Better than Perfect. Melissa Kantor

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СКАЧАТЬ and he took a swig of beer.

      “I thought you were British,” I said, confused. “You have British accents.”

      Sinead laughed. “We were born in London. We lived there before we moved to Beijing.”

      The sound guy came over to the stage. “Okay, you guys start at nine?” His mustache was truly astonishing.

      “That we do,” said Sean.

      “I guess it’s time, then,” said the guy. “Break a leg.”

      “Thanks,” said Sinead.

      Suddenly everyone was moving around the stage, gathering instruments, talking into a mic, doing a quick roll on the drums. I felt idiotic sitting up there and being in the way. I hopped off the stage just as Declan called out, “Hey! Jules!”

      I turned around. He was holding a tambourine out in my direction. “Do you want to play with us?”

      I shook my head. “I really can’t.”

      “A cat could play the tambourine.” He shook it lightly. “Haven’t you ever dreamed of being a rock star?”

      Even if I’d wanted to play with them—which I didn’t—I was sure that shaking a tambourine would shake loose something inside me that was already barely staying attached. “No. But thanks. Really.”

      He looked at me like he wanted to ask me something, then dropped the arm holding the tambourine to his side. “See you after the show,” he said.

      The show was completely insane.

      At first, none of the people on the lawn were even remotely listening to the band. Sinead said, “We’re the Clovers” into the microphone, and I was literally the only person who noticed. As Sinead counted them in for the first song, I had enough time to try to think about how I’d have to find something nice to say when they came offstage knowing they’d bombed, and then Sinead finished the count and Declan started playing the guitar.

      The notes were crisp, almost twangy. Danny joined them on the drums and Sean started playing the bass, and by the time Sinead started singing, people were already filing toward the stage. “I found a picture of you,” she began, and her voice was beautiful but there was a slight growl to it, almost like she was mad about what she was singing. “What hijacked my world that night …”

      I’d heard “Back on the Chain Gang” before, but it wasn’t a song I stopped to listen to if I happened to be playing the radio in my car and it came on. Now, for the first time, I could feel how good it was, how the notes pushed into your blood and bones. By the time the song ended, there must have been a hundred people standing on the lawn in front of the stage, and the audience kept getting bigger. Sinead was right—it was an older crowd. But I spotted some younger people, maybe junior high kids, and they were dancing along with their parents.

      They went right into a song I didn’t know. “Been running so long I’ve nearly lost all track of time,” Sinead belted out, and by now there was no one on the lawn who wasn’t listening to the band except for an elderly couple standing about as far away as they could get without actually leaving the grounds of the club.

      I edged around to the back of the stage where no one could see me. I’d been right about the music shaking something loose inside me, and as they played I let myself sob, grateful that the band was loud enough that no one could hear me cry.

      

      Afterward I felt better, as if the music and the crying had purged me of something heavy and dark. By the time the show was over, I didn’t feel like crying anymore; I was just tired, and when I’d helped them bring the equipment back to the van and we were all standing clumped together in the parking lot and Sinead asked me for my number, I had to think to remember what it was.

      “That way we can hang out,” Sinead explained, gesturing with her phone. “Declan and Danny and I don’t know anybody here besides Sean. And he’s so old.”

      “Hey, watch it,” said Sean. He’d been drinking steadily, and now he sat in the open door of the van, an empty can next to him, a full one in his hand.

      The phone she was holding buzzed, and Sinead looked at the screen. “Oh, damn. That’s Mum,” she said. “She’s here to get Danny.”

      “You’re coming swimming with us, right?” asked Declan.

      Sinead made a face. “I don’t know. I’m kind of tired. And I’ve got to get up early tomorrow. I might just call it a night.”

      “Pussy!” said Sean.

      “Wanker,” snapped Sinead.

      “Okay,” said Declan. “Thanks to both of you for your edifying verbal interplay.”

      “I’m going,” said Sinead, reading something on her screen. “Mum says she’s been waiting.” She gave me a hug. “You’ll give these guys your number, right? So we can hang out. And you should seriously think about joining the band. You have an awesome voice.”

      “Sure,” I said, knowing it would never happen. I let Sinead hug me and then I returned Danny’s fist bump as they hustled off to meet their mother.

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