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’ As her finger slid out I said, ‘How did you know?’ She nodded, apparently satisfied that I was no longer pretending even to myself. ‘Because, I was watching you.’ She smiled at me again as her finger traced my lips. She held her hand out to me and I took it. She pulled me and I stood and moved closer to her. ‘Come and join us.’ She stood and led me, compliant as I was, to a group of her friends, she introduced me although I had no idea how she knew my name. They were fun and friendly and, like me, almost sober. We laughed and talked and I was involved, included, enveloped in their friendship. She talked to me and to others, occasionally catching my eye and smiling at me. The last tiny ray of the sun caught her hair and her eyes. God, those eyes. We moved into the house, large and warm and I suddenly realised how cool it had become outside. I sipped slowly, reluctant to drink too much more but so enjoying the conviviality, the warmth and the sheer pleasure. I sank into a deep. They were bad. Laughably bad. The songs all sounded like variations on the same basic tune, as if the band had only managed to learn just a handful of chords. This one they played a little slower, that one started with an acoustic guitar intro, before going back to more of the same.If that had been the worst thing about the band, it would have been forgivable. However, the band’s stage antics were ridiculously pretentious. They mimicked all of their rock idols. The guitarist awkwardly pulled off Pete Townshend windmills. The drummer twirled his sticks not once, but repeatedly throughout the set. The singer peacocked around the stage like some combination of Mick Jagger and Axl Rose. The bass player pouted and posed as if he were a fashion model. It was all pretty embarrassing.After about forty minutes, the band left the stage. The guitarist and bass player leaned their instruments against the amplifiers, creating an annoying high-pitched feedback. The sound went uninterrupted for.
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