Silver Ch. 06-09

He found Jan undressing on the edge of the bed as he arrived back, his heart as light as a feather. Climbing over, his strong hands on her waist, he kissed the back of her soft neck whilst caressing a taut stomach. A rush of bravado and his hands moved north, dwarfing the small breasts, thumbs teasing the nipples to life. She shifted around to face him, their mouths melding, tongues tasting. Pointing to the light, he killed it on demand, blindly finding his way back by the light trail of body scent that clung in the air. A warm, balmy summer's night, both nonetheless discovered their bodies covered in goose bumps.

Gravitating over, Nick gained her assurance all was okay, not for one moment suspecting the revelation that this was her first time. Drawing back, once more he entreated her consent. Again she beckoned, guiding him in slowly, a gasp falling from her lips. Only his third such experience, Nick worked gently, belying the lack of experience. First to finish with a satisfied grunt, he felt her hold him in place, yearning for the same. But that first night it would elude her.

When morning came, however, it was a whole different story. Leaving behind a satiated bedfellow, Nick limped to the bathroom to survey the proud reflection. At that moment in time he couldn't be happier.

* * *

As Pete Collins listened to Nick Silver's tales of 1982, his friend, the rock journalist Matt Black, was busily preparing for the forthcoming interview with controversial band of the moment Devilicious. Typing their name into Google, Matt was astounded to uncover in excess of a million matches. Locating the group's official website, he took a tour around the black emptiness of the home page where a portfolio of thumbnails introduced each girl.

The story went that the trio had been conceived fatherless, their lesbian mother Nadia de Vil having utilised a sperm bank to create her daughters, rather than more conventional means. As was befitting a trio supposedly conceived in such a manner, individual characteristics from the male gene pool had fused with some common ones inherited from Nadia.

The eldest, Lindsey, had thin, emotionless lips that curled down naturally to form an unwitting frown. Pale and insipid of face, a ring dissected the bottom lip with a chain running to a left ear that was littered with studs. However, a pair of stunning eyes, large and dark like two olives floating in milk, offered ample compensation, though naturally they were tinged with black rings. Flowing coal coloured hair reined free either side of Lindsey's shoulders, brushing a pair of petite breasts that sprouted from a gymnastic body. In many of the pictures she seemed either to be hypnotised or drugged-up, staring maniacally and casting spells with fingernails extended like trying to dry varnish.

Monica, the middle sister, had a friendlier mouth with fuller lips, whilst high cheekbones added a touch of beauty, complemented by a pair of piercing green eyes. Her hair shorter, brushing the collarbone, a similar plenitude of piercings adorned her face and ears. A fuller figure than Lindsey, tapering to a slim waist had bestowed upon Monica the majority of the male fans' adulation. Bared arms in one of the thumbnails revealed a curled snake tattoo that ran the length of her right upper arm. Hers was a pose of confidence in her sexuality.

The youngest sister Helen, displayed slightly crooked teeth set in a brace, with diluted blue eyes that more often than not were hidden behind dark shades. Attempts at curbing her naturally wavy hair had been largely unsuccessful, springing from her head in frizzled disarray. Like the other two she was generously pierced, sporting an athletic figure not dissimilar to Lindsey's. In one picture she had bitten off the head of a Girls Aloud doll in an Ozzy Osbourne / bat parody.

Dressed uniformly throughout in funereal robes and clunky crucifixes, shadowy make-up on ghostly faces highlighted the family resemblance. Yet the features that most identified the sisterly connection were the nose and chin: nostrils slightly upturned, pixie-like, chins bearing a prominent jut.

Stifling a sigh, nothing to which he bore witness helped to ease Matt's mind. In fact his unease was exacerbated the more he read the message boards and digested the hype.

As if on cue a call came through about the assignment. It was Nadia de Vil, informing him that her daughters would be arriving in England the following evening. A change of plan, they would be staying in Wiltshire with Richey Osgood, prior to performing a concert with him in Bristol the following Tuesday. As Matt put down the phone he sighed. Now not only was he going to have interview three girls that scared the hell out of him, he was going to have to mess up his whole weekend.

At that moment there was a whirring of wheels outside in the office car park, the frantic spluttering of an engine. Rising to the window, Matt was just in time to witness his Focus being driven off at breakneck speed. Sprinting outside, he was too late, the thieves disappearing in a fog of smoke. 'Fuck!' he cursed.

* * *

In Latham Wood, Nick's story had reached the eve of the Battle of the Bands.

Having collected his severance pay, Nick hurried home to shower before joining the others in the beer garden at the Ship, his arrival making a sextet around the wooden bench, Richey as ever at Jan's side. As Nick took a seat opposite his beloved, the secret lovers exchanged wry smiles. Talk was staccato, jumping from subject to subject, a sense of foreboding in the air.

The group was soon to be eight with the arrival of Susie and Liz, fresh from an afternoon's shopping. Squeezing in either side of Nick, Vaughn and Kirk were relegated to an adjoining bench and immediately Susie began to flirt, saying how much she'd missed him. The lead guitarist in an up and coming rock band and with maturity on his side, Nick's stock was double that of the pasty faced university boys Susie habitually interacted with.

The flirtation culminated in Nick being forced to pucker up. He tried not to grimace as Susie ran her tongue across his lips, pressing it inside as he forced them shut and eased her away. Across the table, Jan shook her head in a mock indignant manner as she dodged Richey's equally unsubtle advances. Eyebrows raised and face skewed, Nick tried to demonstrate the utter weariness he was feeling at the whole charade.

With a week's worth of their lives to summarise, some time elapsed before his announcement could be made public. Finally gaining a voice at the table during a lull, he conveyed the news of his newfound freedom, looking around for reactions.

'You're brave,' offered Vaughn.

'Stupid, more like,' countered Richey. 'What you gonna live on?'

Neither the words nor the sentiments surprised Nick. Richey had been complaining for months how he hated his job and craved to pack it in. Supposedly the reckless and impulsive one in the band, the one to lead by example, an expectation conferred upon him by being the frontman, he'd been beaten to it by Nick, his envy all too apparent though camouflaged by arrogance. 'Guess you'll be signing on then?' he scoffed.

Nick smiled but said nothing, Richey plotting his next move, anxious to regain some kudos. 'As it happens,

I'm jacking mine in too. My boss was out today. First thing Monday though...'

'Hang on lads,' exclaimed Liz. 'Am I missing something here? You haven't even played a gig, you haven't a deal and you've still got to win the contest just to get a support slot. You're both crazy.'

His pride restored, Richey wore a broad smile, saying simply: 'We'll win it.'

'You know what, I'm gonna hand my notice in on Monday,' asserted Vaughn, swept away on the tide of false hope and ill advised enthusiasm.

'Me too,' added Kirk, not wishing to be left out.

'You're all stark raving mad.'

'No we're not, we're rockstars,' cried Richey, his arms aloft, one slyly finding Jan's shoulder on the descent like a lovestruck teenager on a first date.

'Not yet yewa not,' she retorted, freeing his lock with a twist. 'And even if you were, I wouldnae...'

'Anyway,' intervened Nick with a cough, 'I think this calls for a celebration – same again everyone?'

A pleasant change not to have to penny pinch, finally he was living the carefree life to which he'd often aspired. And it just got better: a free Saturday for the first time in ages, following which his band would be kicking off its live music career. Not only that, it was his birthday, all in the space of the same day. Amazingly for once, he had some friends with whom to share the special occasion, and a girl of his own. How his life had changed in less than a year, and how it had changed even more in less than a week.

Yet Nick's joy was Richey's angst, the singer's expression catching his eye as he stood: a look of rapidly diminishing hope and hollow resignation as Jan became less subtle with the brush-offs. Nick tried not to gloat but, come closing time, he knew she would be in his arms and Richey would be leaving empty handed. Pulling up sharply at the back door of the pub, he eavesdropped as Liz craved Jan's attention. 'So, how did it go last night with your...um, friend?'

Jan blustered, brushing off the enquiry. Yet Liz was utterly perceptive as was befitting a best friend, and she knew where Jan had spent the night, if no one else had realised it yet. Nick swayed his head from side to side philosophically. Maybe it was better to get it out into the open sooner rather than later. Strolling through the double doors, past a group of pool players who issued greetings and round the long curvature of the bar that led to the stage, he visualised himself upon it, contorted in a Jimi Hendrix pose.

The footsteps behind went unnoticed until he was surprised by a mouth thrust straight at his. It wasn't until they unlocked that he saw it was Jan, the sense of relief that it wasn't Susie matched by a wave of guilt. It was the first time that had happened in public. He looked around for witnesses but, before there was time to protest, she held a finger to his lips. 'Ah couldnae help meself,' she whispered. 'Are you going to tell him or am Ah?'

'I will soon,' he promised lamely.

She shook her head mockingly before pulling him to her, kissing again. Breaking the embrace she warned: 'You'd better.'

Returning with the drinks paddling on a round green beer tray, Nick took a seat with the brothers, away from the interrogating eyes of Richey and Susie. Five minutes passed before Susie found her way over, tactile as ever. Nick brushed her away, his tact, like Jan's, rapidly evaporating. As half an hour elapsed, the jollity and joy and tension and the trauma combined to make for a strange cocktail of an evening. Just about to grab a secretive kiss with Jan inside the pub, Nick was hijacked by Kirk. 'Nick, can I talk to you?

As they sat down in the relative quiet of the bar, Kirk blew hard. 'I've got this, um, problem, Nick.'

You're not the only one, he thought, though he entreated his friend to continue.

'If we win this thing tomorrow, I'm not sure if I can stay in the band.'

Nick's eyes narrowed. 'Oh, why's that?'

Kirk hesitated. 'You promise not to tell Richey?'

After Nick had given an assurance, Kirk continued: 'Vaughn's the only other person that knows. It's like this...I'm a father.'

Nick exhaled. 'How did that happen? I mean...um, you know...'

Kirk replied ironically: 'One fuck in twenty-two years and she gets up the duff. I must be the unluckiest bloke on earth.'

'Well, being a father doesn't mean you can't be in the band, does it?'

Kirk hesitated, searching for the right words. 'Pete's mother wants us to give it a go, you know, for the kid's sake – a stable upbringing and all that.'

'Hmm, I see. And what do you want?'

'I want to stay in the band. But I also want to do what's right...'

'And we want you to stay in the band. Maybe we should see how tomorrow goes. If we lose there might not be a band much longer.'

'Oh, don't say that, Nick.'

Nick sighed hard. Life had a way of balancing good luck with bad.

The beer continued to flow back and forth throughout the evening until the sun dipped out of sight over the wall and the sparkly string of fairy lights illuminated the beer garden. Nick tried his best to dodge Susie's octopus-like gropes, while Jan evaded Richey with military precision, Liz trying to help soften the blow by playing up to the unimpressed singer.

Last orders arrived, marked by Richey drunkenly calling attention and halting the little pockets of conversation that had erupted around the group. 'Right,' he announced, producing the trusty acoustic guitar that accompanied him almost everywhere. 'I've written this new song.'

They all banged the table in a drunken manner, apart from Nick and Jan who stared diagonally across the gulf of glasses, unsure what to expect. It was not unheard of for Richey to break into song after a few beers, and he had regularly kept them entertained in their short time together. Yet this seemed far removed from the carefree ditties he'd penned in the vain hope of wooing the chestnut-haired beauty. Head bent, and avoiding eye contact, he began to pluck at the strings, slurring: 'Okay, this is 'You're Breaking My Heart'.'

'I love you so much it hurts when I think of you with him,

I love you so much it takes up all of my time,

Can't get you out of my mind, can't get you out of my mind.'

The song had a country twang, quite unlike anything Richey had penned before. As he sang he raised his head, moist eyes fixed firmly on Jan's. She looked away as he continued to sing in an almost taunting manner:

'But you're breaking my heart, you're breaking my heart,

Nothing more I can do, nothing more I can do,

You're breaking my heart. Yes you're breaking my heart,

Nothing more I can say, nothing more I can say.'

Richey strummed the instrumental, hypnotized by the strings as eyes darted guiltily around the group. Repeating verse and chorus, almost weeping, he looked up to end with the spoken line directed first at Nick, then at Jan: 'You're both breaking my heart.'

Nick hated himself for having allowed this to happen. It could be the breaking of the fragile soul that was his best friend. Yet all Nick had done was fall in love.

Susie hugged her brother as Liz let out a little sob. 'It's okay, leave me alone' protested Richey. 'I've had a few too many, that's all.'

He stood and issued a parting glance of hate and hurt, before tottering off, glasses crashing to the ground in his wake. A look of dismay rested upon Kirk's face. 'We're not gonna have to play it, are we?'

Eight

As Nick's story continued, Pete was momentarily distracted by Kelly through the window. She had positioned perfectly to be seen from the study, facedown, her angular limbs and back starting to show signs of a tan. Teasingly the bikini straps had been eased aside to provide a hint of breast, bulging at each side. As Pete wondered whether she needed lotion on the hard-to-reach parts, Nick brought him back from his fantasising with the next chapter in his life as a rockstar.

* * *

As his birthday and the morning of the Battle of the Bands contest arrived, Nick awoke with trepidation, not at all in a mood to celebrate. Having Jan by his side offered minor consolation amid an overwhelming sense of treachery where Richey was concerned. The lack of a card from his 'best friend' among the half dozen that littered the mantelpiece illustrated the chasm that had sprung up since Jan's arrival on the scene. Nervous about the performance, Nick kicked his heels, looking at the clock every ten minutes, awaiting a phone call. When the silence continued and when Richey failed to return his call, Nick headed to the Maddens' place. They too had heard nothing from Richey, Kirk's words echoing around the sitting room. 'What if something's happened? What if he doesn't show?'

The trio marched over to his flat, where the untouched pint of milk in the crate added to the mystery. Tentative enquiries with the neighbours revealed that no one had seen him that morning, and Vaughn suggested they try Richey's parents' place. Susie came to the door with the news that they too had neither seen nor heard anything since the previous night and all of a sudden there were seven worried friends. Supposed to be at the pub in an hour, it was just two until the contest got underway. As the girls bundled into Jan's 2CV to visit likely haunts, the boys headed back to the Maddens' just in case. With everything in place except the errant lead singer, the post office van Vaughn had managed to procure for the gig, laden with instruments, waited in the drive. 'What if he has had an accident?' Kirk frowned. 'What if he's...?'

'Don't say that,' scolded Nick, wondering if there was any way he could get his job back.

He just knew the hasty decision would come back to haunt him. So desperate was the situation becoming that he was even contemplating doing the vocals himself. Yet there was no way he could match Richey's range or depth of emotion and concentrate on playing lead guitar with his mind distracted by having to remember all the words. 'Oh well boys, looks like the dream is over...'

* * *

At the same time Nick was reliving the past, unexpected guest Kelly Wood felt the first stirrings of boredom. She craved excitement in her life above going out, getting drunk and being preyed upon by unsuitable boys. Yet the short-term prospects were far from favourable, a trip to the doctor's surgery as thrilling as it was likely to get over the next few days. At just twenty-four Kelly's life had become stale and sadly predictable.

Regressing into the depression conferred by the accident, Kelly's mind began to wander dangerously. There was something important to establish, an issue that had sparked so many rows in the past strictly she really should know better. Yet its importance could not be underestimated, an all-consuming craving that no amount of sweeping under the carpet could conceal. Kelly craved to know the identity of her father.

However, out of nothing seemingly more than pure spite, her mother had steadfastly refused to name a name. In the magazine office she would often catch herself daydreaming, fantasising as to who he might be: a movie star, a politician or a sportsman perhaps? Certainly he was well heeled, for his money had put her through university and established a healthy trust fund she'd be able to raid at thirty.

Lounging on the sunbed, once more the mystery took on an over-inflated prominence, consuming all her thoughts. Banging a fist on the grass in frustration, she felt the pain jolt to her shoulder, sucking in a mouthful of air. It was her right to know, to make up her own mind. Contrary to her mother's concerns, she wouldn't just turn up at his door on a whim – she'd do things properly: write first, get to know him gradually and take things step by step. Surely that wasn't asking too much.

Rising, she wandered inside, intent on finding her mother and getting to the truth before she returned to Cheshire and out of her life once more. Jan and Liz were just arriving home and Kelly wasted no time, heading her off. 'I want to know who my father is.'

Alone and cornered, Liz gulped, mustering the words: 'Kelly, no...not here.'

'Who is he?' Kelly screamed. 'Tell me!'

As Liz held up her hands, her daughter shrieked: 'Tell me you fucking bitch!'

It was so loud that Jan came running in, pulling up short as Kelly continued the rant. 'Tell me,' she ordered, tears arriving, fists beating. 'Tell me!'

Jan stood at the wings, unsure what to do or say, an anxious glance exchanged with Liz. 'She wants to know who her father is,' said Liz calmly, arms folded as Kelly slid to her knees.