Free Eighteen Kisses by Laura Jane Cassidy Page B

transparentplastic and underneath it were thousands of guitar plecs, all scattered around. On the walls there were photographs of all the musicians who had played there over the years, signed and securely nailed in place. Each table was made of two old amps pushed together, and the place mats were iconic album covers. All this was pretty cool, but my eyes were transfixed on the back wall, staring at the best thing in the entire place.
    ‘Is that an –’
    ‘Original Thin Lizzy stage sign?’ said Hazel. ‘Yep. One of only three ever made.’
    ‘Oh, my gosh,’ I said. It was so striking. The letters of the band’s name were made from lots of small square mirrored tiles; a few were broken or missing, but that only added to its charm. And round the edges of the letters were little light bulbs.
    ‘I’ll turn it on,’ said Hazel, and a few seconds later it was illuminated, the lights reflecting off the glass, making the whole thing sparkle in the most magnificent way.
    ‘Wow,’ I said. This sign had actually hung behind Thin Lizzy when they’d played on tour, and now I was standing right in front of it.
    ‘You a Lizzy fan?’ said Hazel, motioning to my T-shirt.
    ‘Yeah, possibly their biggest fan,’ I said. ‘Are you?’
    ‘I think they’re deadly,’ she said. ‘But Kayla is way more into them than me.’
    For a moment I’d forgotten why I was there. It didn’t feel right to stare at the sign any longer, so I turned back round.
    ‘Sergeant Lawlor called,’ she said. ‘He mentioned they’re running a little bit late, but they’ll be here soon. Can I getyou something to eat? We have fries, burgers … I’ll show you a menu.’
    ‘Oh, no thanks,’ I said.
    ‘How about a drink?’
    ‘Sure. I’ll have a Coke, please.’
    Hazel walked behind the bar and poured me a glass. She moved so gracefully, every movement so effortless. She had lots of piercings in her ears, and a few tattoos on her arms, including one that said
Kayla
on the inside of her left wrist.
    ‘Do they hurt?’ I asked. ‘Tattoos, I mean. I’m thinking of getting one.’
    ‘Sort of,’ she said. ‘It’s like a hot needle continuously jabbing into your skin. But it’s so worth it … What are you going to get?’
    ‘A treble clef.’
    ‘Cool.’
    She handed me the Coke and I sat up on one of the barstools.
    ‘I got this one to remind me never to give up,’ she said, pointing to her wrist. ‘To remind me never to stop looking for her.’ I nodded. It broke my heart to hear her say that.
    ‘So, you ever been here before?’ she said, resting her elbows on the bar.
    ‘Nope, but I’ve heard about your Acoustic Tuesdays,’ I said. ‘They sound deadly.’
    ‘Yeah, they’re pretty cool all right. We’re always sworn to secrecy about who’s playing; we can’t tell a soul. Rumours circulate, of course, but we can’t confirm or deny them. I’ll never forget the time U2 walked out there,’ she said, pointing to the raised stage in the corner. ‘That was crazy. We doAcoustic Tuesdays once a month, then we have karaoke every Friday, which is usually good fun, although it does get head-wrecking after a while, listening to people crucify your favourite songs. And on weekends we get a DJ in; he plays rock and indie, mainly the popular stuff, but it’s a lot better than most of the crap they play in the clubs around here.’
    ‘How long have you worked here?’ I asked.
    ‘Since I left school,’ said Hazel. ‘I planned to take a year out and then go to college, but I guess I sort of fell in love with this place. Every night there’s something different going on. I’m assistant manager now, so it’s pretty sweet. Matt was saying you might want to ask me some questions?’ she said. ‘About the party?’
    ‘Yeah, if that’s OK?’ I said. It was weird hearing her refer to him as Matt, like they were friends or something. I guess he would have spent a lot of time talking to her while he was working on the case