Sirens, p.7
Sirens, page 7
Daina said. ''s not the answer. And neither is jamining that stuff up
your nose.' ' me feel like I'm on the top of the world," Maggie
whispered. ' know that. Please don't get on to me about it again. I've
got no other choice.' ' do,' Daina persisted, ' you don't want to bear
it. You've changed, Maggie. You used to believe in yourself; you used to
think you were the best. Remember the night-long arguments we used to
have about who was best, you or me?' ' stuff," Maggie said. ' world
turned out to be quite a different place, didn't it, Daina?' Her eyes
had a hurt look as they gazed at Daina from under her lashes. ' won
everything and here I am, stuck with a career that's going absolutely
nowhere.' She bent, took more coke. ' don't you say another word about
this stuff huh? When I'm high I can forget I'm nothing more than a
glorffied groupie, hanging on to Chris -" "Maggie, you know it's not
like that. Chris loves you ''t talk about what you don't know 1' Maggie
said sharply. ' it comes to me and Chris, you don't know a goddamn
thing, got 0' She was shaking, spilled coke into her lap. ', Christ! Now
see what you've made me do?' She 62 to cry, trying to scoop the white
powder back into the 7-1 envelope.
Most of it fell on to the carpet at her feet. With a convulsive gesture,
she threw the envelope s the room. Y) Stay off it,' Daina said gently.
"Just for a few days.' only do it because it's what Chris wants,' Maggie
said in I voice. She wiped at her eyes with the back of one ed hand. t's
no reason to do anything.' I don't want to lose him, Daina. I'll die if
he walks out. ay, I've got to like it.' ggie, don't you I'm such a shit.
You're the last person I should be g up at.' t ched the soft down along
Maggie's arm. ' ou t some coffee for us?' aggie wiped away the last of
the tears, smiled and nodded. be right back.' listen,' Maggie called
from the kitchen. ' the bath in our bedroom. The john in the one in the
hall's being e bedroom, at the front of the house, was a large el, s and
airy. A pair of high windows overlooked the c. The walls were painted a
lustrous midnight blue. g them were silver-metal-framed posters
advertising rts from the Fillmore East and West theatres, the most s of
all rock venues in the sixties, now defunct. She saw artbeats on a bill
with B.B. Kifig and Chuck Berry in and silver; Cream in pale yellow and
umber; Jimi in deep red and sand; the Jefferson Airplane in forest and
light brown, the colours and psychedelic lettering &Griffin representing
each music headliner in an almost eval manner, as brave and gallant
knights with their red pennants fluttering, about to enter the lists to
do e. And like the knights, she thought, they're all gone in one way or
another: dissolved, transmogrified or ed. Except for the Heartbeats who
had persevered for teen years and were still on the top of the heap. he
skirted the king-size bed with its midnight-blue-and- 63
pale-green-striped comforter turned back to reveal its cream nether
side like the belly of some great sleepy lizard. On it she saw a
portable cassette tape recorder, empty, its flip-up lid gaping.
Alongside was a broken-spined copy of Tom Disch's Getting Into Death,
Christopher Isherwood's Berlin Stories, an oversized volume of Kenneth
Grahame's The Wind in the Willows with illustrations by Arthur Rackham
and a dogeared paperback edition of Colin Wilson's The Outsider. Along
the opposite wall was a table piled with the music trade weeklies,
Billboard, Record World, and Cash Box along with Variety and papers from
England, New Musical Express, Melody Maker, and Music Week, and a
two-week-old issue of Rolling Stone with a cover story on Blondie. Then
the dark doorway to the bathroom. Hanging just to the left of the
doorway was a gilt-frame 8-by-10 black-and-white publicity shot of the
band, judging by the gaudy clothes it obviously dated back to the
sixties. Daina stared at the photo, fascinated. She had never seen the
Heartbeats in their early incarnation, having come upon them a bit later
in the early part of the seventies. Here she saw five members not four.
There was Chris, the guitaristsinger, tall and handsome; Ian, the
bassist, dark-haired and black-eyed, thin and wiry as a- girder; Rollie,
the drummer, chunky as a teddy bear with that perpetual smile plastered
across his amiable face; Nigel, the keyboardist - who wrote the lyrics
to Chris' music - glowering into the camera in that peculiar manner that
had become, over the years, the band's signature. But then he was the
most image-conscious of the lot. She knew them all but one, the man in
the middle. He wore his hair quite long, pulled back severely from his
highhill, deep-valley face as if he were wearing it in a ponytail.
Overall, she would say his face had a rugged quality, stemming for the
most part, perhaps, from his thin-lipped mouth and broken-bridged nose
that seemed too long for his head. But it was his eyes which intrigued
her. They were inordinately expressive and at total odds with his other
features so that the manner he exuded was one of disquieting
mysteriousness. His gaze was a mixture, a kind of icy haughtiness,
which, it seemed to her, was merely a fagade hiding a rather fragile 64
alism. Some elusive emotion swam in the depths of as if trapped. She
felt an overwhelming urge to reach d to help him. shook her head,
laughed to herself. Some imagination, ught. Surely all of that could not
be contained in a -dimensional image. she returned to the kitchen, the
coffee was perking, aroma pervading the room. instant around here'
Maggie said brightly. Apparently mood had faded. ' insists on
fresh-perked all the I must say I can't blame him. I'm beginning to be
Cto tell the difference myself.' She turned and poured. YOU go. ina took
the filled mug. ', Maggie, I saw an old photo band in your bedroom.
Who's the fifth guy?' Jon.' Maggie sipped at her coffee, made a face and
put e milk. '. I've been trying to drink it like Chris -black. But I
can't.' at about Jon?' Daina persisted. ' happened to Maggie sucked a
drop of milk off her fingertip. ''s V. ing much to tell, really. He used
to be in the band, yknow, on. Died just as they were making it big.' She
turned e counter, spooned sugar into her coffee, tasted it again. in,
that's better. An accident. Someone - Rollie maybe - mentioned that he
was a bit unstable. The pressure got , I guess.' ve you ever talked to
Chris about him?' he never talks about Jon. Too many painful memories,
on. He and Nigel grew up with Jon in the north. Came to London all in a
group to make their fortune.' She led her nose. ' you know what it's
like in their ness. So many casualties.' e drumming sound of an engine
interrupted them and both looked up. apa's home," Maggie said with a
grin. She left her coffee ding on the counter, went into the living room
with Daina her wake. ''s got a new toy - a motorcycle,' she said, ing
for the doorknob. ' bloody big Harley they custom 65 made for him. The
body's all clear so you can see the workings. He threatens to take me on
it all the time but I'm petrified of the thing. I won't get on it even
when the motor's off.' The throaty sound died and they heard the
crickets and the surf beginning again their background wash, colouring
the night in cool pastels. Maggie threw open the door, said '.' Chris
grabbed her up in his arms and kissed her. He was massive and Maggie was
dwarfed beside him. He was over six feet, his skin bronzed by the sun -
the reason, he said, he had decided to settle in LA rather than return
to London. Of course there were the taxes, which made it more
advantageous for the band to live abroad - Ian had a house in Majorca;
Nigel a villa in the south of France. They were tax exiles all, like so
many other prominent rock musicians. He put Maggie down, came into the
room. He saw Daina and his face split in a wide grin. ', how you doin',
Dain@' They kissed. His hair was a dark brown, falling in thick waves,
his eyes a deep green that, at times, verged on black. ''re back early,'
Maggie said as they went arm in arm back to the sofa. Chris sprawled
across it. ', I wouldn't've been but ihere was another bloody row. I
nearly put Nigel's head through th' floor. Serve th' lazy sod right.
Bloody bellp ' thought it had got straightened out this time,' Maggie
said, rolling a joint. She lit it, took a drag, passed it.. over to
Chris. He took a long drag with a hiss like a steambath. He seemed to
hold the smoke in a long time. ' know those dumb bastards,' he said on
the exhale. ' goes in one ear an' out th' other ' there ain't nothin' in
there but air.' He took another drag and his mood seemed to change
abruptly. He sat up, knocked off a bit of ash into the huge bronze
ashtray on the ebony table. ', hey, I'm glad you're here, Dain.' He
reached around to the pocket of his Western shirt, extracted a white
plastic cassette. ' what I got here, girls?' '?'Maggie said excitedly.
''n that.' He grinned. ' here a mix of two of my 66 --for th' new L.P.
First time I've written stuff without gie turned to Daina. ''ll you hear
these songs. re nothing like what the band has done before. A whole
ction." h,' Chris said, getting up and heading across the room stereo. '
breath of much-needed fresh air.' He ed in front of the system, flicked
switches. Lights came y and emerald pinpoints twinkling Re far-off
stars. t the cassette in the tape deck. y. Ready?' both said they were.
sat back on his haunches, said, ' first's a thing called The second's an
instrumental.' He punched a button once the room was filled with music.
Great guitars g, a bass pulse steady as steel, the punch of the drums
pebbled bottom of a stippled stream. Then they heard rich distinctive
voice: Remember the timeslin the a Fordlwith the dashlights glowingldid
we know the . one day we'd grow uplent'ring the finals -IThose 4f palm
trees and lotion seem far away now. music soared on in a short bridge, a
prelude to the verse: rve abandoned the rhymesloff which we have W. The
limos, the partieslthe big girls who givelall that /In the back of a
vanlah, those bright nights of t and co-caine seem far away now. g out
of the second verse the guitar, now doubleso that it sounded infinitely
thicker, took the melody adrenalin-pumping chorus. There was a repeat
and ride-out again chillingly guitar-dominated. ce for the space of
several seconds and then the instrubegan. It was the musical antithesis
of '', a slow g melody built on minor fifths, which continued to upwards
in languorous abandon, reminding Daina el Barber's "Adagio for Strings'.
ending faded out so gradually that she only became that the song was
over when she heard the tiny click machine shutting itself off at the
end of the side. swivelled around. '?' 67 'I'm stunned,' Daina said. '
don't know what to say2 ' you like it?' ' loved it.' ''re just great,'
Maggie said. ' mean, Nigel will probably mess his trousers.' ' hasn't
heard it yet,' Chris said. ' of ' have. Ian'n'Rollie've just heard what
they set down. Nigel's heard nothin' and it's gonna stay that way till
I've got the final mixes down.' He jumped up. ', I'm goin' out for a
spin.' ', you just got home.' Maggie's voice was plaintive. ',' he said,
' you like to take a ride?' ',' she said, getting up, ' I've got a five
o'clock makeup call.' She said her good nights, acutely aware of
Maggie's eyes on her, filled with anger and envy. She shivered as if it
were a physical thing that had brushed her. The long dark blue Mercedes
limo sat across her driveway like a massed fortress, its shadow as she
drove up seeming larger than the house behind it. She came up quite
close to it, shut off her engine and got out. The night was stirred by a
wind that brushed her cheek, rippled her honey hair. The sharp
click-clack of her heels on the gravel drove away the sing-song wheezing
of the ciickets. As she approached, the rear door swung silently open.
There was a light on inside, the kind of rich warm glow that only came
from a beautifully shaded lamp. Cars did not have lights like that. She
bent her head, got in. ' Tonight Show' was on the small-screen colour
TV, Johnny Carson silently mouthing to Stockard Channing while bouncing
his double-erasered pencil on his desk top. ' missed you when you didn't
come home,' Rubens said. ''m home now.' ' meant my home.' She turned
away from him, looked out at the darkness of the night. Trees obscured
the steepness of the hill, the enormous sweep of lights beyond.
The seat beneath her felt as hard as a church pew. ' never should have
happened.' ' never should have happened?' t night,' she told him, still
looking away. ' was angry, a something had happened. And you were there!
e always been there! e said nothing, wrapped herself in her arms.
She felt cold..4you're not going to tell me it was a one-night stand Im
not going to tell you anything! because I know you're not like that."
Her head swung d to look at him, the lamplight soft on the sharply
defined e of his cheek-bone, his lips. ' don't give your body y, without
thought. No matter what you tell me, I know He leaned over, flicked off
the TV. Johnny and Stockard . I also know that it wasn't just a fuck
last night. I that because I've done it so often over the last couple
years to too many girls to count. I know what that's like, well. We
didn't fuck last night! of she said, her voice rising. ' did we do?' e
made love. I know it and you know it.' hat if I do?" reached out,
touched her. ' don't want to lose that.' e brushed away his fingers. '
do you think,' she said y. ' you can buy me with a line like that?' She
was to sneering at him but the anxiety was rising in her far pidly for
her to realize it. ay. I said it the wrong way. Sue me.' ou're very
cute, you know that.' Her eyes were bright and . Every moment she sat
here with him, she felt that odd ring in her chest, almost as if shd
were about to have a attack. She put her hand on the door -handle.
on't,' he said, oddly echoing her line from the night re.
He put his hand lightly over hers, took it away ly. ''s no reason to be
afraid of me.' ou've got to be kidding! But he had hit it and she knew e
panic soared inside her. ere.' He opened the bar, made her a Bacardi on
the rocks. id not forget the twist of lime. c ice cubes clinked against
the side of the glass as she it from him, took a long pull. She leaned
back, closed eyes, sighed. 68 69 'You can leave now, if you want.' His
voice came to her as a disembodied force past the darkness imposed by
her closed eyelids. He might have been a doctor. ' don't,' she said
slowly, ' you to own me.' ', I'll tell you the truth. I don't think
that's possible. I think that the fact that I can't is the real reason I
-? ' I fall in love with you, it might be possible.' ''t it a little
early -S But she had opened her eyes, was staring directly into his. '
it?' she said. Now it was his turn to twist away. ' don't know that,' be
said after a time. ' I know is that I came here to ask you to move in
with me.' ' like that? No strings attached.' ' strings? You think this
is some kind of business deal?' She ignored that, closed her eyes again.
She could almost feel again the gentle rocking of the boat, the long,
haunting melodies. ' remember when I told you something had happened
last night? Well, I threw Mark out. I found him ... well, never mind
that.
He's a bastard and he got what he deserved. '' - unconsciously, perhaps;
she drew herself further into the comer of the seat -'it left me shaken.
He had been living with me for almost two years. There had always been
some kind of ... stability. And I never realized how much I relied on
that until he was gone. ' night I was alone, a stranger in a strange
land; it was as if I were an out-of-focus snapshot. Then you happened by
and _' Her head whipped around and she impaled him with a stare that
made him shudder internally. ' we made love'and here she pronounced each
word as a separate entity - ' have never felt so out of control. I have
never felt so acutely being a woman. Not in the generic sense but in the
traditional sense. I had my place and you had yours and "I never said
anything; did anything to ', you didn't. It was a combination of me and
... a part of you. The furnace of your power.
