Metal Urge (12 page)

Thom had no idea what to say and stood in the dreadful green room in stunned silence.  The doctor patted his shoulder, said he was terribly sorry, and walked away leaving Thom to contemplate beating Nigel within an inch of his life for destroying yet another young girl’s life just as he had destroyed Chloe’s.  Swallowing hard, he opened the flimsy green curtain, stepping into the dark space where Deanna lay so small and fragile in the ugly hospital bed.  She was still under sedation so he gingerly sat down on the chair beside her bed and took her cold hand in his.  It looked so pale and bloodless against his palm that he felt his heart break for her and her terrible loss.  He clasped her hand gently and began humming a tune that his sister Chloe loved---when she was alive.

Chapter 17

Brad answered the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  Maggi peered around him impatiently, trying to see into the gloomy flat.

“Is Nigel here?”

Brad shrugged and opened the door, letting her in.  She turned and looked at him, crossing her arms.  “Where is his room?” she asked, feeling annoyed by the bass guitarist's show of indifference.

“I’m surprised you don’t know.”  Brad’s tone was heavy with sarcasm.

Maggi glared at him but said nothing.  He strolled down the short hallway and stopped in front of a warped and faded door.  He cocked his thumb in the direction of the door and walked away scratching his bum through his baggy cotton pajama bottoms, clearly wishing to display his lack of respect for the red-faced girl standing in his living room.

Maggi waited until he closed his bedroom door before making her way to Nigel’s room.  She knocked a couple of times, and Nigel opened the door, bleary eyes blackened, and swollen.  “My God Nigel, what happened to you?”  She reached out to touch his face.

He backed away and waved for her to come in.  He shut the door and put his finger to his lips, indicating he wanted her to refrain from waking the others if possible.  His nose was swollen and bruised along with his eyes, and it appeared he had been in some kind of brawl.

“I had a visit from Deanna,” he said, flopping back on his bed.

“What?”  Maggi shouted, and Nigel quickly shushed her.

“She heard us at your flat yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh my God,” Maggi groaned.  “So she came over here and punched you out?”  She almost laughed but stopped herself.

“It isn’t quite that simple, but yeah, basically she did.  I can’t say that I blame her.”  Nigel rubbed his face and hissed when he accidentally rubbed his nose a little too hard.

Maggi sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at his bruised face.  “She never came home.  Do you know where she went?  I’m really worried, Nigel.”

He sighed and got up, crossing the small room to examine his face in a mirror mounted on his closet door.  “She left with Thom, and he wasn’t about to tell me where he was taking her.”

“She left with Thom?  Why on earth would she do that?  She doesn’t even know the guy.”

Nigel turned to face Maggi.  “She would have gone with Jack the Ripper himself to get away from me.”  Maggi raised her eyebrows and started to speak but Nigel lifted his hand to silence her.  “There’s no need to worry, Deanna's perfectly safe.  Thom’s a good bloke.  She's far better off with him then either of us right now.”

“That’s crazy!” Maggi protested but Nigel cut her short with a scalding look.

“Have you any idea what we’ve done to her, Maggi?”

“She told me she broke up with you,” Maggi said shaking her head.

Nigel laughed harshly.  “She lied.”  He pushed his hair back from his forehead and let out a long, ragged breath.  “I broke it off with her after she told me that she loved me.  I was a bloody, sodding fool.”

“Wow, aren’t you tactful.”

Leaning against the bedroom wall, Nigel glared at Maggi.  “You’re one to talk about being tactful or anything else for that matter.  It’s obvious you don't give a toss that you’ve betrayed your best mate.”

She crossed her arms and stared at Nigel defiantly.  “Like you care about who betrayed who...yeah, right.  I’m not the one who blew her off and then screwed her best friend.”  Standing up stiffly, Maggi ran her hands down her thighs to smooth her jeans unaware that Nigel was crossing the floor to grab her arm.

He pulled her away from the bed and thrust her a bit roughly against the wall, his fingers digging into her arms.  “Don’t act as though you had nothing to do with this.”

“I didn’t,” she said sharply.  “I slept with you because I wanted to ease the pain of losing Trevor not because I was trying to hurt Deanna, or to forget her.”  She pushed away from the wall, but Nigel blocked the door, his face red with anger.

“Do you honestly think I'd be desperate enough to try and use the likes of you to forget Deanna?  She's a million times the woman you'll ever be.”  Nigel placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned in close, pressing her back against the wall.  “You can say what you like, but you don't really care who you hurt, yeah?”

“Oh, like you do?” she laughed, glad to see the anger shining brightly in his blackened eyes.  “I don’t think you’re even capable of caring about anyone but yourself.  Pay all the lip service you want to your ex-girlfriend; it doesn't mean squat.  Actions speak louder than words so don’t get self-righteous with me...
stud
.”

Nigel grabbed Maggi’s shoulder and opened the door.  “Get out,” he growled, pushing her into the hallway.  “And stay away from Deanna.  She doesn’t need a slag like you mucking up her life.”

“You should do the same, asshole!” Maggi shouted.  She stumbled through the small living room and slammed out of the front door.  Breathing hard, tears streaming down her face, Maggi knew that she had lost Trevor and Deanna: the only people other than her family that really meant anything to her.  She glanced back at the flat and sniffed loudly.  What on earth had possessed her to have sex with that colossal prick?

She had made a horrible mistake and there was no way she could ever take it back.

****

Oi! Thom!” Jayson called, knocking on Thom's bedroom door.

Thom tried to ignore the drummer's insistent knocking but it was playing on his already frayed nerves.  “Yeah?” he said a bit harshly as he opened the door a crack.

Jayson looked at him strangely until he opened the door all the way.  Thom stepped aside and swept his arm around as if to invite Jayson to take a good look around the bedroom.

“You're packing,” the drummer said softly.

“Brilliant observation,” Thom said sarcastically.

Jayson turned away with a shrug.  The hurt in his eyes made Thom feel like a total lout.

“Jayson, wait,” Thom grabbed his arm.  “I'm sorry, mate, I really am.  It's just that...well...you know what happened after the gig last night at the Hammersmith Odeon.”  He squeezed Jayson's arm and tried to smile.

“It's alright, mate.  I know you tried to kick Nigel's arse.  I don't know why, but I'm sure you must've had a good reason, yeah?”

“You've no idea,” Thom grimaced.  Images of Deanna laying in that awful hospital bed, fighting to regain her strength and her life after losing the bastard's child made him want to hunt Nigel down and...

“Thom?”  Jayson squeezed his shoulder.  “D'you want to talk about it?”

Thom shook his head and smiled.  “I need to get the rest of my gear and get out of this flat.”

“Let me help.”  Jayson picked up Thom's personal amp, heading for the door.

A pretty redhead leaned out of Jayson's bedroom and grinned at Thom as he lugged two over-packed suitcases out of his room.  Jayson trotted back in and took one of Thom's heavy bags.

“Who's the lovely bird?” Thom asked, smiling mischievously at Jayson.

“Her name's Penny,” Jayson said grinning from ear to ear.  “We met a couple of weeks ago at Wild Bill's party.”  Jayson motioned for her to join them and gave her a kiss when she snuggled into his side.

“It’s nice to meet you, Penny.  Sorry it's gonna be brief.  I've just secured a deposit on a really great flat in Chelsea.”

“Yeah?  I'm chuffed for you mate,” Jayson smiled a bit sadly.  “I'm really gonna miss you, Thom.”  He let go of Penny and grasped the heavy bag in both hands before pausing, “Everything's alright with the band, yeah?”

“Everything's fine, mate.  I just need a place of my own and now that we've earned a few extra quid...well, the time is right.”  Thom clapped Jayson on the back.  “You and Penny are always welcome to come for a visit.  In fact, I'd be gutted if you didn't come round now and then.”

They helped him move the rest of his belongings, packing them into his tiny Mini until the car looked as though it would burst at the seams.

“I suppose I should be on my way.  I'm meeting David Hadley to get the keys.”

“The bloke who photographed our album cover?”

“Yeah, he's the one.”

“He mentioned that he was moving to New York with his lady...”

“That's right,” Thom concurred.  “He needed to rent the flat, I was interested, and he gave me an amazing deal.  It seems the opportunity just fell into my lap, and it couldn't have happened at a better time,” Thom smiled mysteriously.

“Do the lads know?”  Jayson ran his fingers through his long, tight curls obviously still worried about the future of the band.

Thom smiled indulgently at his band mate.  “They will in time.”  He gave the young drummer a brief hug and stepped towards the car.  “Listen, mate, I don't want you to worry about Metal Urge, yeah?  We're tighter than ever, and we're still the best fucking metal band in England.  No one's gonna take that from us---
ever
.”

Jayson watched as Thom sped away in his noisy, little Mini, heading for a new life in David Hadley's flat in Chelsea, one of London's most coveted neighborhoods.  No doubt it was posh, but a quiet, little tree-lined street didn't really seem to fit Thom's personality: mad metal guitarist sporting long, blonde hair to the middle of his back, whanging on his Flying V until the guitar screamed its release.  His V was like a lover's flesh as he stroked and caressed it until it sang for him.  No axe man could coax the sweet vibrato rhythms from a whammy bar like Thom could.

Jayson pulled Penny close, hugging her tightly.  He wanted to believe Thom, but something was up---something bad.  He could feel Thom's hatred for Nigel like the burning heat of fever on his skin when they embraced.

“C’mon, love.  Let's go inside,” he said, turning his back on Thom's fading brake lights.

“Let me make you feel better,” she whispered in his ear.  “I don't like seeing you look so sad.”

Jayson smiled at her and nodded.  He couldn't help but remember how Thom's emotionally charged threats had escalated to a near riot when he attempted to attack Nigel after the concert at the Hammersmith Odeon the night before.  Trevor Hampton quickly stepped in threatening to sue the nads off of each and every band member if the British tabloids got wind of trouble brewing in Metal Urge.  Maybe it was best that Thom had moved out.  The band couldn't afford another scrap between those two.

Grinning wryly, Thom jangled the keys to his new flat.  Complete and total freedom from that shitty little dump at last.  He would miss the lads with the exception of that wank, Nigel Guilford.  He couldn't walk through the front door without seeing that nasty scene being played out between him and Deanna.  It made him sick.  No doubt Nigel's jostling her about like a bloody rag doll had something to do with her miscarriage.  And all because she confronted him after he had the bollocks to fuck that slag, Maggi Atwell, in her flat.  It was disgusting the way he laughed it up with Beastrages’ lead singer, Nick Ramsay like he didn't have a bloody care in the world while Deanna lay half-dead in a hospital after losing his baby.  It was too much and he had snapped, jumping Nigel and trying his damnedest to take the bastard down until Alistair and Trevor wrestled him off of a shouting, cursing Nigel.  How was he going to keep this band together?  He never should have asked the bastard to join his band, but he had, and it wouldn't do for him to go mental on the eve of their U.S. tour
and kick the lousy son of a bitch out.  The bloody wanker would get what was coming to him one day.

The thought made him smile.

It occurred to him as he removed his gear from the car that he could offer Deanna a place to stay when she was released from the hospital now that he had his own flat.  There was no reason for her to go back to the shoddy little dive she shared with that whore, Maggi Atwell.  She would be safe as houses here with him, and Nigel wouldn't have a chance to get at her, luring her back with lies and false promises.

A plaintive cry sounded from the kitchen, and Thom remembered that the cat David was forced to leave behind needed to be fed.  As he dumped a can of food into her bowl, he wondered if Deanna liked cats.  If she did, that would be the icing on the cake.  Mims would be good company for the poor girl; the cat loved to be cuddled and petted.  No doubt that was just what Deanna needed right now. Her grief over the loss of her baby must be overwhelming.  His heart clenched when he thought of his mum and sister.  People never really got over a devastating loss, but Mims could certainly offer the grieving girl a bit of comfort while she healed and tried to come to terms with her miscarriage.  After scratching Mims’ ears and chin, he grabbed his jacket and keys.  There was no point in wasting time.  It was the perfect opportunity to ask Deanna if she’d fancy moving in with him when he visited her at the hospital.  That would give her a day or two to mull it over, although he reckoned she would agree.  Whistling some silly tune off-key, Thom drove to the hospital feeling chuffed that he had a chance to help the lovely Yank get back on her feet.  Who could say what might happen with Nigel out of the way?

Chapter 18

The car pulled up in front of a two-story red brick building styled in the curved and carved architecture favored by London's gentry in Queen Victoria's time.  Deanna studied the black front door and wondered if the rooms secreted behind it would offer sanctuary and solace for her wounded soul or merely a brief respite from the harsh reality of her situation.  She felt friendless and completely alone in the auspicious, sprawling metropolis of London, so far from the loving arms of her family, and the easy familiarity of Phoenix, the desert city where she grew up.

Thom touched her arm and she turned to look at him.  “Well, this is it,” he said.  He smiled and Deanna let the warmth in his beautiful blue eyes chase away her fear and trepidation for the moment.

Thom got out of the car and opened the boot, removing the small bag of personal items he had taken to her while she was in the hospital.  He wouldn't bother telling her what a bloody fiasco it had been as Maggi cried, begged, and cursed him for refusing to tell her anything.  It was none of her business.  The simple task of gathering Deanna's modest belongings almost required an act of God as Maggi howled and screamed in the hallway, threatening to call the police.  What a ridiculous cow.  Deanna was lucky to be rid of her.

Following him up the walkway, she took a deep breath of the crisp, clean air to clear the hospital stink from her nose, drinking in the beauty of the multi-colored flowers which flanked the stone path leading up to the front entryway.  She glanced back at the tree-lined street whose bright, sunny sidewalks epitomized the perfect summer day.  Shivering in the warm sunlight she realized that nothing, not even this beautiful Chelsea neighborhood, could make her forget the terrible events that brought her here.

Thom unlocked the front door and ushered her inside.  The wood-paneled walls were covered in photographs, color and black and white, depicting everything from laughing children to lonely stretches of sandy beaches at sunrise.  Deanna wanted to look at each photograph in detail but Thom called to her from the stairway, insisting she let him show her to her room so she could rest.

“Doctors’ orders,” he said when she started to protest.

He opened a door at the end of the hall and stepped inside, waiting for her to join him.  As she entered she couldn't help but smile at the whimsical decor, dominated by colorful masks, brightly hued and glittery in the sunlit room.  Shelves were decorated with ceramic and porcelain figurines of fairies and woodland animals cavorting and posing in ridiculously cute ways.

“Is this a child's room?” she asked, noticing the wooden Punch and Judy puppets hanging in the corner above a large handmade stage complete with velvet curtains.

“No,” Thom laughed.  “The bloke who owns this flat is a photographer.  That's his work decorating the walls downstairs.  His wife is an artist.”  Thom waved his hand around and continued, “She makes these masks and figurines for the shops on Kings Road and the High Street.”

“Are they friends of yours?”  Deanna asked.

“Acquaintances, really.  The photographer, David, took the band's photos for the cover of our album.  He took photos at the Hammersmith Odeon concert as well. That bloke is absolutely brilliant with a camera.”

She nodded and smiled with delight at the all of the whimsical treasures decorating the sunny room.

Thom set her bags on the bed and asked her to follow him.  He showed her to a bathroom down the hall which was decorated in cabbage roses and meandering vines, obviously hand-painted and very life-like.

“This is your private loo,” Thom said.  “My bedroom and loo are on the ground floor so you have the first floor all to yourself.”

Deanna looked around and sighed, I can't believe how beautiful this place is.  It's obvious that very talented artists lived here.”  She reached out and clasped his hands.  “I don't know how to thank you...,” she began but Thom shook his head and squeezed her hands.

“No thanks necessary.  You're doing me a favor actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“David asked that someone be around to take care of Mims and seeing that I'm not very good with cats, well, I suppose you're Mims new caretaker---that is if you don't mind.”  Thom smiled sheepishly.

“Mims?”  Deanna laughed delightedly.  “Where is she?”

“Probably hiding from the big, bad guitarist who mistakenly played a few ear-splitting notes of “Bone Crusher” last night without his headphones plugged into the amp, causing Mims to pee on David's Persian rug in terror.”

“Oh Thom, that's so mean!”

“I didn't do it on purpose.  I simply forgot about poor little Mims.”

“What about the poor little neighbors?”  Deanna asked and laughed when Thom shrugged and tried to look innocent.

“I'm going to try and find her.  Show me where the cat food is.  I bet she'll come running considering she probably hasn't eaten since you scared the piss out of her...literally,” Deanna said dryly.

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.  She playfully slapped Thom's arm and pushed him towards the stairs so he could take her to the kitchen to get Mims some food.  He opened a door leading into a large pantry and let her slip past.  She checked each shelf and finally found the cans of cat food neatly stacked near the back of the first shelf.  She chose tuna with egg and cheese, and handed it to Thom.

“I think you should open it and put it in her bowl as a peace offering,” Deanna said and crossed her arms.

Thom wrinkled his nose at the strong fishy smell that wafted from the can as he opened it and dumped it into a metal bowl embossed with “Mims” in large pink letters.  A loud mewling sounded all around them when Thom placed the bowl on a placemat also sporting the cat's name.

“Mims,” Deanna called.  “Here, Mims.  Here, kitty, kitty.”

The mewing grew louder and continued while Deanna and Thom searched the flat for the traumatized and hungry cat.  Thom went upstairs, looking in all of the closets and small spaces which might serve as the perfect hidey holes for a cat to secret itself in.

“I found her,” Deanna called from the bottom of the stairs.

She led Thom back to the kitchen and pointed up to the cabinet above the washing machine which held laundry soap and fabric softener.  Two huge golden eyes stared down at them from behind a bag of clothespins.

“Come on down, Mims.  Come on, sweetie,” Deanna coaxed gently.

The glowing golden eyes stared directly at Thom, as if accusing him of being responsible for their sad predicament so Deanna suggested he leave the kitchen just to see if Mims would come down.  He looked slightly insulted by the cat’s refusal to forget his accidental assault on her overly sensitive ears, but he left the kitchen as requested.  Deanna continued to call the cat softly and after a few minutes Mims ventured out from behind her temporary fortress formed by the overstuffed clothespin bag.  She perched on the edge of the open cabinet for a moment before jumping down onto the washing machine and then to the floor, skirting Deanna's reaching hands to make her way to her food bowl.  Deanna watched her gobble the food down and began to stroke her back, delighting in the feel of the cat's spine arching up to meet her hand.  Mims was purring loudly so Deanna felt certain that she had gained her trust.

When Mims had eaten her fill, she meowed loudly and rubbed against Deanna's legs.  The cat trotted out of the kitchen and stopped to meow at Deanna.  She followed her into the living room and sat next to the cat after she jumped on the couch, kneading the cushions with her paws.  Mims was a lovely flame-point Persian with long creamy fur and ginger accents on her round flat face, paws, and the end of her tail.  It was apparent that she was well loved---her coat was glossy and she was quite plump, most likely from being fed table scraps by over-indulgent owners.  The cat climbed into Deanna's lap and purred contentedly as she stroked her and scratched behind her ears.