andromeda // matty healy au

Howlin' For You

"Sammy! You haven't called that number yet? I gave it to you days ago!" He looked sheepish as my voice grew louder. We stood in the skeleton of the almost-finished club, in front of the re-vamped dancefloor. Hustling men with toolbelts walked around as we watched them drill new lights into the perimeter of the stage. I expected the drills to have loud engines, but they were surprisingly silent.

"I've been busy," he sputtered. "Calling electricians, and designers - these velvet chairs were all singed, and I had to get them reupholstered!" His face screwed into an exasperated expression as dress shoe started to tap against the tiles below. I suggested that he call the number right now - well, that was more like a demand. Nervously, Sammy pulled the number out of his pocket and punched it into his phone. 

"Put it on speaker." I commanded. He nodded and did so. We waited in anticipation, as the phone rang once... twice... three times before a familiar voice picked up.

"Ello?" Matty said.

"Hey, Matty! This is the manager calling from, uh, The Temple of Venus. Would your band be interested in performing for us at our Grand Re-opening?" He said in a professional tone. Normally, Sammy was a red suit-wearing, tequila-chugging, uncle-type friend, so it always takes me by surprise when he switches into Manager Mode.

"Oh," the line held dead air for a few seconds. "The Temple of Venus, eh?" Matty sounded suspicious, but was he suspicious enough to turn down a gig?

"It's next Saturday, and one of our dancers recommended your name to me and took the opportunity to check you at one of the local bars and I liked what I heard." Good one, Sammy. Way to seal the deal. "We'd like to have you play next Saturday."

"Why not?" said Matty after a moment of silence. "Me and the boys will be there."

"That's great news, I'll send you a message later this week regarding details." He said, as I grew more impressed by how he was keeping his managerial voice turned on.

"Oh, and could you tell her thanks?" Matty said before the call wound down. "The dancer that recommended us, I mean." He meant me, he knew it and I knew it and I wanted to say that I was there, too.

Instead, Sammy spoke into the microphone once more, a plain "will do," and then then click of the phone hanging up. He let out a sigh of exhaustion, absolutely done with his fake business voice.

"FUCK, Andy, that was so tiring." Sammy's eyes bugged out of his head as he shoved his phone deep into his pocket. "I hate my client voice so damn much."

"Don't be ridiculous. You did great!" I said, offering my hand out for a high five. He reluctantly took my offer and then thanked me for arranging the music for the re-opening show.

"I'm really appreciative that you told me about those guys, I do enjoy their sound. I just hope the audience does, too." He said, looking out onto the newly sanded and finished tabletops. "Just think: in twelve days, this place is gonna be full of paying customers, just like it used to be."

His eyes practically turned from brown to green as he thought about the notes the bar would be collecting. A greedy grin not-so-furtively came across his face as he stroked his patchy beard.

"I'm just as excited for it as you are, Sammy." I said. The club was his pride and joy, and seeing him without it, well, he looked rather grey. But soon, his life would have colour again.

-

The next morning, I was about to leave for the café, when I heard a faint noise. I looked up from my buckled shoes to see a folded note being shoved under my door. When I opened it, a figure crouched on my stoop.

"Matty," I said in a confused voice, "what are you doing?" He got up from the ground and held out his hand, the note clutched in his fingers.

"It's a thank-you letter from the guys and me." He said when I took it. He pawed at his face, which looked like it hadn't seen a wink of sleep in the past few days. "Mainly the guys."

"What for?" I asked, making my way out of my place. I still had a job to get to. Matty stepped back and watched the back of my head as I closed and locked my door.

"You know, Celeste." He said, we walked down the stairs together, but I refused to mention the elephant in the hallway.

"What do you mean?" I played dumb. I wanted to hear him say it, and he let out a smirk when he realized that he would have to.

"For getting us the gig." He laughed. "We're thankful." He's still stuck with short sentences with me, I see. I was determined to drag more out of him.

"It wasn't me, Matty. As much as I would like to take credit for that, it wasn't my idea." I said, we both knew I was lying but I didn't want him to think that I was trying to help him. I told myself it was for Sammy, the dancers and the good of the club.

And I knew I was lying when I told myself that, too, but I kept a stone face.

"Okay," he spoke. He was still speaking to me, but my mind drifted away. His lips moved, but no words left his mouth, just music. The Smiths song he played for me, and other ones I heard through the walls. I heard him say the isolated lyrics that were on the napkin he left behind that one evening. "So we'll see you at rehearsal, yeah?"

He noticed me staring, and I didn't recover well after that. Stammering, I sputtered out something like: "Yeah, totally, see you there. I mean, see all of you guys there... at the club! Bye!" I was scurrying away as fast as my feet would carry me at that point, so I didn't care if I sounded like a knob.

"Totally"? "All of you guys there"? Man, that was fucking pitiful.