The Story Of Carnage: The Complete Carnage Collection: Books 1-5

by Lesley Jones

  We were each given time to spend alone with Maca and Beau. I asked Ash if she wanted to go together but she said no, that she felt I needed to say goodbye alone.

  Beau was lying face down on his daddy’s chest, Maca’s hands placed protectively over his sons back. I kissed the top of my nephew’s head and I kissed my best mates forehead before sitting in the chair next to the coffin.

  “I don’t know how to do this,” I told him honestly. “I always thought it’d be me. I thought I’d fuck up, crash my bike, or my car. Go on a bender and have a heart attack … I dunno, summit. I just always thought I’d be the one to die young, not you, Mac, never you.”

  I pulled one of the man-sized tissues from the box that someone had thoughtfully left on the coffee table, probably my mum, and blew my nose. Then I started to laugh.

  “Remember when we were on the bus going to Detroit and I had a cold and asked if anyone had a tissue?” I smiled and shook my head thinking about it.

  “And you, you dirty fucker, passed the one you’d wiped your cum stains up with when you’d had a wank earlier. I had your fucking Jizz all over my nose, you fucker. Billy was really hungover and threw up after gagging a few times … Ah, funny times, Mac, funny fucking times.”

  I sat and spent the next hour reminiscing and promising my mate that we’d all look after George, and we’d always keep him and Beau in our thoughts when Georgia walked in. I stood and wrapped her in my arms and just held her.

  “I brought this for Beau to wear. I wanted a piece of me to be with him. Sean has my name tattooed on his heart, so I want Beau to have this.”

  She held up the necklace with the ‘G,’ held in the angel wings that Maca had bought her one Christmas many, many years before.

  “It’s perfect,” I tell her.

  She didn’t have to undo the clasp, she was able to just slip it over Beau’s dark little head.

  We all gathered together in that room later. My parents eventually went to bed, but myself, my brothers, our wives and Georgia, we drank. We raised our glasses and told stories of our memories of Maca.

  I caught George smiling on the odd occasion, but I knew it was just a mask. I knew the whole scene was a farce. Each and every one of us were terrified about what tomorrow would bring.

  The outpouring of grief from around the world was mind-blowing. I had visited the scene of the accident with Ash and laid flowers amongst the hundreds and hundreds of others that had been placed there. The place was a shrine.

  Despite the funeral taking place at midday, the cars started arriving at my parents’ at around ten thirty. The funeral directors had already informed us that the roads leading from just beyond the gates at the end of the drive, all the way through town to the church, were packed.

  My sister’s body was the only part of her in attendance that day. Her mind had gone, totally checked out. She stood alone in my mum’s kitchen, staring out the back patio doors at the cold December morning. Her arms were wrapped around herself, the way they often were since she’d left the hospital. Even from the back, I could see how thin she was looking.

  I moved to stand beside her but didn’t speak for a while.

  “I know what you’re planning and I totally understand, Porge, but I just need you to know that despite what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling now, we all want you with us. We all want to help you come to terms with this and move forward.” I dug my hands deeper into my suit pockets and tried to compose myself. I didn’t want to cry while I was talking to her; there’d be enough tears later, so for now, at least, I wanted to remain composed.

  “I know that this is … this loss is something that none of us will ever get over, least of all you, but we all need to help each other find a way to live again. I’ve lost my nephew, my best mate, my bandmate, and my brother-in-law. I can’t lose you too. I need ya, George, I need ya so much right now. So, I’m begging ya, for me, please don’t do anything stupid.”

  Georgia overdosed the first time, just nine hours later.

  She’d told my mum she was taking a bath. It was an hour later that I noticed her missing. Everyone had had a lot to drink after one of the worst days of our lives.

  I won’t go into the details of Maca’s funeral here. If George ever decides to write a book, then I’ll leave that as her story to tell, so for now, that day will remain private.

  I walked along the galleried landing of my parents’ house and the first thing I heard was the song, ‘Fade to Black’ by Metallica, and I knew in an instant what she’d done.

  I ran. I ran as fast as I could, but it felt like I wasn’t moving. I reached Georgia’s bedroom door and pushed it open. Apparently, I’d already called out for help as I was running because as I stood staring down at my sister’s small body, curled up on her bed. I heard the commotion of my family arriving behind me.

  The note she’d left beside her summed up what we were all feeling.

  I’m sorry, I just can’t do this. It hurts too much. The pain is more than I can bear. If you love me, then please just let me go.

  G

  At the end of January, she did it again, and that time, they only just managed to bring her back. So, we took the hard decision to have her committed to a private mental health facility once she was well enough to leave the hospital.

  It was a few weeks after her release that I had an idea that I thought might just help pull my sister from the depths of hell, where she was currently residing.

  I went and got her old car, Hilda, out of storage.

  George was in her usual spot, on the old leather Chesterfield, when I found her.

  “Up ya get, George. I’ve got something out here for you to see.”

  I thought she’d stare at me blankly, that far off vacant look still in her eyes from all the medication they’d had her on in the hospital. She’d been home almost a month then, and they were gradually weening her off of them.

  So I was surprised when she just wiped tears from under her eyes and followed me outside.

  She stopped in her tracks, one hand flying to her chest, the other to cover her mouth. Her tears were instant.

  “Oh, Marley. Where did you get her from? Have you been to my house?”

  I draped my arm over her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “I have. Hope you don’t mind? I thought you might like to take her for a drive?”

  She looked up and for the first time in a very long time, not only did she smile, but I knew that she saw me. My sister saw beyond her grief and she actually saw me.

  “I don’t want to go out on the road, Marls, but I’ll drive her around out here.”

  I can’t put into words the happiness I felt at her words. My heart actually felt like it was growing and about to burst out of my chest.

  “Yeah?” I couldn’t wipe the fucking smile off my face as I spoke.

  “Yeah,” she smiled back up at me.

  “Well, it’s a fucking start, I s’pose.” I kissed the top of her head before grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the car.

  Epilogue

  2014

  We’ve managed to keep our appearance at the Triple M fundraiser secret; not even a hint of what we’re up to has appeared in the papers. I’m nervous as fuck. I usually make a short appearance on stage each year, and I’ve played on my own plenty since we lost Maca, but this is different. I’ll be fronting Shift, replacing their lead singer Jet Harrison, who had recently taken his own life. I would be singing a few songs by Carnage, and Conner Reed would take up the mic and we would perform a couple of Shift songs.

  The lights go down and the place is in relative silence, considering it’s packed to capacity.

  I hit the first notes of ‘With You.’ Reed follows me in on bass and the crowd goes wild. The curtain lifts and I swear the fucking building shakes.

  I can barely see through the stage lights, but I know roughly where my family is standing, and I try to pick George out on the balcony.

  This is just one, of so very many, songs
that Maca wrote for her and I always worry, even after all these years, how she copes with hearing them.

  When I’m done, I address the crowd with a lump in my throat and thank them all for coming. Reed then takes the mic and dedicates the next song to his girl. Rock stars, we’re all a bunch of pussies.

  I’m pumped when we come offstage.

  “You fucking rocked it, Reed. You slayed them,” I tell Conner. I really like working with this boy. He’s full of great ideas and we have very similar tastes in what we like to listen to. He’s looking to get out of the spotlight and I think he’s someone I could easily work with, either producing or writing music with in the future.

  It’s his first time up on stage since he’s lost his mate, so I make a point of telling him that it’ll get easier—never better, just easier.

  Ash is waiting backstage with a bottle of Cristal and I’m feeling so wired that I know that the only thing that’ll bring me down from my rush is a special bit of Ash loving, so I drag her off to where I happen to know a rather spacious storage cupboard is situated.

  All about the romance me—broom cupboard sex, and Cristal. I take my wife on the best dates.

  Just thirty minutes later, we join the rest of our family up in the VIP bar, even all of the kids are with us this year.

  I get a round of applause as we approach and lots of pats on the back.

  “Did you phone ahead and tell them how good my performance in the cupboard just was?” I whisper into Ashley’s ear.

  “You’re shagging was shit, but you play great guitar, Rock Star,” she whispers back.

  Cheeky cow.

  We spend the next few hours drinking and enjoying the company of the people we love most in the world.

  Only one person is missing, but he’s never far from my thoughts.

  Our lives have continued along without Maca. Our kids have grown, and music has continued to be made. For us, nothing much has changed. For Georgia? Her world is one that none of us thought would ever happen.

  When Cam came into her life, or should I say, back into her life, none of us were best pleased and by none of us, I mean myself and my brothers. Ash, Jimmie, and my mum seemed to be over the moon. Ash admitted to me then that she always felt that if she and Maca hadn’t reconnected that night at Jimmie and Lens, then George would’ve ended up married to Cam. I had never seen them together, so I had no clue about their relationship back then. All I knew was that bloke worshipped the ground my sister walked on, and would do anything for her and their kids.

  Georgia had been unbelievably lucky when first Jimmie, then Ash, offered to become surrogates when it was found that her eggs had been frozen.

  I was shocked when Ash asked me if I would mind if she carried George and Cam’s child for them, and I honestly didn’t think she would actually see the whole process through.

  She didn’t mind being pregnant, but she hated that she always gained so much weight.

  I agreed, thinking that when it came down to it, she’d back out. She didn’t, and then I sort of had a wobble. I felt guilty. Maca was my best mate, my bro, and here I was letting my wife carry the child his wife had created with another man.

  Len was in the same boat as me, so it was him I went and spoke to about how I felt, and all he said was, “Just think about how happy Maca would be to see her finally become a mother.”

  I was sold and we were all over the moon when both of the girls fell pregnant.

  When Ash found out she was carrying their twin girls, she wasn’t quite so ecstatic. She actually didn’t put on as much weight as she did with our own kids, but her belly just seemed to grow daily.

  I thought that it might be a little weird making love to my wife, knowing that she had another man’s babies growing inside her, but it wasn’t. In fact, she just looked more beautiful to me because of the amazing gift she was giving to my sister.

  Despite the fuck awful tragedy that had decimated our family for a while, we were now a happy and contented bunch. Despite the glare of publicity, our kids were all growing up great and were all as close to each other as I had remained to my brothers and sister.

  Life was good for the Layton family, life was fucking good.

  Oh, and that book? I hit delete and never showed it to a soul. Some stories are just best left untold.

  The Letters

  Playlist

  “The Trouble with Us”—Chet Faker & Marcus Marr

  “History”—One Direction

  “You Get What You Give”—The New Radicals

  “Demons”—Imagine Dragons

  “Can’t Feel My Face”—The Weeknd

  “Do or Die”—Thirty Seconds to Mars

  “Where Love Lives”—Alison Limerick

  “Unbreak My Heart”—Toni Braxton

  “I Will Survive”—Gloria Gaynor

  “Second Chance”—Shinedown

  “Never Forget You”—Zara Larsson

  “7 years”—Lukas Graham

  “Stay With Me”—Sam Smith

  For my readers.

  You asked.

  I hope I delivered.

  Chapter One

  I clear customs in record time. The upside of landing at two in the morning I suppose. I am tired and miserable and just want to get home. As I enter the arrivals hall, I scan the space for my driver, who should be holding up a card with my name on it. I could’ve called Benny but thought I’d spare him the task. He hasn’t been well lately, blood pressure and a dodgy knee are both causing him problems. I’d paid for him to start working out with a personal trainer three times a week, and as much as he moaned about it, he has lost over three stone this last six months, and I know he is feeling better for it.

  I spot a bloke of about thirty, holding up a card with my name on it and looking right at me. I do my best to keep my name out of the papers as much as possible, but he obviously recognises me. Giving him a small tilt of my chin in acknowledgment, I head around the barrier, dragging my suitcase behind me.

  I could use the company’s private jet to travel, but it seems like such a waste for just one person, so I fly first class instead. No hardship there.

  “Mr King, let me take that for you, sir,” my driver says as I reach him. “My name’s Parker, sir. I’ll be your driver tonight.” I give him another nod and let him take my case as I contemplate cracking a joke and asking him to call me Lady Penelope, seeing as his name is Parker. Like I said, though, it’s two in the morning, and I am not particularly cheerful right now.

  “If you’d like to follow me, sir, we’ll get you settled in the car and home in no time.”

  I remain silent and follow him to the jag that is gonna get me home. Home to my Kitten and my kids. I hate being away and rarely make trips without Georgia, but this one was too important for me not to attend. We have one club in Australia, one in Asia, and four clubs throughout Europe now, and this week I had to meet with the heads of security for each one. Gone are the days of trying to stop underage kids with fake IDs, hidden miniature bottles of alcohol, or drugs in shoes. Now, the staff are searching for guns and suicide bombers. The world is a scary place and nightclubs are not immune to terrorists or rampaging idiots with guns. Our clubs are all upmarket and frequented by celebrities, as well as average clubbers, and I want each and every one of them to feel safe. The meetings over the last two weeks were about upgrading all of our systems and brainstorming the best practices. It was far from exciting but very necessary. On any given weekend, my clubs are filled with other people’s children, and I have a duty of care to each and every one of them. One day, my kids would be off out clubbing, well, not until they are at least thirty, of course, for my daughters it may be never! But anyway, when that time comes, I want the standards of club security to be at a lot higher level than they were when I first started out.

  My kids.

  I couldn’t even think the words without smiling.

  Two boys and two girls.

  Those four little people and their mother
are my world. One I never thought I would have with anyone, let alone their mother. My Kitten. The absolute love of my life

  We’d taken a long and winding road, with unimaginable loss and heartbreak along the way, to get to each other, but we got here. Middle-aged and the happiest and most content we’d ever been in our lives.

  We have been beyond fortunate to have brought four beautiful babies into this world as a bonus. Four little people that grow every day into young adults. Harry, who is fifteen now, is all legs, exactly the way I was when I was his age. We got lucky with that kid. As sad as it is to say, I’m relieved he has none of Tamara’s personality traits. H is generally the mediator amongst the kids. He’s pretty calm and easy going and no one would guess he is only a few months older than the rest of the kids, since he acts like an adult already. He is in the year above them at school and made sure everyone knew not to even think about breathing in the direction of his sisters, let alone looking at them when they joined him at secondary school they all attend. He steps in between their fights, which are frequent, and he helps them with their homework. He rarely argues with his brother or gives us any lip. He knows his background and that Georgia isn’t his birth mother. She’s the only mum he’s ever known, and since the day he came to live with us, that’s all he’s ever called her. I’ll admit that I was a little worried that her feelings might changes towards Harry when George and the twins arrived. That never happened, and the older he gets, the closer they seem to become. He goes to his mum for everything, and I mean everything. Hair product, girl advice, what T-shirt to wear to the shopping centre, all Georgia. The little shit never asks my advice on anything, his usual response to anything I say, is, “Get with it, old man”. He even sends her pictures of things before he buys them. I mean seriously, if you can’t dress yourself by the age of fifteen, then what fucking hope is there for the kids of today?