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Saira is half-lounging on her bed, absentmindedly plucking the strings on her guitar, waiting for other girls to arrive for band practice. So far, only Amina came on time and is now sitting on the edge of the bed, her posture prim and proper, looking intensely at her notebook. It’s either lyrics for a new song or the results of her latest lab experiments, Saira always forgets what colour her notebooks are for each of those.
Momtaz comes in without knocking and waves her phone in the air.
“Got us a gig this Saturday!” she announces.
Saira sits up. They gained some notoriety after leaking their own album and cutting the ties with their label, but it didn’t exactly translate into more paying gigs – promoters seem to be wary of an unpredictable band.
“What’s the gig?” Amina asks.
Momtaz turns the screen towards them.
“Some feminist music festival in West Yorkshire. The second headliner fell through last moment and this woman, Jenny Lennocks, she found us on the internet and messaged me an hour ago. They are paying and promise to cover transport expenses. I already RSVP-ed yes, so don’t tell me you have other things to do this weekend.”
“Well, I have nothing better to do,” Saira shrugs.
“Ahsan was going to take me to this open mic event on Saturday. Like on a date.” Amina says cautiously.
“Young love!” Momtaz exclaims. “We’ll just take Ahsan with us, we’ll need a roadie anyway. You can have your date there,” she squints at her phone, “in Hebden Bridge. There’s definitely some local landmark you can visit, would be romantic, innit?”
“I think Sylvia Plath is buried there,” Saira says. Both Momtaz and Amina look at her weirdly. “What? I read!”
“I’m not sure her grave is particularly romantic,” Amina says carefully, “but I can ask if he wants to come with us”.
“It’s decided, then,” Momtaz says. “We just need to convince Ayesha and Bisma, whenever they show up.”
“Good luck with that,” Saira grumbles and falls backwards on her bed.
Hebden Bridge won’t know what hit it.
***
They rent a van to drive up North, Amina folds the rental receipts in her bag so they could get reimbursed by that Jenny woman. Ayesha is driving, naturally, and Bisma has taken the front passenger seat, citing her old age and a sore back. Saira wanted to argue but decided against it – it was way too early when they started driving, and she doesn’t want to rile anyone up when they have to spend close to five hours together in an enclosed space. She’s mature like that.
But that also means she’s stuck in the back of the van with Amina and Ahsan making googly eyes at each other and Momtaz who doesn’t look away from her phone even for a minute. Saira settles in for a long and boring ride and closes her eyes hoping to catch a nap if Amina’s lovestruck giggles over Ahsan’s stupid jokes don’t interrupt her. Saira thought it was bad when they were still pining for each other, but now they are together and that made them even more insufferable. She wasn’t much of a romantic to begin with, but now she’s veering into the “love is for losers” territory. She sighs again and turns up the music in her headphones.
***
Somehow they survived the trip and Saira is only mildly discontented with life. At least she was kinda enjoying herself, sitting in their tent backstage, waiting for their turn to soundcheck, and then Ayesha and Ahsan started arguing about something. Saira doesn’t even catch how it started, and she’s usually the one yelling at Ayesha, so being a spectator makes her uneasy. She listens to the argument long enough to understand that it isn’t about the band, and decides to leave the tent and walk around the festival site until they calmed down. With Taz, Amina and Bisma in the tent the argument between siblings would not turn into a bloodbath, Saira’s almost sure of it.
The weather is uncharacteristically nice and the place the festival has been set up, in the valley between some hills, is beautiful. And, most importantly for Saira, there’s almost no one here yet, only organisers, volunteers and some of the performers.
She rounds the corner of one of the tents, not really looking where she’s going, and gets startled by a redhead woman standing there, a cigarette between her teeth. Saira almost runs into her but manages to stop a few inches away and takes a step back. The woman looks her slowly up and down and then tilts her chin up in greeting.
“Alright?” she says with a Yorkshire accent.
“Yeah,” Saira says.
The woman looks like a proper rock star – leather jacket with a Blondie t-shirt underneath, leather pants that look like they’ve been painted on her body, star tattoos on her neck. Saira suddenly feels awkward in her flannel and jeans, which hasn’t happened in a while.
“Fancy a smoke?” the redhead asks, pulling a pack from her pocket.
“No, thank you,” Saira shakes her head. The woman shrugs and puts her cigarettes away. “Are you performing today?”
“Yeah, I’m in Riot Women. I’m their singer. We’re just finished with the soundcheck.” She pauses to inhale and exhale a cloud of smoke. Saira is mesmerised by it. “Name’s Kitty, by the way.”
“I’m Saira. I’m with the Lady Parts.”
“Ah, the headliners! Your name’s on the poster and everything. We’re there as ‘local bands’.” Kitty makes air quotes around the last words. “Although we’ve only been a band for a few months, so it’s alright, I guess.”
She takes her last puff of the cigarette and stomps it with her heeled boot, then looks at Saira closely with her big bright eyes and steps towards her. Saira turns her face upwards to see Kitty’s grin right in front of her.
“Are you busy right now?” Kitty asks in a lower voice, her tone suggestive, although Saira’s not sure what’s being suggested.
“We’re waiting on the soundcheck but it might take a while,” Saira answers cautiously, still not understanding what’s happening.
“You see, I’m on that new HRT medication, and it makes me too randy, and I’m at my wit’s end on how to fix it. I mean, I can go and find a bloke, but I haven’t had much luck with them, me. They’re all shit, to be honest. So, wanna shag?” Saira feels long cool fingers circle her right wrist, sending goosebumps up her arm. “I know a place we can go. Sorry that I’m not seducing you properly but we haven’t much time and I think you’re hot.”
Saira jerks her arm away and jumps a step back.
“I’m not gay!” She spits out.
Kitty looks taken aback and then genuinely remorseful, and Saira softens. She can admit to herself that she’s kinda flattered by the proposition – Kitty is beautiful even if Saira doesn’t swing that way.
“God, sorry! I didn’t think I’d offend you, with you looking like that.” Kitty gestures at her, and Saira looks down at her plaid short-sleeved shirt and jeans that are more hole than fabric. It’s not the first time people thought she was gay due to the way she dresses, so she can’t really blame Kitty for that.
“You shouldn’t judge people by how they look,” Saira bites back and immediately cringes. “Sorry, I’m not angry, just surprised. People don’t usually try to fuck me two minutes after meeting me.”
“Don’t believe that for a second, love,” Kitty grins at her, not looking worried anymore. “I think you're just oblivious to it.”
Saira can’t help but offer a small smile back.
“Is it really a problem for you to find someone to… have sex with?” Saira asks. “I’m sure a lot of people would be willing.”
“Just my luck,” Kitty shrugs. “Was hoping it’ll get better this weekend and now I bollocksed it all up.”
“Still plenty of time left in the weekend.” Saira says. “Don’t give up so easily.”
“Nice of you to say after what I just pulled on you. Sorry again about that.”
Saira opens her mouth to say another variation of “don’t worry about it” but she’s interrupted by a woman coming round the tent from Kitty’s side. She’s shorter and older and very much reminds Saira of a teacher she’s had in school, one of the rare ones she actually respected. What was her name? Amina probably remembers, Saira should ask her.
The woman puts her hand on the small of Kitty’s back, and Saira can clearly see how she relaxes into the touch without even looking at the newcomer. There’s definitely a familiarity here.
“Hello!” she says cheerfully. “I was looking for Kitty, actually, and heard you two talking. Are you here for the festival?”
Even her voice sounds like a teacher’s. Saira straightens up unconsciously.
“Yeah, I’m with a band. We are Lady Parts?”
“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of you! Jenny sent some links after you were confirmed for the festival. You are very good!”
“Thank you,” Saira says, awkwardly, almost adding “miss” in the end. She graduated more than a decade ago, for fuck’s sake, why is she afraid of this woman who might not even be a teacher at all?
“I’m Beth,” the woman introduces herself. “I’m in Riot Women with Kitty.”
“She’s brilliant on the keys,” Kitty adds immediately.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Saira.” Good job, she remembered how to be polite.
“What were you two talking about?”
Kitty visibly tenses for a second before laughing sheepishly.
“I have propositioned lovely Saira here but she said ‘no’.”
“What do you mean, propositioned?”
Saira looks at Kitty helplessly. She doesn’t really want to be a part of this conversation but it’s too late to leave.
“For sex, Beth,” Kitty says.
Beth studies Saira for a second, her lips in a thin line.
“Isn’t she too young for you?” She turns to Kitty and then back to Saira. “How old are you, love?”
“I’m thirty-one.”
“Oh god, she’s younger than Tom,” Beth gasps.
“When you put it like that,” Kitty says. “It does sound kinda weird.”
“Who’s Tom?”
“Our son,” they answer in unison.
Saira laughs in disbelief.
“You guys are married? And you go around trying to fuck random women?”
“We’re not married,” Beth says. “Kitty’s a free agent.”
Kitty opens her mouth trying to add something but pauses, looking behind Saira. She turns and sees Momtaz coming down towards them, her niqab flowing in the wind, a cloud of vapour around her head. Saira tenses, ready to pounce if these women decide to spout some casual islamophobia.
“Cheers, ladies!” Momtaz shouts. “Beautiful weather today, innit?”
Saira turns back in time to see Kitty saluting Momtaz in greeting. In a few seconds Taz reaches them to talk in regular volume.
“Sorry to cut your conversation but I have to steal Saira from you,” she says to Kitty and Beth and then leans into Saira, lowering her voice. “Amina is freaking out and asking for you.”
Saira gets immediately worried. Amina freaking out before a performance is old news but she hasn't needed Saira’s company to calm her down in a while. Especially if Ahsan is there with her. What the hell happened in a few minutes she was away?
Saira manages a wave and a “See you!” towards Kitty and Beth and starts briskly walking towards their tent, not checking if Momtaz is following her.
***
Turns out, Amina is freaking out because one of the strings on her guitar had broken while she was tuning it, and she forgot to bring spares. Saira’s not sure why Amina asked for her because she also doesn’t have any spares on her. But Amina is panicking despite Bisma’s efforts to soothe her, and Ahsan is not in the tent for some reason, so Saira sits by her side and holds her hand and lets her talk it out.
Ahsan comes back a few minutes later with a pack of strings and announces that he took them from the organisers’ tent. By that time Amina has calmed down, and she jumps up to kiss Ahsan in thanks before starting fiddling with replacement. Saira rolls her eyes at her antics.
Momtaz sinks down on the chair Amina just occupied, bumps Saira with her shoulder.
“So, who are those ladies you were talking to? You were blushing, I saw.”
“Some local lesbians,” Saira scoffs, sure that she wasn’t blushing and Momtaz is talking shit. “They’re in this band called Riot Women, they’re also performing today.” She pauses and lowers her voice. “The redhead was trying to fuck me.”
“Is she blind?”
“Hey!”
“I’ve only seen her for a few seconds but she can definitely do better”.
“Hey!” Saira repeats louder. “You’re supposed to be my friend and uplift me or whatever!”
“Doesn’t mean I have to lie to you, does it?”
“I’ve told you to stop wearing so much plaid if you don’t want to attract women,” Ayesha says, passing them by.
“Did everyone hear what I was talking about?” Saira asks incredulously.
Everyone in the room nods, Amina is looking especially guilty. Saira groans and puts her head in her hands.
“We should go see their set,” Bisma says. “I want to see the hot redhead.”
Saira mumbles “Kill me” into her hands and feels Taz patting her on the back.
***
Despite Saira’s protests they go to see the Riot Women performance, mixing with the crowd. Saira even in her mortified state can say that Kitty has some pipes on her. The other members of the band are not nearly that good, except maybe for Beth on the keys, but they are adequate.
“What kinda punk band has backup dancers?” Ayesha asks. “Like, who does that?”
“It’s punk, innit? The point is that there are no rules,” Momtaz says. Ayesha scoffs but otherwise stays silent.
Despite an amateurish performance and a lukewarm crowd around them by the end of the set Saira finds herself chanting “red, red, red, red!” along with Kitty, the band, and all the people in a hundred yards radius.
“Thank you all!” Kitty says on stage, after the wave of applause. “We’ve been Riot Women! We don’t have merch yet but you can follow us on Instagram, I guess.”
Kitty is looking at the festival-goers while she talks and stops when she sees Saira, winks and makes finger guns at her. It should not be endearing but Saira is charmed despite herself. She offers a two-fingered salute back. Kitty grins at her.
“They’re not half-bad.” Momtaz says on her right. “And the singer got a lot of charisma. What do you think, maybe it’s time for Momtaz Records to expand to Yorkshire?”
“Oh, shut up!” Saira says and rolls her eyes. She has a feeling that it’s not the last time she’s gonna hear about Riot Women from her friends.
And if an hour later she tries to look for a tall woman with red hair from her vantage point on the stage that’s nobody else’s business but hers.