Nick's Girl

9 | the offer

Music was one of the only direct routes to Nick's feelings. Growing up, feelings were taught to be supressed and unspoken of, especially for teenagers. I knew that this was a deep and even more brutal reality for Nick.

But the guitar was sort of like a vessel of emotion for him. We spent many an evening sat under the trees of the local park, guitar softly strummed in his hands, a bag of sweets between us. It was there, in the melting evenings that Nick quietly revealed his passion for music to me. He might sing - if I was lucky, and if he was feeling particularly mushy.
He'd change song lyrics, and put my name in them. That made me go weak. Just to see the way the words softened him, and drew out the truth.

"Are you embarrassed to be with me?" I once asked him.

"Why do you ask that?" Nick had responded concernedly. He looked up from his guitar - his old man's guitar in fact - and looked me right in the eyes.

"Well, you never sing to me during the day, when there's other people around," I said casually, reclining back to rest on my elbows. I was still dressed in my candyfloss coloured uniform from my late shift. I must have looked ridiculous.

"Don't you think that might have something more to do with my lack in musical talent than my feelings towards you?" He suggested, with a tilt of the chin
.
"You know you have talent," I said, fixing him with a look. "You don't fool me."

Nick smiled, unable to conceal a tiny fleck of pride in his musical competence.

"I'm nervous, Eva. That is all. There aren't exactly a plethora of things that I'm good at. I don't have the confidence to play in front of people knowing they could judge my performance."

*

One night, while sitting in our spot on the grass, under the giant oak, bag of humbugs between us, Nick started to pick out a Grey Thorn tune. Number 3 in the charts. I loved that one dearly. The way he accentuated the vibratoed riff was so crisp and haunting I felt chills running through me as goosebumps formed on my arms.

"That's what we need," a voice suddenly chuckled. Nick and I instantly jerked up, caught off guard in the midst of the eery, beautiful tune.
A man with a dark brown jacket, thick boots and surprisingly tight jeans grinned down at us. His hair was a wild and wavy crest that was cut into lamb-chop sideburns, and flared out by his shoulders.
Why the hell is this strange man smiling at us like that? we thought in silent, frightened unison. His grin was almost mad.

"What do you want?" Nick asked in a gravelly tone that I understood as his respectfully-back-away voice. But this man just stood there, totally undeterred, and knowingly shaking his head.

"I want you," he said, laughing. "I. Want. You. That sound! That sound that you made was incredible! Mate, I need you in my band. You're not already in one, are you?"

Nick looked at me, then back at the smiling man.
"No. No I'm not," he answered.

"Well, phew. Listen." The guy seemed to then collect himself, and step out of his over-enthusiasfic state. "This isn't at all professional. But me and my pal Bill are looking for some blokes to string together for a little tour. See, I sort of accidentally blagued my way into booking a tour with a local scout; only trouble is I don't have a proper band together. You would be helping out a comrade in deep need if you considered doing this."

Nick chuckled, an obviously sceptic smirk flashing over his face.

"Are you telling me that you just happen to be looking for a guitarist in a band which may or may not exist? Do you think I'm off my nut?"

Good for Nick, I thought, not letting himself be swayed by this utterly bizarre stranger.

The man simply laughed at Nick freely. He seemed impressed by his bluntness.
"I don't blame you! I know it sounds a pile of..." He trailed off and gestured suggestively. "But if I'm honest I'm more in shock that you happen to be here."
Nick nods slowly, disbelievingly.

"I mean..." the man wiped a hand over his face, "what are the odds that I should find you, a guitarist, in an empty park  no less, just as I was looking for one. Mate, that's got to be more than a coincidence!"

The man then realised that Nick was not on board with his preposterous proposal. This hardened his expression. The atmosphere stiffened.

"Okay. I see you're not a lenient guy. Good on you. But I am offering you a  3 -month long stint playing local pubs and dance halls across the country. We play pop music - the good kind - and," he paused, "it pays a decent amount."

At this, Nick's ears pricked up. Financial offerings for honest work could not be ignored.

Nick and I looked at each other.

Nick shook his head, almost in disbelief thar he was letting himself into something so hastily.
He said: "if I accept your offer, - which I may certainly not! - then I'm going to need your name."

The guy nodded, his brown eyes lighting up with a slow-burning anticipation, as if he knew the magic that was just on the brink of unfolding.
"I'm Archie," he said, "Archie Anderson."

Hi! I know, I know, this is a pretty cliché chapter in terms of the two major bombshells of the music abilities and the offer, but I need to get things off the ground! Let's keep this going with the lovely Likes and Comments. Love 💙