Metal Urge (7 page)

Aching for his fix, Trevor dismissed his ire at Maggi’s ignorant oversight and began to prepare the heroin.  He watched the lovely white rock dissolve in its silver spoon, and with a shaky hand he sucked up a careful dose in the hypodermic needle.  It wouldn’t do to inject too much, he just needed to relax and tamp down the raging blaze of anger he always seemed to feel.  Pushing the plunger down, he sighed when a spurt of blood swirled into the hypo and mixed with the heavenly liquid.  He would deal with Maggi later; for the time being he just wanted to feel the dregs of the day slip away and disappear into a bright red field of poppies.

The members of Metal Urge watched their host inhale the intoxicating smoke and then pass the “arm” to Jayson who inhaled deeply.  There were three other arms so Alistair, Brad, and Nigel picked them up and began to smoke.  Thom shared the arm with Jayson and Wild Bill, and soon the six men were sprawled against the pillows, regaling each other with stories and anecdotes of their pasts.

Metal Urge recounted their lives on the mean streets of the industrial cities of Bilston and Wolverhampton, recalling how desperation and imminent poverty fueled their creativity, and their drive to succeed as a band.

Wild Bill had a few stories of his own, sharing tales of the hardship of growing up as a renegade “space cowboy” in the conservative Texas Bible belt.  They laughed, commiserated, and smoked until the sun peeked through the early morning clouds.  Wild Bill showed them to a winding staircase which led to their rooms, and advised them to get some much-needed rest before they embarked on the biggest adventure of their lives.

Brad followed Alistair up the staircase.  The two men stopped outside an ornately carved door and looked around before going into Alistair’s bedroom.  They wanted to discuss Thom’s strange behavior privately.  Alistair discovered a bottle of brandy on the dresser so he poured them both a drink and sat down on an ornate wing chair across from Brad.  Alistair admitted that he had entertained the idea of stepping in and sorting out his two mates but after Thom’s latest outburst, he realized that Nigel didn’t have a clue as to what was eating Thom alive.  After a short discussion they finally understood the reason for Thom’s hateful attitude of late: he was jealous of Nigel’s relationship with Deanna Darmody.  Not only was he jealous, he was going stark raving mad over the fact that the beautiful American never paid him the slightest bit of attention.  Nigel had brought her along to a couple of rehearsals, and it was clear that she only had eyes for him.  She was very sweet and polite, but she was there for Nigel and had no interest in lengthy conversation or interaction with any of the other band members.

Thom was an extremely good-looking bloke who was used to more than his fair share of attention from the ladies.  With his long, thick mane of honey blonde hair, and impossibly blue eyes framed by lashes most women would kill for, it was easy for Thom to flash a dimpled smile at some hapless female and remain confident that before the night was over he would be carving another notch into his bedpost.

Brad and Alistair both agreed that this was different.  If love at first sight actually existed, then Thom, without a doubt, had fallen in love with Deanna Darmody the moment he laid eyes on her.  Poor sod.  They both thought it necessary to have a little chat with Thom before matters really got out of hand.  The band was at Glaston Hall to create the record that would determine their fate, and hopefully change all of their lives for the better, not to brawl like a bunch of common yobs at a football match.  They believed they could reason with their band mate and the outcome would be far more amicable than Thom and Nigel tearing into one another; especially over Nigel’s girlfriend.  When they were sure they had the situation sussed out, Brad clapped Alistair on the shoulder and started to leave.  He opened the door just a crack and peeked out to make sure the coast was clear.  Hearing faint voices down the hall, he gestured for Alistair to follow him.  Nigel and Thom stood outside of Thom’s bedroom, apparently in a heated discussion although they were trying to keep their voices down.  Both men were pointing and gesturing, followed by macho posturing, then a few rude gestures to emphasize their vulgar epithets.

Brad looked at Alistair and whispered that he could almost smell the testosterone wafting from the two wanks having a go at each other down the hall.  Alistair covered his mouth and frowned at Brad for almost making him laugh which would have certainly alerted Nigel and Thom to their presence creating an even bigger fracas.

The quarrel ended after Thom lifted two fingers and thrust them into Nigel’s face with an audible “Fuck you” before going into his room and slamming the door.  Nigel started to knock but backed off.  He laid his hands against the door and took a few deep breaths.  After a moment or two, he pushed away from the door and stalked towards his bedroom, his anger palpable in the quiet hallway.

Alistair and Brad looked at each other and shrugged helplessly.  There went the “little chat” idea.  Now all they could do was wait to see how this hormone fueled drama played out.

****

To everyone’s immense relief, the following days went smoothly, the band performing like seasoned pros.

Wild Bill offered invaluable advice and support; critiquing but never criticizing their music or ideas, and by the close of week two at Glaston Hall, Metal Urge had created what would soon prove to be an extremely successful single.

Trevor fairly danced with glee.  Just as he had predicted, Metal Urge were about to sky rocket to the stars, and explode on the metal scene, showering him with oodles of cash.  He was so delighted, he no longer cared about Deanna, or Maggi’s failure to keep him informed of her stupid blonde friend’s position as Nigel’s bitch.  The band had surprised him with their consummate professionalism.  He laughed when it occurred to him that they wouldn’t know what that meant, but somehow they instinctively knew how to act accordingly and that was all that mattered.

After receiving a call from a local radio station, the members of Metal Urge, Wild Bill, and Trevor gathered around Wild Bill’s huge console stereo which was connected to concert sized speakers for maximum enjoyment, to listen to the first airing of their single, “Metal Urge.”  As the song burst forth in a frenzy of drums and shredding guitars, the reverberation was so powerful they felt their bodies vibrate with every note.  Thom’s Flying V shrieked as Nigel’s voice screamed out, “We’re gonna get inside you and fill you with the metal urge!”  They all cheered as the singer’s outstanding vocals grabbed them by the throat and squeezed while the instruments slammed into them, unrelenting and unapologetic.  Wild Bill looked at Trevor and grinned.  He never doubted that these boys would bring the new sound of heavy metal music to its knees, and they had in a way that not even Wild Bill himself could have imagined.

When the song ended the DJ let loose with a few colorful expletives, and then quickly apologized.  The band laughed and heartily congratulated each other, Wild Bill, and Trevor for making such an unforgettable impression on the DJ, and hopefully, everyone else who heard their song.  Almost immediately Wild Bill’s numerous phones began ringing, and he and his assistant, Clive, began rushing about like madmen to get them all answered.  The high-powered suits from Trevor’s party were pleased---extremely pleased---and they were calling to offer their congratulations and suggest that Trevor arrange a press conference, and then a concert at a suitable venue as soon as possible.  They wanted to make the most of their new-found sensation, cashing in while the fire was still hot.

Trevor agreed that following up the single’s release with a public appearance would not only promote Metal Urge but stir up much more interest in the band.  He went to his room to make a few phone calls, bracing for the fallout when he called Beastrage to offer them a spot as the opening act for the new metal band they would soon view as serious rivals.  God, he hated having to smooth ruffled feathers and stroke bruised egos.

The five members of Metal Urge stood around the console stereo, still experiencing the incredible aftershock of hearing their music on the radio at last.  They were unable to fully process what had just happened except for the realization that it was far beyond bloody amazing, and their lives were about to change forever.

Chapter 9

Why was it so hard to pick up the telephone receiver and dial?  Nigel pulled his hand back for the third time and sighed.  He hadn’t spoken to Deanna since arriving at Glaston Hall, and there was good reason for that.  Metal Urge had been working day and night to produce a song which would introduce metal music to the masses and hopefully leave them screaming for more.  Judging by the reactions of Wild Bill, Trevor, and the shell shocked DJ the band had more than succeeded.  He knew that Deanna was aware the two of them would be incommunicado for a while but after the release of “Metal Urge” over the radio waves tonight it was time for them to talk and for him to make a firm decision about whether or not to continue seeing her.  He hated feeling so uneasy.  Deanna was just a girl he had dated for a few weeks so why did the thought of hearing her voice fill him with dread?  No doubt he was conflicted over his feelings for her.

That was an understatement.

Unable to easily sort out his wild, roller coaster ride feelings for the beautiful, little American, he had done some heavy soul searching and reached the conclusion that he wasn’t in love with her.  But when he pictured her lovely face, the soft feel of her lips on his, and the way she smiled at him each time they met, he couldn’t deny that it sent a prickle of some indescribable emotion up and down his spine.  Nigel leaned towards the square black phone, cradled his head in his hands, and rested his elbows on his knees.  He imagined picking up the receiver and setting off an explosion of plastic shards and metal wires, obliterating himself and all of his niggling doubts.  He hesitantly picked up the handset and dialed her number, listening as the phone bleeped on the other end like a harbinger of doom.

“I’ll get it!” Deanna shouted, and picked up the heavy handset, her heart pounding in anticipation of the caller being Nigel.

“Deanna?” he asked sounding hesitant, and her heart leapt with joy and relief.  “Hi, Nigel, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to, um, hear yours as well,” he said reluctantly.  “Did you hear it?  Our song on the radio, I mean,” he asked, hoping she would say yes so they would have something to talk about besides themselves.

“I did!” she replied excitedly.  “Trevor called to let Maggi know it was making its debut tonight so we were glued to the radio.  When we heard it…well, it was beyond amazing!  Maggi and I were absolutely blown away.”

Nigel laughed, relieved and absurdly thrilled by Deanna’s reaction.  “Cheers, Deanna, I really appreciate the compliment.  We all do.”

“You guys more than deserve it,” she replied, pulling the long phone cord behind her as she went into her bedroom and shut the door.  She wanted the rest of their conversation to be private.  She had so much to say to Nigel, and so much to apologize for but for now she was content to let him talk.

He told her about Wild Bill’s posh estate, and how the producer spared no expense when it came to food and drink but left out the part about the hookah.  She said he sounded tired, and he agreed but said that Metal Urge had several weeks of hard work ahead of them if they were going to finish the album on schedule.

Deanna was disappointed that he wouldn’t be coming back to London soon but perhaps he would invite her to the estate for a weekend.  It quickly became apparent that Nigel had no such intention, and Deanna noticed that their conversation was becoming strained and a little uncomfortable.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, Deanna. I uh…”  He seemed hesitant to answer her simple question.

“I’m not angry or upset with you Nigel.  I never was.”  She hoped her statement would alleviate some of his apprehension.

“Why would you be?” he snapped.  “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

She wasn’t expecting him to become defensive or combative over her attempt to assure him that what happened the last time they were together was no big deal.  “No, of course you haven’t.  I just wanted you to know that I realize those things happen to a man sometimes…when he’s under a lot of stress…”

“No Deanna, those things happen to a man when he’s being pressured to do something he has no bloody desire to do.”  Nigel's tone was turning impatient and unpleasant.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” she stammered.

Nigel clapped his hand to his forehead in frustration.  What was wrong with this girl?  Did he have to spell it out for her?

Deanna began to panic, desperate to steer the conversation away from the ugly turn it had taken.  “I’m sorry.  I would never intentionally do or say anything to hurt or embarrass you.  Surely you know that.”  She took a deep, shaky breath.  “I love you, Nigel…”

“You what?” he laughed harshly, his voice sounding hurtful and condescending.

Deanna couldn’t believe his reaction, and even though she willed herself not to cry, the tears began to flow, and she swiped at them angrily.

Nigel groaned inwardly, not wanting to believe what he had just heard.  “Why did you have to ruin it?” he said out loud before realizing that he had spoken.

“I didn’t mean…,” she began, but he cut her off.

“It was good between us, Deanna.  Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?”