Metal Urge

by Wilbourn, E. D.

  Nick finished his drink and set the glass down. He knew Nigel loved the little American blonde, but he never saw this coming. It was insane, but he almost envied a love so deep and yearned for that it would move a stodgy bloke like Nigel Guilford to tears. Settling back against the sofa cushions, Nick waited for Nigel to continue. It was obvious his mate had much more he needed to say, and he would listen without judgment to whatever the poor bloke wanted to get off his chest.

  “I was eighteen years old when I married Thom’s sister Chloe.”

  Nick’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Nigel shrugged and wiped his eyes. “I reckoned that would take the piss out of you.”

  Nick tried to smile although he felt a bit unnerved but motioned for Nigel to continue his tale.

  Nigel picked up his glass and held it out to him. “Pour us another drink, mate. I’m gonna need it before I carry on.” Nigel downed his whisky in one long gulp while Nick sipped his slowly, each man gearing up for a story Nigel would never be fully prepared to tell.

  “Thom and I grew up next door to one another in a working class neighborhood of Bilston just outside of Wolverhampton. Our parents were really good friends as well as neighbors. Thom was born just two months before me, and his sister Chloe, barely eleven months after him making the two of them more like twins than just brother and sister. In looks they were polar opposites; Thom, blonde and fair, Chloe, brunette and dark like an exotic gypsy princess. Thom’s dad used to tease his wife, claiming that Chloe was a changeling left behind by gypsy tinkers that passed through the Wolverhampton city center the day their daughter was born. Chloe might have indeed been a changeling because at times she seemed such a strange, otherworldly creature.

  Growing up we were the three musketeers, spending all of our spare time together, eating and sleeping at each other’s homes whenever possible. Beautiful Chloe loved to push the limits of everything we did---she was a daredevil---taking mad risks, scaring the hell out of Thom and me on a daily basis. As we grew older her behavior became more erratic and aggressive as though she couldn’t get enough danger and excitement to stimulate, or satisfy her. It was becoming a nightmare to keep her in check, and both Thom and I were growing tired of her dangerous shenanigans.

  When Thom was twelve, his dad found an old, beat up acoustic guitar and gave it to him. I suppose you could say the rest is history because music quickly became his first love. As the years went by the three of us still hung about together, but Thom was spending more and more time with his guitar leaving Chloe and me to our own devices which had begun to turn a bit naughty as our teenage hormones raged like fire. I always knew I’d marry Chloe someday; it just went without saying. I think our families knew it as well, but no one, including me, expected it to happen while we were so young and immature.

  We did everything we could think of without actually doing the deed, but it was becoming difficult to resist Chloe’s increasing desire so I backed off a bit out of respect for her and her parents. Chloe didn’t like that and got herself thrown out of school as a play for more of my attention. I stuck to my guns, and Chloe ran wild, wreaking havoc within the counsel estate and the town. I tried to appease her by taking her out to films, concerts, even a club or two, but nothing much changed, and Chloe’s parents began to view me as a bit of a bastard for failing their daughter. They had no idea she was acting out because she wanted sex, and plenty of it.

  When I turned seventeen my dad bought a wrecked 1965 Harley Davidson Hummer for fifty quid from an American soldier stationed in England, and presented it to me on my birthday. I immediately went to work doing odd jobs so I could make a bit of dosh to fix up the bike. It was my pride and joy…it still is. I suppose Thom and I spent more and more time on our personal interests, leaving Chloe to fend for herself---with disastrous results. I mean, we still dated, still messed about---a lot---but I wanted our relationship to cool down. We were too young, and it was too bloody intense. A few months after she turned seventeen, Chloe nicked a hundred quid from her mum and hopped a train to Edinburgh. Her parents were going mental, having no idea where their daughter had run off to, and the police were brought in to find her. Thankfully my parents had gone to Bristol to visit my aunt because I got a phone call from Chloe, screaming and crying for me to come and get her in Scotland. She begged me not to tell her parents, or Thom, and I reluctantly agreed even though I knew it was wrong, especially when the police were involved.

  That night I left for Edinburgh hoping my bike would make the long trip. Incredibly, Chloe was hiding out with some Scottish football yobs in a dreary squat on the outskirts of town. She was lucky they hadn’t assaulted and robbed her. They let her go without a fuss. She had roughly thirty quid left so we found a grotty little motel off the motorway to spend the night. I felt fiercely protective of her, and somehow guilty for her predicament. When she looked at me with her beautiful black eyes glittering with tears of regret, I wanted to make all of her dreadful, terrifying episodes disappear and never happen again. I stupidly believed that my love for her harnessed that kind of power. We made love for the first time on the squeaky little bed while the neighbors pounded on the wall and shouted for us to stop making such a racket. We went at it all night not caring fuck-all about them. It was bliss.

  Nigel stopped and poured another glass of whiskey. He swirled it around and around in his glass, clearly unsure if he should finish his story.

  Even though Nick wanted to hear the rest he didn’t press him and waited patiently while Nigel slowly polished off his drink. Glancing at Nick, he took a deep breath as Nick leaned forward in anticipation of what was to come.

  Chloe’s parents were relieved to have their daughter back safe and sound, but they were enraged that I had failed to tell them I was going to fetch her. They forbid me to see her, but she threw such a violent tantrum they quickly changed their decision. That tantrum was the straw that broke the camel’s back and within days, Chloe was on her way to see a “troubled child” counselor. Unable to cope with Chloe’s aggression the counselor quickly handed her over to a child psychiatrist who diagnosed her with some mood problem he called “Borderline Affective Disorder” and put her on a rigid diet of couch sessions and pills. I knew she wasn’t taking the medication. I foolishly believed that our love would conquer all. What the hell did I know? We were just kids. Instead of encouraging Chloe to take her meds and keep her therapy appointments, we spent endless hours making love as an alternative to pills and therapy, but nothing really changed. Brilliant, yeah? Of course nothing bloody changed...it just got worse.

  A few days before I turned eighteen, Chloe announced to me---in front of her family---that she was pregnant. Fearing the wrath of Ian McCordy, and a shotgun wedding, I mustered up a bit of courage and asked Ian for his daughter's hand in marriage. After a quick wedding ceremony, I got a real job working for my dad in his welding shop and buckled down to become a proper husband and father. My love, and Chloe’s pregnancy did nothing to stop the madness; her crazy behavior was escalating at lightning speed. It reached its peak when she nicked some solicitor’s posh car and crashed it into a café in the city center. She wasn’t severely injured, nor had she hurt anyone else, but upon examination at the hospital, under the watchful eye of the Wolverhampton police, the doctor announced that Chloe wasn’t pregnant and never had been. I was gutted. I walked out of the hospital, and went straight to my dad’s solicitor to see about annulling the marriage; I was going to end this insanity and Chloe’s hurtful lies. Thom brought her back to our flat---we lived in a converted garage behind Chloe’s uncle’s house---since she wasn’t going to serve jail time given her age and mental problems. She threw herself into my arms, begging my forgiveness and crying that she loved me over and over. Pushing her away rather roughly, I told her that I was seeking the quickest way to dissolve our marriage and demanded that she get ready to sign the papers straight away. She looked at me, screamed in the most horrible way, and ran out of the flat. I will never forget the look on Thom’s face.
It was like I had betrayed him in the most despicable way imaginable. He ran after her while I stood motionless in the open doorway for what felt like hours, filled with hurt, betrayal, and righteous anger. The next morning my mum called to tell me that Chloe was dead from an overdose of pills.

  I don’t remember what happened next. It was like I completely blacked out, but when I regained my senses, the entire flat was wrecked, and there were empty bottles of beer shattered everywhere. My parents found me on the floor sobbing like a baby when they came by to see if I was alright. I never got the chance to talk to or apologize to Thom because he left right after Chloe's funeral for Newcastle where he eventually formed a band and enjoyed moderate success for a couple of years. Indeed, we never spoke to each other once during those two years even after his poor mum died of a massive heart attack a few weeks after Chloe's death. I reckoned that dreadful tragedy made Thom hate me more than he had ever hated anyone in his life. It gutted me to lose my best mate but there was absolutely nothing I could do to change what had happened to his mum or our beautiful, mad Chloe.

  Somehow I forged on, working with my dad, singing with a blues band in our local pub on weekends and getting piss-arsed drunk to keep the nightmare of Chloe's suicide at bay. Hell, I didn’t even know I could sing until someone dared me to get in front of a mic during one of my infamous drinking binges. When Thom moved back to Bilston two years later he acted as though nothing had ever happened and asked if I was interested in joining his new band after he heard me sing at the pub one Saturday night. And once again, the rest is bloody, bollocks history.

  Nick could see tears on Nigel’s face again. When he got up without another word and went to his bedroom, Nick knew it was best to let him go. He reckoned Deanna knew nothing of Nigel’s past but probably should if she was ever going to understand and possibly forgive such a complicated bloke.

  Chapter 28

  A note lay neatly folded by the coffee maker. Thom read it, his mood turning a bit sour as he crumpled the paper and tossed it into the rubbish bin. Deanna had gone to the library to study for a test which meant she had a long, challenging day ahead of her. It was hard to believe that it was September and she was back in school. The teachers certainly wasted no time in piling on the homework or the barrage of tests and pop quizzes she seemed to suffer through daily. Thom removed a small black velvet box from his jeans pocket and opened it, peering closely at the twinkling diamond in its ornate, yet delicate, Victorian setting. He intended to give it to her after dinner at their favorite Thai restaurant later that evening. Asking her to marry him might be dangerously foolish so early in their relationship, but he was determined to ask her nonetheless. He felt a bit guilty springing such a heavy duty surprise on her after a grueling day of school and work, but time was growing short. Metal Urge would leave for America in a few weeks and he hoped, if she accepted his proposal, to marry her straight away. At least she had agreed to dinner, arranging an alternate shift at the hotel so she could meet him at eight o'clock. As for saying yes to his proposal…he didn‘t want to jinx his chances by dwelling on it too much.

  He picked up Mims, who was rubbing insistently against his legs, his cup of milky tea, and went into the living room. Carefully sipping the hot tea he petted Mims, his thoughts turning back to Deanna of their own accord. He smiled at the fact that she was always on his mind from the moment he woke up until the last hazy seconds before he drifted to sleep. Often his visions of her influenced the way he executed each musical chord while practicing on his beloved Flying V. He played each note to perfection, capturing the way her body moved gracefully, gliding through the flat as she tidied up and dusted the flat owner's artistic treasures. With huge green eyes sparkling, her full, luscious lips smiled in appreciation at the intricate beauty of each and every piece she gently cleaned. He never failed to play his best and most satisfying guitar riffs when his beautiful muse inspired him. But nothing gave him more satisfaction than playing her soft, naked flesh, hearing her voice sing out in pleasure as his skilled guitarist’s fingers stroked and strummed sensual harmonies over the delicate, secret places of her exquisite body. Sighing heavily, his thoughts suddenly took an unpleasant turn. Against his better judgment he considered the worst case scenario: Deanna refusing his marriage proposal which would absolutely destroy him.

  Glancing over at his black Flying V so proudly displayed on its metal stand, he swallowed hard and shook his head. For the first time since running his fingertips over the broken and tuneless strings of the battered acoustic guitar his father gave to him thirteen years ago, his passion for music had taken a back seat. It was no match for the beautiful, little Yank who had swept through his heart and soul like a flaming nova, burning away his memories of everything that came before her. How in God’s name could he go on without her now? The tea turned bitter in his mouth and he set the cup down, slopping some of the hot liquid over the rim onto his fingers. He didn’t even feel the burn.

  She had never said she loved him.

  Not once.

  Sometimes he felt his heart would shatter into a billion throbbing bits after he told her how much he loved her and she responded by smiling sadly, the distressed look in her eyes wounding him more deeply than words ever could. He vaguely recalled thinking that his love would have to be enough for the both of them. Sadly it seemed that he would never be enough for Deanna much less his unsolicited love.

  ****

  It was well past eight o’clock and there were no cabs for hire anywhere near the hotel. Deanna hurried down to the next block, scanning each cab that approached her for an unlit “for hire” sign. Her watch clicked past the eight-twenty mark and she felt frantic, fearing Thom would think she had stood him up. At last a cab pulled over, and she barely allowed the occupants to get out before she was pushing her way in, giving the cabbie the address, and asking him to please hurry. She had something extremely important she needed to say to Thom tonight...something he had been waiting to hear. It would be disastrous if she got stuck in one of London’s infamous traffic jams. “Not tonight. Please!” she prayed silently just as the cab screeched around a street corner and came to a jarring halt in front of the restaurant.

  As she rushed through the restaurant’s door, she spotted Thom sitting at a table, head bent, looking as though he was studying his hand very closely. She rushed up and gave his cheek a quick kiss while he hastily stuffed something into his jeans pocket.

  “I am so sorry,” she said, placing her purse on an empty chair before sitting down. She reached for his hands and clasped them, squeezing gently. “The girl who was supposed to work my shift came in late. She said the tube was a mess and she had to wait ages to get a train…”

  “It’s alright, love. You’re here and that’s all that matters, yeah?” Thom brought her hands to his lips and kissed each one, nuzzling her soft knuckles with his cheek.

  Deanna smiled at the look of relief on his face. Thank God the cabbie had managed to drive to the restaurant in record time. She pushed his long, shiny hair away from his face and stroked the dark blonde hair that grew in a neat line down the side of his cheek. “Your sideburns are getting long.”

  “Yeah, I reckon they give me that bona fide rock star look.”

  “They do,” she grinned. “They’re incredibly sexy.” She caressed his face and murmured, “You‘re incredibly sexy.” She leaned over the narrow table to kiss him just as the waiter walked up and cleared his throat to get their attention.

  Thom ordered all of their favorites including the rich, decadent Thai iced tea that they both loved. Once the waiter was gone, Deanna reached out to take hold of Thom's collar. She pulled him close, kissing him deeply, slipping her tongue into his mouth, teasing him with playful flicks over his tongue, and the inside of his lips.

  “Mm,” she murmured against his mouth. She pulled away and smiled sweetly, “I've been waiting for that all day.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” she laughed before kissing him agai
n. “I hated leaving early,” she said quietly. “I wanted to ravage you all morning so I could remember how good you tasted and how wonderful you felt inside of me during my mind-numbingly boring classes this afternoon.”

  Was this conversation real? Her behavior certainly forced him re-think his negative feelings earlier in the day. Maybe his fear of losing her had made his imagination run wild with dreadful images of her walking out of the restaurant and out of his life after a botched and rejected marriage proposal. A delicious stirring in his lap made him want to take her right there on the table in front of the whole bloody restaurant. He noticed her staring at him with a look that said, “I know what you’re thinking, and I want it too.”

  She grinned and raised her hand to signal the waiter. He rushed over, and Deanna asked that he make their order to go, including the iced tea. He didn’t seem happy about it but nodded and prepared the bill, slapping it down on the table. Thom hastily pulled out his wallet and tossed money on top of the scribbled ticket, paying no attention to the cost.