The newspapers that were stapled to the bodegas I passed confirmed what Meridian had said last night. Sid Vicious was dead. One day after getting out on bail, dead of a heroin overdose after months of being sober in jail. It fucking sucked.
I flicked the stub of my scrounged cigarette onto the sidewalk and shoved my hands into my pockets. I was wearing the same black jeans and leather jacket I’d had on last night, and I was sure that the bouncer knew that I was there. He was just ignoring me.
I leaned against a tree and pulled another bent cigarette out of my jacket pocket and shoved it in my mouth. I only had one more… and I was down to my last two matches. Jubilee Hotel Bar, Philadelphia. Thanks, mom.
“Hey.”
The voice in my ear spun startled me, and I spun around, crushing my cigarette in my fist and breaking it in half in the process. Shit.
I looked around, but the street was deserted, and the old man seated in the newsstand down the street looked as though he was asleep.
The bouncer was standing in front of the club’s red door, staring at me. He waved me over casually. I dropped the shredded remnants of my smoke into the gutter and brushed my hand off on my jeans. Maybe I could bum one off him. Yeah, that’s a great casual opener.
I strolled across the street towards the club, not wanting to let on that I was eager to get inside. Play it cool. They want you. Not the other way around. I stepped onto the sidewalk, shoved my hands in the pockets of my jacket and stared up at the bouncer. I could see my face reflected in his Ray Ban’s. I winked at him, the rock star sneer I’d worked so hard to perfect firmly in place.
“I guess you made the right impression last night,” the huge man growled.
“That was the idea.”
“Bishop’s waiting for you,” he said, ignoring my smug response. “You’d better check that smart mouth, kid. You don’t fuck around with Bishop, or his business.”
My lip curled. Who the fuck did he think he was ordering me around like he knew me? “You don’t get to tell me what to do, man. I don’t see you downstairs. They leave you up here for a reason? I bet I can guess what it is…” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. The bouncer leaned down and pulled off his Ray Ban’s, his eyes meeting mine for the first time. Shit.
It had to be a trick of the flickering neon light, but his eyes were pale and cold. Cold enough to make a shiver run down my spine.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say anything to me just now,” he said quietly. His silver eyes shining at me dangerously. “Get your ass down those stairs. Bishop doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
I swallowed thickly and did as I was told. Spiral Club’s blood red door slammed against the wall as I opened it and I raced down the stairs. The bouncer’s eyes… it had to be my mind playing tricks on me. I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and I’d had about six beers before I’d wandered over to the club and a half frozen burrito... It had to be the burrito.
The club was lit with red lights again, and the shadows moved strangely as I came down the stairs. The stage was empty, lit with bright white lights. It was eerily silent. I’d never been in an empty club before… it was a surreal experience, and I was sure that as I watched the dust spin through the hot stage lights that time slowed down.
I jumped up on the stage, the thud of my boot heels echoed in the cavernous space and I stared out into the black and red lights, blinded for a moment.
I could get used to being up here.
“It suits you,” a smooth voice said from the shadows. I squinted to peer into the darkness, but couldn’t see farther than the edge of the stage. “You were born to be a front man, Eli Maddern, but I think you know that.” The voice held the edge of a cold smile, and I couldn’t help the surge of confidence that rose inside me. My mind was racing, but my pulse was steady. He was right; I belonged here. The stage was my kingdom and the audience were my subjects… my serfs. Loyal and rabid.
A dark chuckle filled my ears and a man dressed in a well tailored suit stepped into the edge of the light. His teeth were bright white in his brief smile; his dark hair was receding at the temples and was slicked back from his high forehead. He didn’t look like he belonged here. Sore thumb.
“Who the hell are you?” I blurted out.
The man chuckled again. “Keep that up, I could be your boss.”
That made me laugh. “I’ve never had a boss I didn’t want to punch in the mouth.”
“Give me time,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him.
I paused, fighting against my urge to swear at him for treating me like a kid.
The man slid into one of the booths and rested his hands on the painted wooden table. Red. Everything in this club was red… and everything that wasn’t red was black. He didn’t ask me to sit, so I stood, my arms crossed over my chest. I could really use a cigarette.
“We want you to perform for us,” the man said as he pulled a pack of Marlboro’s out of his double breasted suit pocket. He set the pack on the table and then flipped a matchbook on top of it.
“Who’s us?” I asked, my eyes on the red and white package.
“Mutually Assured Destruction,” he said smoothly.
“What the fuck is that?” My fingers itched to grab the cigarettes and run up the stairs.
“They’re a band I put together. Meridian is the guitarist,” he said, gesturing vaguely as he spoke. The man with long blond hair and blue tinted glasses melted out of the shadows. Meridian. What kind of name was that, anyway?
“It looks good in print,” he said casually, leaning on the back of the booth to stare at me.
Wait... did I say that out loud?
“Are we going to give him an audition?” he asked the man in the suit.
“Audition?” I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I hadn’t heard anything about any kind of audition. I didn’t audition for anyone, they auditioned for me.
“He’s talented,” Meridian said with a sneer. “Not very bright, though.”
“Hey, wait a fucking minute, I didn’t say I wanted to audition—“
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Meridian interrupted me, his eyebrow arched sharply.
You smug bastard.
“Maybe, but it’s all just talk,” I snapped. “I know how people like you operate. You get someone’s hopes up, big talk about booking shows, tours, recording sessions... what comes next? Girls? Drugs? Anything to rope in a poor sucker looking for their big break?” I grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the table and flipped it open. Without breaking eye contact with the man in the suit, I pulled out four, stuck one in my mouth and shoved the rest into my pocket. I tossed the pack down on the table defiantly and dragged a match along the wooden table.
“I see. You don’t need us, we need you,” said the man in the suit, tapping his fingers against the crushed Marlboro pack.
I blew a cloud of smoke over the table. “That’s right.”
“Come and play for us tonight. Meridian will give you the set list. Covers mostly. Nothing you can’t handle.”
I stared at them, weighing my options. “Fine. But all the beer I drink is free. I’m not coming off stage to be harassed for a fucking bar tab.”
The man in the suit nodded. “Deal.”
“Not yet it’s not,” I said. The man named Meridian passed me a folded piece of paper. I didn’t open it, I just shoved it into my jacket pocket next to the cigarettes.
“Be here at nine,” Meridian said before turning away and disappearing into the shadows of the club once more.
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “But you’d better not waste my time.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Maddern. Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Yeah, I went back. But not at nine o’clock sharp. I wasn’t that eager.
Besides, all my cigarettes were gone, and my buzz was wearing off. The guy in the suit had promised me free beer, so, if nothing else, I was back to make sure he delivered.
&nbs
p; The bouncer didn’t even talk to me this time, he just jerked his thumb in the direction of Spiral’s red door and turned back to the line in front of him. More than fifty people were already waiting to get in, and I could hear the noise of an opening band playing in the club.
In the few hours I’d been gone, the club had come to life. The bar was packed, the dance floor crowded, and every velvet upholstered booth occupied.
The man in the suit was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. The smile on his face was wide and almost self-satisfied, but not enough to make me want to hit him. The bouncer must have radioed ahead to tell him that I’d arrived.
“We’ve been waiting,” he said smoothly, reaching out to shake my hand. I took it hesitantly, expecting it to be crushed by an overbearing grip, but the man’s hand was cool and dry, the handshake firm but not overpoweringly so.
“So, do I get my free beer?”
“Of course,” the man replied, stepping out of the way so that I could walk past him. He didn’t need to know that I was looking forward to performing. The set list that Meridian had given me was a walk in the park. Easy covers, and some songs I’d performed before. I could perform the shit out of these songs in my sleep. “I like your confidence, Mr. Maddern.”
Shit. I’d forgotten he was there.
I grabbed the cold bottle of beer that had been slammed down on the bar for me and took a drink. “So, what do I call you anyway,” I asked, wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my jacket.
“Bishop,” he said simply.
“Bishop of what?”
“Of nothing. Just... Bishop.”
“If I decide to work with you do I have to change my name to something out of a movie too?”
The other man smiled, his teeth were very white, and the canines looked sharp and feral. It had to be the light.
“It’s not a requirement,” he said simply. “I look forward to your performance, Mr. Maddern.” I turned to look at the stage, as a harsh guitar cord grated through the speakers, and when I turned back, he was gone.
Weirdos. All of these music types were weirdoes.
“You made it.” Meridian pushed his way out of the crowd and put his arm across my shoulders before I could shrug him off.
I lifted the half-empty beer bottle. “Who turns down free beer?” I said, smirking at him.
“Atta boy. Come backstage and meet the band, we’re on as soon as these guys finish their set. The crowd’s hot tonight, I think it’s going to be a good show.”
“It will be if I’m up there.”
“Bishop said you were confident. Good. You’ll need it.” He pulled me through the crowd to a dark red door with PRIVATE painted on it in gold letters. Meridian pushed me through the door and into the band room. It looked the same as it had last night. Girls, booze, and guys wearing sunglasses.
“Is this our singer?” A kid who couldn’t be more than eighteen shoved past a group of girls to get to us. His mohawk was lime green, the dark roots showing where he hadn’t bothered to keep it up. His smile was crooked and his dark eyes were rimmed in sloppily applied eyeliner.
“Let me guess, you’re the drummer. You skids all look alike.”
The kid smiled crookedly. “I like him,” he said to Meridian.
“That’s Lux,” Meridian said, pushing the kid away by his face. “Shade is on bass, he’s around somewhere.”
“He only shows up when it’s time to go on stage,” Lux said brightly.
“Considering the company, he’s probably the smart one,” said Meridian briskly. “Eli’s auditioning for Bishop.”
“I don’t audition,” I snapped, picking up another beer from the table.
“We all audition,” Lux said quietly. He rubbed the side of his neck absently. His skin was covered in shitty tattoos that all seemed to represent one bad decision or another. There was one just behind his ear that looked more like a brand than anything; a letter... I squinted, trying to figure out what it was without looking like I was staring. A capital B, it had to be... or maybe an R. Dedication to a girlfriend gone wrong.
“What are you looking at?” Lux growled at me. Shit. He’d caught me staring.
“Nothing. Your tattoos are shitty.”
He smiled, and I noticed the sharpness of his teeth. One of the front ones was chipped, probably from a bar fight. “Yeah, they’re pretty awful,” he agreed with a shrug. “But they’re mine. Reminders, y’know?”
“What the fuck would you want to remember that badly, you’re what, eighteen?”
“Important stuff,” he said, rubbing at his neck again. “You remind me of someone,” he said suddenly. He stared at me intently for a minute, squinting at my face. “Yeah, yeah you remind me of someone else who auditioned for us a few months back... he was good. Real good. But he had a manager... a girlfriend. Nancy. She was a piece of work. A meddler.” Lux looked around to see where Meridian had gone. I’d seen him talking to a group of girls in the corner, he’d been joined by a tall, lanky guy in leather pants with a bass guitar slung over his shoulder. That would be Shade.
“Uh-huh,” I said absently, trying to think of a way to get myself as far away from Lux as possible. It was impossible to get in the right headspace for performance when someone was babbling bullshit at you. But for some reason, the name ‘Nancy’ made me pause. I didn’t know anyone named Nancy, why was the name so familiar?
He poked me in the shoulder. “You don’t have any... loose ends hanging around, do you?” he said.
“What? Loose ends? No. Nothing.”
Lux nodded and rubbed his neck again. What was this guy on? “Good. They just get in the way,” he muttered.
“Whatever you say, man.”
The door to the stage slammed open and the band that had been warming up the crowd charged through, heading straight for the booze table.
“That’s our cue.” Meridian was suddenly at my side, pushing me towards the door. The stage lights were burning down and I could hear the crowd chanting and stomping. “Are you ready?”
“Are you kidding me?”
I shook off Meridian’s hand and strode for the door.
No one was standing in my way tonight.
3
The show was nothing short of amazing. I prowled, I shouted, I raged... and the crowd went right along with me. Meridian hadn’t been blowing smoke when he’d said that the room was hot. I’d never felt that much electricity on stage. The band had responded to my cues like we’d been playing together for years, it was almost as if they could hear what I was thinking.
We ripped through song after song, and when I took the reins and started into a Buzzcocks number I’d heard on the radio, the band joined in without hesitation.
Who needs drugs when you can get high like this?
Backstage was an even bigger party, but before I’d had a chance to down the beer that was shoved into my hand, I was pulled into an office and shoved into a chair.
The man with slicked back dark hair who’d asked me to perform tonight sat across from me, his long fingers tapping a stack of papers.
“Quite the show,” he said, the hint of a smile shadowing his expression.
“Quite the show?” Meridian burst through the door, his long hair flying behind him. He was followed by a young woman with long dark hair, she was pale and beautiful, and her skin looked like marble. Her lips were curved and full and her eyes were pale violet. I’d never seen anything like her before. She hung over Meridian’s shoulder as he leaned against the desk, her eyes on me and her lip caught between her teeth.
“He was on fire, he was born to be on that stage, Bishop. The crowd ate it up. They’re still screaming for an encore.” Meridian slammed his hand down on the desk, the greedy excitement on his face obvious. “You have to sign him. I have to have him.”
“Woah... what?” That escalated quickly.
“Don’t look so surprised, Mr. Maddern,” the man called Bishop said smoothly. “I told you that this was an audition of sorts... an
interview.” He sat back in his leather chair and stared at me coldly.
“I already told you, I don’t audition.” Where the fuck was this going?
Bishop tapped the papers and slid them towards me.
“This is your contract, Mr. Maddern,” he replied. “If you sign it, you’ll be the front man for Mutually Assured Destruction. The new face of New York’s punk rock revolution.”
“The next Sid Vicious,” Meridian said.
“The new Sid Vicious,” the girl purred, sweeping her hair over her shoulder to expose her long neck.
Bishop’s eyes flickered to the girl, and then to Meridian, but he said nothing to them. “What do you think, Eli? Are you ready for your life to change?”
“Do I get to think about it?”
“What’s there to think about?” Meridian cried, slapping the papers. “Sign them. We need you.”
That’s right. They needed me, I didn’t need them.
I looked down at the papers, the writing was tiny, and full of legalities and things I didn’t understand. If I stalled too long, they might take it all back. It was New York; they probably had someone waiting in the wings to audition tomorrow night.
“What’s wrong?” the girl asked. “Don’t wanna be famous? Don’t worry, Bishop, we can find someone else.” The room was deathly quiet, as though the whole club was holding its breath.
“Shut your mouth, Riah,” Meridian hissed.
I gritted my teeth and grabbed the pen Bishop had tossed next to the papers. I scribbled my signature on the proper lines and pushed it back towards him.
Sign your life away.
Bishop smiled for the first time and added his signature to the page as Meridian whooped and slapped me on the back.
“Now, we can celebrate properly!” he shouted, pulling me out of the chair. The girl called Riah laughed musically, and I could hear the people in the backstage room cheering as though they’d heard the whole thing.
I’d made it. I’d really made it.
I can say with confidence that no one has ever felt worse after a night of partying than I did. I felt like I’d come out of the wrong side of a wrestling match with a steamroller and if my head could have caved in of its own accord to make the pounding stop, I believe it would have. Lights flashed behind my eyes when they were closed, and the room tilted when they were open. All I could smell was mold and vomit. My ears were ringing and my heart was beating strangely, thudding heavily in my chest as though it wanted to fall out of my stomach.
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