“Oh,” I said, nodding. I took a sip of my Coke, trying to cover the disappointment I was sure was plain on my face. While it was a relief to finally talk to someone about this, the idea that I could have had someone on this journey with me had been really nice. It was like until this moment, I hadn’t realized how lonely it had been.
“I just meant that my life right now is kind of similar,” he said with a shrug. “My days here are all the same. We come over from our hotel, we have a few hours free to wander around. Then we go to sound ?check, rehearse if we need to, then play the same songs in the same order. And the next night, we do it again.”
“You mean,” I said, thinking of the posters, “with the band?”
“Oh right,” he said, shaking his head. “Sorry. I’m in this band, Eton Mess? We perform for the Grad Nites here. Maybe you knew that?”
“I’ve seen the posters,” I assured him. “Why’s it called Eton Mess?”
Freddie gave me a rueful smile. “I couldn’t tell you. It’s not my band. It was put together by some music executives. I was taking a year off before uni, trying to get people to listen to my songs—”
“You write songs?” I asked, impressed.
“Yeah. I’ve been playing since I was a kid. When I was little, I realized that I could hear something and reproduce it. It’s like perfect pitch, but for instruments.”
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s really impressive. How many instruments do you play?”
Freddie laughed. “How many do I playwell? Two. I play bass in the band. I also play piano, but we don’t have keys in Eton Mess. I’ve been thinking for a while we should but…”
“I always wanted to learn piano,” I said, then immediately felt ?myself blush. I was sitting across from an actual professional musician, and I knew I’d just sounded like a total amateur. “I’ve taken a few lessons, but…maybe someday, right?”
Freddie nodded, his expression earnest. “You should stick with it. I love guitar, but there’s something so rich in the sound you can get from a piano. And I always prefer singing with it….”
“You sing, too?” I was trying hard to keep it together, but between the hair, the dimple, the accent and now thesinging, it was getting quite challenging.
“I do. Well, not that much in Eton Mess. I just sing backup occasionally—Niall’s the singer.” I nodded, remembering the guy in the poster pouting at the camera, microphone slung around his neck. “And all our songs are written by some Swedish songwriting team I’ve never met. At least that’s what they tell us. I’m partially convinced it’s some kind of AI that’s programmed to churn out pop songs. Honestly, with some of these lyrics, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
I laughed, then shook my head, trying to focus. “Wait—you said you were trying to get people to listen to you?”
Freddie nodded. “Yeah. I was in London, doing a ton of odd jobs, just trying to get my music out there, and Niall heard about the audition. There was a group being put together—they wanted a band of Brits to play in the States. And it was a great opportunity, right? I’d never been to America, I’d get paid to play music….”
“That sounds smart,” I said, taking a drink but hitting mostly ice.
“Exactly. So I said yes and came here. I’ve been trying to use this time in America to make some contacts. When we have time off, I take the train up to LA, trying to get meetings. And this music manager really liked some of my songs?—she said she’s going to be at the show tonight. I’ve assured her that what Eton Mess plays aren’t the kinds of songs I write, but she still wants to come. She says she needs get a sense of how I play live, what kind of a performer I am.”
I nodded and remembered seeing a woman at the show who seemed to be dressed a little better than everyone else there—maybe that was her? “That’s really exciting,” I said, but Freddie only gave me a wan smile in return. “That’s…not really exciting?”
“I mean, it’s a great opportunity—forme.”
I suddenly remembered what Freddie had said when he’d crashed into me—that he’d brought the soda for Niall as a peace offering. “It’s not so great for Niall?”
A ghost of a smile passed over Freddie’s face, and he shook his head. “Yeah. I’ve known him forever. We were in a band together in school. And he’s my mate—I don’t want to hurt him. He wants to make it, too, but he’s only a singer. He doesn’t play his own instruments. And I want to sing my own songs. So, if I move forward, there wouldn’t really be a place for him.”
“Maybe that’s what he gets upset about?” I asked. I thought hard, trying to remember what he’d said. “Why you’re bringing him a peace offering,” I clarified.
Freddie shook his head. “God, it’s mental you know that. So, I guess I must tell him, right? About the manager coming tonight. And he gets upset—”
“You bring him orange soda to apologize, spill it all over me—”
“Sorry, again.”
“But you still have to do it, right? You can’t hold yourself back. And this sounds like a real opportunity.”
Freddie nodded. “I know—and you’re right. But it’s not so easy, is it? To just leave people behind like that?”
I looked down at the tabletop, sweeping up some imaginary crumbs just to have something to do with my hands. “I don’t know. I think that, you know, sometimes…”
“Cass?”
