Asturias by Brian Caswell Page A

the microphone. I guess I didn’t do the Shirley Temple thing well enough. But something had happened back in that studio, something I couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the way the others played, or the way it all sounded in the headphones. I don’t know. All I do know is that at sixteen I suddenly knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life — or at least for a good part of it.
    â€œFriends?” This time she took hold of my hand.
    â€œAlways,” I replied.
    And at the time, I really meant it.

9
    THE HEARTBEAT
    ALEX’S STORY
    â€œOkay, genius, how did you know?”
    Max was never what you might call unapproachable, but in the early days Chrissie was the only one who felt comfortable treating him like one of the boys.
    Tasha and her friend had just left, and he was sitting there in the booth like a cat with cream all over its whiskers.
    â€œHow did I know what?”
    Tim cut in. “How did you know that girl could sing like that?”
    Max shrugged, but the smile on his face gave him away. “It’s what they pay me for.”
    â€œBullshit, Mr A&R Executive! Bullshit, cow pats and bovine diarrhoea. I think it’s because she’s a blonde.” Chrissie hijacked the conversation, and for a moment I looked at her, confused. This was a strange sort of joke. I was waiting for the punchline.
    Then I realised that although the smile was there and the tone was light-hearted it was no joke.
    â€œI’m right, aren’t I?” She stood up as she continued. “It’s all about being absolutely PC, isn’t it? You’re positioning us already, before the band is even up and running.”
    I looked at Max, and from the expression on his face I knew that Chrissie was scoring points, though for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what she was talking about. I waited for her to go on, but Max spoke first.
    â€œIt’s not like that —”
    â€œNo, of course not! And I’m the bloody tooth-fairy. At least be honest with them, man.” She indicated Tim and me with her hand, but her eyes never left his. “Or are you going to pretend it’s all just a big happy coincidence? She can sing — great! I happen to think she’s just what we need. And she’s a nice kid, too. But you wouldn’t even have asked her what her name was if she hadn’t looked like she’d just stepped out of Dolly. Look, it’s no big deal — not to me, at least. But you have to tell them the truth, Max. If this thing is going to work, it’s got to be based on the truth, not bullshit … Or do you want me to?”
    I looked at Tim. He was as much in the dark as I was. Max just opened his hands, and she went on speaking. To us.
    â€œWhat we are, guys, is an equal-opportunity, politically correct, United bloody Nations. Do you think it’s a complete accident that we’ve got one Hispanic, one” — she looked at Tim and smiled — “one WASP, and one female of the Asian … persuasion? And now we’ve got a White Russian for a front-man … person. We only auditioned girl-singers, of course — better demographics. Two females in a band of five — talk about an ABBA-complex! Enough for the guys to salivate over and good role-models for the girls. So the gender-mix is perfect.”
    Max was saying nothing — a fact that spoke volumes. But strangely there was a kind of smile on his face.
    â€œWhat if the black girl … what was her name?”
    â€œCindy,” Tim put in helpfully.
    â€œCindy. What if Cindy had cut it? I’ll tell you. We’d have been looking for a bloody surfie for a drummer. Blond, blue-eyed … Just to complete the set. Well, we’ve got our blonde, so what are we looking for now? Maybe you could import a Zulu to beat the skins, or what about an Islander? They’re supposed to have rhythm.” The sarcasm was so thick you could carve