The mature, spreading trees, heavy with the dark foliage of summer, give way to distorted hawthorns and stunted bushes as we make our way west. Meadows of cattle grazing lush grass turn into sheep nibbling on patches of sparser ground, hemmed in by the low dry stone walls scattered across a wild, windswept landscape. 

The salty tang of the sea changes the air as we approach the Atlantic, but for once we are not buffeted by wind and rain. The sun hasn't stopped shining since the beginning of July, since the night Spike got attacked and the new guy, Tully, entered our lives.

Galway, with its brightly painted houses, in blues, purples and yellows, looks as colourful and bright as any Mediterranean resort. The Blue Ball is near the university and, with a capacity of five thousand, is one of the biggest venues in the city.

After the bright sunlight, the interior is dark and dim. Even by day, the Blue Ball is a night time place. We almost collide with Mac at the door.

"Hey, Mac, I can collect Baz off the train, if you want?" Tully offers. "I've got the car."

"No!" Mac pushes his way through the door, shoving Tully aside. "The stupid bollix can get here himself. 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. Get inside, the pair of you!"

Now I understand why Mac has been so generous with lifts and putting names on guest lists. We're the unpaid staff.

As my vision adjusts, I make out figures scurrying in all directions.

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

"Sure!" Tully makes his way down to join him.

Felice and Spike are struggling with a mass of cables and extension leads. They wave when they see me.

"Do you guys have any idea what you're doing?" I ask.

"It doesn't matter," Spike grins. "Whatever way we do it, Mac will say it's wrong anyway!"

"They should have paid for a few roadies though, for a big gig like this," Felice mutters in a whisper to me.

I remember what Tully said about the band being broke. But surely an event like this should make them some money?

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.

For an instant, my heart almost stops. In the purplish light, shoulders hunched in an overcoat, despite the heat outside, the newcomer with his skinny frame, longish hair and baseball cap pulled down to hide his face, looks exactly the way I've always imagined Aonghus to look, just like Felice's illustrations.

But Aonghus isn't real.

He's not.

I hear the deep whisper in my ear again. Music or love.

No.

It can't be.

"Kit, what's the matter?" Tully has concern written all over his face. "You're as white as a ghost."

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

Aonghus.  My mouth is so dry the word won't come out.

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

Yes, I start to breathe again. That must be it. They're often hanging around at the gigs. Tully has hinted that Mac has a had a few offers but none of them are big enough to tempt him. He's waiting for the one he can't refuse.

"No." Spike shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear. "Better than that! It's Mike Meara."

'Really?" Tully's ears prick up. "Mike Meara, no way! How did Mac get him?"

"He offered to help."

"Who is Mike Meara?" I find my voice again.

"Only the best sound engineer in the business," Spike says.

"Yeah," Tully enthuses. "He's worked with, like, everyone!"

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

"Mike Meara is never wrong," Spike answers.

We fall silent under the impact of his words. Sure, we believe Black Death are on the brink of massive success. But it's one thing us thinking it. It's another thing an industry insider thinking it too.

We've talked about it before and we all agree. The talent scouts don't know shit. They just go where the crowd is.

It's people like Mike Meara, who actually live and dream music until it's a part of their very being, it's their opinion that counts.

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

"Jeez, you took your time," 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 to date. 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 for tonight."

"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 picks up 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?"

"Just get the fuck 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 turn and leave the building in a deathly silence. The only sound is Jenna's muffled tears. Part of me wants to go after them, say something to Jenna, wish them well at least, but my feet are frozen to the ground and I can't move.

"You!" Mac leaps off the stage  grabs Tully by the shoulders. "You're on tonight."

"Jesus." Tully turns pale.

"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."

But that's exactly what Tully is afraid of and I understand his hesitation. He's never been live onstage in his life. With Mac glowering at him the whole way through, how can it not go wrong? 

"What the fuck are you?" Mac yells pushing Tully backwards so he almost falls on top of a row of seats. "A man or a mouse?"

"You have to do it," I whisper when he comes stumbling over to me.

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure if I can."

Mike Meara is watching me, making my skin creep, but I ignore him. This is too important.

"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."

Author's Note

What do you think, should Tully go onstage?

(a) Yes, this is his big chance.

(b) Yes, but it will probably be a disaster.

(c) No, it's Mac's problem and he's got what he deserved. Let him sort it out!

Find out what's next in the KIT & TULLY Series 💜 (Link in bio)