Hell's Music

by Therese von Willegen

  They spent most of their time lazing about in the master bedroom on a four-poster bed so large she was sure it would have to be dismantled to be removed from the apartment.

  Sprawled tangled in the covers, there was comfort in simply existing in the afterglow, which made Emily’s eyes droop, though she knew she wouldn’t sleep any time soon.

  “Simon?”

  “Hey?”

  “I’d still like to see some of your music videos on a big screen with decent sound.”

  “I want to leave what I do for a living out of our relationship. Gothic metal probably isn’t your thing in any case, and I have major squick-factor every time I see myself onscreen.”

  He had a point, but Emily couldn’t help needling him just that little bit. “Maybe you can ask your record company for some promo stuff, so I can give it to my sister. She’ll really appreciate it.” Emily schooled her expression to appear as mischievous as possible.

  This thought seemed to unsettle Simon, because the muscles in his arms tensed for a brief moment, the faintest frown appearing on his brow as he narrowed his eyes. “You’re evil. You’re holding me to ransom using Raeven as a threat.”

  “It’s Rae. Get it right.” Emily stuck out her tongue. “Just like I bet Van Helsdingen isn’t your real surname.”

  “Actually, it is.” Simon gave a low laugh. “Good, old-fashioned Dutch surname splintered off the Baron van Rheede van Oudtshoorn family.”

  “So your name is actually Simon.” Emily pronounced his name the way an Afrikaans person would, the “i” more an “ee” sound and was gratified to see him shudder.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Teased at school, were we?” She giggled.

  It was clear this line of conversation annoyed him somewhat, so Emily distracted him with a deep kiss. This led to a whole manner of other possibilities when she reached under the covers to grab his cock. There was no doubt in her mind they’d be up until some ungodly hour of the night, but at this point she didn’t care. All that mattered was the magic their being together brought.

  * * * *

  Rae knew something was wrong when Davy did not return her calls the entire Thursday. By the time she resolved to do something about her sense of impending doom, it was already dark outside. Although she didn’t want to spend her ill-gained earnings on the luxury of a metered taxi, she called for a cab, anyway. Thirty bucks for the drive would be money well spent just to make sure Davy was all right.

  Of course she had no way of knowing whether he’d be home, but some prickling sixth sense warned her. It didn’t help that Emily had barely been home for most of the week. This only added to her worries. Their schedules varied so much they often missed each other, Rae usually asleep during the brief interval Emily returned to do laundry and water the plants.

  Since when had she, the youngest irresponsible Clark sister, become the one to fret over people? She wanted to write a bitchy note and stick it on the fridge, but that would make her too much like their mother.

  The taxi hooted outside at a quarter to nine and Rae grabbed her sling bag then tried one last time to call Davy, but his phone still went to voicemail. In her rush, she stepped badly on one of the loose slate tiles on the way down to the gate and twisted her ankle so hard that she limped the rest of the way to the waiting car.

  “You okay, miss?” the driver asked.

  Rae bit back a curse and nodded at the old guy before she collapsed into the backseat and gave him the address. She didn’t like the way he kept looking at her in the rearview mirror, so she decided to ignore him. The vinyl was tacky when her skin made contact with the surface and Rae tried not to let the disgust show.

  At this rate it would have been better for her health if she’d trekked across the city by foot, and she prayed no strange bacteria lurked in the seat’s creases. The meter flashed, red numerals tallying the amount. It was with a growing sense of dismay that Rae watched the amount accumulate. When they reached the Gardens Center, she’d had enough and told the driver to stop then she paid him the thirty-six rand she owed.

  “You sure you want to walk, honey?” the man asked.

  Rae slammed the backdoor hard. “Definitely. And I’m not your honey.”

  It gave her a grim satisfaction when the taxi-man took off with a squeal of burning rubber and left her alone to walk up Buitenkant Street. Not the brightest of ideas, she knew, but she was too on edge, too fidgety, just about everything annoying her, or having her half jump out of her skin.

  The wind howled this far up the eastern precinct of the city, adding to Rae’s misery. On top of this, she itched. It could just be her sweat, but she worried about the taxi ride nonetheless. What sort of bugs could one pick up from public transport? Friends of her had gotten bedbugs after watching a film at a cinema in Kraaifontein.

  And where the fuck was her sister? She didn’t have Simon’s number, so couldn’t even call Emily in case of an emergency. There was that train of thought again. She behaved along the same lines as a concerned parent.

  It was clear something was wrong when Rae emerged from the gap in the hedge. Glass shards glinted on the brickwork in front of Davy’s door. Broken glass? What the fuck? Rae swallowed back a sudden tightness in her throat and stepped the whole way through the plumbago, wincing when her boots crunched the brittle pieces beneath their soles.

  “Davy?”

  No answer came.

  Rae looked about and listened hard, but when she picked out nothing other than a dog barking a few blocks up, she approached the entrance. The door was wide open, many of the small rectangular panes shattered and the lock hanging loose, as if someone had kicked his way into Davy’s cottage.

  “Davy?” she called, a bit softer this time.

  A low moan issued from inside the unlit interior, followed by a muffled “Go away.”

  “What the fuck is going on here?” She flipped the switch to reveal an even greater mess to the interior than usual. The couch had been overturned and someone had taken a knife to it, the stuffing had burst out in great puffs of white cotton fiber. Everything that could have been broken had been. Cupboard doors hung off hinges and light fittings had been pulverized.

  Rae shoved aside her fear and stepped over the debris and headed straight to Davy’s bedroom, which had suffered similar carnage to the lounge and kitchen. Her friend sprawled in a tangle of bedding and yelped when she switched on the light.

  At first she couldn’t register what had happened to him, but then she took in the bruises and the ugly gash across his forehead, and the way his clothes were covered in blood. Slashes on his forearms suggested he’d tried to defend himself from knife-wielding assailants.

  “What the hell? Davy?” Rae rushed to his side, but he turned to face the wall.

  “Go away, Rae. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

  “Who did this? Have you called the cops?”

  This last statement of hers had him sitting up, a deep groan escaping his lips. He stared, his eyes so bruised they were almost swollen shut. “Do I look like someone who has the luxury of going to the cops?”

  Rae let out a hiss of breath. “Okay, fair enough. What happened?”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “It’s quite obvious you’ve seen the raw end of some sort of disagreement.”

  “Well, duh.”

  “And so?”

  “Someone’s ratted to the man that I’ve been selling. He sent some of his tjommies to suggest I stop muscling in on his business.”

  “Did you–”

  “No. I took the rap for you, Rae. Like I always do when shit goes down.” Davy sank to the bed again and pulled the covers over his head. “Now go away and leave me alone.”

  Genuine concern for Davy’s health warred with Rae’s need to storm out and she hesitated before she knelt next to him. “Davy, you need medical attention. At least let me look at–”

  A swat aimed at her hand clipped her cheek instead, and Rae fel
l back, fingers lifted to her face to feel the stinging skin. “I’m just trying to help!”

  “You’ve helped enough. I should have listened to my gut instinct that told me you’re just a little cock-tease who leads guys on when she thinks they have something to offer her. I’m tired of it. This was the last straw.”

  “I didn’t mean–”

  Davy sat up, his features distorted by anger. “That’s just it. You never mean anything. When it suits you, you’re here, hanging out. ‘Davy, can I bum a few stops of ganja off you?’ or ‘Davy, can I crash at your pad tonight?’ and God forbid me even showing that I have feelings for you ‘cause then you brush me off like I’m some dumb fuck who doesn’t have a dick.

  “Next week you’ll be sucking up to Jamie or one of his friends, or telling me all about this guy you met when you hung out with these other people while I was somewhere else. And it hurts! Fuck, I’m so tired of it because when it suits you, I’m not cool enough. I’m not invited.”

  “So the other day wasn’t good enough for you?” Rae asked, unable to keep the acid out of her voice. They hadn’t gone all the way, but she’d hoped her interest had been obvious enough.

  “One random kiss and a bit of fooling around?” He glared at her, but the effect was rendered somewhat comical due to his bruised eyes. “So you think a bit of getting hot and horny’s gonna make it all better?”

  “Jesus, Davy, I don’t know what to do.”

  They stared at each other for a long while until Rae looked away first, unable to maintain eye contact. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been a total jerk-off. But I am worried about you.”

  “Yeah, well, it can’t be helped, can it?”

  “We need to get you to hospital.”

  “They’ll get the cops involved.”

  Rae sucked in a deep gulp of air. “At least come back with me to my sister’s. I don’t think she’ll be back tonight. She’s got a first aid kit in the bathroom that’s got plasters and stuff. I’m sure you could use some painkillers. Tomorrow I’ll help you sort out this mess.” Rae gestured vaguely about her.

  Davy sniffed, and for a moment Rae thought he’d rebuff her, but he stood, groaning as he did so, and she helped him get to his feet, glad he didn’t push her away.

  “I just need to get some stuff together, okay?”

  “What about the–”

  “The weed? They took whatever I had left. I’ll have to suck up big time to get more.”

  “Oh.”

  “Was that why you came here tonight, to get more?”

  “I tried to call you. You weren’t answering, so I got worried, okay? I do care.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  Rae sighed. “Just give me a chance to make it up to you. I’m not good with this whole relationship thing.”

  Davy snorted. “Evidently.”

  * * * *

  Emily woke before Simon and had snoozed as long as possible before it was absolutely necessary to get up. It was Friday, a week before Christmas, and she needed to be in her shop early, but still had to stop at home for a fresh change of clothes. Next to her, Simon had slept like the dead, and she’d eventually resorted to tipping a glass of iced water from the fridge to rouse him. This, she had to admit, had delivered a far more entertaining response than she’d expected.

  Now, just before seven, they’d parked outside her house in Tamboerskloof, that last awful moment before they’d have to separate for the day. Although Simon wore his sunglasses she still sensed he carried fresh tension, judging by the slight crease on his forehead and the stiffness of his shoulders.

  “You’re not mad about me because of the water?” she asked.

  He offered a brief shake of his head, a quick squeeze of her knee. “No.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “You know that phone call I took last night?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That was Paul Morris, my manager. They’ve arranged for Hellbound Heart to tour. A brief one now that I’ve supposedly sorted out a lot of the shit I had to.” He gave a dry chuckle. “And boy, he had to jump through some hoops.” By unspoken agreement, they didn’t talk about the NA meetings he was required to attend–the meetings he’d more often than not skipped, so he could spend time with her.

  “How brief?”

  “Six weeks.”

  Something lurched in Emily’s belly. “Six weeks?” Her voice raised in pitch on the last word. “When?”

  “We leave next week and still need to pack in a week of rehearsals before we hit the road. We’ll be back soon enough, in good time for the metal festival at the Kirstenbosch gardens when we do the official Dead Voices reunion.”

  A whistle of air escaped Emily’s lips and she looked away, her vision blurring. “Six weeks is a long time,” she said in a small voice and closed her eyes.

  Fingers turned her face toward him and warm lips brushed hers. “It will be over quickly. Look at me, Em. I’m inordinately fond of you and I want you in my life. You’re a breath of fresh air and probably one of the only reasons I’m staying sober at the moment. Unfortunately, going on tour is par for the course, and I do sort of have a career to resuscitate. I would love to take you with... But...”

  Emily looked into his eyes, so close to hers she could count the tiny crow’s feet wrinkling their corners. “I’m sorry, Si. I didn’t... And I’d be lying if I didn’t say it bugged the living hell out of me that you were going.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. It’s just that my career is in a very precarious situation with all the–”

  “The drama, ja.” Emily wiped at her left eye, careful not to smudge the liner. “Where are you going this time?”

  “Northern Europe, Germany...a tour of small club venues, which will be a bit of departure from the usual. We’re playing with a couple of biggish names, meeting up with some of the guys from Danzig who’re doing a side project, if things go according to plan.”

  “Ah, okay.” She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all, but clamped her lips shut. Besides, she knew when she’d discovered the whole story behind Simon it would never be like any ordinary relationship she’d had, if those could have been termed normal from the get-go. “I’m going to miss you horribly.” Emily wanted to ask about the shit that went down behind the scenes: the after parties, backstage, drugs, groupies…

  “Sweet woman, if you carry on biting your lip like that you’re going to bite it clean off.”

  A small, strangled laugh escaped Emily’s throat. “Okay. Sjoe. It’s just that I thought we’d have the festive season together.”

  “Can’t be helped. A man’s gotta eat.” He shrugged. “Just means we’ll have to make this week coming count for the time we’ll be apart.” Simon squeezed her thigh and sneaked his fingers toward her crotch.

  Emily laughed and batted his hand away. “Okay, okay, but if we get over-involved right now, I’ll never get to work.”

  “Then shut the fuck up and let me kiss you.”

  Before she could protest, he pulled her close, his lips coming down on hers with bruising force. It was his fingers playing with a nipple through the satin of her dress that all but undid her, and Emily had to squeeze her legs together to stop squirming in her seat.

  “You want me, don’t you, you little slut?” he whispered.

  “What do you think?” She smiled at him, almost tempted to invite him in.

  The cellphone chose that exact moment to ring and Simon groaned. “Okay, I guess that pretty much says it all. You take care.” His last kiss was a quick peck on the cheek.

  It was horrible watching him drive away, and Emily stood at the gate until the sound of the Alfa’s engine merged with the early morning rumble. Like it or not, she had to spend some time at home lest her potted plants turned crispy, not to mention the laundry develop its own political system. She prayed Rae hadn’t turned the house upside down overnight. The young woman had been reasonably good about not leaving dirty dish
es moldering all over the place, but things were apt to go pear-shaped with no warning. One never knew when Rae was around. She guessed the same could be said for her with her own comings and goings at odd hours.

  The front door swung open the moment the gate clicked shut behind Emily, and she hardly had an opportunity to start up the stairs when her sister appeared on the landing, hands on hips accompanied by a thoroughly disgusted expression.

  Emily paused, hand clenched on the railing. “What?”

  “You’d swear our roles have reversed, sis.”

  “I’m twenty-six. Good god, I don’t have to check with anyone beforehand.” She climbed the rest of the steps and brushed past Rae, who stomped in after her.

  “I never see you anymore.”

  “It didn’t bother you so much when you were still living with Ma.” After she dropped her bag on the dining room table, Emily headed toward the kitchen to make herself tea.

  “But you’re just gone all the time.” Rae snapped her finger for emphasis.

  Emily rounded on her sister. “Why’s this bothering you now? You come and go as you please. By all rights, I should have stuffed you in a taxi the morning you showed your face on my doorstep and had you driven back home to Ma.”

  Her sister’s eyes bulged and she opened her mouth as though she’d say something. Instead she turned around and stalked down the passage, leaving Emily horrified at her harsh words. Could she not do anything right? Must she always end up fighting with her sister? As she reviewed the conversation, she realized she sounded horribly like their mother, and if anyone behaved like a teenager, Emily was doing a damn fine job of it as well without any help.

  * * * *

  Rae slammed the bedroom door hard for emphasis, but regretted her behavior when Davy stirred, half sitting up.

  Emily must not find out about Davy being here, and Rae placed a finger in front of her lips, mouthing sister. He nodded and fell back into the bedding. The door locked behind her, Rae crept into the bed and pressed herself against Davy, hoping to hide her tears by burying her face in his neck.

  But being close to another person–one she knew cared about her–made her random tears turn into constricted sobs that shook her body. Davy placing a comforting hand on her shoulder didn’t help one bit.