Page 97 of All Right No
“We should jam,” he insisted. “I bet Xane has a guitar or two stashed here somewhere.”
“You want to jam?” Spook sounded utterly incredulous. Maybe he didn’t think it was the time. Ash on the other hand, figured why the hell not lose himself in music. There was no other joy in the world.
Paul got to his feet. “Well I’m in, as long as no one is expecting us to play Christmas stuff.”
***
Guitars were grabbed, and a fake microphone improvised with an empty beer bottle. They each took turns mimicking members of other groups, and mangling a variety of former chart hits. Singing had never been Ash’s forte. His voice had a grating quality that was prone to setting teeth on edge, but neither of his mates seemed to care. When he combed his hair down flat and burst into a raucous rendition of his favourite Oasis classic, Paul, and Spook backed him up, even leaning in to him in order to yell the “Well…s!” into the bottle mic.
There was something immensely satisfying about dancing around in his socks, yelling about morning glory.
“Need a little time to wake up. Need a little time to rest your mind…”
At the end, they fell quiet just long enough for the smile to start slipping from his face, before Rock Giant launched into another song. Paul took the lead on that one for the first verse, handing over to Spook for the second, and leaving him to finish up. They zipped straight from that into another, and another, the choices getting increasingly weird, then playful, and pantomime stupid. He didn’t know how long it went on for, only that it was dark again outside by the time they stopped. They collapsed on the sofa for Paul to give them his version of the Queen’s speech. And suddenly it was time for more nosh and improvised cracker pulling, constructed from loo roll inners, magazine pages, and jokes they made up on the spot.
It was the best and worst Christmas of his life.
Only, in the dark after the other two had finally turned in, did Ash have solitude and quiet enough resting on the sofa to pay attention to the horrors lurking inside his head. Where had Ginny gone after they’d parted ways? Why did he even care?
Should he be anything other than butt hurt and critical? She’d taken the most magical moment of his life and turned it into the worst in the span of an hour. What the hell was up with him that women constantly found ways to screw him over? Every Black Halo fan on the planet would know by now that he was getting hitched. The band’s email box was probably about to explode from the number of congratulations messages. He was going to look like such an idiot when he had to announce the whole thing was a mistake.
Worst of all, he’d spoiled his parents Christmas too.
Sorrow welled, churning up the gallons of beer he’d drowned with the mixture of sultanas and mushroom bread in his guts. He spewed the lot over the floor.
