Back then, when we first got the offer, Arlo had been grinning ear to ear all week. We had gone around telling everyone we mutually knew. My family, the neighbours, the few highschool friends we still kept in contact after the years.
Finally, on our next performance in that club, the manager had told us the man was waiting in the green room. We had been dragged into the bathroom by Arlo. “We look like trash. Use more tissue. Case, we gotta look worthy of being stars.” he had said with such gravity, Casey snorted at him. “Come on Liam, put effort into it! I bet he would faint if he ever laid eyes on that terrible complexion-” Liam threw a tissue paper ball at Arlo in response, which he ducked and avoided. I had huffed out a chuckle at his excitement as I dabbed tissues onto my face to try and wipe the sweat and fatigue off my features.
Finally, after Arlo was satisfied with how we looked, we were allowed to enter our greenroom. It was a very small dingy space at the very back of the club. It had brown wallpaper, with patterns of what was supposed to be apples covering it. The lights were dim and there were two mirrors behind a dressing table with lights around it. The rest of the room was covered in so many clothes and junk we had barely had space to take two steps forwards from the entrance. We'd have to jump and skip to avoid the scattered junk.
But the room looked half decent this time. I supposed our manager had tried to get it looking acceptable for this label guy.
In the room stood an old man, a sweet gentle smile stretched across his face at the sight of us. Arlo had jumped up first to reach out and shake his hand.
“Arlo. Lead singer. And this is our band,” he had said gesturing to us, “Paper Lovers.”
We awkwardly nodded and introduced ourselves one by one. The old man was incredibly polite, talking to us as if we were an asset to him. I remember how suave Arlo had been despite being so excited, as if he had experience holding conversations with strangers. We only later understood why when we found out he was from a family as rich as yours.
“So next Saturday then?”
“Sounds perfect.” Arlo had shook that man’s hand again, grip firm and promising.
The man, Frank, was a scouting agent at the Summit Records. Hearing that name had made everyone in the room choke on air. I'm sure you have lovely taste in music, Angel, which is why you’ve never heard of them, but they're pretty big. Don't really make the best music, and have had some insane scandals in the past. But nothing to make us not be incredibly excited for the offer.
It was unreal.
We were just four kids singing in the basement of a club for daily wages, to make just enough to get by. And now we had just discussed our next appointment with a scouting agent of the Summit records.
Unreal was an understatement.
That day on our way back home we had bought Pizza, something we never did. We splurged all the money we had for the first time in ages.
“Next week, well be ready to sign a contract.” Arlo had said, through the pizza stuffed in his mouth. “Its it too soon?” Casey had said, cringe away from the crumbs flying out of Arlo’s mouth as he chewed.
“Our wings case! Nothing is too soon! Everything is perfect!”
A week later all three of us got tied up in personal commitments. Which meant Arlo had to go meet the agent himself alone. He was pretty jolly about it. “Get your pazaz ready, lady and gents! When I'm back we'll be superstars.” he dramatically waved his arms around and we had laughed, shaking our heads at him. I remember how flushed he was, bright and glowing. Like the sun. He had tied up his hair in the usual way, the locks falling on his face forgotten about. He looked so young that day, he looked like the universe had chosen him, like stars had picked him out to let him catch his dream.
So I believed him.
“Yeah,” I had said going over to go over and tuck his hair behind his ear, “go make us superstars.”
Casey had come over to give him a peck on the cheek, for luck, and Liam simply patted his back with the same sentiment.
That was the last we ever saw him happy.
Silly drivel, was what we had thought of it back then. But I suppose we couldn't help but be excited about the future anyway. At a point in time we had begun thinking of ‘what if’ and Arlo jumping around with excitement with even the smallest sign of hope never helped.
We aren't the kind of people the universe is kind to.
I knew that.
And normally I wouldn't have ever gotten my hopes up, but for some reason this dream seemed so close.
Like a fruit hanging low on a tree. Just one last jump, perhaps stretching my hands further, and I would pull it out of the grasp of the wood, I would be holding the dream in my hands.
Arlo returned home late that night. His shoulders slumped, a slight tremble in his hands, I remember. I had asked him about it, “I think I'm coming down with a cold.” he had said.
“What happened to the deal?”
“It fell through.”
“What? Why?” Liam sat up, frowning at Arlo. “I don't know,” he had ripped the rubber band holding his hair together out with such aggressiveness it had made me flinch, “it just fell through.” His tone had been snappy. It seemed angry on the outside. But we could tell. At the very least I could tell, that this was him begging us to stop asking.
So like a fucking fool, I had stopped asking.
He had stalked off into his room and shut the door behind him. The three of us had been worried, obviously we had. So we had reached out ourselves to the label. Like an idiot I had dragged his back to have a talk again. I couldn't even imagine what could have possibly gone wrong. My best guess had been that Arlo had accidentally met his family, he was always a little jumpy after seeing them, or perhaps an ex?
“Our last meeting unfortunately was not what we expected, was it? Mr. Arlo?”
Arlo had looked away, fidgeting with his hands. He kept rolling a tissue paper under the table.
Nervous? I had thought. Even then this was too out of character.
Maybe coming so close to everything you’ve been dreaming of does that to you, I had told myself. I had spoken to the agent with Arlo next to me that day. Casey had been tied up with some daily work, and Liam had to go to school to finish up on a project due soon. The agent had told us that we’d have to talk to the boss, the manager in charge of finally recruiting the artists.
“Alright yes, we're up for it.” I had said, turning to Arlo and nudging him in the shoulder.
He had looked down the entire time, not even meeting my eye.
“Lovely!” Frank had shook my hand firmly, “Mr. Moore will be happy with your talent,” he flashed us his polite smile again, “you will be signing with our label in no time.”
I could have sworn Arlo shivered beside me.
I had even glanced at him when I had noticed that, but his head had been ducked down, his hands rolling and shredding the tenth tissue paper.
I had thanked Frank and pulled Arlo out of the booth.
“What on earth is the matter with you?” I had asked once we were out on the footpath, for some reason I was annoyed. Perhaps I had wanted him to react a certain way to the opportunity? Maybe I was angry his excitement had fallen through after making me get my hopes up. Maybe that was it.
Perhaps at some point his dream had become my dream, and now that we were so close, he had pulled away.
“Nothing!” he had yelled back, “i told you i dont want to do this band shit anymore Naia! What part of that are you not understanding!”
We had fought.
Very very badly.
Yelling things we knew would pierce through our skins and crawl underneath it to make way to our hearts. We said things we didn't mean, things we knew would make us cry.
I hadn't spoken to him for a month after that fighting row. We never went to meet that manager. The band had stopped. We didn't play music anymore. But Arlo had been normal after that month. We had been normal. We didn't play music, but we attended classes and watched movies in the evenings. We found other part time jobs to do and my family was helping us support ourselves. We were happy. Happier than ever actually.
Then one day, I got a call from Frank about the deal with the label, a deal that tipped the scales in our favour. Something that had made me lose reason for a moment, and instead I had thought about how comfortable all of us would be with this deal. How none of us would have to work part time, how we could do what we loved, together, and get paid this much for it.
I went to meet up with him that evening to look over the contract and take a copy of it home to convince the boys.
That night, on my way back home, I had seen all the missed calls from Arlo. and had thought something had happened. I had thought, I dont know, that maybe the boys had set something onf fire accidently. but Arlo didn't pick his phone and then Casey had called.
Casey had been crying, inconsolably, begging me to come to our studio.
The studio that we hadn't entered in three months.
That was our last night together there.
That was our last night together, in this lifetime at least.
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