Metal Urge

by Wilbourn, E. D.

  Red-faced, she backed away, her fingers twining and untwining in a nervous gesture, as though she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. “Thom, please…”

  He shook his head and started for the door. “Don’t say it, Deanna. I don’t want to hear you say you’re sorry.” He opened the door a crack and turned back to her, his expression somber and filled with pain. “Let’s be honest darlin', I’m not the one you want; I never was. There’s really nothing more you can say, yeah?” Thom gazed at her, cocking his head in such a way that it broke her heart and nearly shattered her resolve. “It’s the silliest thing, actually,” he laughed, a strangled, mirthless sound. “I love you the way you love him. God, I’m such a bloody stupid fool.”

  He slipped through the doorway, leaving Deanna to sob out her guilt in the hollow echoes of the Chelsea flat she had once been so happy to call home.

  ****

  Deanna didn’t tell Nigel about Mims until all of her things were put away, and she was getting ready for work. She could barely stand the thought of spending an evening pandering and bowing to nit-picky hotel guests, struggling to satisfy their often unrealistic demands. Who cared if they felt pampered or if they got their money’s worth out of their hotel stay. Her precious little girl was dead because she hadn’t been there to watch out for her. He tried hard to console her, but he couldn’t. No one could. Bitter memories of Mims lying frozen in the wintry garden, and Thom’s final cutting remark that slashed through her like a razor-edged sword were all she had left of her disastrous attempt at happiness on a pretty street in Chelsea. She didn’t seduce Thom just to forget Nigel; she seduced him because she wanted him. She craved the feel of his mouth on her skin, the blazing heat of desire in his incredible blue eyes, the sensation of their bodies so intricately entwined she could feel him touch her soul...

  How could she have done such a cruel and hurtful thing?

  Nigel held her, murmuring sweet, loving words in her ear until it was time for her to leave. As she pulled on her coat, he begged her to stay home, offering to call her supervisor to say that she was ill, but she was determined to suffer every single misery she had selfishly orchestrated while destroying an innocent man whose only mistake had been to fall in love with her. She looked at Nigel’s face so filled with love and concern for her and felt a stab of irrational fear. Unable to break its icy hold, she clung to him, whispering how sorry she was for making such a horrible mess of everyone’s lives. He kissed her trembling mouth and assured her that she had done nothing of the sort, pleading with her to stay home, but she smiled a brave little smile and told him she would be alright. Nigel watched her walk towards Aldgate High Street where she would catch the underground train. He felt a tiny flutter of anxiety and shrugged it off before going back inside to give his parents a call about the Christmas holidays.

  ****

  The huge wooden door swung open, a rush of warm air caressing Thom like a tropical summer breeze. Trevor stood in the doorway looking more like the overly confident cad Thom remembered. Gone was the cadaverous grin and sunken eyes. One might say he was positively glowing with health, for someone as eerily pale as Trevor anyway.

  “Come in, come in!” He said, gripping Thom’s outstretched hand in a firm handshake. “It’s so good to see you, Thom.”

  He led his guest into the massive, ornately decorated parlor and asked him what he would like to drink. Thom asked for Scotch---straight up. Trevor poured him a generous serving in a Waterford crystal tumbler that sparkled like diamonds in the dim light of the heavily curtained room. Pouring himself a glass of ginger ale, he sat down in a plush wingback chair and smiled warmly at Thom. “One addiction leads to another,” he said, raising his glass of ginger ale and chuckling. “I’m what the Yanks call a teetotaler now. Ah well, here’s to an existence no longer muddled by demon booze and pretty poppy.”

  Thom raised his glass feeling slightly guilty about drinking the sparkling golden liquor. “I’m sorry, Trevor.”

  “Whatever for?” Trevor laughed. “My dear boy, we all have our Achilles’ heel…booze, drugs, a pretty blonde…”

  Trevor gave him a knowing look and Thom shifted in his chair uncomfortably, slightly taken aback by Trevor’s intuition. He tossed back the Scotch and Trevor filled his glass again.

  “Do you want her back?”

  “Of course I want her back even though she’s a cheating bitch,” Thom rubbed his face and scowled, “who wasted no time legging it back to Nigel after we had a few stupid rows over the bastard kissing her at the airport.

  Trevor's mouth dropped open in surprise as Thom frowned and shook his head. “That isn't the half of it---she never even bothered to tell me about it. Nigel spilled his rotten guts to me. Can you bloody believe it?” Thom laughed harshly. “I gave Deanna every chance to tell me her side of it but she never said a word. Her excuse was that she didn't want to cause trouble for the band. Part of me believed her, but I was so hurt and angry. It seemed to me that she was trying to protect that back-stabbing wank.”

  Trevor tapped the exquisitely cut crystal decanter and Thom nodded. He poured a double shot and Thom sat back, sipping the potent liquor, hoping it would soothe his nerves.

  “Our arguments got so out of control that we were hurling vicious accusations and getting really nasty with one another. It was ridiculous,” Thom continued. “You wouldn’t believe some of the bizarre crap Deanna accused me of.” He stared at his glass, the hand-cut edges blurring as tears filled his eyes. “I love her so much. I can’t help myself even though my love means fuck-all since Nigel muscled his way back into her life.” He finished off the last dregs of his drink feeling no relief from the wretched pain of his ruined marriage. Licking his dry lips, he tasted the bitter tang of defeat and it made him want to retch. “After I got back from the States she refused to try and sort out the nightmare our marriage had become because of Nigel's bloody interference. Now she's shacking up with the bastard, sleeping with him and all, acting like I don't even exist.” Thom glanced at Trevor and shrugged helplessly. “My hands are tied because of Metal Urge. If it weren't for the band I'd go over to Nigel's flat, beat him senseless, and...bollocks!” Thom almost shouted. “I wish he’d never been born! I'd be going home to my wife and my mum and sister would still be alive.”

  They sat quietly for a few minutes as Thom tried to calm himself down. It wasn't long before Trevor’s part-time cook announced that lunch was ready to be served in the dining room. After a brief declaration of sympathy for Thom’s troubling marital situation and a condoling pat on the back, talk turned to the band and the success of Metal Urge’s American tour. Trevor was pleased for Metal Urge, and Beastrage as well, but he had heard some extremely disturbing rumors and needed his troubled mate to confirm or deny their validity. Laying his silverware down, Trevor intertwined his long, slender fingers and cleared his throat. It seemed to take all of his strength to speak, and when he did, Thom understood his hesitancy to ask if it was true that Maggi was dating Nick Ramsey. Thom confirmed that it was and watched with empathy as Trevor fought to remain calm. He also mentioned that Nick was Nigel’s flat mate, noting the various shades of red tinting Trevor’s flushed face as he battled his outrage.

  The rest of the meal passed in uncomfortable silence as Trevor struggled with the disagreeable news. When they returned to the parlor for one last drink, Trevor offered Thom a cigarette which he accepted gratefully, the pungent smoke a lovely distraction from all of the hurt and anger palpable in the emotionally charged air.

  “I've always hated Nigel,” Trevor said simply, blowing smoke from his nostrils like a blast of steam. “No reason for it really, I simply hated the look of him. Smug and overly confident; eyes that studied you like you were a specimen on a tiny sheet of glass.”

  Thom exhaled a stream of smoke and nodded. “A lot of people have that impression of him.” Still feeling the sting of divulging his wife's betrayal, he laughed unpleasantly. “I can't believe he was my best mate when we were growin
g up. What a bloody joke.”

  “Better you than me,” Trevor snorted. “To be perfectly honest, I wanted to kill him after he slept with Maggi. Sometimes I still do but alas, it’s just a pleasant fantasy.”

  “Indeed,” Thom muttered and took the last drag off of his cigarette before crushing the burning tip with a force that betrayed his calm demeanor. “Well, I better shove off. I’m being interviewed for some guitar magazine first thing in the morning so I need my beauty rest.” He gave Trevor a tight smile and stood up thanking his host for lunch then suggested they get together before the twenty-third.

  Trevor seemed keen on the idea and told him to give him a ring with the details. He escorted Thom to the door and they shook hands as they said their farewells. As he shut the heavy door, he grinned at his reflection in the huge, ornate entryway mirror. There was an incredibly simple way to rid Thom of his problem with Nigel. He could hardly wait to share his plan with him the next time they met. The poor lad couldn’t help but feel relieved when that sorry bastard was out of his life once and for all.

  Chapter 41

  “Who was that on the phone?” Deanna called out to Nigel as she tried to pin up the last stray strands of her unruly hair. He stood in the doorway smiling at her impatient fingers as they worked frantically to capture every last curl. She saw his cheeky grin in the mirror and stuck her tongue out making him laugh.

  “It was Nick calling. Apparently, Trevor has been ringing Maggi at all hours of the day and night. Nick went to his house yesterday and threatened to turn him in to the police, but Trevor insisted he didn’t make the calls. Anyway, Nick is gonna stay at Maggi’s flat for a bit until they sort it out.”

  “Good,” Deanna mumbled through a mouthful of bobby pins as Nigel walked up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,” he murmured against the back of her neck. “Mm, I found a strand or two that you missed,” he said, kissing the soft skin just below her hairline.

  She leaned against him and sighed, wishing she didn’t have to go to work now that they had the flat all to themselves. She took the bobby pins from between her lips, turned and kissed him, then pushed past him to dig in the closet for her favorite pair of comfortable clogs. “Do you really believe Trevor would bother making harassing phone calls to Maggi after all of these months?” she asked while slipping on her shoes. She took one last look at her reflection in the full length mirror Nigel had installed for her on his bedroom door. She couldn't help but smile as she remembered how proud he had been of his handiwork. Noticing the king size bed reflected behind her, she grinned wickedly at the memory of watching their sexy activities mirrored in precise detail on its brightly polished surface.

  “I wouldn’t put anything past that bloody psycho,” Nigel said. He grabbed her for another kiss, this one so long and sweet she felt weak in the knees. “Let’s not talk about Trevor and Maggi,” he said against her lips, “Let’s talk about spending Christmas with my folks in Bilston.”

  Deanna backed away, shaking her head. “You didn’t tell them about me, did you? Please tell me that you didn’t, Nigel.”

  He could see the fear and dread in her wide, green eyes, and was stunned by her reaction. “What's this about, Deanna? Is there something you want to tell me?”

  She sat on the bed, resting her head in her hands, unable to meet his questioning gaze for a few minutes. “Look, I have to get to work. I don’t have time to explain, but I promise I will when I get home tonight.” She started to get up but Nigel sat down next to her and grasped her hands.

  “I need to know what’s going on now, not at six or seven o’clock tonight, yeah?”

  “Nigel, please. I can't afford to be late.” Deanna squeezed his hands, and once again started to get up.

  “I’ll take you to work,” he offered, pulling her back down on the bed. “I know loads of shortcuts through the traffic. Just tell me why you don’t want my folks to know about you.”

  “Because they were at my wedding, Nigel.”

  “What? You‘re bloody jokin’, right?” Nigel said in disbelief. When she shook her head no, he groaned and stood up, running his fingers back and forth through his hair. “Brilliant! Just fucking brilliant!” He turned to her and spread his hands beseechingly, “When were you gonna tell me about this?”

  “Everything has happened so fast between us since that day on the bridge…it was one of the things I wanted to tell you, one of the many things.” She took a deep breath and looked at him imploringly. “Please believe that I'm not intentionally hiding anything from you. Being with you again has been so incredible but also completely unexpected and overwhelming. There’s still so much for us to talk about, but please, can we do that tonight?”

  “I'm so sorry, baby.” He sat down and gathered her in his arms. “Of course we can talk tonight or whenever you feel you’re ready.” He kissed her forehead and pressed his cheek against hers. “You’re absolutely right. It’s been bloody overwhelming, and I’ve been far too selfish in my need to get close to you.”

  She hugged him as tightly as she could. “I promise to tell you everything about the baby, about Thom and me, your family…everything.”

  “I don’t want you to worry, Deanna. I told my parents I might have a guest for Christmas but that’s all I said.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief as he helped her up from the bed. Nothing would have been worse than facing Nigel’s parents, or their good friend and neighbor, Ian McCordy after all of the pain-filled emotional drama surrounding her ill-fated marriage to Thom.

  Deanna called Nigel after her shift at the hotel ended, and waited in the crisp, frosty December air for him to pick her up. The Christmas lights, decorations, and the people rushing about with armloads of packages saddened her. Images of Mims’ tiny grave so lonely and forlorn amongst the bare, skeletal limbs of Thom’s frozen garden clouded her vision. She still couldn’t believe she was dead. A truck rumbled by momentarily catching her attention. Bright blue lights twinkled around the top of the trailer bringing to mind the tormented look in Thom’s blue eyes on the day she picked up her belongings. She recalled the two of them cuddling in their warm, cozy bed the day before he left for the States, making plans for the future, dreaming about all of the exotic places they would visit someday, and how many kids they hoped they would have. Burning tears threatened to overflow and Deanna pressed a hand hard against her aching heart. The sound of Nigel’s motorbike snapped her back to reality, and for a split second as she climbed on the seat behind him, she wished he would just keep driving until they were as far from England and the troubling past as they could possibly get.

  ****

  Talking about the loss of their baby was infinitely more painful than Deanna imagined it would be. It didn’t help when Nigel gazed at her with such guilt and regret it nearly shattered her heart. Dreading his reaction to the events that led to his family’s attendance at her wedding, she was relieved when he shrugged it off, convinced that he could sort them out if given a little time. As the conversation turned to Thom, she felt extremely apprehensive, but decided that complete honesty was best. She told Nigel that Thom had literally saved her life the night she miscarried. She explained that he had visited her in the hospital every day, finally offering her a place to stay when she was released. “He became my rock, my best friend, and I grew to love him.”

  Nigel flinched at her last admission but said nothing as she continued.

  “I’m ashamed to admit this, but initially I planned to use him to help me get over you, Nigel. I still loved you, but I needed to move on with my life. I knew Thom was attracted to me, and I was attracted to him, but I wasn’t prepared for what happened between us. It changed everything. I really believed we could build a happy life together.”

  “Do you still love him?”

  “Yes, but not the way I love you.” She looked deeply into Nigel’s eyes, “You’re my heart and soul. You know that I’ve
loved you since the very first moment I saw you on that dinky little stage in Soho.”

  “If I hadn’t been so pushy and persistent would...,” Nigel paused and cleared his throat, “Would you still be with Thom?”

  Deanna looked down at her hands unsure if she should cross that fine line by remaining totally honest. “Yes,” she said.

  Nigel jumped up and began to pace the room, her simple and straightforward answer almost too much to bear.

  “We had problems, Nigel...so many problems to work through,” Deanna said, watching him struggle with the painful truth. “I don’t know if our marriage would have survived even if I hadn’t still been in love with you.” She patted the seat beside her and finally got him to sit down. “I hate that I’ve hurt Thom. He’s a wonderful guy, and he didn’t deserve it, but I don’t want our relationship destroyed by guilt.” She rested her head against Nigel’s shoulder, “I'm right where I belong, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

  The spicy scent of her soft hair was intoxicating and he couldn't resist burying his face in her curls to breathe in more of the heady fragrance. He wished he could stay there forever, lost in her softness, oblivious to everything else around him. Taking a deep breath, he spoke quietly against her warm scalp, “Thom was my best mate. More like a brother really. Even after all of his threats and bullying, I don’t like what I’ve done to him either. But I wasn’t about to lose you again. Not if there was the slightest chance for us to be together.” Nigel pulled back and looked at her, his expression grave. “I’m quitting the band. I'm gonna tell the lads after Christmas.”

  “You’re quitting because of me and Thom.”

  He got up and went to the kitchen. “Fancy a lager?” he called to her, pulling two frosty bottles out of the refrigerator, popping the caps, and handing her one of the icy cold brews before sitting next to her on the couch. “Leaving the band is the right thing to do. I‘ve been thinking about it for months actually, and to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure being in a band is what I want anymore.”