Chapter 19

 

Galway, with its brightly painted houses, in blues, purples and yellows, looks as colourful and bright as any Mediterranean resort, but I’m almost sorry when we reach our destination and it’s time to join the rest of them. It takes us a while to find the Blue Ball, a venue in a converted warehouse on the furthest edge of the maze-like port.

The nearest parking is several minutes away, down a deserted side street. We run back to the Blue Ball in the blazing afternoon sunshine, and are hot and breathless when we run smack into Mac at the entrance.

“You two took your time, didn’t you?” he glowers at us. “And Baz is still on the train.”

“I can collect him at the station, if you want? I’ve got the car.”

“No!” Mac shoves us inside. “I can’t spare anyone to go running around after him. Let him pay for a taxi with his own money. He should have come with us. There’s loads to be done.”

Within the gloom of the interior, figures are scurrying in all directions.

“Hey,” Len shouts from the stage, “give me a hand to get these amps in place.”

“Sure!” I make my way down to join him. It’s the kind of stuff I’ve helped with before and it comes as second nature now. Kit wanders off to assist Spike and Felice with an enormous pile of cables. Something tells me none of them have any idea what they are doing, so once I’m finished lugging amps with Len, I go over to show them what to do.

“They should have paid for a few roadies though, for a big gig like this,” Felice mutters to Kit.

Everyone thinks that once you have a record in the charts, the money must be rolling in, but my time with the band has taught me that’s not the case. Black Death’s single is Number One and the band is broke.

There’s a subdued murmur of excitement as Mac takes the stage, a lanky figure beside him. “Guess who’s here?” he calls out to us.

“Hey!” Spike is hopping with glee. “Do you know who that is up there with Mac?”

I’ve no idea but Kit has turned pale as a ghost.

“Some big-shot talent scout from a record studio?” Felice says.

“No.” Spike shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s Mike Meara.”

“Really?” I can’t believe it. Mac Whitehead has been trying to get hold of the legendary sound engineer all summer, but Mike Meara is notoriously elusive. “No way! Mac managed to get him in the end?”

“Better than that,” Spike says. “It was Mike Meara who found Mac. He offered his help.”

“Who is Mike Meara?” Kit asks.

“Only the best sound engineer in the business,” Spike says.

“Yeah,” I tell her. “He’s worked with, like, everyone!” Mac has told us about the albums Mike Meara has recorded so many times I could almost recite the list by heart. The weird thing is any album he produces invariably becomes a classic, even though it may not be an instant hit. Mike Meara is all about music that lasts, music that stands the test of time. Of course, everyone wants him, but nobody knows how he chooses the acts he works with. Some of his clients are the biggest names in the business, but it’s not about money for Mike Meara. He’s just as likely to pick an unknown band and produce an album that takes them from obscurity to overnight success.

“So he thinks Black Death is going to be the next big thing?” Felice is already figuring it out.

“Mike Meara is never wrong,” Spike answers.

Baz walks in at just that moment with Jenna. We all watch in silence as they make their way down through the auditorium towards the stage.

“Jeez, what time do you call this to come strolling in?” Mac roars, his face twisting into a scowl at the sight of Jenna. “What’s she doing here?”

“There’s something we need to tell you.” Baz stops in front of the stage and stares up at Mac. He looks extremely calm and composed, even though Mac is turning red from the neck up and his eyes are bulging at the sockets. “I’m going back with Jenna.”

“Yeah, I can see that!” Mac growls.

“No, I mean I'm going to America with her. On the plane. On Monday.”

"You can’t be serious.”

“I’m totally serious.”

“But this is our moment.” Mac’s astonishment is genuine. “Tonight is the biggest show of our lives. This is where it’s gonna happen. I can’t believe you’re just gonna turn your back and walk out on that. We’ve been building up to this for years. It’s the dream.”

“You’ve been saying that all summer, Mac. Every gig is the biggest gig. Every night is the one it’s gonna happen. And guess what? We’re still not signed and so broke we can’t even afford a couple of roadies.”

“These things don’t happen overnight,” Mac seethes. “You have to play the long game.”

“That’s great coming from someone who boozes and smokes away every bit that does come in. You’re so busy impressing the girls you ignore any useful contacts we make. You know what your problem is? You’re afraid. You’re too afraid of failure to take a chance on success.”

“Get the fuck out of here the pair of you!” Mac seizes a mic and hurls it down towards Baz who ducks out of the way.

“Hey!” Mike Meara steps forward. “Take it easy.”

“Mike Meara?” Baz looks up at Mac in confusion. “What’s he doing here?”

“Leave, get out of my sight.” Mac sounds tired as he turns away.

None of us know where to look. Mike Meara comes down the steps at the side of the stage and murmurs something to Baz and Jenna. They stumble back up through the auditorium, huddled together in a deathly silence. Baz has his arm around Jenna, helping her up the steps. The only sound as they leave the building is her muffled tears.

“You!” Mac roars as he leaps off the stage and grabs me by the shoulders. “You’re on tonight.”

“Holy cow!” I have no idea what else to say. The whole scene has a dreamlike quality and none of it feels real.

“You’re the only one who can do it,” Mac says. “You know the songs, you know the routine. You’d better not screw it up.”

This is why I’ve done everything Mac asked me, it’s why I’ve practised and rushed to rehearsals at the drop of a hat, because deep down, I hoped my chance would come to play with Black Death in one of their gigs.

But now I’m faced with it, I’m paralysed with fear. I’d imagined a small gig in some down-at-heel joint in the back of beyond. This is the band’s biggest event of the summer, and the Blue Ball in Galway is not a hole-in-the-corner dive. ‘Plagued by You’ is currently the Irish Number One, so the place will be packed out. This debut to an audience of five thousand is totally out of my league.

“What the fuck are you?” Mac yells, as though he’s reading my mind. “A man or a mouse?”

“You have to do it,” Kit whispers in my ear.

“Do you really think so?” I turn to her in desperation.

“Yes.”

“I want to throw up, Kit. I don’t think I can do this.”

“When will you ever get a chance like this again, Tully? You can’t turn Mac down. He needs you. Now. Tonight. And he’s right. You can do this.”

Her words pull me together. Yes, Mac needs me but that’s not what motivates me. No, it’s something else entirely.

Kit wants me to do it.

She’s doing her best to persuade me.

This is my chance to prove to her I’m worthy and I mustn’t blow it.

If I let Kit down, I won’t be able to live with myself.