by W E DeVore
Q opened her mouth and miraculously sound came out on cue:
He cuts himself wide open to let the evil out
He leaves a trail of pain and dripping doubt
He thinks the blood of gods flows beneath his skin
But the flames of hellfire flow from within
Such a handsome little liar
Such a destructive little man
Daddy’s disease, Mommy’s killer
Better run while you still can
Derek suddenly turned and approached her as he began his solo. He licked his lips and fixed his gaze upon her. When the sampled recording of his father shouting obscenities filled her ears, she looked down at him and watched his face transform into pure rage.
“You little fucker! You’re nothing!” the voice screamed. Even after weeks of rehearsal, it still made her sick inside to know the source of the poison filling her ears.
Q mirrored Derek’s facial expression and she spread her arms wide, feeling the wings of her costume expand behind her. The magnetic energy of Derek Sharp within his natural habitat took her aback. For years, she’d dismissed the clan of sycophants that followed him around like a minor deity, as an unhinged, fringe element. But now she saw it: the total command and total control. She glanced into the small portion of the audience she could see and smirked in sympathy at the mesmerized faces below her. Reaching her hand back and holding tightly onto the handle hidden at the behind of the window, she leaned as far forward as she could. The window moved closer to Derek and lower towards the audience and she sang:
Angels whisper of all the ways he makes them sigh
Devils scream from all the ways he can make them cry
Bleeding impurity to drain out all the lies
He doesn’t know the heights to which he’ll rise
Such a handsome little liar
Such a destructive little man
Daddy’s disease, Mommy’s killer
Better run away while you still can
The rest of Dark Harm repeated the chorus with her as Derek began railing the closing outro on guitar and the recorded angry rant filled the room again. A woman screamed. Q looked down to see Fiona’s mouth open wide as she shrieked again and again.
It was no longer music. It was chaos. It was pure fury. It was sonic violence attacking every person in the room with toxic wrath.
Q put her fist in the air and yelled, “Enough!”
The stage went black and Dark Harm went silent.
The audience came to life and roared as a single voice. In the dim light below, Derek glanced up at her and winked.
◆◆◆
Q was drenched. The lights burned her skin and she looked down at the audience beneath her. The intimacy of the smaller venue of the Orpheum was staggering when she thought back to the previous night at the Arena. It had been easy to sit on her broken window, perched high above the crowd, gazing at Derek with disinterest. But tonight, as the window was lowered just above the grand piano for the finale, she felt as if she could reach out and touch any member of the audience she wished. While this environment was more her forte, it was difficult to not slip into QT and the Beasts mode and smile alluringly at the crowd, engaging them to dance and have a good time.
Shards of broken, bloody glass were projected around them, light refracting off her costume and the shimmering surface of the piano that was now inches below her feet.
Derek sat at the piano playing a simple, open chord progression. Q crossed her legs and sang:
Hey little boy, is your mama home?
Did she go away and leave you all alone?
Hush the monster in the mirror
Close your eyes, bring me nearer
Derek leaned towards the microphone and responded:
Hold me close just like a child
Leave me all alone out in the wild
Bring me out, angel, from the cold
Seal my wounds and make me whole
Cut my scars open to let the pain outside
Tie me to the bed and lead me to the light
Cut my scars open to let the pain outside
Touch me, angel, while you burn from inside
As she watched him play, Q saw through the persona he wore like a mask, and he suddenly seemed so small. A lonely and isolated island in the sea of humanity that surrounded them both. While she knew this part of the show was by design, there was a part of her that didn’t believe for one moment that this song was an act. She thought about the raw power of him crashing over the audience at the beginning of the concert and wondered which version of Derek Sharp was real and which was fake, or if he even knew the difference anymore. He gazed up at her and what remained of his aura of dominance evaporated and his voice suddenly broke as he sang:
He scarred my flesh with pieces of glass
Sharp and broken and those cuts still last
At night, I wake up with my bed on fire
Brimstone breaking through the bloody mire
He kept playing, missing the cue for the chorus, his eyes pleading with her. She realized he couldn’t trust his voice to sing it. She nodded and sang quietly:
Cut your scars open to let the pain outside
I’ll tie you to the bed and lead you to the light
I’ll cut your scars open to let the pain outside
Touch me, child, while I burn from inside
Derek played the final cords and stood up. He reached for her and she impulsively unhooked her rigging, casting off her wings. She slid off her perch, landing hard; the nearly three-foot drop forcing her down to one knee. He took her hand and pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he sagged against her. The lights went red for a moment before the stage went black except for the pin spot on her discarded wings. Q pulled out one in-ear monitor to hear the audience erupt around them. She wasn’t sure if they could see their silhouettes on stage or not.
“Thank you, angel,” he whispered in her ear. His voice ragged.
“Anytime, Cincinnati. Anytime.” She rested her forehead against his and the lights came back on stage. Derek stepped away from her and began to applaud her. She shook her head and pointed back at him, applauding him as well. They waved to the crowd and ran offstage.
Fiona leaned against the wall, drinking a beer. “Your mascara’s a mess, Q.”
Q wiped her cheek and looked at her blackened hand. “Fucking great. I must look like a nightmare.”
“No,” Derek said. “It was perfect. Tonight was perfect. We’re going to add that bit at the end to the tour. That was genius.”
“That’s called emotion, Derek. You could try it sometime,” she said, sarcastically.
“I have emotions, angel. I get angry when I don’t get what I want, horny when I do, and amused in between. That’s plenty,” he replied.
“Yeah, you’re real well-rounded.” She smiled at Fiona who grinned back.
Derek gently pushed her towards the dressing room. “Go get changed and fix your make-up. You’ve got five minutes, then we’re doing Fiend.”
“Change into what? I didn’t change last night,” she said.
“Check your dressing room. I left you a present,” he said. “And get a move on before these people tear the damn building down.”
The costume minder helped Q undo her corset and she ran to the dressing room holding onto the top of the costume as she did, gratefully accepting the water a roadie handed her, not caring that he was trying to get a look below her loosened costume. When she opened the door, she burst out laughing.
Lying next to her Converse and her jeans was a faded baby doll t-shirt underneath a single white orchid. The words ‘ONE FUCK FANTASY’ were written across the front.
She shook her head and pulled it on before she had too much time to think about it. “Well played, Cincinnati.”
THE END
Author’s Note
The performances of QT and The Beasts and Dark Harm are entirely fictionalized. All lyrics are products of t
he author’s overwrought imagination. Inspiration was drawn from the following:
I’m on Fire – Bat for Lashes
Somewhat Damaged – Nine Inch Nails
Reptile – Nine Inch Nails
Other songs referenced in passing:
Daydream Believer – The Monkeys
Lady Marmalade - Labelle
J'ai Marie un Ouvrier - Traditional Cajun Folksong
I encourage all my readers to support these and other talented performers and songwriters by buying their music.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W.E. DeVore is a musician, audio engineer, and sometimes rock star babysitter, who has been fortunate to know some of the most entertaining and unique individuals that seem to only grow from the Louisiana soil. She’s also experienced some things that a nice Jewish girl from Montana probably shouldn’t know about - but it does make excellent fodder for a little fiction. DeVore has lived in Southeast Louisiana for the last two decades and currently lives in Baton Rouge, although her heart will always be in New Orleans - dirty, sweaty, crime-ridden, music-filled wonderland that it is.
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