Their fear turned to stupid bravery.
“She deserved everything she got,” Chad said.
“Yeah, she loved it,” Colin added.
I felt sick.
Marcus flew at Chad, knocking him to the floor. The moment the other two Vipers pounced on Marcus, the rest of the Tyrants joined in. The Vipers didn’t stand a chance with twelve against three. Fists and blood were everywhere. Shouting, screaming, and grunts filled the air. I was happy it was happening, but also nervous.
I knew Marcus possessed a temper but what I was witnessing scared the shit out of me. His fist pounded into Chad’s face. With each punch, blood spurted from Chad’s nose, and mouth, and the crunch of broken bones sickened me. I wanted to run away. This wasn’t the man I had fallen in love with; my gentle, caring Marcus. He was a vicious thug, a wild animal. I imagined the fight to be like the others I’d seen, not what I was watching. The Tyrants were battering them to death. I finally saw Dylan’s ugly side as he used all his strength to cripple the Vipers. It was pure hatred. That night, I saw what the Tyrants were capable of, and it frightened the hell out of me.
Both Chad and Marcus were up on their feet. Chad’s face was painted red and from what I could tell his right eye was swollen shut. Marcus moved as though he was high on drugs, with a crazed look in his eyes. I gasped with horror as I watched him pull out a blade. I had no idea he’d been carrying one. Shock spread over Chad’s face. He reached for his back pocket, but his hand came away empty. I saw murder in Marcus’s eyes. I wanted to shout for him to stop; only I stood stunned, unable to speak.
Jake and Colin lay on the ground while the Tyrants repeatedly kicked them.
Marcus stood in front of Chad, with the blade held out. “I’m gonna cut you up, motherfucker.”
As Chad lunged forward to wrestle with the knife, Marcus anticipated his move and stabbed the knife deep into Chad’s chest. Chad fell to his knees and grabbed hold of Marcus’ shirt. Dylan stepped forward and pushed Chad away with his foot. The Viper lay on the ground, blood gushing from his wound. Marcus dropped the knife, spat on the ground, and then staggered over to where I was standing. The only noise was the heavy panting coming from the Tyrants and moans from the two Vipers. Chad was now silent and still.
I should be feeling happy. They had got what they deserved. But I wasn’t. Yet I wasn’t feeling sad, or pity. I was numb and in shock. Marcus dropped to his knees, his head rested heavily on my stomach. I held his head and stroked his hair. I looked at each of the Tyrants. They were watching us, but I couldn’t read their faces. I wanted some reassurance that everything was going to be okay, but they just stared at me, unable to take it all in.
We split up and went home. No words were spoken. I didn’t know what to say to Marcus, how to make him feel better for what he’d done, or if I should try. Maybe he wasn’t feeling guilty. Could someone carry so much malice in them? I was desperate for him open up to me. I needed to know what he was thinking, but I was tired, and he had no energy, so we went to bed, and fell asleep straight away.
When I woke, Marcus was sitting up, resting his hand behind his head.
“Hey,” I said and sat up beside him.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied with a yawn. “I was thinking about what happened to you and what I did last night ... I didn’t think I had it in me. Are you upset? I wouldn’t blame you. I should never have let you stay with me, Jade. None of this would have happened - you’re too good for me. You know that, don’t you? I don’t deserve you. You shouldn’t have seen that last night. I know it’s not in your character to be so vicious... Oh, I know you’re tough, but whether you agree with me or not, you shouldn’t be involved with a gang. You shouldn’t be with me. You shouldn’t have seen any of that.”
“What you talking about?” I cried. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. It was my decision to stay with you, my decision to find you. I chose to take this path, not you. You didn’t put a gun to my head and force me into your life. I chose to meet you that night in the subway. I was obsessed with the thought of becoming a Tyrant, I jumped into the deep end without thinking about the consequences, so if it’s anybody’s fault, it’s mine.”
I took a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t regret meeting you; I’d do it all over again if I had to... I didn’t deserve what happened to me. However, it did happen, and I have to deal with it. That wasn’t your fault either. Don’t ever think that. There wasn’t anything any of you could have done. I’ll be honest with you, seeing you like that scared me. I’ve never seen you with a weapon. I never thought you were capable of doing something like that, only it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. I love you, Marcus, and believe it or not, I love my life with the Tyrants. I just wish there wasn’t so much violence. Is that bad?”
He put his arm around me and pulled me close.
“No, Jade, it’s not a bad way to think. You may not believe me, but I’m fed up with the violence as well. I’ve seen enough to last me a lifetime.”
We made love, and I wasn’t scared like I thought I’d be. He was gentle and kept stopping and asking if I was okay. He made me feel safe and secure.
Life slowly got back to normal, well, as normal as it could be. We’d lark around and drink, and act as if nothing had happened. We could pretend, couldn’t we? Weeks turned into months, months into years. The guys were still around, but we didn’t meet up very often. We went on monthly bike runs and in the summer months, made ourselves known at the festivals and bike rallies. But everyone was moving on, we all had our own lives.
We were still the Tyrants and still respected, although younger gangs were starting to form. Sassy kids being rude to passersby, just like we used to. A few names were being thrown around, and one name I kept hearing was that of the Wolves. We were still number one, and we still had a name around town. So much, in fact, that Marcus was offered a lot of money to murder someone. Marcus was no killer, and if he had to fight at all, it would be for pleasure, not business. Of course he turned them down; even so, it frightened me to think about the reputation we had made for ourselves.
I would like to say I was happy, but the truth was that I felt helpless and worthless. Marcus told me he didn’t want me fighting so much. He made me feel like my illness was a disability. I could cope. I was no invalid. I still had something to prove. I wasn’t bothered about his rule of not fighting. It was the way Marcus sheltered me like a child, as though I couldn’t take care of myself. He made me feel as though I wasn’t worthy of being a Tyrant. I never had a relapse and thought I was coping well with my illness. I wasn’t going to let this beat me. If I had a small attack, due to a lack of or too much sugar, I’d fix it myself. I never bugged him about it. I’d love to know what he’d been reading to make him think I was so fragile.
Something else was worrying me. Okay, I had Marcus for now, but what would happen if he decided he didn’t want me around anymore? I had nowhere to go. What man would take me on? I felt as though I was damaged goods and believed I had to be on my best behaviour. Marcus hadn’t given me any sign that he had tired of me. Maybe because we had been together for so long, it had become routine. Maybe I was the one tiring.
Our relationship was unusual, in that we couldn’t behave, or do things normal couples did. It was too dangerous to go for a romantic walk together, and there was no way he would take me to a restaurant. Even when we were in the house, we weren’t alone. It seemed that Dylan was always around.
Fortunately, London was a place where most bands played while on tour. Unfortunately, going to a rock concert was still on my ‘to do list.’ I’d discovered that Iron Maiden was going to be playing in a stadium, only a tube ride from where we lived. There was no way I was going to miss out on seeing my favourite band. But Marcus didn’t give me the opportunity to drop any subtle hints.
It was a hot summer’s day, and we’d been out on our bikes, riding through the countryside, when we stopped at yet another village pub for a cold pint. The pub was cr
owded that day. Customers sat outside on picnic tables drinking and lapping up the sunshine. All eyes were on us as we parked our polished, shiny motorbikes.
I loved the stares and attention as we pulled up outside. The guys got envious expressions from the men ogling their gleaming bikes, while the females looked jealous when they realised I was the only woman among a sea of fit bikers. I always made a show of taking off my helmet and shaking my hair down. My strapless top showed off my cleavage, and I didn’t waste any time taking my jacket off.
This was my favourite past time, a summer afternoon speeding down the country roads in convoy. The public admired us, they feared us. All gave the Tyrants a wide birth.
We were sitting around picnic tables, laden down with beers, and chips in baskets. There was a break in the conversation when Marcus leaned over to Clay and said quietly, “watch this.”
“Oh, Jade, I forget to tell you. I’ve got tickets to see Iron Maiden.”
I jumped from my seat. “You’re shitting me,” I screamed.
The guys laughed.
“Oh, my God. I’ve always wanted to see them.”
“Are you a fan of Maiden then?” Max asked, and then winked at Marcus.
“Hell yeah, I fucking love them,” I cried.
I was so happy I jumped on Marcus’s lap and snogged him in front of everyone.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
He patted my bum, and I got up and sat back down on the bench.
“Better to leave our colours behind,” Hatch suggested.
“Yeah, good idea,” Ian added, “especially after what happened last time.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“We were at a Metallica concert,” Dylan explained. “I guess our colours rubbed some of the audience the wrong way.”
“Guys behind us started pushing,” Steve said.
“That always happens,” Paul interrupted, “you just have to stand your ground.”
“And that’s what we did,” Dylan continued. “A few of us turned around and shouted abuse, but Hatch got a bottle busted over his head.”
I gasped.
“We sorted the bastards out,” Marcus said. “Kicked the shit out of them before security threw us out.”
It sounded familiar. “Hey, I think I read something about trouble at one of their concerts. It was you lot?”
Marcus smiled and shrugged.
“Shit,” I said. “Well, I hope nothing kicks off this time. I wanna see the whole show if you don’t mind.”
“We’ll try to behave,” Clay said, and then gave me one of his cute smiles.
There was no way I was turning up at the concert wearing an Iron Maiden T-shirt. Although I already had two in my wardrobe and I was planning on buying another one at the event, I didn’t want to look like everyone else. I wanted to stand out.
I’d only seen Iron Maiden concerts on DVD. I couldn’t believe I was finally going to see the band that I’d respected for years. The days couldn’t pass fast enough.
We got to the indoor stadium around dinner time. I was surprised to see we weren’t the first. Fans were rolling up their sleeping bags as we arrived. We made ourselves comfortable on the floor beside the entrance and spent hours chilling and watching more fans turning up and the queue getting longer. The Tyrants were dressed in blue jeans and Maiden shirts. I was wearing black jeans and a black silk bodice. I wore a black choker with silver studs and had a thick bangle on my left arm. The middle finger on my left hand sported an Iron Maiden ring, a present I had bought myself when I had first joined the Maiden fan club.
The excitement was mounting, and we couldn’t hear ourselves talk from the volume of the growing crowd. We gave up trying to be heard, and stood with grins on our faces as we listened to the chatter and chants, and took in the exciting ambience.
I knew a lot of the fans had travelled a long way and that some of them had probably seen them ten times while on tour. Among the crowd, there were toughs, bikers, children, and the regular public, who didn’t wear leather but enjoyed the music. It was amazing to have such a mixture of different people and backgrounds in one place with no thoughts of trouble. Everyone was here to have a good time and enjoy the music. I felt privileged to be part of the Maiden family.
The doors finally opened, and we rushed inside. Forgetting about the merchandise, we headed straight for the arena and the front of the stage.
It took about an hour for the stadium to fill. The volume inside was so loud I pitied those unfortunate enough to be standing near the speakers. The atmosphere was eclectic, and as the lights went down, screams, whistles, and Maiden chants filled the arena. The crowd pushed forward, and I was worried about getting squashed against the railings, but the Tyrants stood their ground and created a barrier behind me.
The support band was great, but we were too psyched about seeing Maiden to appreciate the other band’s musical talents.
The concert was awesome. Bruce Dickinson’s vocals were spectacular, and his high-pitched screams were outstanding. He jumped all over the stage; leaping off platforms and monitors.
We felt like teenagers as we screamed out the lyrics to the songs. The crowd went wild with every song intro but went mental when Maiden started playing the intro to classics such as “Hallowed be Thy Name”, “Fear of the Dark” and “Can I play with Madness”.
I took my eyes off the stage a few times to watch the Tyrant’s reactions. They looked as though they were enjoying the concert as much as I was. Dale had been headbanging since Maiden first started the show. His hair now stuck to his face, and every time he bobbed his head, anyone in the vicinity was getting sprayed with sweat. Clay and Dylan were screaming the lyrics and raising their fists in the air, giving the two fingered rock salute. Marcus’s eyes were transfixed on Steve Harris’s bass. He imitated Steve’s moves as though he was playing the guitar himself. Steve’s fingers moved over the strings so quickly, I assumed he’d be soaking his fingers in salted water at the end of the night. How the guy was able to play like that and not rip his fingers to pieces amazed me. I couldn’t see the drummer very well. Nicko was behind his drum set, positioned on a high platform, but his talent was unmistakable.
It wasn’t just a concert. Iron Maiden put on one hell of a show for their fans. There were costumes changes by Bruce, theatricals, and the Eddie mascot backdrops were awesome.
I swear Bruce winked at me. He could have been blinking, but I liked to think he noticed me. I did get a smile off Adrian Smith, one of the three lead guitarists. At the end of the concert, the band did their usual throw out. Drumsticks and sweatbands were thrown from the stage into the audience. I was lucky enough to catch one of Dave Murrey’s guitar picks.
It took another hour before finally getting outside and into fresh air. I was soaked with sweat. We were all breathless, exhausted, and suffering from sore throats. Maiden fans took over the tube trains, and we laughed and chatted with them as we travelled home. The concert was an awesome experience, and I vowed it wouldn’t be my last.
It took a few years, but I finally found out that Marcus wasn’t the honest boyfriend I presumed he was. I should have heard the warning bells telling me that he was no innocent when it came to the opposite sex.
We were at the Spider’s Web one night when the guys decided to have a drinking session. Dale started them off with the first spirit then carried on down the line of bottles. Everyone had to take a shot in between drinking a pint. Of course, I didn’t take part, I wasn’t allowed to drink much. I felt a little left out as I watched them getting pissed, the volume getting louder by the minute.
I noticed Marcus had been eyeing up the busty blonde behind the bar, one of Dale’s new barmaids. I tried not to watch them, but it was impossible to concentrate on anything else. I was ready to give her a piece of my mind. But Dylan had seen the eye contact between them, looked at me, and shrugged. I tried to enjoy the rest of the evening by doing what I did best, flirting. I had all of the Tyrants’ attention that evening,
apart from Marcus’s. Beth wasn’t out that night, so even Clay listened to every word I said. I was feeling good; dressed in a PVC corset and leather mini skirt, I felt sexy. The drinking carried on, the music and laughter got louder. I danced with a few of the Tyrants that evening; no one would take my flirting serious. Firstly, they wouldn’t dare, and secondly, I was like a sister to them. It was harmless fun, and they would play along.
I was dancing with Dylan to a Meatloaf song called “Dead Ringer for Love”. We were dirty dancing; there was nothing in it, we were just messing around. My eyes glanced over to the bar, and I couldn’t believe what I saw.
Marcus was leaning over the bar, snogging the blonde tart. I didn’t know which way to look, or what to do next.
Dylan felt me stiffen and turned to see what had caught my attention. He gripped my arm and forced me to face him.
“Let it go, Jade,” he told me.
The others were watching Marcus and sniggering. They didn’t look surprised by what they saw. Then their eyes searched for me, and when they saw I was watching, their grins evaporated. It was as if they’d been waiting for it to happen.
I didn’t know what to do, whether to go over to the bar and pin a medal on them or pour a pint over them to cool down the passion. I think if Marcus were able, he would have done her there and then on the bar. He was like a dog on heat.
All eyes were on me. I wanted to cry, but I wasn’t giving anyone the satisfaction. I felt ashamed and used, not just because my boyfriend was tongue wrestling with the barmaid in front of the whole bar. I felt used because my friends, my brothers, weren’t sticking up for me. They just sat there grinning. No warning, no waking Marcus from his desire. I felt like everyone had betrayed me. I felt so alone.
I know it was an absurd thing to think after what they’d done for me, yet at that moment I felt I had no one. I had to get away from there, from all of them. Grabbing my jacket, I ran out of the bar, not looking back. I heard Dylan shout after me, but I ignored him. I didn’t know where I was running to; I just needed to run. I thought Marcus loved me, I thought he respected me.
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