The Major Lift. Rewrite one.

Bandmates.

Chris came into the kitchen of the flat she shared with Blake, dumped her book bag by the door and came to flop down in one of the wooden dining chairs. The kitchen smelled of a mixture of vegetables and something that may have been beef cooking in a crockpot on the stove. It was nice if a little burned. The cavernously large kitchen, bookended by two swinging doors was lined halfway round with a bench, boasting a sink, stovetop and view of their yard through lace curtains. The table was round and surrounded by wooden chairs. A fridge stood by the door through which Chris had come and a pantry cupboard by the other door which lead to a hallway. The only thing off about the room, save for the aesthetically dated tiling on the floor was the bass stand sitting beside the bin indicative of the household chefs penchant for improvising while he cooked.
Blake himself had doffed his hoodie and shirt and stood in his tank and oversized jeans leaning on the lip of the sink beside the stove with his bass hanging over his shoulder. His hair hung over his face as he concentrated on it, plucking and slapping the thickest string.
"Hey Chris, you hungry?" He asked, not looking up.
"Ehh, nah, not really" she sighed, scrubbing her face with her calloused hands.
"Well, you should have some anyway, it's pretty good if I do say so myself," Blake said, smiling and glancing pointedly at Chris.
"Done flexing?" asked Chris mockingly.
"Yeah, I'm done. I'm tired" Blake admitted, glancing into the pot and turning off the heat. He took off his bass and returned it to its stand before beginning to ladle spoonfuls of his stew into two bowls. He brought them both to the table and slid one over to Chris as he sat down opposite her. They ate, Chris was surprised privately to find out just how hungry she really was. Blakes culinary creation tasted pleasant enough, if in need of pepper in Chris' opinion. It was velvety and had a the deep complex flavour of many different root vegetables and a protein that definitely was once beef. Despite its slightly bland taste, it warmed Chris from the inside. It was one of the things besides playing bass Blake was really good at. One of the things Chris was actually privately jealous of him over. There was a few minutes of silence as they both ate the stew, the only sound being the scraping of spoons in bowels before Chris spoke, unable to hold back anymore.
So ... I had a class, ran some lines ... met ... a potential ... new guitarist today" Chris listed tentatively. She watched Blakes eyebrows disappear into his hair as he fixed Chris with a look of genuine surprise and the ghost of actual happiness.
"Did ya'? Wow! Who are they?" He asked, leaning forward in his chair and letting the spoon fall into his nearly empty bowel with a loud clatter.
"Their name is Aurora, and their guitar skills are the best I've seen since Dylan left. But ... they don't wanna join up". Chris explained, trailing off anticlimactically.
"Ohh..." Blake intoned, sounding mildly dejected and picking up his spoon again.
"I brought up the band n' all. But they didn't seem interested, in fact, they seemed to be scared by the prospect. Like they didn't think they were enough ... you know? Like they thought they were rubbish on the guitar". Chris explained, memories of Auroras nervous mannerisms and avoidance of the subject of gigging were flashing up in her mind.
"Well ... that's that. Although, you know talented people do tend to underestimate themselves. It's a phenomenon that's got a name but I can't recall right now. It's a shame though, that they won't audition, could have solved our problem quicker" Blake muttered into his bowl. Chris shot him a frustrated look but held her tongue in favour of saving face. They were both tired and done with the day and they both had class tomorrow.
Then Blake looked up, like a meerkat. "Hold on, is this Aurora person male or female?" He asked, slowly and deliberately. Chris thought back, seeing the image of Aurora swim up in her mind, of their distinctly ambiguous look and lack of any identifying features that humanity tends to chock up to either sex. The truth was that she didn't know, but was tempted to state that her new friend had been born female, but worked hard to blur this as much as possible for others. Perhaps they were transgender ... but Chris really wasn't sure and wouldn't trust herself to bring this up with her new friend at any time no matter how close they became. This, she felt instinctively should be Auroras to bring up and share at their own discretion.
"I actually don't really know. I'm tempted to say they're female, but also that they don't really want others to know this, or read it about them. That's what I get from reading them, you know?" Chris tried to reply, an upward inflection making it clear that she was unsure. Blakes eyebrows knitted together as he appeared to ponder this. Then he nodded, finishing off his stew.
"I think I may have seen them. They often hang about the studio, I once saw them sat in the corner of the producers booth scribbling in a notebook with a headset on. This while I was isolating one of the bass tracks I'd improvised in one of the songs we wrote with Dylan. Didn't speak, just carried on". Blake explained. "Kinda' short, skinny. Red hair, freckles, they were in this oversized Floyd shirt with a black top under it. Guitar case covered in stickers like your high school teachers laptop" he detailed. Chris smiled, it did seem right.
"Yeah, sounds right. They've got a voice that's like ... impossible to read too. Like either they've had hormones or smoked more than you do. Husky and kinda' hoarse but still resonant and imperfect but vocaly interesting. I reckon that if they sang, the effect would be spectacular" Chris said, imagining the redhead providing backup vocals for them on stage.
"Maybe they are on hormones. You don't know. And you won't. Anyway, if I see them about, maybe I'll try to ..." Blake began, taking Chris' finished bowl and dumping both in the sink.
"Nah, don't do that man. Don't. Lets just see if they show up to auditions, if I see them about, I'll let 'em know". Chris interrupted, joining Blake at the bench and beginning to wash the dishes. Blake shrugged and let Chris carry on.
"If you're sure. It does sound like this kid might be the the only decent guitarist we have yet to listen to though. I hope we see them again" he added, exiting the kitchen through the other door. A moment latter, Chris heard the sound of his bedroom door closing.

Their next auditions afternoon was abysmal and the illustrious Aurora hadn't shown up. After the two they had booked had been and gone, neither of which was quite the style they were looking for, they were both feeling just a little dejected. Blake slumped back in the chair, noodling on his bass guitar morosely. It struck Chris that she didn't much fancy going home that evening if this was the mood her housemate was in.