Carnage Boxset

by Jones, Lesley

  Tom and Billy had headed straight off as soon as we had finished recording. We had a day off the following day, so they had driven back to Essex to see their girls.

  I stood at the bar, waiting for our drinks while Maca racked up the pool balls. I watched as one of the girls approached him. She was tall. Even without the shiny patent leather heels she was wearing, she had a cracking pair of legs. Her dress was a royal blue colour, skin tight, and made from this stretchy waffle patterned material. Funny how after all these years I should remember all that. I think it’s because Jim had a similar type of dress and we had all commented on how good her arse looked in it, earning me a smack upside the head from my brother.

  “They’ve been asking what time you usually get here.” Jock, the landlord told me, placing two beers on the bar. “I told them I didn’t know what they were talking about,” he said with a nod as I handed him a tenner.

  Jock knew who we were. His daughter had recognised us when she was working behind the bar one night and sent him over for autographs. We’d asked them to keep it quiet, donated to buy the pubs football team a new kit and given Jeannie, his daughter, a pile of signed merchandise and an album.

  “Cheers, Jock. How long they been here?” I asked.

  He looked at his watch and gave a small shrug. “Since about six. There were two more, but I had to throw them out for being underage,” he said quietly in his soft, Scottish accent.

  “Those four have got ID’s, but they’ve all only just turned eighteen, except for the brunette talking to Maca, she’s older. You boys watch yourselves.”

  “We will. Cheers again, Jock.”

  I headed towards the pool table, smiling at the three girls trying to artfully prop themselves at the bar and note that they all looked a bit … soapy, as my dad would say. That didn’t mean they were covered in bubbles if that’s what you’re thinking. It meant that they looked like they could do with a good wash, and I don’t care what ID they’d flashed at Jock. Not one of them seemed to be more than fifteen or sixteen.

  Now I know I was only just nineteen myself at that stage, and a bit of an animal, but jailbait was not my thing, and something I was extra careful about after Whorely Gate. Not that she’d been underage or anything. She was actually a few years older than us, but after that incident, the label had sent one of their female execs to give us ‘The Talk.’ Basically she told us to always practise safe sex, always make sure we were aware of the age of consent, depending on which country we were in, (especially places like the US, where it can vary from state to state), and never, ever let anyone film or take pictures of you in the act.

  It hadn’t slowed down the amount of women I’d slept with, but I was very aware of who I slept with and tended to go with the girls that looked older rather than younger, just to be safe.

  I passed Maca his drink and held mine up so we could say cheers. We both knew what the date was. He’d been very quiet and looked extra sad. I silently wished my sister a happy birthday and took a swig from the bottle.

  “This is Siobhan,” Maca introduced her, tilting his beer bottle towards her, then to me.

  “Siobhan, this is Marley.” She looked me over, every inch, with the most amazing blue eyes.

  “Siobhan.” I nodded towards her. “Isn’t that Irish? Sounds like it should be spelt S, H, E, V, O, N, but instead has a B or some random letter in it?”

  “That’s right,” she said with a smile and proceeded to spell out her name. She was definitely older than the other girls were … much more groomed and better put together. Having a guess, I would’ve said she was about twenty-five. Older than most of our fans, but an average age for a groupie, although I wasn’t sure if that was what she was. I was suddenly on alert.

  “So, what’s a nice girl like you doing slumming it in a pub like this?” I asked her.

  “I could ask you boys the same thing,” her reply was followed by a nervous laugh.

  “Press,” I said to Maca as he leant across the pool table to break.

  His head swung up to look from me to the woman standing between us. He looked back along the pool table and potted a stripe. Standing up straight, he gripped the cue with both hands.

  “Fuck off,” he said to her, gesturing with his head towards the door.

  “Wh-what?” She looked between us, her mouth hanging open.

  “Oh come on, boys, give a girl a break,” she pleaded.

  “Give you a break?” I asked. “Do you have any idea the damage you lot have done to us, my family, and our band?”

  She looked down at the ground for a few seconds, then back up, looking back and forth between Maca and me.

  “Look, I know some of it was a bit rough on your sister, but that wasn’t me. I’m not that kind of reporter.”

  “There’s only one kind of reporter,” Maca told her, “the cunt kind. Now, fuck off before I get Jock to throw you out.”

  She held her hands up as if she was surrendering.

  “Look, I’m gonna go to the bar and get a drink. I just want a few words from you. I don’t wanna ask questions about what happened in France or anything to do with that.” She looked between us. “Just a little something about the success of the album, the sell-out tour, and how you’re coping with it all. Maybe something about what you’ve got coming up next year? Please, just think about it?”

  We both stood and watched her hips sway as she walked to the bar. I had to adjust my dick in my jeans. I hadn’t had a shag since the tour ended, and I was more than a little desperate.

  “She’s got a nice arse,” I said quietly.

  “What the fuck has that gotta do with anything?” Maca turned back around, taking his second shot and missed it. “Your spots.”

  “I know. What if we do her a deal?” I pot one spot, followed by another.

  “What type of deal?” he asked, his eyebrows drawn together.

  I stood up straight and passed him the cue back after missing my third shot. “I dunno … a blowie or summit? I’m gagging for a shag.”

  “You’re gagging for a shag? How d’ya think I feel? It’s been four months and three countries since your sister left Spain, and I last got my leg over.”

  I took a step back from him. “Dude, do you know how seriously happy my life would be if I never had to talk, or even think about you shagging my sister again? Like, ever?”

  He laughed and took his shot. It was good to see him smile. I know that he’d made a point of making sure that Jimmie knew the phone number and address of our new flat, but there had still been no contact from George.

  “Was she doing anything special tonight, d’ya know?” He took his shot while asking. I knew it was so that he didn’t have to make eye contact with me as he talked about her.

  “My mum said that she didn’t want any fuss made. She has college tomorrow.” I tell him what I know.

  “How’s college going for her?” He took another shot, still not looking my way.

  “All good, I think. You know George. She and Len are the brains of the family.”

  Unable to avoid me anymore, his eyes met mine. “She seeing anyone?”

  “I honestly don’t know, mate. She’s not spoken to me since she left Spain. Jim, Len, Mum, and Dad, only tell me what she wants me to know.”

  He looked down at his feet before picking up his bottle and finishing the contents.

  “I really fucking miss her,” he stated, his eyes shining with tears.

  “I know you do, mate, but without sounding harsh, she’s getting on with her life and I think it’s time you moved on with yours.”

  He nodded his head before potting every stripe on the table, and then the black. “Yeah, I’m beginning to think that too.

  Game over.

  Chapter Seven

  1985

  Siobhan appeared beside us at the pool table with drinks for all. I’d watched her as she spoke to the little group of fangirls while she was waiting at the bar, and they were trying to edge closer.

  �
��Where’d you pick up your posse, Mothercare?” Maca asked.

  She shrugged. “They’re not my posse, they’re yours,” she replied, winking at him. She let out a long breath and pointed to a table away from the bar.

  “Look boys, I’ll be totally honest with you here.” Maca pulled out a chair for her at the table, ever the gentleman, despite calling her a cunt before, but whatever. “I’m still earning my stripes for this game and I get sent out on all the shitty jobs. One of them is to have a wander past all the big recording studios, see if there’s anyone interesting coming or going.” She sipped from her bottle and I couldn’t help but watch the way her lips wrapped around it, the way her throat moved as she swallowed.

  Swallowed … fuck. Just that word was making me hard. Maca kicked me under the table.

  “Anyway,” she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and I thought I groaned, or even came just a little teeny, tiny bit. She frowned and looked at me, shaking her head.

  Head. See, that’s how my brain would function. I needed sex on a regular basis. I’d gotten used to sex on the regular, so to go without for four weeks was a long time―a long, long time.

  “I’ve learnt over the past few months that the little teenybopper fans also do the same thing, hang about outside the studios, I mean.” She looked between the both of us again. “Now I don’t know where they get their info, but I’m telling ya boys, they’re better than MI5 or the CIA, or whoever the people are that know about shit.”

  I watched as Maca ran his hand over his beard, then his thumb over his bottom lip. Siobhan watched him and fuck if she didn’t make a little noise like I’d just done watching her swallow.

  “Anyway …” She turned from him to me, her cheeks flushed, so I deliberately licked my lips, seeing as she seemed to have a thing for them. Her eyes traced the path of my tongue.

  “So,” she said a little too loudly, before clearing her throat, “that little lot were all hanging about outside the studio you’ve been using this morning. They told me it was you boys that were in there and that they had it on good authority that you had been using some pub on a regular basis.” She looked over to where the girls had moved to the next table over. “I offered to buy them all a drink if they told me the name and just took a chance that you’d come in here tonight. Getting a few words from you boys could be the break I need. Just a few words―”

  “Get your gang over here,” I told her.

  “What?” she asked, frowning in confusion.

  “Call them over here. We’ll sign some stuff for them and then I want them gone. I don’t know what ID they showed Jock, but there is no way any of those girls are eighteen.”

  Maca remained silent, sipping on his beer and observing, the way he often did.

  “Yeah, I think they all have older sisters or friends, or whoever they borrowed their ID’s from. I don’t think the landlord looked at it too closely, apart from the two that were obviously only about twelve.” I watched as she chewed nervously on her bottom lip. “So, if I get rid of them, you’ll talk?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe we could come to some arrangement,” I told her.

  She nodded her head, licking her lips and looking between us again. “I’d be happy with an arrangement.”

  “Good, now call them over.”

  We signed autographs, kissed cheeks, and posed for pictures. Then we gave them twenty quid and told them to go to the corner shop and buy some sweets and lemonade, and to stay out of pubs until they were eighteen.

  We spent the next couple of hours drinking beer with whiskey chasers, and I even played Siobhan at pool, beating her arse while Maca stared at it.

  I know that it wasn’t very gentlemanly of me, but I’d been buying her doubles every time I’d been to the bar, and I knew that she had to be at least a little bit drunk.

  “So, let’s talk business. This arrangement, I’m assuming sex will be involved, and that’s the reason you’ve been plying me with doubles?”

  Maca spit out his drink and I laughed. I liked her. She was up-front and surprisingly honest for a journalist.

  “Which paper d’ya work for?” I asked.

  “The Sun,” she replied with a hint of apology in her voice. “Look, I tell ya what. Don’t tell me anything, forget about all that. I’ve had a drink and I’m horny. I’m not one of your stupid little fifteen-year-old fans. I’m a grown woman, I’m twenty-eight years old, and I haven’t had sex in nine weeks. I fancy a shag and I fancy shagging both of you, at once.”

  “Fuck,” is what came out of my mouth.

  “If you’re twenty-eight, how come you’re only just starting out as a journalist?”

  Seriously, that’s all that Maca got from what she said? Her age, and not what was on offer?

  She slumped back into her chair before continuing. “I did a teaching degree, got a job teaching at primary level, and just found that it wasn’t my thing. I’ve always loved English, I have a degree in both language and literature, and I have a passion for music. Music journalism seemed like an option and now here I am, trying to earn a name for myself with that one big story.”

  “By fucking your way through every band?” I asked her.

  “No, I’ve never done this before … well, not with anyone in a band before. Not anyone famous, at least.”

  “So you’ve had a threesome before?” I asked, looking across to Maca as I did. I was trying to gauge his reaction, but of course I couldn’t, he was completely neutral.

  “Yes, I’ve had a threesome before. Two girls, one bloke, and me with two blokes. Had a foursome once too. I’ve been to uni, boys; weed, whiz, trips, they all help to lower your inhibitions.”

  We were still teenagers. A threesome was being offered up on a plate. What would you think the end result was gonna be?

  “Jock, can you come over here a second please?” Maca suddenly called out to the landlord.

  Jock threw the cloth he permanently had in his hand over his shoulder and walked over to our table. “What can I do for you boys?”

  “This is Siobhan,” Maca said, pointing to the girl. “She wants to come home with me and Marley. I need her to tell you right now that if she comes home with us, she knows it’s gonna end up with us having sex with her.”

  Well fuck! My boy was back and he was finally zipping up his pussy and bringing his balls to the party.

  Siobhan’s mouth dropped open while Jock raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. He gestured towards her with his chin. “You know what you're letting yourself in for if you go home with these wee rascals lassie?”

  She nodded her head. “It was me that offered, Jock, so yeah, sex is what I’m hoping will happen with both of them.”

  “Well, there ya go. I’m your witness, boys,” he shook his head as he spoke. “I’m in the wrong fucking game here. I can hold a tune, ya know? Does that get me an invite? Go, have fun,” he said over his shoulder before heading back towards the bar.

  * * *

  We bought a bottle of whiskey on the way back to our flat. It was actually more like a house, being the top two floors of a converted three-story house in Notting Hill. We all had a bedroom each, as well as two full bathrooms and a third toilet on the lower floor, just off the open plan; living, dining, and kitchen.

  We’d only just started to see the royalties coming in from the tour and album sales. The figures were blowing us all away.

  Maca and I were off to buy new cars the next day and we’d all look for our own places to live once the album was finished. We were hoping to have it released in time for Christmas, and a tour had already been lined up for Australia, Asia and the US, starting in February of the following year.

  All that, and what was about to happen with this woman, seemed surreal. It was all more than we could ever have dreamt of, but for myself and Maca being the youngest, I sometimes felt a little overwhelmed at the speed with which things had moved.

  “Take her to my room,” I told Maca. I knew that all his lyrics, noteboo
ks, and diaries were usually spread everywhere in his room, and he was pretty private about all that shit.

  I felt a sudden twinge of guilt as thoughts of George flashed through my mind. Most of the new album consisted of songs about her, or heartache in general, but both musically and lyrically, it was our best work to date. Angst seemed to equal hits.

  I gathered three glasses from the kitchen and headed upstairs. When I walked into the bedroom, Maca was sitting with his back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. I put the glasses down on the chest of drawers and poured us each a drink.

  “You know, Len will flip if he finds out about this,” he stated the obvious.

  “Then we won’t fucking tell him,” I replied. “I’ve lived like a monk since we came off tour, and you’ve behaved like a nun since George, so fuck it. What’s the point of being in Britain’s band of the moment if we can’t get the occasional shag now and then?” He looked back at me, glassy-eyed. Shit, I shouldn’t have mentioned George.

  I turned to pass Maca his drink, just as Siobhan walked out of the bathroom that he and I shared. She was stark bollock naked. Taking the glass from my hand, she looked between Maca and me. “Chop chop, boys. Clothes off.”

  I pressed play on the boom box sitting on my clothes chest and ‘Orgasm Addict’ by the Buzzcocks blasted out. We were all silent for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. Well, at least it broke the ice a little bit.

  I poured more whiskey into the glass that Siobhan just emptied and passed her another. She kissed me, full on the mouth, and I ground my already hard dick against her. She broke away and walked over to the bed where Maca was sitting with his fingers laced together, hands behind his head. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she stalked across the room towards him. He reached out his hand and took the drink from her, knocking the lot back in a few gulps.

  I unlaced my Doc Martens and kicked them off, pulled my jeans down and my T-shirt over my head. By the time I looked up, Siobhan was straddling Maca on the bed and he was sucking on her tit while digging his fingers into her arse cheeks. She broke their kiss so that she could pull his top over his head. I downed my drink and brought my empty glass, along with the bottle, over to the bedside table, placing them down before crawling up behind Siobhan to join the party.