Page 67 of Knot Their Opening Act

“And Hartley,” Thomas slurs. “Stay on that steam, you abominable fuck waffle. If you can’t sing tomorrow, I’m going to have to force one of these intolerable walking thumbs to take your place and they can’t sing for shit.” He gestures lazily around at me and Nico, who’s creasing at Thomas’s rare display of humor and tipsiness.

And in the middle of it, I glance over at Jez, who is grinning so hard she looks like she’s never been happier. And something inside me breaks apart and stitches back together with purejoy.

I run to grab one of the guitars we carry around just for songwriting, and hoist it in the air like a trophy. A cheer of “YEAAHHH go on then!” goes up, and I start strumming one of Jez’s songs.

Her eyes widen and she clamps a hand over her mouth, then she stands and sets down the bottle but keeps the glass, sloshing it slightly on the beige carpet.

“Oh my God, it sounds like you’ve beenpracticingthat!” she gasps.

“Then sing it, if you please,” I say with a grin. She dives right in and Shay joins her. Murray holds a finger to his mouth and shushes us, but he’s laughing at Thomas trying to start a one-man chorus line on the table, until Nico climbs up to join him. Even Kai is laughing and singing at this point. By the second chorus, he slings an arm around Jez, the two of them swaying back and forth, other arms out holding their respective drinks.

“My guitar skills are shocking—apologies, Jez,” I say, but I keep strumming and slowly transition into a Fable song. I’m not even playing the right key but nobody cares and we all sing in unison.

About three more tunes and another round of drinks and several busted-open bags of crisps later, and Kai wobbles to his feet. He’s the only sober one, but he’s not fucking well at all.

“I gotta get to bed, chaps. I’ll have no voice tomorrow otherwise. Carry on. Closing my door but you lot have fun.”

He turns to Jez who is leaning against Shay, who’s now asleep, and he bows then nods at her. I don’t know if they exchanged words, but I watch with interest and say rather loudly, as the room is twirling around haphazardly, “Maybe we should eat something so we don’t feel so shitty in the morning.”

Not sure how this translated into what I really meant, which was hydrate, but Thomas gets the picture and manages to grab water bottles from the fridge in the kitchenette area and pass them around. Murray nudges Shay, waking her up. “C’mon, let me get you back to your room.”

“You guys get back okay, you hear?” I say, as though they’ve got to traverse the bush to get down the corridor to the lifts and their rooms. They both nod and disappear, and then it’s just me, Nico, Thomas, and Jez.

We sit in relative silence, downing our water and snacking on crisps and a small fruit bowl someone snagged, until Jez says, “We should write a song together.”

“What,” chuckles Nico. “Tonight?”

“Sure, why not? You’re amazing with words on the spot, Nico,” Jez says. She gets up and rummages around, returning to the seating area with someone else’s acoustic. She gives it a quiet strum and fiddles with tuning. I strum mine and then we’re off, just noodling about.

After a few minutes, Jez is leading the way, pulling me into an intriguing melody that slides down an octave from the start of the phrase to the end before climbing back up. Nico and I fall in line vocalizing, randomoohsandaahs,and then he kicks in with some lyrics once he’s had time to feel out the bit that seems chorus-shaped.

And I could go on a stage without you

Let the lights shine where your eyes ought to be

but I couldn’t win a war within you

that would set any captives free

You could go on alone without me

And your life would know beauty and light

The heartstrings would dance as we changed key

but our hopes would end with the night

I’m not sure if he’s trying to say anything at all with the words he’s starting to play around with, but Jez and I silently agree to keep playing the chorus she’s crafted while he wrestles through different phrases. In the end, this one sticks, and we move on to finding a verse, Jez leading us every step of the way.

As she tries out different chord progressions and I fumble around to keep up, Thomas sits up in his seat, balancing his empty water bottle on the top of his head.

“Are your new suppressants working then, Jez?” I ask.

I keep playing but Jez stops and looks at me, then picks up the melody we’re working out before she answers. “I suppose it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Well, all night we’ve been in here,” I say, “and you’ve seemed quite chill.”

“He speaks truth,” adds Thomas, holding his arms out straight as he manages to keep the bottle on his head. At this point Nico chucks his at it and both plastic bottles shoot across the room to hit the wall. “Mature, Fiore.”

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