Metal Urge (10 page)

****

Nigel and Maggi stood in the cold morning air in front of the bed and breakfast, each feeling a bit awkward after their passionate night together.  Maggi had insisted on taking the train back to London, and he had grudgingly agreed, still worried that Trevor would somehow find her and harm her.  He settled on the seat of his bike, and looked at up her, unsure of what to say.  She nodded, understanding that neither of them knew what was going to happen, if anything, in terms of a relationship.  Nigel wasn’t sure why he felt so guilty and anxious; it wasn’t the first time he’d slept with a woman since his break-up with Deanna, but Maggi
was
her
best friend.  He let out a breath, the air turning white around his face in the misty, subdued sunlight.  It was obvious why he was uneasy; he felt he had cheated on Deanna.  The fact remained that he and Deanna were no longer together, and hadn’t been for over two months so why did he care?  It was maddening.  He just wanted to get away from this whole bloody mess once and for all.

Stepping closer to the gleaming motorbike, Maggi leaned down and kissed him, embracing him lightly.  “Call me,” she murmured in his ear.

He smiled and nodded as she backed away from the bike.  Nigel revved the engine and sped away, his back tire fish-tailing and spraying up clouds of dust and gravel around the wheels of his roaring motorbike.

“Call me?”  Maggi laughed out loud.  How lame was that?  She wasn’t even sure she wanted Nigel to call her.  He'd been so kind and understanding
and
totally amazing in bed, but was that a legitimate reason for them to see each other again?  Maggi hugged herself tightly realizing it wasn’t just from the cold morning air.  She hurried up to her room and looked out the window imagining how Deanna would react if she knew that her old friend and her ex had slept together.  How would she feel if Deanna slept with Trevor?  She'd want to kill Deanna, that’s how.  “Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive” ran through Maggi’s mind over and over like a funeral dirge.  She fought hard to ignore her conscience which insisted she call her old friend and come clean.

“No,” she said defiantly.  “Maybe I
do
want to see Nigel again and that’s none of her business. 
She’s
the one who broke it off with him.  She told me herself before I left for Glaston Hall.”  Tossing her dark brown hair over her shoulders with an insolent flick of her hands, Maggi finished packing and glanced in the mirror to check her make-up.  A smug look had settled over her features like a spiteful mask, and she looked away immediately.  Maggi Atwell never felt guilty---especially when she had done nothing to feel guilty about.  Deanna and Nigel weren’t together anymore, Trevor was a psychotic train wreck, and she didn’t know if she could ever forgive him so why not enjoy the well-endowed Nigel Guilford for a while?  It was just for kicks until something better came along for the both of them.

Maggi called a cab and waited outside in the damp, frigid air hoping the elements would help to clear her head of any negative self-doubt and something she would never admit to: shame.

Chapter 14

Trevor waited until dinner was over on the last night of Metal Urge’s stay at Glaston Hall to inform them that they would be playing a gig at the Hammersmith Odeon, a well-known rock music venue located in London.  It would be a heavy hitter showcasing both of his metal music giants.  Metal Urge would share equal billing with Beastrage, who had released their first album roughly six months before.

The members of Metal Urge felt certain that the Beast’s record hadn’t done nearly as well as theirs would.  Beastrage's first effort had barely made the top twenty on the charts, but it was rumored that due to the overwhelming success of Metal Urge’s self-titled single, their album could easily debut in the top ten.  Despite their excitement at the prospect of playing the Hammersmith, they all felt slightly uncomfortable at meeting and playing a gig with the members of Beastrage so soon after the unexpected triumph of “Metal Urge.”  Still, they whole-heartedly agreed that it would be a great honor to share the stage with the band that had inspired them to forge ahead as a heavy metal group.

Satisfied that there would be no major blood-letting, Trevor excused himself to make the final arrangements for the bands to meet in two night’s time allowing the band members a day to rest and recoup upon their return to London.

****

Nick Ramsay, the metal mouthpiece behind the Beasts’ ear shredding vocals, answered the phone and inclined his head towards a second phone inviting Piper Howlen, the Beast’s drummer, to listen in on Trevor Hampton’s phone call.  Both men listened as he tried to sugar-coat the cold, hard truth that Beastrage would be the opening band for the five yobs from the steel mill town of Bilston who called themselves Metal Urge.  Neither Nick nor Piper was surprised given the fact that every time they turned on the radio the song “Metal Urge” blasted out of the speakers and right into their disillusioned faces.  It was inevitable but still it rankled, although they had to admit “Metal Urge” was a bloody good song.

Nick gave Trevor a hard time just for the fun of it before hanging up and shrugging at the look of indignation on his band mate’s face.  Piper snatched up his jacket and left their flat without a word.  Shaking his head with amusement at his mate's jealous behavior, Nick knocked back a shot of Jack Daniels and smacked his lips.  It seemed that the leathered lads were a tight unit and smarter than they looked, not to mention their singer had an incredible voice which soared to inconceivable heights of raw emotion and power.  They were a tough act to beat, or to follow, and so what?  Beastrage had made some serious dosh.  Each and every one of them were living a better life than they would have lived working in the roaring steel factories of Sheffield making cutlery for the masses, eventually dying with a few fingers or even a hand missing from industrial accidents.  Nick could relate to his brothers from the industrialized Black Country wastelands and their desperate desire to escape the belching smokestacks poisoning the sky, and the residents.

“Cheers,” he said out loud, and drank a double shot of Jack, the best whiskey America had to offer.  He was willing to bet that the Americans would prove a loyal and profitable audience for the two English metal bands, and he couldn’t wait to tour there.  Who cared which band opened or closed the gigs?  What mattered is that they all made a bundle of cash and had plenty of lovely young females to entertain them during the long, grueling days and nights of touring.

He flopped back on the couch and opened the latest issue of Playboy magazine.  Man, those Yanks bred the finest and foxiest women on the planet!  He opened the centerfold and grinned.  Who wouldn’t want a piece of that?  “God bless America!”  Nick laughed, saluting the naked lass with his bottle of Tennessee’s finest sour mash whiskey.

Chapter 15

“I won’t be home until late,” Deanna called out to her sleepy-eyed friend.

Maggi was exhausted from her emotional train journey back to London and hadn’t yet caught up on her sleep.  She yawned and stretched while Deanna explained that she had to study for finals.  One of her classmates had offered to help her study---two heads being better than one when it came to cramming for a long, two-part test.  They would probably be up most of the night so she might not come home until the following morning.  She rushed out with a backward wave while Maggi stumbled back to her bedroom to try and get a few more hours of sleep.

Not long after Deanna left the flat the phone rang, and Nigel asked if he could come over to talk.  Maggi was bone tired but she said yes.  He asked if Deanna was there, and Maggi assured him that she was gone for the day so it was the perfect time for them to talk.  After hanging up the phone, he let out a sigh of relief.  It seemed luck was on his side now that he had a chance to talk to Maggi without worrying about Deanna or his burgeoning guilt over his one night stand with her sexy girlfriend.

Sinking to the couch, Maggi relaxed against the overstuffed pillows.  Why bother to get dressed?  She could care less what she looked like or what Nigel might have to say.  The heavy weight of depression was pressing down on her, and she was beginning to regret breaking it off so hastily with Trevor.  It would be so easy to call and beg his forgiveness and plead with him to come back to her.  Trevor could be a monster, but she truly believed his behavior was a cry for help from a lost little boy damaged beyond repair by his parent’s cruel indifference and refusal to love and nurture him.  Trevor’s emotional pain and fear of abandonment held him firmly in its vice-like grip forcing him to lash out at those he believed would betray him.  Although she had tried to save him with her love and devotion, it was never enough.  What if he was capable of suicide now that she had left him?  She couldn’t bear to lose him, especially by his own hand.  The thought of Trevor killing himself scared her so badly that she was picking up the phone to dial his number when she heard Nigel’s motorbike pull up in front of the flat.  She wiped the tears away and met him at the front door.

He asked what had happened as soon as he saw her teary face.  Unable to answer him, Maggi threw herself into his arms and wept against his chest.  He stroked her hair, murmuring assurances that everything would be alright.  Maggi’s out of control emotion drove her to kiss Nigel, who eagerly responded to her probing tongue and skillful lips.  Soon the two of them were in her bedroom removing each other’s clothes in a mad haste to experience their naked flesh coming together once again.  In between bouts of epic sexual indulgence, Nigel refused to think about what was going on between them or why.  He had vowed it would never happen again after leaving Maggi at the B&B on that strange, frosty morning yet here he was in her bed, a more than willing partner in their energetic exploits, easily blocking out any thoughts of Deanna or why he had come to the flat in the first place.  Their desire was insatiable and they pleasured each other with animalistic abandon, unable to hear the front door opening over their strangled cries and moans of gratification.

Deanna stood in the front doorway stunned by the sounds emanating from the flat.  She shut the door and looked dazedly at Nigel’s bike parked at the curb.  She noticed the Harley as the bus passed by Woodsome Road and thought Nigel had come by to patch things up between them.  She practically ran from the bus stop wanting nothing more than to throw herself into his open arms, hear him say that he loved her, and admit that everything he said on the phone that horrible night had been a mistake.  Every transgression would be forgiven and forgotten with the first precious kiss they had shared in months.

Feeling lightheaded, she steadied herself by clinging to the metal posts that ran along the steps leading from the flat.  Her legs felt so shaky she feared she might not be able to walk much less make it all the way back to the bus stop.  Nausea welled up inside her tender stomach forcing her to lean over a neighboring flat’s rose bushes and vomit.  She scratched her face and hands on the thorns as she struggled to remain upright, but she went down hard on one knee and cried out causing a passerby to run to her aid.  He helped her up and asked if she needed a doctor after observing the bleeding scratches on her face.  She struggled out of his grasp and stumbled away, hot tears making it almost impossible to see where she was going.  The man followed close behind afraid that she might lurch into the road.  Deanna finally reached the safety of the bus stop and sat down on the bench, her breathing ragged.  The knee of her pants leg was torn and bloody, and she giggled at how silly it looked.  The Good Samaritan flagged down a passing bobby, directing him to the injured girl, wondering if the poor thing was drunk or on drugs.

The bobby approached Deanna and asked if he could be of assistance.  She looked at the kind-faced policeman for a moment before bursting into loud, shuddering sobs.  He sat down beside her and offered her a crisp, clean handkerchief which she took gratefully.  As she wiped her eyes and nose, her sobs receded into little gulps and sniffles.  Wisely, the bobby didn’t say a thing.  He sat there silently like a pillar of emotional strength, his unruffled demeanor helping to calm her.  When she felt composed enough to speak, she thanked him and assured him that she was alright.

Watching her injured face closely, he asked where she was going and how she planned to get there.  Deanna looked away uncomfortably and told him she was going home by bus.  She compounded the lie when she said she was coming down with the flu and had to leave school early.  He glanced at her book bag, his gaze traveling down to her bloody knee and nodded, aware that she was lying.  Unsure that the girl was well enough to travel on her own, he waited with her until the next bus arrived and saw her safely on board, asking the bus driver to keep his eye on the young lady. He used a pass to pay Deanna’s fare, and she thanked him again for his kindness.  She had no idea where she was going, but at the moment she really didn’t care.  Her cuts were throbbing, and she had a sickening headache, reminding her that she needed something to eat.  She clutched her belly and silently prayed her baby was alright after her fall on the rough dirt by the rose bushes.

It was no surprise that her ears still rang with the sounds of Nigel and Maggi fucking like animals in the small flat.  Deanna wanted to scream until her throat was raw and bleeding, but she took a deep breath and focused on her child as she searched for a place to eat from the bus window.