Carnage Boxset

by Jones, Lesley

  “Something new I’ve written, but I just can’t get the tune right. I need you for that.”

  Maca was great with the lyrics, but I was just as good, if not better than he was with the music. It was why we worked well together over the years. Billy and Tom never wrote lyrics, but they were both amazingly talented musicians and could turn my humming of a tune into an intricate musical masterpiece within minutes. We’d grown and evolved over the years, and although we’d improved massively, we still had a lot to learn.

  “You wanna work on it now, or d’ya wanna eat?” I asked.

  “Go get your guitar. I’ll eat later.”

  I carried the Santa Sack, (my mum still insisted on putting all our presents into it), to my room and emptied the contents onto the bed.

  Despite the money I was earning, my parents still bought me the usual socks, underwear, and aftershave, as well as a checked Ben Sherman shirt. I had a vintage looking, Small Faces T-shirt from Jim and Len, along with a rare European import copy of ‘That’s Entertainment’ by The Jam. Bailey had given me a bottle of bourbon.

  As I reached for Maca’s gifts from my mum and Dad, I noticed another gift, still wrapped. I recognised Georgia’s handwriting on the tag instantly and I was shocked to see that it was for me. I tore apart the wrapping and opened the cardboard pouch, tipping it upside down and shook it over my bed. A black leather guitar strap slid out. It had red stitching and the heart-shaped crying eye, which was the bands logo, stitched into the leather, along with the letters B B M.

  I read the message on the tag properly.

  To my Big Brother, Marley,

  Merry Christmas!

  Your Little Sister, Georgia

  XXXXX

  I ran my thumb and finger over the leather, my emotions at war inside my head and my heart. I wanted to be angry at my sister for shutting me out, for not being prepared to talk to me or hear Maca out, but at the same time, when I saw her, it was then that I understood how hurt she was and I knew that she just needed time to heal. The small gesture from G gave me hope that one day I’d have her back in my life.

  I folded up the strap and placed it carefully in my drawer, grabbed Maca’s presents from the bed, and headed back to his room.

  I sat on his bed and rolled a joint as he unwrapped the standard socks, boxers, and aftershave that my mum and Dad got him every year.

  When I’d finished rolling and lit the spliff, Maca passed me a sheet of A4 paper with words written all over it. I moved up the bed and leaned back on the headboard next to him so that I could use the light from the lamp and start to read the words to the song that he’d written.

  Seaside Heart

  My heart, it’s like a seaside town, on a dark, winter’s day.

  The shutters are down. The crowds stay away.

  Its beat it resounds, resembling a military tattoo.

  But devoid of all feeling, since there wasn't you.

  My heart, it’s like a seaside town, when the wind blows hard.

  And lightning strikes, all emotion charred.

  It's bleak and it's lonely.

  It's cold and it's bare.

  The sun doesn't shine.

  Now that you're not there.

  I miss you so much,

  That I can barely breathe.

  Without your warmth, taste, and touch,

  I'm brought to my knees.

  Like a seaside town,

  I'll wait for my sun.

  Keep my love boarded up

  Till the day that you come.

  I'll wait and I'll hope.

  I'll beg and I'll plead.

  Worship at your feet,

  If that's what you need.

  Just like the sunshine,

  I know you'll return.

  Our bond too strong,

  For you not to be mine.

  Until that day happens,

  When the sun shines bright,

  I’ll keep your heart in my hands,

  My memories held tight.

  Like a seaside town,

  I’ll always believe

  In the love that we share,

  Of you and of me.

  I ran my hand over my face, struggling to find the right words to respond. I took a draw on the joint before passing it to Maca. I scratched at my head and let the effects of the weed slalom through my brain. “I don’t know what to say. Fuck, mate, that’s fucking brilliant. I-I honestly I have no words.”

  We sat in silence for a few long moments. I’d had one question going around in my head and although I wasn’t scared to ask it, I was terrified of the answer.

  “Is this really how you feel?” I eventually got the courage to ask, already knowing what the answer would be.

  “Every second of every day.”

  “Fuck, Mac … how? I mean, shit. How do you get through a day? How can you live your life feeling like this?”

  He took a long draw, then passed the joint back to me. I stared up at the ceiling as I waited for his answer. I heard him blowing out the smoke he’d inhaled.

  “I can’t, not anymore. I’m done, Marls. I love your sister, I’ll never stop loving her, but I need to let her go. If I don’t, it’s gonna kill me.”

  I turned my head towards him, my mind racing with what that meant.

  “You’ve not … I mean, you wouldn’t? Shit.” I sat up and tried to get what I wanted to say straight in my head.

  “You wouldn’t do anything stupid though, would ya, mate?” Despite feeling boneless and light, my heart was racing as I asked.

  “You mean top myself?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean, Mac. Please tell me that’s not something you’d do.” I smoked the joint down to the roach and put it out before turning to look at him.

  “Do you never think about dying, Marls?” The gold and amber in his brown eyes showed through in the lamplight and I laughed, rather than answer his question.

  “What are you laughing at?” he asked. “That was a serious question, ya dick.”

  I laughed again. “Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking that your eyes look pretty in the lamplight.”

  “My eyes look pretty?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  “You’re fucking mad. You’re not gonna make a pass at me or anything, are you, Marls? Coz no offence, mate, but you’re just not my type.”

  “No, Mac, I’m not gonna make a pass at you. Sorry, I’ll just shut up.”

  “Yeah, I think that’d be for the best.”

  “Although, we’ve never spoken about what happened with Siobhan that time.”

  He let out a long sigh and turned his head to look at me, raising first his eyebrows, then his shoulders in a shrug. “What’s there to talk about? Like you said, at the time it was just sex. We were both fucking the same person at the same time. It’s happened since then, and I’m sure that it’ll happen again, but it’s not like we fucked each other. I love ya, Marls, but I have absolutely no desire to fuck you. No offence, mate.”

  I smiled at him. “None taken. Your eyes still look pretty in the lamplight though.”

  “Fuck off being a dick,” he said with a grin. I couldn’t help but feel pleased that I’d made him smile.

  “And stop avoiding the question that I just asked.”

  “What was the question?” I asked.

  “Do you ever think about dying?” I decided to go with honesty.

  “Not often, no. It’s crossed my mind occasionally, especially when we were on tour and I was using a lot, but now that I’ve stopped all that ol’ bollocks, no, not often.” I paused for a few seconds, actually thinking about my own death.

  “I could never put my family through the consequences of me doing something deliberate. I hate to think what that might do to them,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, that’s probably the difference between me and you.”

  “What is?”

  “You’ve got people that give a fuck. Who gives a shit about me?”

  “Oh
, charming. So what about me and my family? What about Tom, Bill, all of our fans? Dude, how can you lay there and even say that?” Anger started to boil away at his crass comment and I actually wanted to punch him. “I know things have been shit between you and my family lately, but they still love you the same. Even George, despite everything, still loves you.”

  “Yeah, perhaps they do, perhaps she does, but not enough to get me an invite to Christmas dinner and not enough to reply to one of my letters, or to pick up the phone and say ‘let’s talk.’ Not enough for much, really.”

  “I’m not defending her, but she’s hurt and angry, and perhaps we all have to accept the fact that she’s never gonna forgive us. I hope that’s not the case, but I don’t think George is gonna be getting in touch anytime soon, but that’s not to say she wouldn’t care if anything happened to you.”

  I didn’t want to tell him that she gave me a Christmas present, as I thought he’d take it one of two ways. He’d either be really hurt that she didn’t get him anything, or he’d see it as G’s walls coming down. And as much as I would’ve hoped that’d be the case, I didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to give Maca another chance.

  “Think about it. If she’s this devastated at the thought of you with another bird, can you imagine what state she’d be in if anything ever happened to you?”

  He shook his head. “Probably the same way I’d feel if anything ever happened to her.”

  “Well, there ya go then. Now, stop talking shit and let’s get a tune going for this lyrical masterpiece you’ve spent the day writing.”

  * * *

  Seaside Heart was the fastest and biggest selling single of 1986 in five countries.

  Chapter Eight

  1986

  Our tour of Australia, Asia and the US kicked off in February of 1986. We started in Melbourne for four nights, then up to Sydney and Brisbane. Because of the demand for tickets, we agreed to fly back to Sydney and Melbourne and played an extra two nights in each city. I paid for my parents to fly out and they watched us play in Sydney. I arranged for them to also tour the rest of Australia, staying in the Blue Mountains—Melbourne and Surfers Paradise. It felt good giving back and they seemed to love Australia as much as we all did. It does, in fact, remain one of my favourite places on earth to visit.

  Asia was hot and sweaty and the fans were crazy, but still, we loved every moment. It was our first tour as the headline act and we were having a blast.

  The label had sent Milo to be our minder and we were under strict instructions to stay out of trouble, which we managed to do, at least while in Australia and Asia, but then we got to the good ol’ US of A, and things went downhill rapidly.

  We arrived in April and played the East Coast first, then snaked our way across the country, playing inland and then back down to coastal towns.

  The crowds were insane and the after-parties rocked. No offence to any American college girls reading this, but shit, ladies. You girls are just insatiable. I don’t know what happens to the females of America when they’re let loose at college, but let me tell you, they do not hold back. Every time we played at a venue where there was a big college nearby, we had the best of times. The amount of sex on offer was off the charts. Hell, even our tour bus driver was getting in on the action.

  The further West we travelled, the more the girls wanted to party with us and by party, I mean fuck with us, with each other, in front of us. Whatever way there was to fuck, they wanted to try it and we were very willing to oblige. I mean, we were only too happy to represent our green and pleasant land, and that we did!

  We rolled into San Diego on a warm and sunny Thursday morning. We were due to be playing at Qualcomm Stadium both Friday and Saturday nights so we were booked into The Grant Hotel, in what we were told was Downtown San Diego.

  The hotel had been newly refurbed and felt like a palace after so many weeks on the tour bus. Maca and I shared a two bedroom suite; Tom and Billy, another.

  Jim hadn’t joined us yet in the US. She’d been with us through Asia and Australia, but was running our offices while Len joined us on tour, and quite frankly, he was a fucking nightmare to deal with when Jim wasn’t around. They were engaged now and planning on a big wedding in a couple of years’ time, when things would hopefully quiet down a bit for the band. They were good together, really good. Len was generally a nice bloke and a great manager, but he did tend to get a bit stressed about things, mainly mine and Maca’s antics when we weren’t performing. Well, it was just our serial fucking that pissed him off. He worried all the time about girls going to the press and selling their stories. We had so many talks about Carnage being a brand and we were ruining its reputation with our behaviour. We knew he was just doing his job, but at the end of the day, what was the point of being in one of the biggest bands in the world if we couldn’t behave like the rock stars we were? Maca and I were busy building our reputations and the more we fucked, the more drink and drugs were involved in the wild parties we were either attending or throwing in each town we visited. The more people talked about us, the more the women wanted a piece of us. This was the last few months of my teens. I was living the dream and I had every intention of seeing them out with a bang … several bangs, actually.

  We checked into our rooms, had a quick shower, then headed off for a game of golf with Len and a couple of suits from our record label. We had slept on the bus as we travelled through the night and were feeling pretty fresh that morning. The label execs talked about how our plans would fit into there’s for the next two years, and where they thought changes could be made. We ate lunch with them at the course's club and talked more business. This side of things bored me senseless, so I left most of the talking to Len and a little to Maca. We signed a few T-shirts for them and a few for some blokes who’d just come off the course and had kids that were fans, but mainly we drank.

  We had a night off that night and we fully intended to enjoy the day and whatever the night would bring. As Milo drove me, Maca, and Len back to the hotel, Len began to lecture us.

  “I know you have a night off tonight, boys, but I think it’ll be best if you just stick around the hotel. You have a photo shoot and an interview to do at eleven tomorrow and you’ll need to be fresh for it.”

  I watched the traffic pass by from the back of the enormous four-wheel drive SUV we were being driven in. I didn’t want to argue with my brother, but there was no way we were staying in tonight. I remained silent, expecting Maca to do the same, so I was surprised when I heard him ask, “Best for who, Len?”

  I looked over at my brother as he turned around in the passenger seat to face us in the back.

  “Do what?” he questioned.

  “Us staying in on our night off … who will it be better for?” Maca expanded on his previous question.

  “I think it’ll be better for everyone, Maca. I’m not saying don’t kick back and enjoy a few drinks—”

  “Then what are you saying, Len?” he asked again, his tone sharp.

  “What’s your fucking problem, mate?” Len asked him. I remained silent, catching Milo’s eye in the rearview mirror. We both raised our eyebrows in surprise at Maca’s vehemence. I was usually the one who argued with Len. It was me and him that Milo, Maca, and the rest of the boys were continually separating before we could do each other any real damage.

  “You’re my fucking problem, Len. Just coz Jim’s not here, don’t take your shitty attitude out on us.”

  “That’s fucking rich coming from you. George has been missing from your life for almost a year and you’ve never heard me complain about the shitty attitude you’ve had since then.”

  Maca kicks the back of Milo’s seat, once, twice, three times.

  “Stop the car. Stop the fucking car! I need to get away from this cunt,” Maca shouted.

  “Pull over,” I told Milo. “Nice one, dickhead,” I said to my brother.

  Milo pulled over, double parking, causing drivers behind to pull around us. A few of t
hem bibbed and I gave them the finger in return as I climbed out of the car after Mac.

  I followed him along the street for a little ways, pulling my cap down low so you couldn’t see my face. It was two in the afternoon and hot as fuck.

  “Slow the fuck down, Mac. I’m melting here.” He turned around, lifted up his sunglasses and looked at me. Before he could say anything, I jumped in. “Don’t frown at me with them big bushy eyebrows. You seriously need to get plucked or shaved, or whatever before the photoshoot tomorrow, dude.” His frown deepened.

  “Fuck off, Marls.” He looked over my shoulder and his frown became a smile. I turned and followed his gaze to a bar across the street. “I need a drink,” is all he said before making his way across the road.

  The place was busy for a weekday afternoon; a mixture of construction workers, blokes dressed for the beach, as well as a few girls in shorts and vests.

  We ordered a pitcher of beer and a couple of whiskey chasers from the pretty barmaid and sat ourselves at the bar, thankful that we hadn’t been asked for ID. This being twenty-one to drink nonsense had caused us issues since we’d been there and I blamed that law entirely on the reason why so many parties ended up back on the bus or in hotel rooms.

  After knocking back the whiskey, followed by two glasses of beer each, Maca finally spoke.

  “Your brother’s a dick.”

  “No,” I replied. “My brother’s a good bloke, but our manager is the dick.”

  “Either way.” He let out a long sigh and raked his hand through his hair. “She’s been out of my head. I’ve kept her out of my head for these last few weeks at least, and then he has to go and say shit like that.”

  “I know, mate, it was wrong. He shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

  He poured us each another beer and held his fingers up at the barmaid that was watching us for a while, and asked her for two more whiskeys. She came over with a bottle and topped up our glasses.