Metal Urge (42 page)

“Why do you care if they find out that I’ve lied to them?”  She pulled her hands away and rubbed her face, angry that she couldn’t hold back the tears.

“I care what happens to you, Deanna.”

“But why?” she almost shouted.

“Because I love you.”  Thom reached for her hands again and raised them to his lips, tenderly kissing them.

“No,” she whimpered.  “Please, don‘t.”  Jerking her hands away she got up and started to pace.

“Deanna…,” Thom tried to approach her.

“Please, Thom,” she cried, hugging herself as if that would force him to keep his distance.  “I can’t be a wife to you.  I…I can’t be the woman you need or deserve.  Not now.”  Leaning over to pick up a leather satchel she had placed by the chair the night before, Deanna opened its heavy flap and took out a large envelope, laying it on the coffee table.  “I’m so sorry, Thom.”  She pushed the envelope towards him, her eyes filling with tears again as he gazed at the contents of the envelope.  “Whether you believe this or not, I love you too much to lie about reconciliation.  It won‘t work.”  She wiped the tears away and bowed her head.  “I wish I could take back all of the horrible, selfish things I’ve done to you.  I never meant to hurt you.”

Thom tossed the divorce papers on the coffee table, sat back and rubbed his face, his eyes filling with tears.  Although he knew a divorce was inevitable, it hurt like hell just the same.  “Please, baby,” he implored.  “Give yourself a bit of time to heal.  You can stay here...recuperate.  I won't get underfoot, I promise.”

“I can't do that, Thom.”  She shifted uncomfortably in the chair.  “I'm pregnant.  I confirmed it with the doctor's office before I came downstairs.  They said it’s a miracle considering the severity of my miscarriage.”  She looked away quickly when she saw the shock and disbelief on his face.

He got up and went to the window, watching the icy rain pelt the glass and trickle down its foggy panes.  “It doesn't matter,” he said finally.  “I can love that child as if it were my own.  You know I can.”  He turned back to her and spread his hands imploringly.  “Don't shut me out, Deanna.  Give us and our marriage one more chance.  I'll take care of you and the baby; you'll never want for anything.  The child will be close to Nigel's family...London's not that far from Bilston...”

“Stop it, Thom!” Deanna cried.  “Just stop it.  Please.”

He sagged against the glass and shook his head.  “Don't leave me, Deanna.  I can't bear to lose you.  You've no idea what I've...Oh, God,” he groaned.

The raw pain in his voice shook her to the core.  She jumped up and ran to him, gathering him in her arms.

“Please, Deanna,” he murmured against her hair.  “I'm dying inside.  Every moment of the day I lose another piece of who I used to be.  If you leave I’ll lose myself completely.”  His voice broke and Deanna let out little sob.  “Why can't you understand that I don't care about the past?  I need you, baby.  I love you so much.  Please stay.”

Pulling away from him, she shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks.  “Can't you see that I'm the reason you feel that way?  I'm no good for you, Thom.  All I've done is hurt you over and over again.  I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”  She took his hands and squeezed them gently.  “You deserve a much better woman than me.  A woman who will love you the way you should be loved, the way you deserve to be loved.”

“You’re the only woman I’m ever gonna love.  That's never gonna change, Deanna,” he said brokenly.  He picked up a strand of her hair, running it through his fingers, his breath hitching as he let out a mournful sob.

“Please, Thom, you’ve got to let me go for your own sake,” she pleaded, stroking his face, wiping his tears away with her fingers.  “Your life will be so much better once I’m gone.  I know it will.”  She held his face in her hands, searching for a sign that he truly understood why she was leaving.  It wasn’t to hurt or reject him but to save him from a lifetime of pain and inexorable bitterness and resentment.

“You're wrong, my sweet girl,” he murmured, pulling her hands away from his face.  He turned and looked out of the window.  “It's never gonna get better.  Not for me.”  Turning abruptly, he pushed past her and grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch, slamming out of the front door without a backward glance.

****

Thom hadn't returned home by the time she left the Chelsea flat two days later.  No one had seen him, or so they said when she called each of the members of Metal Urge and finally, Andy Trent.  Maybe he had gone to his dad's in Bilston.  Wherever he was, she prayed he would find comfort and solace away from the devastating hurt and pain of their doomed relationship.  She left a brief, but emotional note for him by the coffee pot before visiting Mims' grave.  She cleared away some debris and laid a cat toy that she found in her bedroom on the tiny, barren mound.  Crying softly, she took one last look around the flat before shutting the door forever on the bittersweet life she had shared with Thom McCordy: guitarist extraordinaire and precious friend.

Lugging her suitcases down the steps towards a loudly idling cab, she turned back to look at the pretty Victorian building, remembering the night Thom brought her here to recover from her awful ordeal.  His home had been her refuge and it was there that she learned the true meaning of compassion and friendship.  Smiling sadly, she climbed into the cab, her heart heavy with remorse.  As the cabbie sped toward Victoria Station where she would board a train to Heathrow Airport, Deanna whispered a tearful goodbye to Nigel, wishing his grave wasn't so far away in Bilston.  She longed to visit him before flying back to Phoenix.  One day when their child was old enough to learn about its father, she promised herself that they would visit his grave together.  That was a promise she would keep no matter what life held in store for her and her baby.

“I love you, Nigel Guilford,” she whispered, cradling her little, round belly lovingly.  “And I always will.”

Chapter 48

1987

The Thames was gray and choppy, typical for London's wintry December weather.  Deanna leaned against the railing, soaking up the foggy atmosphere shifting and roiling in the blustery air outside of the Tower Bridge observation deck.  Little had changed on the cold walkway in the eleven years since she had last visited her beloved bridge.  She closed her eyes and listened to the wind whistling around the huge metal cables. The sound brought back memories of that life changing December day in 1976 so vividly she imagined she could hear the elevator creaking loudly as it made its way to the observation deck where she awaited an unexpected encounter with destiny.

“It’s only me...just Nigel.”

She felt a cold breeze ruffle her hair and caress her cheek just as it had the day their son Quinn was born ten years ago.  “My sweet Nigel,” she sighed, feeling the swirling air tickle her fingers as she brought her hand up to her face.  “I still miss you every single day.”

She thought she heard someone whisper her name and opened her eyes.

The sun had broken through the clouds and a shaft of light shimmered next to her filled with dust particles dancing madly until they seemed to meld together to form a distinct, familiar shape.  Deanna reached out, but the light suddenly faded and the illusion was gone.

Smiling sadly, she turned back to the window just as a voice cried out, “Mum!  Look what dad bought for us.”

Quinn raced up and thrust an ice cream cone in her face.  “It has a Cadbury Flake. See?”  He was almost jumping up and down in his excitement to show her the crumbly chocolate confection sticking up out of a huge scoop of half-eaten vanilla ice cream.

“It looks yummy,” she laughed and ruffled his silky hair.  “So where's mine?”

“I ate it,” a sweet little voice answered.

Deanna looked down at her precocious four-year-old daughter, Lily who was grinning widely.  “Oh, you did, did you?” she laughed, grabbing the little girl and tickling her.  “What a cheeky monkey you are!”

“I’m a cheeky monkey!  I’m a cheeky monkey!” Lily laughed, twirling around until she fell against her brother.  He grabbed her hand and pulled her down to the other end of the walkway, sharing his ice cream with her and laughing at her antics.

“Well?” asked the handsome man who’s thick, layered shag of long, brunette hair was newly streaked with glistening golden blonde.

She ran her fingers through his soft mane and grinned, “The highlights look really sexy.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Are you sure they’re not ridiculous?”

“No, Ali.  It’s 1987, and the 80’s are all about hair.  You know, long, big and colorful.  She grinned at him, “All the bands are coloring their hair.”

“You’ll show me just how much you like it later, yeah?” he grinned wickedly.

“You’d better believe it.”  She kissed the corner of his mouth and whispered, “That’s a promise.”

The little girl lying asleep against his shoulder sighed and mumbled, turning to bury her face in his warm neck.  “Petula, my darling, you need to wake up so that you’ll sleep tonight.”

Deanna rubbed her daughter’s back and smiled at her husband.  “Let her sleep, Ali.  Grandma and Grandpa won’t mind if she’s up late tonight.  Everyone’s going to be too excited to sleep anyway.”

His beautiful wife was right.  Alistair Staley had waited years for this night; Metal Urge’s first television appearance in England, and the acceptance of a special platinum record for the re-release of their second album, “Beyond the Darkness.”  It was quite the honor, but it hurt that Nigel wouldn’t share that award.  Metal Urge’s lead singer, Chaz Buxley, had been with them for almost ten years, and he was brilliant, but he wasn’t Nigel Guilford.  Tonight they would share a classic video of him and Nigel performing the title song in Wild Bill’s studio in 1976.  It had been an impromptu performance in the wee hours of a rainy September morning.  He played the piece acoustically while Nigel sang each verse soulfully in a hauntingly beautiful voice as Wild Bill filmed them with a Super 8 camera.

Petula squirmed against him so he put her down watching as she toddled off to join her brother and sister.  At eighteen months old she could be hell on wheels, all of their precious children could, but Alistair wouldn’t change one thing in his life including his sometimes rowdy, vocal brood.  He never failed to thank Penny Rawley every day in his heart for inviting Deanna to Los Angeles in February of 1980.  Penny managed to lure her away from her job as a corporate travel agent in Phoenix just to witness Metal Urge accepting their first Grammy award.  Right from the start he and Deanna felt a strong connection and a lusty attraction as well.  After they spent their first night together making love on the sandy shores of Laguna Beach a few months later, they quickly progressed from old acquaintances, to lovers, to husband and wife, and finally parents.  Quinn was an added bonus to their amazing relationship, and Alistair fell in love with him at first sight.  He remembered the day the adoption papers were finalized and he became Quinn’s dad.  It touched him deeply; it still did.  There was no question that Quinn would know who his biological father was one day.  Alistair would be proud to tell the boy that he considered Nigel one of his best mates and always would.

Watching his family on the observation deck of the Tower Bridge made him realize how lucky he was, yet for a moment he felt a familiar twinge of guilt over Thom’s failed marriage to Deanna.  Poor bloke, it just wasn’t meant to be.  Only months after their divorce was finalized Thom re-married which was undoubtedly a mistake for it was an unhappy, bitter union.  It was no secret that Thom still loved Deanna; loved her so deeply and completely that he could never love another woman.  Deanna Darmody had changed the course of his life forever and there was no going back.  One only had to look into the haunted, lonely eyes of Shell McCordy, Thom’s embittered wife, to understand that sad fact.  Alistair’s unexpected relationship with Deanna nearly destroyed the band, ironically, for the second time.  Despite all of the emotional pain and drama, Thom couldn’t turn his back on Metal Urge.  He had put his heart and soul into the band and their music so in the end he reconciled his feelings as best he could and moved on.  Thankfully Thom had a nine-year-old daughter who was the light of his life.  Bittersweet consolation, yet solace for him just the same.  The child was the very air that he breathed and the
only
reason he stayed in a loveless marriage.

Alistair sighed and looked at his watch before hustling his family into the lift.  They had just enough time to get back to the hotel where he would don his studded leather gear and meet up with his band mates at the BBC television studio.

****

The studio audience was filled with die-hard Metal Urge fans, some sporting vintage concert tees from the 1976 “Feel the Urge” American tour.  The mood was high voltage, and the metal heads were ready to rock with one of the only heavy metal bands that had proved the critics wrong: metal music was alive and well in 1987, and the boys were primed and ready to kick some ass to prove it.

Deanna watched the roadies set up the stage from an enclosed sound booth high above the audience.  Penny Rawley, and Shell McCordy, along with Brad Bradmon’s, and Chaz Buxley’s long-time partners, Clea and Deb, tried to get comfortable in the crowded, claustrophobic space.  A hugely pregnant Penny was shoved into Deanna’s side, giggling and cursing their predicament by turns.