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– I think the only one in our family who can sing is Misha.

– And me.

– You love yourself too much.

– Come on. Sing something.

– No, I can't.

– That's it, no more objections and no more refusals.

– Get off me already!

– Are you afraid of the audience?

Martin was totally messing with me. Karaoke bar! Sing! I can't even remember the last time I listened to music and he's asking me to sing! Hmm. The last time I sang was when I was seven, for my grandparents. A Christmas carol.

– I'm not afraid of anything! But you can't take me at my word! We're not children, and I won't fall for that! – I mockingly answered Martin's question.

– That's what they all say. You coward! – Martin put his arm round my shoulders and dragged me along the crowded street, through the evening lights, into some creepy semi-basement. We stopped in front of a black iron door.

– It's a good thing you're dressed up today, or they would have sent you home to your parents," my brother said jokingly.

– Ha-ha-ha! – I faked a laugh.

But he was right. Tonight I was wearing full evening make-up, a dress, heels and a black leather jacket.

– I'll be singing and you'll be jealous. – Martin pressed the round bell located on the yellow wall, and eight seconds later the door opened. A middle-aged woman appeared on the doorstep. With tunnels in her ears, long blue hair and shaved temples.

– There's our star! Hai, Martin! – She said hello in a rough, smoky voice.

Martin winked at her.

– Damn, you're gorgeous as always! – Martin also greeted her.

– Who's that with you? – The woman looked at me curiously.

– This is my sister, Grue. She'll be rocking out tonight. – Martin clapped her on the shoulder like some kind of man.

What a familiarity with mortals!

– Baby, do you have your id or passport with you? – I was approached by this "friend" of Martin. – That's a swell sister you've got there, Martin.

– Oh, gods," I whispered mockingly, and then coughed softly. – I'd love to show you my passport, but your star didn't tell me I might need it.

– Sorry, it slipped my mind," Martin told me. – 'I've been here so often, I haven't been checked in a while. – Grue," he turned to his 'friend', "She's been an adult for a while now.

– I hear that two hundred times every day. Baby, how old are you?

– Twenty-five," I answered. – Honestly.

– 'Grue, I wouldn't lie to you, really,' Martin said insistently. – You know me!

– Well, all right, handsome, just for you. Come on in, baby. – Grue stepped aside, giving us passage inside.

– You're a miracle, Grue. – Martin gave her a peck on the cheek.

– There's no karaoke tonight. We've got a show," Grue shrugged him off.

– Oh, shit! I was looking forward to singing Jackson's "Bad"! Who's playing?

– Moonlight," Grue said, following us.

– They broke up a long time ago… Why didn't anyone even mention they were performing? Grue, I would have hanged myself if I hadn't been at that concert! – Martin exclaimed with fervour.

– Darling, it's your own fault! It's been a long time since you came and did not follow the poster! – laughed Grue.

– The first time I've heard of them, – I told my brother. – What kind of band?

But Martin didn't seem to hear me.

– They decided to give three concerts, and we are very lucky tonight. A ticket costs two hundred zlotys, – the woman told us.

– We'll pay. – Martin stopped abruptly and took out a purse from the pocket of his black jacket. – Here, for me and my sister. – And he tried to shove the notes into Gru's hands.

– Here's more! Keep it. Just go on in.

– No. I like their songs, and I don't want to rob them of an honest income!

Grue reluctantly took the money from him.

– What a noble man you are," I jokingly remarked as we continued on our way. – What are they playing?

– Rock. – Martin seemed to be seriously excited about the event. – How lucky! I never thought I'd see them play again!

– So you've been to their concerts, too? Did you get an autograph on your arse? – I was amused: Martin was a bit funny.

– No, but tonight I will! And we'll ask you to sign your chest! – My brother replied enthusiastically.

We came to a large, wide hall. Despite the fact that the hall was located underground, on the ground floor, its ceilings were high. That's fine. I hate low-ceilinged rooms-they're just too hard on the psyche.

– What a crowd today! – Martin remarked.

– It's like meeting the Pope! – I agreed.

How I loved to make fun of him!

But Martin didn't pay any attention to me, but worked his shoulders hard, forcing his way to the stage, saying: "Pardon me", "Sorry mate", "Sorry baby" and "Make way for the biggest fans!".

– You're a pro! – I complimented my brother.

Now we were standing by the stage itself.

The stage was small, but I thought it was pretty spacious if you kept the ballet off it. A microphone stand, electric guitar, bass, drum kit, synthesiser. The only thing missing was the people for whom all this noisy crowd of people had come.

– That's nothing! Here's what I can do! – Martin stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly and shrilly. I laughed. Oh, my brother! What talents he was hiding from me!

– Clap as loud as you can and shout like a madwoman! – he told me. – It pleases the performers!

– Shout what? – I asked obediently.

– Whatever you want!

– Give the money back? – I joked, starting to clap my hands loudly and often.

– If you shout that, I'll shut your mouth and push you out the door myself! – Martin replied with a happy smile, clapping like a madman.

The crowd seemed to be infected with his energy, and in a minute the noise in the hall was such that I thought my head would burst.