They queued for the bar, bought two bottles of beer and then found their way to their seats. Zack was performing in the theatre space, and on stage a single spotlight illuminated the three-legged stool that was waiting for him.
Rachel cringed. With no other musicians or backing singers in sight, Zack’s vocals and guitar skills would be totally exposed. If he was good the effect could be intimate; magical, even. But if he wasn’t …
The lights in the room went out and a hush fell upon the audience. The on-stage spotlight gradually brightened to reveal Zack, perched on the stool and casting delicate shadows as he gently picked at his Gibson guitar strings.
Yes, he was wearing a trilby hat indoors, and his sheer white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel, displaying a triangle of shiny, tanned flesh. But he wasn’t a bad player, Rachel decided. Maybe Tom would have to eat his words …
I met a girl and I asked for her naaaaame,
Knew straightaway my life would never be the saaaaame…
His voice wasn’tterrible, Rachel thought …
We sat under a tree and we shared a can of Fanta,
And then she binned me off, like I didn’t even maaaaatter…
… but holy mother of God, his lyrics were appalling. Rachel felt Tom’s shoulders shaking and swallowed a giggle. She didn’t dare look at his face – that would finish her. She elbowed him as Zack continued to warble.
How could a girl so hot, with those gorgeous angel eyes,
Turn out to be a heartless bitch, her body cold as ice…
Tom snorted and Rachel tittered. She sipped from her beer bottle and tried not to focus on the words of the song. This was increasingly difficult as Zack grew in confidence, his voice soaring higher and louder above his strumming.
Of course it’s no big secret that we had amazing sex
But then you went and left me, and my heart was ripped and wrecked…
‘Did he just rhymesexwithwrecked?’ Tom whispered. Rachel doubled over, silent-laughing so hard she thought she might pass out.
She took some deep breaths and drank some more beer, and Tom did the same. By the time the song neared its end they were clutching one another helplessly. Just as Rachel thought she’d composed herself, Zack’s voice swelled again. Wailing and woeful, he belted out what he clearly believed were the final killer lines of his opening ballad:
I wish I’d known back then what I know for sure right now,
Underneath the Gucci, you’re a TOTAL FUCKING COW.
Tom was wiping tears from his eyes when he and Rachel finally looked at one another. Rachel was certain the eyeliner she’d so recently perfected was now trickling down her cheeks in black rivulets. They clapped along with the rest of the audience, most of whom were at least ten years younger than them and none of whom appeared in any way perturbed by Zack’s dubious songwriting.
‘Have we died and gone to hell, do you think?’ Tom asked, his voice low. ‘What have we done to deserve anotherhourof this?’
‘You’re kidding; this is the best fun I’ve had in ages,’ Rachel laughed under her breath. ‘If I was in hell, I’d still be at work.’
Tom raised his eyebrows, but before Rachel could say anything else the noise in the theatre petered out and Zack spoke into the microphone.
‘Thanks. Thanks for being here at my debut gig, where I’ll be sharing some of the songs I’ve written since finding fame. That was “Glacier Girl”, about a woman who really hurt me. This next one means a lot to me too – it’s called “Stiletto Heel On My Heart”.’
Tom bit his bottom lip and Rachel felt her eyes widen. Zack plucked the Hummingbird’s strings again, filling the theatre with a sweet and tender melody, which he proceeded to bury beneath an avalanche of inane lyrics.
By the time Zack began his final song – ‘Tinder Tragedy’ – Rachel and Tom had their giggles under control, despite having drunk several more beers each. Once Zack had taken his bow and they’d made their way out of the arts centre, Tom threw a wry smile at Rachel and said, ‘I hate to say I told you so.’
‘Oh, fine,’ she laughed. ‘You were right. He’s less Neil Young, more Neil from your Year 9 English class. Bless him, though, he can play, his voice is pretty good … and I do love a man who can sing. He just needs some new lyrics.’
‘I don’t know. I think the real low point was when Nate came out and started banging that tambourine during “Beam Me Up, Hottie”.’
‘OhGod,’ Rachel guffawed. ‘Poor Zack. He really thinks he’s going to make it as a singer-songwriter, doesn’t he?’
Tom shrugged, his eyes sparkling. ‘He probablywill– and fair play to him if he does. He’s not doing anyone any harm singing songs about shoes, soft drinks and sexy aliens, is he?’
