Metal Urge

by Wilbourn, E. D.

  David Hadley extended his hand as soon as Deanna opened the door, introducing himself with a million watt smile. He was a nice looking guy, young and hip, with a small diamond twinkling brightly in the upper crease of his nostril. She invited him in, took his jacket, and watched to see if Mims came willingly to him. The cat took one look at him and bolted, making Deanna feel incongruously proud. The look on David’s face momentarily shamed her, and she assured him that Mims would come around when she remembered his scent. He gratefully accepted her offer of tea, and took the opportunity to lay out all of his paperwork on the dining room table while she prepared a tray in the kitchen. He asked her where Thom was as she poured him a steaming cup of tea.

  “He’s on tour in the States and won’t be back until the beginning of December,” she said while glancing curiously at the piles of paper.

  “I had no idea they were going to tour this soon. That‘s brilliant. The band certainly deserves a chance in America, yeah? Their album is amazing.” He gestured at the papers and smiled. “It took several months for the bank to accept Thom’s offer. Once they received the down payment the documents were presented to me to be signed.”

  Deanna frowned and shook her head. “I don’t understand. Is Thom buying this flat?”

  “I hope I didn’t spoil anything,” David grinned, clearly embarrassed. “I assumed he told you after the two of you married. I will never forget how excited he was when I made the offer last June. He said it was the perfect place for his bride, and I‘m chuffed we‘ve finally met.”

  “Last June?”

  David nodded and popped an iced biscuit in his mouth, chewing enthusiastically. “Lucy and I are so glad a nice couple like you and Thom are going to live here. We have so many wonderful memories of the place...this being our first home and all.”

  Not wanting to appear a clueless fool Deanna smiled and murmured the appropriate responses as David regaled her with stories of their first days living in the flat when he was a struggling photographer, and Lucy a fledgling artist. Now they were on their way to New York where their careers had taken off in a big way. He seemed a bit distracted, and then a bit sad, finally asking if Deanna would mind keeping Mims. He and Lucy felt it would be far too upsetting to uproot such a sensitive cat. In response, and much to her horror, Deanna began to cry. David apologized profusely but she couldn’t seem to get control of herself. She blubbered and sniffled that it wasn’t anything he had done or said, knowing he was dubious and mortified at her reaction. The poor guy had no idea that he had just revealed what seemed an insidious plot to manipulate her into falling for Thom with the express goal of rushing into marriage: but why? They barely knew one another in June. Why would he have plans to buy a house for his bride? It was creepy, and it made her skin crawl to think that the man she had grown to love and trust maintained some kind of sick agenda involving her. Her entire life seemed to be falling apart, spinning uncontrollably toward a disastrous end. Excusing herself, Deanna ran to the ground floor bathroom and retched into the toilet until she felt so weak she was afraid she couldn’t stand. David knocked and asked if she was alright through the door, and she told him it must be some kind of virus she picked up at school. Eventually she felt strong enough to re-join him at the dining room table.

  As difficult as it was, Deanna managed a weak smile. “I’m so sorry, David.”

  “Don’t apologize, love. You should probably be in bed so I’ll leave the paperwork with you. Once you’re feeling better you can have it delivered to Thom. Will that be alright?”

  “Of course,” she said, embarrassed by his obvious desire to get out of the flat and away from her as quickly as he could.

  They said their brief goodbyes at the door and after he was gone she stood by the dining room table staring at the bank’s paperwork with disbelief, crying softly.

  Chapter 36

  Although he never imagined he would enjoy seeing his old mate suffer, Nigel was doing just that. He wasn’t privy to the details, but it was crystal clear that Thom and Deanna were in trouble. No doubt over that wonderfully sweet and tell-tale kiss in the bustling waiting area so kindly provided by British Airways. “You’re being an insufferable prat,” he said to himself, but it was impossible to stifle the self-satisfied grin spreading across his face as he gazed out of the tour bus window, viewing nothing but miles and miles of yellow and green fields. “All’s fair in love and war,” he whispered in justification of his inappropriate glee. When he pictured Thom’s fist gearing up to flatten the delicate cartilage of his nose it was a hell of a lot easier to accept his own satisfaction over Thom’s marital woes. That said, there were still no guarantees that Deanna would open her heart to him, but it most definitely added ammo to his arsenal. Brad was watching him from across the aisle, a grim look marring his rugged features. Nigel frowned and cursed under his breath when Brad meandered over and sat down next to him.

  “I think I liked you better when you were a sullen, brooding prat. Now you seem nothing more than a conniving, self-serving prick,” Brad said, looking at Nigel with disgust.

  Pushing himself out of his seat, Nigel started to shove past Brad who blocked his passage with his leg.

  “Sit down Nigel. I deserve to have my say.”

  “Yeah? Who says you deserve it?”

  “How about months of watching you and Thom fight and argue over that little slip of a girl, who, by the way, chose to marry Thom.”

  “Bollocks. Now move your bloody leg or you’ll be playing your bass from a stool tonight.”

  Brad stood up and pushed Nigel against the large, bus window. “I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you, but it makes me sick to see what a mean-spirited, disloyal, little shit you’ve become.” He removed his hands from Nigel's shoulders, wiping them on his jeans like he was trying to rub off something repulsive. He peered closely at Nigel's reddened, angry face and shook his head. “Love and respect go hand in hand, Nigel. If you really loved Deanna, you'd respect her decision to marry Thom instead of plotting to ruin their marriage. Nobody likes a sore loser. If you're not careful, you're gonna end up losing everything.” Brad backed up into the aisle and walked towards his tiny room, glancing over his shoulder at Nigel with a scowl before shutting the door.

  ****

  Deanna stood at the base of the Tower Bridge, her eyes traveling up the massive, ornately carved towers. Weeks had passed since she felt the need to visit her sanctuary but after sending the bank’s paperwork to Thom by international courier, she felt an enormous weight settle over her like an iron shawl. She needed the quiet power of the bridge to gather the strength she would require to face his inevitable call tonight. The thought of hearing his voice made her slightly ill. She had to be strong enough to call him out on his disgusting plan to hook and reel her in like an unsuspecting fish; his bait of gentle, loving, kindness luring her in for the catch. Her horrific miscarriage had given him the perfect opportunity to insinuate himself into her life as her hero, her protector, and her steadfast rock.

  The bastard.

  ****

  Head bowed, and eyes closed, Deanna sat by the phone so still and rigid her back was beginning to pulse with pain. When it finally rang just a few minutes past midnight, her fingers gripped the handset like a steel vise. “Hello?”

  “Hi, babe. Did I wake you?”

  She shook her head and whispered, “No.”

  “What? I can’t hear you, love,” Thom said.

  “No, you didn’t wake me. I was waiting for your call.”

  “You sound very odd, Deanna.”

  “Did you receive the loan papers?” she asked, ignoring his remark.

  “Yeah, cheers. I wanted it to be a surprise though.”

  She steeled herself for the reaction that was bound to come in the next few moments. “Why did you tell David you wanted to buy this flat for your bride?”

  “Why did I what?” He sounded dumbfounded.

  “You heard me, Thom McCordy.” The edge in her voice was
razor sharp and growing claws. “We didn’t even know each other in June, the month you applied for a loan on this flat.”

  “Right, but I don’t recall telling him I was buying the flat for my bride. I wasn‘t engaged at the time, yeah?” he said, laughing at the absurdity of their conversation.

  “You manipulated me from the very beginning to make sure I would become that bride you told him about,” she snapped.

  “That is complete and utter nonsense, Deanna.”

  “No, it isn't!” She got up and paced the room. “You had an agenda, a plan to make me fall in love with you. You’re sick and controlling…”

  “What are you on about?” Thom said angrily. “I didn't have any agenda. Bloody hell, Deanna, what you're saying is bollocks!”

  “Really?” she laughed unpleasantly.

  She was testing his patience. He'd set her right by bringing her down a notch or two. “I'm not gonna deny that I fell in love with you after you moved in with me. But you seem to have conveniently forgotten that I waited for you to make the first move which you did quite brilliantly after your bath towel hit the floor and you grabbed my cock.”

  “You’re disgusting,” she hissed.

  “Yeah? Well, at least that night was real and not just some fucked up fantasy I concocted from an innocent remark,” he sneered.

  “I wish it was just a fantasy...”

  “I can't believe you're still suggesting I planned everything that happened between us. Did I look into a crystal ball and see you being forced down to your knees in Nigel’s’ flat or lying on the filthy floor of that dodgy motel room bleeding to death after your miscarriage?”

  “No, but...,” she began, but he ignored her.

  “Did I read Tarot cards or roll some bones so that I could plan my course of action to lure you to my evil lair and mesmerize you into loving me?” Thom said sarcastically. “You think I’m sick, Deanna? How bloody insane are your ridiculous accusations?”

  His words made her pause for a moment, but she ignored them and launched another verbal attack. “You can't deny that you used those opportunities to worm your way into my life, Thom. You asked me to move in with you so that you could gain my trust, become my friend and strut your stuff in a desperate effort to seduce me.” She paused and took a deep breath. “You’re charming and handsome. I'm sure you figured it would be easy to wear me down after losing Nigel and his baby. I was totally vulnerable and you took advantage of that.” She closed her eyes, refusing to acknowledge her own well thought out plan to seduce him in order to distract her mind and her body until she could break Nigel's hold.

  “Strut my stuff?” He laughed incredulously, startling her. “Desperate effort to seduce you? God, Deanna, you're bloody unbelievable!” Sighing heavily he forced himself to continue instead of hanging up the phone and counting his losses. “I hate to admit this because I’m beginning to seriously question what I ever saw in you, but yes, I was hoping you'd fall in love with me.”

  “You made sure I fell in love with you,” she countered. It was a feeble attempt and she was losing ground fast. “And it all went according to plan, didn‘t it Thom?”

  “That’s completely absurd, and you know it. You started this fight over an innocent statement taken out of context. You accused me of carrying out some sort of diabolical plan to win your love even though you know that’s a load of paranoid shit. What a huge ego you have for such a small, insignificant girl.”

  There was a dark, heavy silence chilling the air around Deanna's trembling hand as she held the handset so tightly to her ear it was beginning to ache.

  “I'm a musician,” Thom murmured in her burning ear. “I don't need magic spells or cheap, sleazy tactics to get what I want or what I need. All I have to do is play my shiny, black V. D’you get my meaning, darlin’? You'd be very wise to keep that in mind the next time you want to fuck with me.”

  ****

  Austin, Texas proved to be the biggest musical challenge yet: a city and state where Country music reigned supreme. Outfitted in ten gallon hats and roughshod boots, ruddy cheeks bulging with chewing tobacco, the local cowboys wanted nothing more than to make mincemeat out of the long-haired sissy boys from Merry Olde England who boldly strolled into a bar near their hotel for a beer. Mayhem erupted; insults flew, followed by fists, followed by beer-soaked shards of glass, quickly destroying the quaint bar that was so fastidiously decorated in the style of an 1890’s saloon. Waving a sawed-off shotgun, the bartender roared in anger and frustration as the patrons brawled until every man was lying semi-conscious on the floor or sprawled outside on the old-fashioned wooden sidewalk.

  Andy arrived with the local police, managing to smooth talk his ten band members out of jail time, settling for a hefty fine and stern warnings from a heavy-lidded “good old boy” cop named Buddy. He gallantly offered to pay for damages suffered by the “Boom Town Saloon,” fully intending to take the triple digit loss out of the two band’s profits. If the bloody wanks weren’t fighting each other, they were taking well aimed swings at the locals; it was a newshound’s wet dream. No one wanted to destroy metal bands and their music more than the American press. They despised the English corrupting their innocent youth with melodies that in their narrow little minds were spawned by Satan himself. He remembered how hard the Yanks tried to ban rock n’ roll music in the fifties, resorting to record burnings and the like.

  Herding the bloodied but grinning lads back to his hotel room, he helped them tend to their wounds while issuing dire warnings about what would become of the tour and their record sales in the U.S. if they didn’t get control of themselves. Acting duly chastised in front of their fretful manager, they laughed hysterically after Andy left for the large club they were appearing at later that evening. They hadn’t realized how bored and agitated they’d become as their claustrophobic tour buses meandered across the United States. It felt so good to take their pent-up frustration out on a bunch of macho hicks in silly hats.

  To Thom’s dismay, his frustration and anger was still rocketing off the charts. He hadn’t spoken to Deanna in over a week, their last conversation painful and awkward; the tragic aftermath of their horrible arguments. Applying a dab of concealer, working it over the large bruise that ran from the edge of his bottom lip to his jaw line, he winced at the pain. The stinging welt was nothing compared to the agony of Deanna’s cruel accusations and completely unfounded suspicions. He loved her yet she had managed to twist that beautiful feeling into something sinister and repulsive and all because of David Hadley’s innocent comment. What had he said to David? Wasn’t it something about a great place to start a new life, or a family, or some other equally innocuous comment? How could she possibly believe otherwise? Her outlandish arguments gave him one more reason to think she was seeking grounds to leave him. If she hadn't been considering it before his thinly veiled threat about being a musician probably had pushed her over the edge. She deserved to feel a bit threatened---he sure as hell did. All of this ridiculous mudslinging was exhausting. The chasm gaping wide and cavernous between them was created by much more than Deanna's out-of-whack hormones: Nigel. That fucking prick was the root of all of their marital and emotional problems. Spreading concealer on a cut that grazed his right eyebrow, he grimaced and wondered if they would ever be free of the evil son of a bitch.

  ****

  Security guards led thirteen wide-eyed fans, the lucky winners of backstage passes and a photo opportunity with each of the bands, into a small, cordoned off area near the stage entrance. Security shielded Beastrage until Andy gave them the go ahead to lead the kids over to where the band members were perched on stools with pens and plastered on smiles.

  Metal Urge stood out of sight behind towering speakers watching the exchange between the gushing fans and Beastrage. Thom noticed a pretty brunette with blonde streaks strategically placed in her thick, shiny mane and smiled. The girl had on a leather mini skirt which complimented her long, firm, shapely tanned legs. She sported a pair of
racy knee-high black leather platform boots with bright silver studs circling the top and down along the sides of the zipper. He grinned at the thought that she had probably added those heavy metal touches herself. A leather jacket over a form fitting crop top displayed her tanned midriff very nicely, drawing his eyes to the taut, healthy skin and sweet little belly button peeking above her low cut waistband. He felt a pleasant tingle in his groin, teasing him into a dangerous state between lust and desire. He stepped back so he could no longer see the sexy, little vixen wishing Deanna would dress like that for him sometimes. She favored the flowing, gauzy bohemian fashions of the sixties and rarely wore the leather biker jacket he bought her. He thought it was because the summer weather was still too hot until he spied her modeling the jacket in front of a mirror, frowning with displeasure. He almost laughed at the thought that Deanna would want to dress provocatively or do anything else to please him considering the sorry state of their marriage. Glancing over at Nigel, he felt his fists ball up so tightly his hands began to ache. Smashing the bastard’s smug, confident face to raw, bleeding pulp would feel so good...

  The security guards rounded up the thirteen anxious fans and ushered out Metal Urge. Thom perched on an uncomfortable stool and accepted the pen Andy handed him for signing autographs. He glanced to his left when he felt the heat of the brunette’s stare move over him like a slow caress. Her face was lovelier than he first realized, but she looked young, probably no more than eighteen or nineteen. She moved to the front of the queue, no one daring to protest, her piercing gaze never breaking contact with him. The stirring in his groin was back with a vengeance and had turned rock hard making his breath catch for a moment.

  She glided towards him, hips swaying hypnotically until he could almost feel their rhythm against his rigid thighs. “Hi,” she said, licking her lips.