by DaNeo Duran
Leaving GMD’s office Grace headed to London’s Heathrow airport to meet the delayed USed Wonz’ flight.
Now short of time she’d already dressed for the night ahead. Self-consciously she travelled the crowded train with suited commuters or casually dressed tourists.
She first spotted Johnny at Heathrow’s arrivals before 6pm.
Despite the cowboy image, his post flight endorphin rush made him impossible to miss.
Stu looked cool as always but both USed girls looked comfy to the point of drab in old jeans and sweatshirts.
‘She needed to get away,’ Johnny said excitedly when Grace, to her surprise, saw Linda who looked exactly as she had when they’d first met.
‘How are we getting to the hotel – taxi?’ Johnny enthused.
‘No,’ Grace said now following his lead into England’s fading daylight. ‘Richard says train is—’
‘Taxi,’ Johnny shouted clearly not listening.
Grace shook her head.
Johnny offered Linda the door of the first available black cab. ‘She’s not seen one before.’
‘Train Johnny,’ Grace said after him, cursing Richard’s parsimony.
Linda stayed put so Stu stepped in redirecting Johnny towards the station.
* * *
Once aboard Johnny asked, ‘What’s the plan?’
‘We’re meeting Richard and Little Spirit at The Borderline as soon as we get into the city.’
‘A gig?’ Johnny asked excitedly.
‘Just as well he doesn’t drink,’ Stu said wryly.
‘No rest for the wicked,’ Linda said.
‘Sorry, Trudie’s coming down with Vanquar staff so The USed Wonz have to be there. Plus she’s taking us to The Ivy afterwards. But,’ Grace said brightly, ‘your hotel’s right by The Borderline.’
* * *
Nobody did more than dump their bags in Piccadilly’s Regent Palace Hotel.
As one of London’s largest hotels it had an expansive circular lobby with several restaurants and shops. At reception Linda found Fiona had booked her a surprisingly cheap double room on the seventh floor alongside the band’s rooms. The lift ascended from the reception’s finery to where Linda found her clean but shabby room; reflective of its modest price.
Keen to leave, she followed Johnny’s still buzzing energy along the trail of Little Spirit posters to the nearby Borderline where they met Richard who suggested they go backstage to meet his latest band.
Leaping to it, Johnny decided to lead the way fuelled by the last of his safe-landing euphoria. Backstage he pushed through the dressing room door.
‘Now then, now then,’ he said coming face to face with three equally good-looking-in-their-own-way lads.
‘Johnny,’ the thinnest one said.
‘Who else?’ he said wondering who on earth this rake might be. ‘Great to meet you guys.’
As the others crowded in behind, Johnny suddenly found himself stuck, unsure how to proceed. Little Spirit, grinning madly looked expectant.
Maintaining his performance he missed the skinny kid’s offered hand favouring bear-hugs instead.
After repeating for the other two Little Spiriters, Richard introduced everyone formally: skinny kid – Raphael – drummer. Blond, stocky lad – Calvin – bassist. Tall, dark, athletic one – Danny – guitarist.
Finally settling, Johnny observed them and their uncontrollable grins. Because he’d gigged and toured with countless other bands, he clocked Little Spirit’s enviable togetherness.
The USed Wonz had beaten them into GMD and Vanquar’s hearts and to an American agent (he smiled at Linda standing by the door) but he sensed Little Spirit had somehow one-upped his band. It seemed unfair that without these newcomers his band might otherwise wait ages before shooting a first video. The thought made him consider again the importance of recording a sublime second album.
With time ticking they left Little Spirit to change into their stage wear. But they saw them again before show time.
Stu gave Johnny an appreciative look. Little Spirit’s self-styled black, white and blue image had galvanised the lads even further.
Calvin led everyone into the venue itself where his girlfriend awaited.
Approaching the bar Calvin announced, ‘Everyone this is my girlfriend Katherine and our flatmate Amy.’
Johnny looked at the two mentioned girls. In front of the bar stood a gorgeous blonde in a pink dress – Amy. But, next to her stood a taller, slimmer, brunette – Katherine.
‘Holly crap,’ he muttered under his breath so only Stu could hear.
‘I know what you mean,’ he replied.
Katherine must have been the most beautiful thing Johnny had ever seen. For the first time in days Linda evaporated from his thoughts. He marvelled at the enchantress wrapped in strapless green satin. Then, he saw an exchange between her and Calvin. Love. No doubt about it; not something to be messed with.
Remembering Linda, he turned and faced her.
Wondrously everything condensed as his desire took its rightful place.
Christine saw the exchange. Dressed in her oldest jeans next to Katherine’s supernova brilliance she felt invisible until Johnny noticed her albeit after he’d smiled at Linda.
Indifferently she tugged the neck of her washed-out sweatshirt and shrugged. Johnny laughed. Christine smiled. She’d turn it back on for The Marquee gig the next night.
* * *
When Little Spirit appeared on stage Linda found they looked highly professional.
They had walk-on music and named backdrops behind them and in front of the drums. Their black, white and blue outfits had been creatively customised to superb effect.
They’d pulled a capacity crowd; regulars who knew what to expect and who demanded plenty of it.
Musically, Little Spirit did not disappoint either. Johnny noted their making up for none-too-strong voices and lack of second guitar or keyboards by singing imaginative harmonies. Unlike The USed Wonz, Little Spirit really tore up the stage, swapping mics or jumping from the drum riser or a springboard.
‘That’s original,’ Stu shouted through the mix to Johnny.
‘They’ll give us a run for our money tomorrow night.’
Friday 09th March 1984
The next morning Johnny responded to the wakeup call Richard had insisted on. 11am – 3am in LA. Little Spirit would already have been on set hours.
Having missed breakfast the band met in one of the hotel’s restaurants for pasta brunches. Linda had opted for room service so didn’t join them.
‘So I take it you know where we’re going?’ Stu asked Christine.
She waved a street map. ‘I’ve circled Savile Row.’
It seemed Vanquar liked The USed Wonz basic image but wanted to make it more ‘right’ for the video. Trudie had arranged for the band to be fitted for Antony Price outfits, something Stu had felt most excited about since returning to England, but he wondered how they’d tailor them before their video shoot.
All became apparent when they arrived at the shop to introduce themselves. Rather than have clothes made from scratch, off the rail items would be altered.
A man and lady ran round each musician with tape measures scribbling notes and wittering as if in code.
To Stu’s delight clothes appeared in the vein of pop retro-futurism. Christine and Mazz received black crepe chiffon dresses to try. The lads tried any number of different items starting with suits.
Johnny got out of his Levis and into loose high waist trousers. His plaid shirt lay on the floor in favour of black or white high-style shirts and jackets.
Price tags ignored, everyone selected only what looked best. Stu loved everything and wanted it all. With Johnny’s cowboy look long forgotten the lads aspired to beat Little Spirit’s killer homemade image.
‘Don’t worry,’ the man said when a shirt which had looked tremendous on the hanger hung disappointing on Johnny. ‘If we pull this in …’ The man stood behind him pinn
ing the fabric. ‘… you’d look this good.’
‘Looking good,’ Stu said approving the result.
‘Slick, without compromising your fine physique,’ the man said pleased with the effect. Shielding his scars, Johnny removed the shirt for the tailors to adjust.
Elsewhere Mazz learned she had classic lines, like the dresses had been designed for mannequins of her proportions. Christine’s exaggerated hourglass figure meant garments needed taking in at the waist. And hemlines, she insisted, required reduction to the dismay of the lady measuring her.
Two hours later the pinned outfits went upstairs for alteration with instruction to deliver them to the band’s hotel by 5pm the following day.
Leaving the staff to invoice Vanquar the band left with the accessories they’d spent the last part of the session choosing.
Back at the hotel they met a relaxed but melancholy Linda. The band showed her pieces of costume jewellery, Thai-style sweatbands and fingerless gloves.
‘My god,’ Linda exclaimed seeing Christine’s fabulous thigh-high stiletto boots.
* * *
After visiting the video shoot to support Little Spirit, The USed Wonz joined Linda and dined early at Iftekhar’s Bengal restaurant with Liz and Graham.
From there The USed Wonz arrived at The Marquee to find Little Spirit’s equipment on stage.
Keyboards had been hired from a Denmark Street music shop for the gig and video shoot. Stu’s dad arrived with the snare drum and cymbals he’d been storing in his garage.
Last to play The USed Wonz of course soundchecked first. Johnny approached Danny’s vintage looking Vox amp with respect. Clearly reluctant to share it Johnny turned the volume down a notch to put the big guy’s mind at ease.
Richard advised, Vanquar had promoted the gig well and with Little Spirit’s growing popularity the venue would have no problem selling out.
The venue indeed sold out. The USed girls went to get ready backstage whilst Stu and Johnny watched Little Spirit’s set with Linda.
‘They’re great aren’t they?’ Johnny said to Linda.
‘Nothing for you to worry about Darling,’ she said with an assured wink.
Still, Johnny doubted it. He and Stu tried gauging the audience’s composition. Plenty of old faces had come along from the markets. Trudie had suggested the audience belonged to The USed Wonz but Little Spirit had them in their clutches and at the end of their set the audience wouldn’t relieve them without an encore.
‘Got our work cut for us here,’ Stu said.
Hearing that Linda said, ‘Don’t try competing, especially you Stu, their drummer is talented but no more than you. Just do your thing and you’ll be fine. Now get backstage and congratulate them.’
After doing so the lads joined the girls in the band’s dressing room with barely enough time to change.
‘They just played another blinder,’ Stu said to the girls.
Admiring her reflection in her new boots Christine said, ‘I’m not worried, are you Mazz?’
‘No point. Every band we play with has bass players better than me.’
‘No they don’t,’ Stu said. ‘You sound great and play what you play really well. And, you look hot.’
Mazz shrugged smiling. ‘In that case, there’s still nothing to worry about.’
* * *
Linda had spent a bit of time with Trudie but, happy in her own company, didn’t interrupt her talking with colleagues.
Pleased to be making up for having missed the Whisky show she waited for The USed Wonz performance, alone; until Raphael approached her.
‘Hi,’ he said nudging her.
Laughing internally at the notion she’d had of pretending not to see him she said hello, thinking, They keep getting younger.
‘You were very good tonight, and last night for that matter,’ she said honestly. If they came to the States she’d happily work with them.
‘Better than Ze USed Wonz?’ he asked in his French accent.
‘No, not better than The USed Wonz.’
Though Linda hadn’t seen them for months she knew every venue they’d played, every band they’d played with and their audiences. And, unlike The USed Wonz themselves, she knew they couldn’t have survived the demands of such tour-intensity without transcending to the sublime. She expected a sublime show.
Raphael shook his head, ‘Really? But we were cracking; energised by ze video shoot and all that.’
‘I know, that’s why I said you were very good and you were, very good.’
‘But not better than Ze USed Wonz?’
‘You’ll see what I mean,’ Linda said pointing to the stage where lights erupted introducing the band.
Linda watched Raphael’s cockiness crumble with Christine’s every step towards the keyboards in her new thigh-highs; her swan-like metamorphosis a sure warning to anyone thinking to underestimate The USed Wonz. Linda could tell Raphael’s attention had been snared until he became enwrapped by Mazz; her allure equally bewitching.
Linda looked at Johnny standing motionless at his mic; hands beside his guitar. She suddenly realised his interest in her hadn’t been swayed by any females – even Little Spirit’s bassist’s stunning girlfriend. She smiled.
If The USed Wonz had anxieties about following Little Spirit, she couldn’t see a trace. Their sound rose then fell in waves as irritatingly, Johnny’s mellifluous lyrical first verse drowned in crowd chatter.
Seeming obliviously carefree The USed Wonz breezed towards the chorus line Linda hoped wouldn’t be ruined.
Here it comes, she thought battling the urge to scream the ill-mannered Londoners into silence. Forgetting her exchange with Raphael her heart flew to Johnny’s side.
She held her breath. The band dropped to silence. Linda’s mind distilled the sound until she only heard Johnny’s voice:
‘How can we be so happy, when we have nothing at all.’
Did her ears deceive her?
No. A hush truly had befallen the audience.
On stage Johnny wound the darkly blue Stratocaster’s volume up. The hairs on the back of Linda’s neck rose with a tightness in her throat as the guitar cut clean to the hearts of his penitent audience.
There followed one of the best performances Linda had ever seen of any band. Partway through Johnny had struck another emotive high. Linda had glanced at Calvin and seen his girlfriend’s exquisitely beautiful face contorted with salacity.
Raphael approached her again. ‘You’re right, Ze USed Wonz are better than us.’
Linda afforded him a few thoughts then asked him which of the USed girls he fancied.
‘Both of zem, difficult to choose a favourite,’ he said.
* * *
The venue emptied quickly. Still in stage attire Christine and Mazz hit the bar before it closed.
‘The Little Spirit drummer’s cute,’ Mazz said draining another glass of blue liquid.
‘Raphael, he’s alright,’ Christine agreed. ‘Bet he’d say at least that of either of us.’
Interrupting them Stu said, ‘We’re off with the gear.’
He made for the exit with Johnny and Linda.
‘Fancy one more?’ Mazz asked putting her emptied glass on the side.
Christine considered the offer; she’d caught Raphael looking their way again.
She pouted then turned to Mazz. ‘No thanks. I’ll check nothing’s been left backstage.’
Getting up from the barstool she allowed plenty of hip-sway into her stride. Backstage she found their dressing room had, as she expected, been cleared.
Also, as she expected, Raphael appeared behind her.
‘Where’s our stuff?’ she asked him.
‘Oh, I think it’s all gone back to ze hotel.’
‘Oh,’ she said suddenly doubting she or Mazz had enough cash for a taxi.
The clock on the wall said midnight. 4pm in LA. Too early for bed. Raphael would have to come back with them. He could pay for the taxi.
When she
heard the clickerty sound of Mazz’s approaching stilettos she decided they could both thank him.
* * *
Back at the hotel Johnny took first shower leaving Stu with Linda in the bar.
When he arrived back though, he found no Linda and Stu laughing with a redhead who’d seen the show.
‘Where is she?’ Johnny asked.
‘Shower mate.’
‘She coming back?’
‘I guess. Sit down.’ Stu gestured to the lemonade he’d bought him. ‘Meet Mary.’
Johnny couldn’t have cared less, he wanted to see Linda. He sat in silence.
Before finishing his drink he stood leaving Stu to his bloody Mary.
With sleep a distant notion he asked an obliging night porter behind reception to call Linda’s room.
She picked up.
‘Still awake?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’
‘Stu’s pulled and there’s no sign of the girls. I could use some company.’
A moment later, Johnny ran back to Stu and gave him the room key with a brief explanation.
Despite Stu’s caution to not expect too much, Johnny sprinted across the lobby, his outstretched hand missing the lift doors by seconds. Turning he saw another door.
He bounded the stairs to floor seven but upon reaching the landing stopped dead.
Ahead of him, and to his amusement, he saw Raphael shirtless and struggling to keep his jeans up being dragged from the lift he’d just missed by Christine and Mazz.
He stepped into the shadows but seconds later knocked on Linda’s door.
‘I would’ve met you downstairs,’ she said.
‘Would you?’ he asked unsure.
‘Maybe.’ Linda looked sad.
‘Well it was boring down there. Stu’s busy with some redhead.
‘I wonder where the girls are.’
He stepped into her room. ‘Just seen them, you don’t want to know.’
Wednesday 27th June 1984
Linda came home to her empty apartment. She’d exchanged glad greetings with Joan and her husband. She didn’t mind being on her own especially outside on a pleasant evening like this, with a good book and the views of palm trees and the ocean. She detested the apartment though.
Three months earlier she’d returned to it from London. It had felt unnatural and creepy. Though she knew Earl would never again set foot in it, his presence at times seemed palpable and left her yet feeling ruthlessly abandoned.
Linda sat on her veranda reading the last chapter of Harriette Arnow’s The Dollmaker.
She’d missed ABC’s TV adaptation the previous month when she’d celebrated the completed sale of her first office unit.