Billy snorted. “You know she won those tickets and asked me to go to that stupid gig with her?”
Janey smiled. “Bob’s annual raffle of crap client freebies. First prize, two free tickets. Second prize, four free tickets...”
Billy sighed. “Exactly. Total embarrassment of a Thursday night out—a charity gig in a pub,
starring the marketing team of our biggest client, plus various cringeworthy party pieces from all their friends and family?
And, to make it worse, with her?” Everyone laughed.
I couldn’t disagree with his assessment; it was hardly a Gatsby-esque night of glamour and excess.
“There was one band in the first half—Johnnie something and the Pilgrim Pioneers—who weren’t actually that bad,” he said.
“They mostly played their own stuff, some covers too, classic oldies.” “I know him—Johnnie Lomond!” Bernadette said.
“He was in the same year as my big brother. Came to our house for a party one night when Mum and Dad were in Tenerife,
him and some of my brother’s other mates from Sixth Year. Ended up blocking the bathroom sink, if I remember right...”
I turned away, not wishing to hear about his youthful indiscretions.
“Anyway,” said Billy—he did not like being interrupted, I’d noticed—“she absolutely hated that band.
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