Warlord Metal (8 page)

We touched a little bit on why she likes women instead of men. I thought it was because of her stepdad, but she says it's not. After thinking about it, I'm pretty sure she's right. It's hard to explain, but I think she's always been this way, regardless of her past circumstances.

And I have to admit, I'm even more curious about the logistics of it all now. Maybe I'll check in the library downtown next week...

Prison Sex

Tool

It took so long to remember just what happened.

I was so young and vestal then, you know it hurt me,

but I'm breathing so I guess I'm still alive even if signs seem to tell me otherwise.

I've got my hands bound, my head down , my eyes closed, and my throat wide open.

Do unto others what has been done to you.

Chapter 3

Senior Year

My Ruin

Sevendust

Inside my shadow, I can hear you.

Am I near you?

Inside my shadow, I can smell you.

Can I tell you?

Inside my shadow, I can love you.

Think I need you.

Inside my shadow, I can feel you.

I embrace you.

Am I real?

Am I real?

Save my ruin in dust, my world has turned to rust.

Save my world, oh, my world.

Sonny was curled up in an old armchair at the warehouse. A heavy textbook was cracked open on her lap and a spiral notebook crammed into the side cushion as she concentrated on the print. She would pause occasionally, pulling the pen from behind her ear to jot down a quick note.

Nearby, her brother lounged on what used to be the bench seat of a van, flipping through a magazine. On the makeshift stage, Jordan and Atkins worked on a song. Rehearsal was at a standstill, Hampton having a meeting with someone "in the biz," he had said. His girlfriend, Lisa Foley, was there, seated on the edge of the stage with another woman as they watched the two guitarists work.

The teenager finally finished her chapter and looked up at the stage. The stranger - Number fifty-six, she thought - was nearly drooling as she watched the redheaded woman on stage. Sonny's lip turned up in a sneer. Do any of 'em have any brains? she wondered. Shaking her head and clearing it of the uncharitable thought, she set the book to one side of the chair and stretched out her long legs.

At seventeen, it appeared that the dark girl had finally stopped growing. She was already five foot eight, looking most of her male peers in the eye. She'd walked with a slump last year, trying to seem shorter for a time, until Jordan had made some rude remark about slouching around with a bull's eye on her forehead. From that point on, Sonny had stood tall and towered over the boys. Until they caught up with her this last year, anyway.

"How's it going?" Middlestead asked from his seat.

The teenager grimaced and ran a hand through ebony hair. "Crappy. This chemistry class is gonna be the death of me."

Her brother chuckled. "That's what you said about trigonometry last year and geometry the year before that."

Sonny grinned ruefully. With a little shrug, she said, "Guess I'm just not too logically inclined, huh? Must be the artistic company I keep."

As she stood and stretched, the drummer griped, "You saying we ain't logical?"

"No! Of course not!" the young woman denied, a sparkle in her blue eyes. She took the pen from behind her ear and tossed it onto the chair. "Any clue when Max'll get here?"

"Naw. Said it'd be at least an hour. Maybe more." The man shrugged and went back to his magazine. "Whatever it is, he said it'll be good for the band."

Sonny nodded. She wandered over to the stage and settled down to watch the proceedings.

"No, no," Jordan said over the guitar Atkins was playing. "We wanna start out quiet, just one axe in the beginning. Like this...." She played a simple melody with an odd half note that elicited feelings of strangeness and a vague sense of unease in the listener. Then, the redhead began singing, her sweet voice inconsistent with the lyrics.

"I hurt myself today

to see if I still feel.

I focus on the pain,

the only thing that's real.

The needle tears a hole -

the old familiar sting.

Try to kill it all away,

but I remember everything."

The guitar melody changed to a more conventional tune and Atkins picked it up with his own.

"What have I become,

my sweetest friend?

Everyone I know

goes away in the end."

Jordan stopped playing. "And here's where Tom comes in with heavy drums," she pointed at the piece of paper she'd scribbled the music on.

Atkins nodded. He took up the tune, his throaty voice rough and dark.

"You could have it all -

my empire of dirt.

I will let you down.

I will make you hurt."

"Yeah!" The redhead began the odd strain again and Atkins continued on to the next set of lyrics. The two then worked their way through the next chorus and finished the tune.

"Oh, wow!" the groupie gushed at the woman beside her. "Isn't she great?"

Hampton's girlfriend smiled politely and nodded before turning away just enough to make a face at Sonny.

The teenager stifled a laugh. A peek at Jordan verified an annoyed look on the guitarist's face. Well, Fifty-Six, looks like you're not gonna make it to round two! she thought with smug satisfaction.

The redhead frowned in irritation. I hate it when that happens. Sounds like my mother gushing over Elvis on TV. Another little voice made itself known - Besides, you ain't all that anyway. "Let's take a break," Jordan growled as she turned and settled her guitar in its stand. She stepped off the stage, ignoring the suggestive leer from her band mate. "C'mon," she said to the woman.

The groupie seemed to sense she'd made a mistake. She swallowed nervously, her eyes flickering around to look at the other people. "Sure, okay," she said softly, collecting her jacket and purse.

As the couple headed for the door, Sonny couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy for the woman. And a little bit of guilt for her own thoughts. Lord knows, I wouldn't wanna be where she is now!

Hampton chose that moment to walk in. He passed the women at the door and continued towards the stage, unzipping his coat. Glancing back over his shoulder, he asked, "Where's Jordan going?"

"Takin' out the trash," Atkins snorted as he fiddled with one of the strings on his guitar.

"Lando!" Sonny exclaimed in indignation. She leaned forward and slapped him on his booted shin.

The tall man blinked down at her. "What?"

Hampton's girlfriend, Foley, rose and gave the bearded man a welcome kiss. "She'll be back in a minute."

"Good," he said as Middlestead approached them. "Got some big news for us." He took off his coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

"Any hints?" Sonny asked hopefully.

The shorter man chuckled and rubbed his bald head. "Nope."

"Bummer."

A few moments later found the band looking expectantly at their bassist/manager. Jordan had returned alone to her stool on stage and Middlestead was standing behind his sister's chair, arms crossed.

"Alright, Max. Whaddya got?" the drummer asked.

Hampton clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously, a smile on his square face. "Okay! I don't know if you guys have noticed, but we're getting really popular in the area. We've got people coming from as far away as Seattle to give us a listen."

"Really? That's cool!" Sonny piped up.

Hampton nodded. "And apparently there are bootleg tapes of our shows all up and down the west coast."

"Yer shittin' me!" Atkins exclaimed with a surprised grin.

"Nope." The shorter man stepped over to his coat and rummaged through the pockets. A cassette case appeared in his hand and he tossed it to the guitarist. While Atkins looked it over with Jordan peering over his shoulder, he continued. "There's a lot of interest out there right now. I just left a meeting with three guys who own some clubs in Seattle, Portland and San Jose. Between them and their contacts, we could actually increase our territory with a mini tour."

There was a pause and everyone spoke at once. Hampton let them go for a couple of minutes before raising his hands to quiet the hubbub.

"We could get a guaranteed itinerary of four months from Seattle to San Jose and the surrounding areas. We would make enough money on this venture to top off our savings and be able to record that CD we're always talking about."

"Guaranteed?" Jordan asked.

"Yes. All we have to do is sign an agreement that we will appear on those dates at those venues."

Atkins' face was scrunched in thought. "But what if they cancel on us? Won't we get screwed?"

The bald man shook his head. "The agreement covers our butts, too. It will stipulate that we'll still get paid half the performance fee if they should cancel out on us. Besides, I'll have a lawyer have a look at it before we sign."

"Sounds good to me," the guitarist said, looking around at his band mates.

"When?"

Hampton turned to the drummer. "Our first gig would be scheduled for December first in Seattle."

Middlestead's face deepened into a frown. "No. I can't do it."

"What? Why the hell not?!" Atkins demanded.

The dark man looked down at his sister who had whirled around in amazement at his refusal. "Sonny's got school. It's her senior year. I can't jeopardize her chances at a college scholarship by taking her with us. And I can't leave her at home alone for four months."

"But..." the teenager began.

"No buts, Sonny," Middlestead intoned, shaking his head. "This can wait. Your education comes first." He brought his dark blue gaze up to scan the rest of the crowd. "I can't ask you to wait until summer, so I'll understand if you need to get another drummer. It's cool."

Middlestead then scooped up his jacket and strode out of the warehouse. Everyone stared after him, dumbfounded.

"Well, fuck me," Atkins breathed.

Sonny stared after her brother, feeling his heart break at such a tough decision. This is what he's always wanted, what he's worked on for years! I can't be responsible for this. There's gotta be another way.... She searched her mind and the room for answers, her eyes finally connecting with emerald green. Jordan'll help...

Nov 14, 2000

Well, it's been a couple of days since I've written. Guess I'd better catch up here. I've been so busy and have had so much on my mind...

Warlord has a chance at a tour - guaranteed income for four months! But, Tom has nixed it for himself because of me. I can't have that on my conscience. He's been working on this for nearly as long as I can remember!

So, I skipped school on Monday. Jordan took me downtown. We checked the library for books on home schooling first. Found a really good one called The Teenage Liberation Handbook. I've only been able to scan the first three chapters, but it appears to have tons of educational ideas and resources.

And then Jordan took me to Greenhouse, a youth shelter near Burnside. She knows one of the counselors there. Had a long talk with Gladys (the counselor) and she helped me brainstorm some options.

Today I had a meeting with Mrs. Rutherford, my school counselor. I laid it all out to her and what I wanted to do. She thinks it'd be great for me to do an independent study program. Since I want to get a degree in journalism and all, Mrs. R thinks I could do an extracurricular thing for the school paper. Weekly updates on the road with a rock band kind of thing. She says it'd be nothing for me to get the assignments from my classes and do the work on the road.

About the only trouble spots will be chemistry lab and tests. We could do the tests through college libraries and computers. I might have to wait on the lab work, though. It just all depends on where we are and whether or not I can get permission to use a lab somewhere...

Now, if I can just talk Tom into it. Well, tonight's the night for that. I've asked Jordan to be there and back me up. She could argue Moses out of the Ten Commandments if she wanted!

I hope this works. I have a feeling that Warlord is going to get bigger and bigger now. I don't want Tom to lose his dream because of me.

Hampton stood at the microphone, his bass slung low across his body. But his hands were still, holding the instrument under a hot spotlight. The rest of the stage was dark, but eerie strains of a guitar could be heard.

There were some hoots and heckling from the audience who had paid to see the band that was going on next. For the most part, however, the crowd had been captivated. As Hampton sang the second stanza in a mellow tenor, a few lighters lit up the darkness at his feet.

"I wear this crown of shit

upon my liar's chair,

full of broken thoughts

that I cannot repair.

Beneath the stains of time

the feelings disappear.

You are someone else.

I am still right here."

The guitar melody changed, a second adding its own voice. Hampton began playing his bass and red lighting lit up the stage with somber darkness, showing Atkins and Jordan playing their own instruments nearby.

"What have I become,

my sweetest friend?

Everyone I know

goes away in the end."

And then the drums kicked in, hard and slow, pulsing in an almost erotic beat and leading the way for the rest of the band. The guitars picked up in volume and depth, the bass going along for the ride. Stage lights throbbed with the beat. Hampton's voice gained an edge of strength and pain.