The Magpie Effect - The Magpie Chronicles Book 1 (#Wattys2015)

Chapter 6.1

Bev looked dubious. "They can play guitar, Saffy," she said, nudging her head at the stage. Plectrum Heart was reaching an ear-piercing crescendo, and the lead singer dived into an extravagant bow that swept his hair across the floor. "They write their own material. What makes you think this boy will be better?"

"I have more musical talent in my little toe than those guys," I said, gritting my teeth together. "Besides, Jet is sensible. It seems like something he's really passionate about. Just give him a chance, Bev. Please?"

Bev turned abruptly away from me and took to scrubbing viciously at the bar. "I've seen that look before, Saffy Sweetman. So, he's sensible. Is he also tall? Handsome? That's all you need these days, out there in the big world. But not in here. Not in my arena. In my arena, you need substance."

I scrunched my face up in frustration. "Substance?" I hissed, jabbing my hands at the stage. "They have about as much substance as-"

Bev whipped around to face me, her cheeks tinged with pink. "Have you heard him play?"

I flinched. "Well, not exactly, but-"

"Then how do you know he's any good?" She stood there, her meaty hand placed expectantly on her hip, and waited as I lulled into silence. "You don't want to go messing about with those sorts of boys, Saffy."

"With what sort of boys?" My voice was getting shrill.

"The ones that will use you!" She drew up close, so that I could see the veins in her eyelids purpling over. "The pretty ones that don't have to work as hard as the rest of us! The ones that will take your heart and stomp all over it, Saffy. Those are the sorts of boys I'm talking about. They don't like girls like us."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Bev's lips drew into a straight, narrow line. "You know perfectly well what I mean," she said, and then she lowered her voice as though she were about to utter an obscenity. "Big girls. These sorts of boys don't like big girls."

I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth and bit into it until the pain began to plead with me. A taut silence stretched between us. Bev's face was red with passion, but she looked sort of uncomfortable, like she already regretted what she'd said.

"Um," I said, quietly. "I don't know what's happened to make you have such a cynical outlook, but I barely know Jet. I've spoken to him twice. But he's a nice guy, from what I can tell. All he wants is a chance, and I said I'd run the idea by you. That's all."

Bev looked down at her feet, and I sighed.

"Look, it's not a big deal. You can say no if you want to-"

"Tell him he can have a slot a week Friday."

Bev's sudden change of heart tripped me up, and I stumbled over my words. "What?"

"He can come and perform." Bev shrugged her shoulders, placed each of her hands on the edges of her grimy towel. "If you have confidence in him, then that's good enough for me. Tell him he can have five songs, and I'll pay him according to what I think of it."

I wasn't sure whether to remain calm and composed or unleash the squealing inner delight that bubbled up at the bottom of my stomach like a geyser. I went, in the name of professionalism, for the former. "Thank you so much, Beverly. You won't regret it."

"You better hope I don't, and don't ever call me Beverly again," she grumbled, casting me a stern look. "Listen, you can have an early night, if you want. It's starting to get quiet; I can handle closing by myself."

"Really? Are you sure?" I glanced at my watch. It was nine-thirty, a whole hour and a half before my shift was meant to wrap up. I could get home and slip into my pyjamas and catch up with Netflix.