“You didn't answer me.” She took a sip of the cold, frothy liquid.
Nigel settled into the comfy couch cushions, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah, it’s partly because of you...and Thom. But that's not the only reason.” He took a couple of swigs of lager and cocked his head at Deanna. “It's complicated, yeah?” Tugging gently on a strand of her long, flaxen hair he gave her a little half-smile and asked, “What d'you think about buying a little semi-detached in Bilston? They have a lot of new housing in good neighborhoods.”
“Well, I don’t graduate until next May,” she began before shaking her head sadly. “God, Nigel, I never wanted this to happen. You're the very heart of Metal Urge.”
“Deanna, my love,” he sighed, “Thom is the driving force behind Metal Urge. He always has been. The band will forge on with or without me.” His expression softened and seemed a bit troubled. “My dad isn’t feeling his best these days. He’d be chuffed if I took over his welding business. The truth is I’m keen to do just that. I’ve paid back my debts to everyone that helped me when I was a starving musician. It’s time for me to move on.” He finished his lager and pulled her close. “I never really bought into all that rock star rubbish. Of course I wanted the band to succeed, and I think we did. I enjoy singing, and I will always love heavy metal music...,” he paused for a few moments to study Deanna's stricken face. “I never wanted to be loved for my music. I wanted to be loved in spite of it.” Pushing back a strand of her hair he smiled at her tenderly. “That’s what you’ve done, Deanna. You looked beyond the leather costume and my strutting about the stage like a pretentious wank.” Nigel cupped her face gently. “It wasn’t about the music, it was about us. That's genuine, that's real. Not like those girls clamoring for attention and another night of meaningless sex just because a bloke has a guitar, or a pair of drumsticks, or a microphone.”
Deanna grinned and gently tweaked the end of his nose. “Well, I have to admit that the microphone did turn me on just a little.”
Nigel pushed her against the couch, tickling her until she pleaded for mercy. “So, the truth comes out, eh? You were nothing but a nasty little groupie trying to get a look down my tight leather trousers.”
“Yes!” she squealed as his attack continued. The tickles soon turned to caresses as Nigel ran his hands over the soft skin of her arms and face. “I love you so much, Deanna. When everything's sorted with Thom, I want to marry you...if you'll have me.”
“Oh, Nigel,” she said, pulling his face close for a kiss, “You'd better believe that I'll have you. Today, tomorrow, and always.”
Wrapping her in a tight embrace, he kissed her lips, her face, and the fluttering pulse on her throat. “All I want is to start a new life and a family with you, baby. That’s all I need now, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she agreed, pulling him close for a long, tender kiss.
Chapter 42
Strolling past the brightly decorated stalls of Camden Town Lock, Deanna shifted her bulky shopping bags to one hand so she could take a closer look at a pair of shiny silver filigree hoop earrings. She brought one up to her ear and looked into a small mirror next to the earring display. Turning her head, she smiled at the way the hoop sparkled in the bright sunlight. She asked a skinny Asian boy sitting by the cash register for the price. When he muttered ten quid, she quickly offered six. He shouted something in Hindi and after two or three exchanges with an unseen voice, he accepted Deanna’s offer of six quid. She dropped the earrings into her bag, glanced at her watch, and hurried to Camden Road to meet Nigel.
“Anything breakable?” He asked as he eyed the three bags clutched in her hands.
“No, why?”
He huffed and took the bags, rolling them up and securing them to the back of the seat with a couple of stretch cords. Pointing to the crumpled bags he smirked, “That’s why.”
“So, I should have taken a cab? Is that what has your boxers in a twist grouchy butt?”
“I’m not wearing boxers or anything else under these ball-crushingly tight jeans.” He looked around and once he was satisfied that no one would notice adjusted the crotch of his jeans. Deanna started to laugh and he joined in, hugging her before lifting her onto the seat of his motorbike. “That’s the last time I wear these bloody jeans straight out of the dryer.”
She patted his belly and grinned. “I think you’ve gained a little weight after eating all those home-baked holiday goodies I brought home from work.”
Rubbing his stomach, he nodded his agreement, and mounted the bike with a groan as the waistband bit into his gut. Revving the motor, Nigel checked for oncoming traffic just as a shout of “Oi! Hang on mate!” made him pause.
A young kid dressed in jeans and a leather jacket trotted up, his long hair falling into his eyes. He pushed it back, grinning widely at Nigel, and stuck out his hand.
“I’m John. Johno to my mates.”
“Nigel…”
“Guilford. Lead singer of Metal Urge, yeah?” Johno said almost reverently. The kid turned around, proudly displaying the logo from Metal Urge’s first album impressively rendered in silver metal studs on the back of his leather jacket. “I’m your biggest fan,” Johno boasted proudly. “Nigel Guilford, man! You’re a god. I can‘t believe I‘m standin’ here talking to you. Bloody fuckin’ hell! My mates ain‘t gonna believe this.” Johno pushed his hair away from his face, and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a battered wallet, opening it to retrieve a perfectly preserved ticket stub from the Hammersmith-Odeon concert. “Would you sign it…please?”
“Yeah, of course.” Nigel patted his jacket searching for a pen. Deanna tapped his shoulder and handed him one, smiling at the beaming teenager while Nigel autographed the ticket stub.
As he handed the ticket back to Johno, the boy leaned over and whispered, “Your girl’s a real fox!”
Nigel grinned and gave him a thumb’s up. He revved the idling engine a few times for Johno, who was obviously impressed.
“When’s the next album?” Johno shouted.
“April or May of ‘77,” Nigel said, pulling away from the curb with a wave.
Deanna turned to watch the teenager jump up and down pumping his fists in triumph. “Do you still want to quit the band?” She said in Nigel’s ear.
“Yeah, more than ever. Being a god is a bit too much for this Black Country yob,” he laughed, accelerating into the icy wind.
****
Deanna pulled out a dining room chair and gestured for Nigel to sit down. He looked quizzically at the items spread out on a towel covering the table and then up at Deanna who was smiling cryptically. “You know the song about the twelve days of Christmas right?”
Nigel nodded and raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Well, being broke like any self-respecting college student should be, I could only manage the three days of Christmas, and this my gorgeous Limey, is the first day.” She bit his earlobe playfully and went to the refrigerator to fetch a bowl of ice cubes. She handed him two cubes instructing him to hold his earlobe firmly between them until the lobe felt numb.
“You’re not gonna…oh fuck.” Nigel flinched as she flicked open a cigarette lighter to sterilize what had to be the biggest needle he had ever seen in his life.
“Move the ice cubes. I have to see if your earlobe is numb.” She pinched it and he said he didn’t feel a thing. “Okay, ready?”
He heard her slice a potato in half and then it was in his hand.
“Press this against the back of your earlobe and make sure to hold it steady.”
“Deanna,” he heard himself whimper.
“Don’t be such a wuss,” she chided, and pushed the needle through his earlobe with a sickening crunch. When she pulled the slick needle out of the potato and his bleeding lobe, he thought he would pass out. She gave him a tissue dripping with alcohol to wipe away the blood and he yelped when the burning fluid touched his butchered flesh. “I’m pretty sure you’ll live,” she laughed. “Wa
it until you see your earlobe, you’re going to love it!” She twisted something hard into his ear and secured it tightly against the back of his earlobe. Standing back she grinned with satisfaction. “You look so sexy. I don’t know if I can keep my hands off of you tonight.” Leaning down she gave his pouting lips a kiss, and handed him a mirror. A small, glittering diamond winked back at him from his red, crusty earlobe. “Beautiful isn’t it?” She smiled and smoothed the hair behind his ear. “It’s a quarter of a carat. The shop owner only had one so he gave me a really good deal.”
Nigel turned his head, impressed with the way the sparkling stone caught the light and refracted it into a hundred different colors against his skin. He smiled up at her and patted his leg.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” she said, snuggling into his lap.
“Cheers, babe. It’s the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten.” Nigel kissed her, sliding one arm under her legs and the other around her back. He carried her into the bedroom where he demonstrated his gratitude to her quite thoroughly and most enthusiastically for the rest of the evening.
****
On the second day of Nigel’s three days of Christmas, Deanna made sure he was settled comfortably on the couch, an ice cold bottle of lager in his hand and his favorite music playing in the background. She sat next to him and opened a manila folder spreading its contents on her lap. “Remember when you talked about getting a tattoo on your bicep…something that represented Metal Urge?”
“Yeah.” He cocked his head and bit his lip. “Is this a ploy to keep me in the band?”
“No, not at all. Whether you’re in Metal Urge or not, don’t you think a tattoo would be like a great testament and tribute to your years as their lead singer?”
“I s’pose. So what’ve you got there?”
Placing the papers on his lap, she stared at him, eagerly awaiting his reaction. He fidgeted with the new earring in his left earlobe, twisting it around and around as he studied the drawings.
“Where’d you get these sketches?”
“I drew them,” she said feeling quite pleased with the look of admiration on his face.
“They’re brilliant, Deanna. I really like them a lot.” Nigel held up one of the drawings and shook his head, grinning at her. “You’re quite talented, love.” He pointed to the design, “There’s not one thing I would change about this. The way you designed the lettering to look like three dimensional metal with rivets or studs holding the bits together is genius. But I think my favorite detail is the lightning bolt thrusting through the middle of the two words and sort of melting the metal around it.” He looked at her and nodded, obviously impressed. “Absolutely brilliant details, love.”
A warm blush of pleasure at his words of praise spread over her cheeks as she murmured her thanks. “If you want it then…”
“If I want it? I’d be honored to wear my beautiful lady’s amazing artwork.” He hugged her tightly for a few moments. “I had no idea you were an artist.” He kissed her temple lightly, smiling at the rosy pink flush of pride on her lovely face. “So, what‘s next?”
“I hired a tattoo artist to come over at around seven-thirty tonight. I need to call and confirm that it‘s still a go.”
“You’re too good to me, baby. I still haven‘t figured out why.” He kissed her again before handing her the telephone. “This is bloody fantastic!” he laughed. “I can’t wait to see your incredible design on my arm.”
****
On the morning of Christmas Eve, the third and final day of Nigel’s three Christmas surprises, Deanna awoke early, slipping out of bed quietly so she wouldn’t wake him. She studied the tattoo glistening with ointment the tattoo artist had given him to help with healing. It stood out boldly and proudly on his nicely shaped left bicep. She felt a glimmer of pride that her design had translated so perfectly into a tattoo even the well-seasoned artist had complimented it.
There were some important errands to run so she wasted no time in showering, dressing, and getting on her way. She splurged on a cab for the first outing which was across the river in Greenwich. The second errand would take her to posh over-priced Kensington High Street, and the last to the lovely village of Highgate. Her parents had sent her a check for Christmas in pounds sterling to her newly rented post office box, which she was joyfully spending on gifts for Nigel. Her folks were blissfully unaware that she no longer lived in Chelsea with Thom. She had been so clever at hiding the truth from them---but one of these days…
Deanna ignored the niggling guilt and went about her business, hoping to return home by dinnertime. Excitement made her stomach flutter in anticipation of Nigel’s reaction to his final three gifts before he left in the morning for Bilston to spend Christmas with his family.
Nigel watched Deanna rush to hide her packages in the bedroom before strolling back into the living room, a cagey smile dimpling her ruddy cheeks. He offered her a cup of hot chocolate with double cream and a splash of brandy, a recipe his mother always made on Christmas Eve. She accepted it gratefully, anxious to ward off the cold chill after being in London’s harsh weather most of the day. While sipping their steaming chocolate, they snuggled on the couch under a Birmingham City Football Club blanket. They were content to spend their early evening together watching a special Christmas edition of Britain’s most popular soap opera, “Coronation Street.” After the soap was over, Nigel disappeared into the kitchen to prepare a dinner of fish and chips, frying up huge fillets of Cod in a beer and buttermilk batter. He even cut and fried the potatoes as well. When they were done, he sprinkled the perfectly browned, fish fillets and crispy chips with a liberal dose of malt vinegar and salt. Hoping Deanna would approve of his impromptu Christmas Eve tea, Nigel carefully arranged the food on the dining room table which was beautifully decorated by a festive tablecloth and a huge pot of red poinsettias and greenery.
“They’re gorgeous, Nigel,” Deanna said, running her fingers over the velvety petals of the poinsettias.
He pulled out a chair for her and kissed the top of her head. “I'm glad you like the flowers, and I hope you like this meal. Not very traditional I’m afraid.”
“I think it‘s the perfect Christmas Eve dinner, and the perfect way to begin our first Christmas tradition together.”
“The first of many Christmas traditions, my love,” Nigel said, pouring a fragrant white wine into two long-stemmed glasses.
As they enjoyed their tasty meal they talked about his trip to Bilston by train, where his brother, Neville would pick him up at the main railway station in Wolverhampton. At first Deanna thought it strange he would leave his beloved motorbike at home, but considering the inclement weather, she was relieved he wouldn’t be driving on the potentially dangerous roads. Nigel asked if she would reconsider going with him, but she quickly declined. Given the circumstances, her presence would only spoil the Guilford's holiday. Nigel thought it hurtful and unfair that he was forced to leave the woman he loved alone at Christmas, but Deanna assured him she would be fine just as she had been last Christmas when Maggi spent the holiday with Trevor. Determined to make the best of another Christmas on her own, she had promised to work a long, overnight shift to help cover for employees on holiday. The hotel always treated their workers to a fabulous meal complete with champagne and festive drinks as well as a gift exchange. She said she looked forward to the holiday party, but Nigel wasn’t convinced though he let the subject drop. It wasn’t worth upsetting her. Next Christmas he would make it up to her in every way possible; he could hardly wait.
After they did the washing up, Nigel shooed Deanna into the living room, laughing at the look of childish excitement on her face. He fetched a fragrant pine tree hidden in Nick’s bedroom that he had purchased while she was out running errands, and hauled it into the living room, making an extravagant show of setting it down in front of her. She clapped her hands delightedly and breathed in deeply as its fresh pine scent quickly filled the room.
“I know this seems a bit la
st minute but it’s another Guilford tradition to set up and decorate the tree on Christmas Eve. Believe it or not it became a family tradition because my dad never had the dosh to buy a tree until they went half price,” he shrugged and laughed, his face reddening with embarrassment.
“Oh, Nigel.” Deanna jumped up from the couch and threw her arms around his neck, kissing both of his cheeks. “I didn't think you were into twinkling, fussy trees which is why I never said anything about buying one.” She reached out and caressed a soft, green branch. “I think it‘s a wonderful tradition, and it makes our first Christmas together even more special.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, kissing her lightly before placing the tree in a chipped green contraption that did little to hold it upright.
She tried not to laugh at the look of frustration on his face as he fought to secure the thick, wooden trunk, branches poking and scratching his face as he struggled to keep the tree from leaning precariously to the right.
“Let me help,” she chuckled, holding the tree while he screwed in the long bolts until they held the trunk firmly in their grip.
Standing up with a huff, Nigel brushed a few pine needles from his face, crossed his arms, and muttered, “Bloody hell!”
“Good job, babe,” Deanna said, gently rubbing his shoulders.
Nigel rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. “There's more, I'm afraid.” He grinned sheepishly and headed back to Nick's bedroom. They both laughed as he carried in a few bags of mismatched ornaments, lights, and tinsel. He shrugged as if to say it was the best he could manage at the last minute.
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