Black Girls and Bad Boys: Changing his Tune by Neneh J. Gordon Page A

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through the set, his eyes kept going back to the top of the room, searching for
her even though he knew he wouldn’t see her.
    As they played on, he pushed himself harder. The band kept up. He
was impressed – they’d only been playing with him for a couple of weeks, but
they were seriously tight. He took advantage of their skill and started to
improvise, thinking of Angie’s love of jazz. He wanted her to like his music.
He wanted her to love it.
    Singing and playing became instinctive and he reached a state that
was almost meditative. Before he knew it, they were into their second encore,
and then it was all over. The crowd was stamping its feet, begging for more,
but he was wrung out. He waved his thanks and got down from the stage.
    He was exhausted, dripping with sweat and ravenously hungry. At the
edge of his awareness, thoughts of beer and charlie tried to sidle their way
in, but he put up a wall. He needed a shower and good meal. All the other
cravings were just down to bad habits.
    His hand went to his cheek without him thinking about it.
    Maybe not all the other cravings.
    ***
    T hey served food at the bar, but no one suggested eating there – it
was quietly understood that staying in the midst of all that alcohol wasn’t a
great idea. Fortunately, John said he’d spotted a fast food place within
walking distance.
    They set off in that direction, everyone buzzing from the gig. After
waiting so long to eat, the sea air had sharpened their appetites to a fine
edge.
    Noah hung back to let Angelique catch up with him. “What did you
think? Could you see all the way at the back?”
    She’d been trying to work out what to say ever since they started
walking. “It was weird seeing you like that – doing the rock star thing.” It
hadn’t been like watching someone she knew at all.
    “Good weird?”
    “You heard them cheering. You must know how good you were.”
    “But I want to know what you thought.”
    “I thought you were amazing. How do you do it? Get up there in front
of all those people?”
    “This is the place.” John pointed at a brightly-coloured burger
joint up on the right.
    “When I first started out, I used to hate it.”
    Everyone trooped inside and lined up at the counter. “Really?” He’d
looked so comfortable on stage.
    “Yeah. I thought everyone was judging me and waiting for me to make
a mistake. I used to just keep my head down and get through the set as quickly
as possible.”
    They gave their orders and stood over to the side out of the way.
“So what changed?” I mean, you put on a hell of a show. You don’t look like you
hate it.”
    “I just realised that the audience isn’t my enemy. People don’t go
to gigs to hate the band.”
    “I suppose not.”
    The food arrived and they picked up their paper bags.
    “I’m feeling restless. Do you want to come for a walk?”
    She looked over at John and the band. What would they think if she
disappeared with Noah?
    “Come on, I’d usually be drinking myself stupid about now. I could
do with the distraction.”
    It was part of her job. But it didn’t feel like work. It felt
worryingly like a date. “Okay.” What else could she say?
    “Great. John, we’re going for a walk. See you back at the bus.”
    John waved a hand in their direction. “See you later.” He quickly
turned back to his conversation. It didn’t look like the others were in any
hurry to leave – they’d grabbed a table and were busy shovelling down French
fries.
    She followed Noah’s lead, feeling increasingly like she was being
taken on her first trip to Lover’s Lane.
    ***
    W hen he first thought of inviting her for a walk, Noah had tried to
tell himself it was a purely platonic thing. Angie was the person he got along
with best these days – it was only natural for him to want to spend some time
with her one-to-one. But ever since she’d kissed his cheek in the dressing room,
he’d been thinking of the other kiss they’d almost