding he’s less annoying as I get older.
Shane graduated from UCD in May though the grad ceremony isn’t until September. He did really well, ’cause he’s a big fucking nerd. I’m hoping I did enough to pass my Junior Cert, though I’m not holding my breath. The exam reports aren’t released until October, so I’m making the most of my summer in case I get grounded for the rest of my life when the results come out.
“You’re all out of sync,” Ash says, leaning against the far wall. She’s our biggest supporter, and she hangs out with us every session. She is really excited about the band and happy for me. She wants us to succeed, and she has cool ideas, which is why we all listen to her. “Like, individually, you all play great, and you know the material, but you haven’t gelled. You haven’t found your flow.”
“What do you suggest?” Jay asks, reaching a hand up to check his hair is still intact. I swear he’s worse than a girl since he got a faux hawk and dyed the tips of his hair white blond.
“I suggest you stop drooling over my sister’s tits.” I say it low so Ash doesn’t hear.
“Can’t help it. They’re much bigger, and have you seen what she’s wearing?” He doesn’t disguise his approval as his gaze rakes over her crop top and small denim shorts.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Since Cillian and Ash started going out—and they’re clearly banging—she’s been dressing sexier. Ma and Da have no clue because she exits the house wearing jeans and a top and changes in the barn before leaving to meet her boyfriend. Her current wardrobe seems to consist mostly of crop tops, skimpy skirts, tight dresses, and high heels. My sister is beautiful, and she looks all grown up now. Unfortunately, Cill isn’t the only mate who’s noticed.
“Cill will kick your arse if he catches you.” Things are already strained between the three of us, and the dynamic has changed a lot. Cillian isn’t into music, so he’s not part of the band, and he has shown little interest in getting involved in any way. It’s only helping to highlight the divide in our friendship and the fact we don’t have that much in common with him anymore.
Jamie is pissed Cill is with Ash, though he’s claiming it’s ’cause Cillian isn’t good enough for her. With the rate the two of us are kissing girls, he’s not exactly brokenhearted, so maybe it’s the truth. I’m not completely happy Cill is fucking my sister, especially when they seem to argue and break up all the damn time, but it’s not my call to make. She says she loves him, and I’ve been warned not to interfere, so I’m trying to stay out of it.
If this is how relationships are, I want no part of it. I’m happy messing around with random girls, and my dick isn’t complaining. I haven’t fucked any girl yet, but I’m planning to rectify that this summer.
“The words are coming from my mouth, Jamie, not my fucking tits.”
Ash’s snarky tone yanks me out of my head. I thump my mate in the arm, sending him a warning look. “Ignore this clown,” I say, “and repeat your suggestions. I was zoned out.”
She rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath before pushing off the wall and walking closer to us. “I’ve been googling it, and these are the kind of issues most new bands experience. Aaron,” she calls out, peeking past us to fix her stare on our drummer. “Typically, the drummer keeps time and the other band members align to your beat. You need a click track. I’ve emailed you a link to some software you can use to create it. That’ll help you all to keep to the same beat so you’re in sync. You’re in charge of that, Aaron. You keep the rhythm, and the others will follow your cue.”
Aaron nods his head enthusiastically, rolling his drumsticks between his fingers like the show-off he is. “Cool.”
“But the rest of you need to tighten up as well.” She puts her hands on her hips, letting her gaze skim over me, Conor, and Jay. “So, you need to pick one song to master, to find your rhythm as a band, and once you’ve got that one song nailed down, then you should be good to move on to others. So, what’s the song?”
“Easy,” I say.
“‘Breakeven,’” Jamie and I say together. We lift our hands for a knuckle touch. “It’s the perfect song.” Contemporary alternative rock or pop rock isn’t really my thing, but I make an exception for The Script and Coldplay. Mostly I’m into U2, The Foo Fighters, Nirvana, Imagine Dragons, Jane’s Addiction, The Cure, Green Day, No Doubt, Fleetwood Mac, Bon Jovi, and I could go on.
Recently, Jay and I have snuck out a few times to watch local indie rock bands play in pubs and venues across the city center. We’re both over six feet now, and we look older, plus we’ve got deadly fake IDs, so getting in hasn’t been an issue.
“Okay. So, here’s how it’s going down,” Ash says as Cillian enters the shed. She hasn’t noticed him yet; she’s too focused on us. “You’ll all practice your individual parts of ‘Breakeven’ religiously, every night alone, and record it. Listen back, correct anything that needs correcting, but listen to the beat, inhale the pulse, live and breathe it. Then at band practice, you try it a few different ways. One at a time, with drums, without drums, with the click, without it.”
“Babe.” Cillian slides his arms around her from behind and nuzzles her long, wavy hair with his nose. The pussy is obsessed with her hair, always running his fingers through it or sniffing it, and I saw him fucking brushing it one time. Weirdo. “Leave the band stuff to the band. What do you know about it?”
“A lot more than you,” she snaps, pushing his arms away and turning around to face him. “Dil’s been playing guitar since he was five and explaining things to me for as long. I’ve spent hours listening to Jamie and Dillon play. Plus, I’m good at research. I don’t have to be a musical genius to discover how other bands have overcome the teething problems they faced at the start.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re qualified to tell them what to do. It’s not like you’re their manager.” He chuckles at whatever expression is on her face.
“She is,” I blurt because I don’t like the way Cillian is treating my sister, and honestly, with how invested she is, it only makes sense.
Jamie’s mouth curves into a smile as he nods. Aaron eyes me in a way that says he’s cool with it, and Conor…well, Conor exists in his own little world. He’s currently sitting on the floor smoking a joint with his guitar beside him. I’ll explain it to him later, and he’ll be grand.
Conor only moved to Kilcoole when he was nine. He lives with his grandparents, and he keeps to himself. The lad is chasing some demons, not that I’m one to throw shade. No one was more surprised when he turned up to audition than me. I had no clue he was into music or that he could play bass guitar like a fucking legend. Jamie was a little concerned letting him into the band, but I like he’s quiet and a deep thinker, and who cares if he’s perpetually stoned? As long as he plays like that, I couldn’t give a flying fuck what he smokes. Conor said he’s written some stuff too, so we’re gonna join forces and see what magic we can create with our words.
Jamie and I have known Aaron since we were little kids. We all go to the same school. Although none of us are friends per se, we know his crew, and he’s sound and a kick-ass drummer, so it was a no-brainer to let him join.
Seems like setting up the band was easy in theory, not so much in reality. But I’m confident with Ash’s help we’ll get over this initial bump. Which is why Cillian Doyle doesn’t get to spout stupid shit at my sister and get away with it. “Keep your nose out of shit you know nothing about, Cill, and if I hear you disrespecting my sister like that again, I’ll knock you the fuck out.”
