“Cheer up.” Eric brushed up against her and something about his presence gave her comfort. Eric who’d cheated on his wife. Eric, her cousin, whom she loved as the brother she’d never had. One person could elicit such contrasting emotions. He was good and bad rolled up in one.
“Just thinking about how shit relationships are and how things never last.” She sneaked a look sideways to see Eric’s wry smile.
“Yeah, well...”
“I mean, look at us. We’re in our mid-twenties and neither of us has made a go of things, and I can safely say it’s through our own stupidity. Where did we go wrong? Was it because we were disobedient children, didn’t go to Sunday school, instead hanging out in dens of iniquity drinking while dancing to the Devil’s music?”
“Geez, you sound like your mother.”
“I’m her daughter, after all.”
“And look where toeing the line got your mom.”
“Your parents are still together.”
Eric shrugged. “Ja, and they’re so perfect. Ma and Dad putting up a good pretense of being the model couple yet they move around the house like two complete strangers.”
“Can we ever fix things?”
“Dunno. Maybe I’ll meet some hot chick tonight or maybe next week. God knows I’m not going to fuck it up again as I did last time. Maybe just fuck it up in a different way.”
“Fuck it. We’re both being such pessimists.” This conversation did not improve Emily’s overall mood, but it felt good to have this heart-to-heart with her cousin.
“Can we help it?”
“Guess not, but hell, let’s get this evening over with so I can go kick Simon’s arse.”
They reached the control point where they joined the queue of patient concertgoers. Emily had to admit the vibe here was rather festive, with people talking and laughing. The dome of the covered stage bulged white over the treetops and vintage White Zombie blared through the sound system, adding a slightly surreal edge to the day. Who would have master-minded an alternative concert in this very natural environment? Rob Zombie belted out some garbled nonsense about the creature of the wheel, while people took up positions near the stage. The contradiction of heavy metal in a botanical garden of incredible natural beauty slipped a silly grin to her features.
“It’s sure going to beat being in a space where we come out afterward smelling of stale cigarette smoke and half deaf,” she shot at her cousin.
He must have been thinking along the same lines because he laughed. “Have you ever seen so many different kinds of people together?”
Emo kids, Goths, metal heads and hippies mingled with folks well into their late fifties. And no one scowled or looked askance of each other. Something about being outdoors on a balmy late-summer afternoon made Capetonians laidback. Yet a few years back, a gig like this would never have happened.
Then the nastiness churned in Emily’s stomach as she recalled the real reason for this. She’d never have come to this concert if it weren’t for Simon. If things hadn’t gone so wrong, she’d have been at the front, screaming her head off at Simon like any of the dozens of other fangrrrls, of that much she was certain. But now she’d most likely lurk off to one side of the crowd and glare daggers at the man while she bided her time, so she could tear off a strip of his hide.
The sorrow made her eyes prickle and she wiped carefully at her face with the back of her wrist so as to not smudge her liner. It took forever to get to the front of the queue, but their golden circle tickets got them to the area closest to the stage where people already milled about, jockeying for the position closest to the front. There’d be no sitting on the verdant lawns this evening. Hell, there might even be a few mosh pits, though Emily doubted anyone would attempt stage-diving. The security officials in their red blazers kept a stern eye on the crowd from the cordoned-off area between the stage and the audience.
Rae bounced about them, babbling excitedly about the upcoming bands, and it was difficult resisting her younger sister’s enthusiasm. All Emily remembered from the days she’d used to attend outdoor shows were the interminable queues for the porta-potties, the dust clogging her sinuses and the warm beer in soft clear plastic cups that spilled all too easily.
There wasn’t much point in talking as the music blaring through the loudspeakers was far too loud, cycling to some ancient Soundgarden track before switching to Nirvana’s Rape Me, which started a mini mosh less than twenty feet from where they stood. Talk about retro nineties. Serious memory lane stuff. Some of that old excitement had her tapping her foot, recollections of the past not seeming so bad, making her feel more... More Rae’s age.
But as soon as that old mood resurfaced, the crushing sorrow bit hard, and she kept glancing up at the stage. Was Simon there now, getting ready? Putting on that demon face to leer out at the crowd? Did she even know him at all?
The first band to play was some youngish rock group, pretty heavy, that reminded Emily of Green Day but with an odd inflection to the vocals. The lead singer hurled himself about the stage while he yelled garbled lyrics into the microphone. The crowd seemed to like it, and standing as she was in the golden circle, Emily often received elbows in her ribs and back, booted feet squashing her toes and standing on her heels more often than she cared for.
The second band was some sort of black metal outfit it appeared no one really liked, because the people doing a good job of almost crushing her didn’t bounce around too much. A small party of metal heads did, however, squeeze directly to the front and shake their heads so their long manes flew through the air. The band, Eternal Minion, didn’t play long, for which she was glad. How the hell the lead singer, who looked like Gollum’s taller, skinnier brother, managed to scream, croak and groan the vocals for almost twenty minutes, she had absolutely no idea. His throat had to be raw. And so were her ears.
An assortment of bands followed, the music becoming a blur to her. She had to admit she really enjoyed the Terminatryx set. Now those guys were absolutely fabulous, the tall, sexy female vocalist with a smooth fall of raven hair wowing the crowd. Now there was the first band of the evening she could get into, a very slick industrial metal outfit reminding her of vintage KMFDM.
Rae went absolutely nuts with the heavier tracks, and so did Davy, but Emily and Eric hung back behind the two, often sharing a smile at the younger pair’s antics.
“Whiplash,” Eric mouthed at her between songs.
Emily nodded and felt phantom pains in her neck. There was no way in hell she’d go that ballistic at a live gig ever again. She should have brought ear plugs. But then the thought hit her. It wasn’t likely she’d ever attend one of these gigs again. And Simon...
The stage had emptied when she wasn’t paying attention, an expectant, restless silence descending on the crowd. Above the thick clouds glowed with reflected light from the city, adding an ominous, brooding presence to the night. Each lungful of air went down like warm syrup.
He would come on stage now. Some sort of twitchy gut feeling overcame Emily and she would have taken a step back if it hadn’t been for the two tall blond metal heads directly behind her who almost pushed her into her sister and Davy.
A wave of nausea smacked through her stomach, and Emily looked to either side of her, searching for an escape between the throngs. There was no way she could go through with this.
As if reading her mind, Eric reached out and placed a steadying hand on her upper arm then gave a slight nod. “It’ll be okay.”
The only reply Emily could offer was a small shake of her head. Her feet remained rooted to the turf and, although she’d have liked nothing better than to slip between the tightly packed bodies, some unknown force insisted she remain.
The crowd roared as one the moment opening strains of a baroque-style organ sounded through the first bass tones, the stage lights dimmed completely to be replaced by flashing strobes as the rest of the band took their positions, no more than black-clad figures silhouetted against the blinding lights. A
heavy guitar riff groaned in, supported by a thumping bass line. The drums crashed in on time with a familiar tune. One she’d heard Rae play over and over again.
In front of her, her sister whooped and jumped. She’d obviously forgotten about all the drama, Emily thought bitterly. Simon had become Simon van Helsdingen to her again, not Si, the guy Emily had been shagging, the guy who’d embarrassed her by schnarffing a line of Charlie off some blonde’s tits. When the man stepped onto the stage, Emily almost threw up then and there, able only to stare in rapt horror as he strode onto center stage to grip the microphone stand.
It was the Simon of her nightmares again, he of the angular, alien white features and the obsidian eyes gleaming with full-black contact lenses.
“I can’t see for shit in them,” he’d admitted once. “I kinda have to hope I don’t stumble over anything while on stage.”
Well, maybe if she were lucky, he wouldn’t see her tonight. Not while she stood here among the throngs, most likely the only one in a sea of faces not leaping about as though possessed.
His voice rose in an unearthly wail above the guitars, his fellow musicians reduced to capering imps when the spotlights illuminated him in a bright white fire. Simon’s black veil of hair flowed down his back as he stood, legs planted firmly. He gripped the stand while he sang about wolves and the kind of love shared beneath a full, blood moon.
When it came to the chorus, the crowd around her joined in with the bestial howl that rose from thousands of throats–an unearthly chorus that sent all the hairs prickling on her arms, nape and scalp.
Once again it was almost impossible to find the man she thought she’d loved beneath those savage alabaster features, mouth opened to reveal the fangs–definitely not real–of some vampire lord.
By the same measure, this other side of him mesmerized Emily, as it no doubt fascinated Simon’s fans. No, but the man was a predator. She’d discovered so much herself, and she was just as possessed as his legions of fans for considering he would have seen something special in her.
She was just some shag, a good lay, that’s all it was, and now it was over. Damn groupie.
But it was not over. Emily gritted her teeth and made fists. She’d show him, all right, even if he bloody well laughed in her face in front of a pack of blond hangers-on. She’d find some way to communicate her disapproval. Pity she hadn’t brought any eggs or overripe tomatoes. Now wouldn’t that be a sight? She’d be lynched, for sure, but some misdeeds were worth it.
Other, older memories surfaced, of the time Adrian phoned her to tell her he was seeing someone else–a guy, for fuck’s sake. Couldn’t say it to her face, could he? But what if Simon still found a way to twist things, hurt her more? The gnawing doubt ate at her again, but the people who crowded her from all quarters kept her from her mad dash–a mad dash somewhere, anywhere but here, began to look more and more attractive as the Dead-Voices-doing-Hellbound-Heart set progressed. Most of the songs she knew, a few were unfamiliar. Simon’s baritone broke through the heavy guitars to steal her soul and render her immobile.
It was a song she estimated to be near the end of the set, having counted eight songs already, which proved the clincher.
Black ash falls around me, alighting on my way
Black ash filters down, turning night to day
Bitter in my mouth, betrayal sets in deep
Twist the knife farther, because I can’t weep
She holds my heart in her own hands
Barbed wire looped round and round,
My sins in every strand
My hell is of my own making
This thornéd crown to bear
Tears burned in black ash
Her pain is my own fear
How can I love her when I can’t love myself?
How can I tell her when I’m running from myself?
Those last two lines repeated over and over, Simon’s band mates taking up the refrain to create a dissonant yet ethereal harmony, a threnody of voices interweaving until Emily knew that on any other day she may have scoffed at such blatantly romanticized lyrics. And it wasn’t a song she’d ever heard before. Tonight the words wrapped around her chest like the very barbed wire Simon sang about. His voice died to the barest whisper, so that when the guitar’s feedback faded to an electrical crackle, the audience stood, swaying entranced like the breeze she could hear shivering the leaves of the turkey berry trees that formed a barrier behind the stage.
This moment of silence lasted less than ten seconds, Simon hunched over the microphone as though he needed all the support he could garner, before the drummer came right with the catchy beat belonging to the Faith No More cover Emily had read they usually played as the penultimate song of their set.
She’d had enough. Unheeding of the people she annoyed on her way out of the golden circle, Emily pushed and shoved hard until the nearest exit hove into view. She needed space. She needed air that wasn’t stifled with layers of dust and sweat. There was absolutely no way she could face this man. Not now, not immediately after his performance, and not until she’d had some time to clear her head.
To hell with everyone else.
* * * *
The music was absolutely fantastic. It was only when the last feedback was drowned out by the roar of the crowd and it was clear the band wasn’t going to return to the stage for yet another encore that Rae experienced a pang of guilt. Here she’d been carrying on like a maniac when she should have been keeping an eye on her sister.
Next to her Davy still screamed and hooted. As she spun around, she came eye to eye with Eric, and they both realized the problem at the same time.
“Where’s Emily?” Eric shouted.
Looking right then left, Rae got a nasty, crawly sensation that started in her belly. Her sister had pulled a disappearing act, or maybe she’d decided to preempt the rush to backstage and get a head start. But something told her the former was more likely.
“Fuck.” Around her the concertgoers shifted, a restless tide now that the perimeter lights had been switched on. This was a less than subtle hint that people should consider moving toward their cars. “Eric, go look by the car.”
“I don’t have the keys,” he hollered back.
Davy, by now, had become aware of their predicament. “I’ll go check by the bogs, but where do we meet? The last thing we should do right now is split up.”
“That’s true,” said Rae. “Okay, it shouldn’t take any of us longer than about ten minutes at most to find out what’s up. We’ve all got our cellphones, right?”
The guys confirmed after patting their pockets.
“Okay, then what are we waiting for? Meet you at the visitor’s center.”
“We’d bloody well better find her,” Eric said. “She’s got the keys to my dad’s truck.”
“Well, she’d never drive off without us.” Rae tried to sound reassuring. She didn’t have to add that Emily could behave erratically without putting much effort into it.
Davy gave her a quick kiss before he vanished, Eric already lost in the throng that filtered away from the performance area.
She waited until they had gotten a good head start, then slipped toward the exit nearest the stage. Damn, the sound technicians were already striking the equipment, the bouncers stood about, far too alert for her liking. To add to her worries it did rather look as if it would rain later. The finest pin prickles already started on Rae’s skin and added to the sense of urgency beating through her veins.
The trick was, of course, to look as if she belonged in the cordoned-off area. Skulking would not help. Two media types chatted near the entrance to the VIP section by the white forms of the luxury portable toilets. She fell in slightly behind the pair as they turned and made their way back past the bouncers, who barely bothered checking their media passes.
Pretty darn sure she’d had them fooled, Rae nonetheless cringed when one of them shouted “Hey you!”
Rae paused for a millisecond then heard the rumb
le of a familiar voice around the corner ahead of her, the speaker obscured by a thick stand of bushes. Simon. Rat bastard.
Her muscles jolted into action and Rae stumbled forward, pushing between a knot of muso types she recognized from Eternal Minion. Her fingers accidentally hooked into the lead singer’s hair as she flailed when she stepped badly and, much to her fright, the man’s hair came off. She paused for a brief moment to snort in laughter at the bald man’s pate and horrified expression then struggled on to Simon. The band seemed as startled by her presence as she was to brush through them so she could reach her goal. Simon stood talking to a tall man with a gray ponytail–no Emily in sight.
A hand clamped around her upper arm and Rae spun around to kick a bouncer–some tall guy with a crew cut–hard in the shin.
“Bitch!” He grabbed her other shoulder and shook her so hard she almost bit her tongue.
“Let go of me!” Squirming didn’t help. The man tightened his hold on her and pinned her arms behind her back so she was bent forward. The slightest movement sent stabbing pains through her sockets. The bouncer couldn’t stop her screaming, however, and Rae made full use of her lungs as the guy tried to manhandle her back to the exit.
“Hey, what’s going on here? Raeven?”
Thank fuck. Simon. Rae couldn’t decide whether she wanted to hug the man or kick him in his ‘nads.
“Let go of me, you twerp!” She wriggled and the bouncer, obviously taking cues from Simon, let her go so abruptly she staggered off the paving into a flowerbed where she broke her fall against a tree.
“Everything okay here, Mr. Van Helsdingen?” the guy asked Simon, who’d had a chance to get the makeup off his face. He still wore the leather trousers and a black latex shirt unzipped at the chest to reveal writhing tattoos.
Rae glared at Simon. “Where’s my sister?”
A slight frown playing across his brow, Simon nodded at the bouncer and gestured for him to go, but not once did he break eye contact with Rae. “She’s not here. Why should she be?”
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