Hodr adjusted his sunglasses and blew his nose noisily.
"I do not know if I wish to go – will he not be surrounded by strange people smashing things? And what about Fafnir? He does not like noise."
"This isn’t noise, and I’m sure we can make arrangements for Fafnir - but I know what you mean," admitted Green. "It makes me nervous too. After all, Orpheus is The World’s Biggest Rock Star - officially. It’s a bit like meeting Michael Hutchence crossed with Jesus Christ. Will he even, like, deign to talk to us? Ruby says he’s nice though."
"Ruby" said Baldur dryly, "is not known for her good judgement of people."
Green cast him a sharp look. Could he, possibly, be jealous of Orpheus?
"She saved me from tearing my own boyfriend apart and eating him alive. I’d say that shows pretty good judgement."
Baldur shrugged and flipped the page of the book he was reading - the second volume of the Lord of the Rings. Green had given it to him to read, and so far the only thing he’d said was "Why did they not fly to Mount Doom?’.
"True. But to fall for Demetrios’ lies in the first place – perhaps not so wise."
"Not everyone’s all-knowing like you and your god friends."
He grimaced and put the book down.
"I think we have dismissed that fallacy, my little beast. None of us is all knowing. And Ruby has been a good friend to you. So we are going to this concert, all of us – yes, Hodr you too, you cannot escape. When?"
She looked again at the tickets.
"In two weeks. Saturday night. It’ll be huge. I’ve never been to anything this big before – and never as the guest of the band - well, the lead singer’s girlfriend, anyway."
Actually, she felt a mixture of excitement and dread. She’d never been to a big concert at all before – she preferred modern classical, if anything – but she’d listened to Orpheus on the radio - who hadn’t - and downloaded his latest album, Mind over Matter – and she had to admit the music grabbed you in a way that even Beethoven at his best didn’t.
His guitar playing was unnatural - even the pros said they’d never seen anything like it. The voice combined the deep visceral appeal of Jim Morrison and the gymnastic range of the Buckleys at their best. And he was incredibly hot, in a dangerous, grungy, rockstar way - those muscled abs, that black hair cascading over the Tarzan-like shoulders, those smouldering, dark blue eyes. She could see why women went crazy, and even Time was saying he was the greatest musician since Jimmy Hendrix overdosed.
More importantly - he was their one chance of survival. If he didn’t turn the tide - none of them would see the New Year. Just - Green did a quick mental calculation, as she did each and every day - 36 weeks from now, they would all die. That put just a little pressure on each performance - not that Orpheus knew it.
Ruby met them at New York's JFK airport in a cloud of musky perfume and excited squeaks.
"Green! It's been way too long! Oh my god you look so...Scandinavian. Is that a real fur coat? No of course it's not...anyway, I’m so excited to meet you all! And this is Baldur? I’ve heard so much about you. Wow, you’re really something!"
Baldur extended his hand in a courtly gesture.
"The pleasure is all mine."
Ruby beamed appreciatively. As usual, she outshone them all with her red leather mini-dress, black satin boots up to the thigh, and platinum hair. Huge amethyst earrings hung from her ears and an amethyst stud sat in each nostril. Green hated to think what happened when she blew her nose.
"Wow," she said admiringly, "You look like - a real rock goddess!"
"And you," Ruby paused to take in Green’s attire "look like a hippy, as usual. But happy - you look happy, babe.”
“I am. We are. Anyway - this is Baldur’s brother, Hodr,” introduced Green. Hodr grinned bearishly behind his sunglasses. “Hodr, meet Ruby. Ruby, meet Hodr - and Fafnir.”
"Oh, he's so beautiful!" Ruby crouched down and received a lick on the face from Fafnir, overjoyed to be out of his cage. She looked up at the two men with the appreciation of a connoisseur. Baldur was a knockout, obviously. And Hodr - he was as unlike Baldur as it was possible to be, stocky, huge and hirsute - but he had an aura of solid strength that was undeniably attractive.
"I've got a limousine waiting outside and we'll go straight to the venue - Orpheus has got a suite," she explained. "We can have a drink before the show."
"What's it like being the girlfriend of the world's biggest rock star?" asked Green curiously.
"Well...we don't have to worry about money," admitted Ruby cheerfully, skipping ahead of them through the concourse. "And Orph isn't really into groupies, so I don't have to worry about that either. It's always been the music for him. But, you know, every time we go out anywhere there's some photographer waiting to take a snap...and touring is pretty hard on everyone. He kinda gets...pretty weary. Me, I'm just along for the ride."
Green glanced at her. Judging by the creases under Ruby's eyes, Orpheus wasn't the only one getting weary. Maybe she should have told her the deal, despite the three goddesses having absolutely vetoed any such thing. But surely Ruby deserved to know what was behind Orpheus' sudden success...
When they arrived at Madison Square Gardens the entire precinct was a hive of activity. People were already streaming into the building, though the show didn't start for two hours yet.
"We get to go into the VIP entrance," Ruby explained like a star to the manner born, and led them confidently past the waiting hordes and through the building to a private lift. "That's the good bit about being the singer's floozy."
She flashed her card at a tall black security officer, who glanced behind her and did a double take. "Excuse me, sir, but have I seen you in the movies?"
"No, I am afraid not," said Baldur, to whom this question was directed. "Sorry."
"Well you damn well oughta be, sir," said the security guard, waving them into the lift.
"Just think, we’re riding the same elevator as Elton John!" Green whispered, awestruck. She’d never imagined knowing Rube would ever lead to perks like this. If the world had to end in thirty-six weeks - well, at least she would have experienced star treatment only the fantastically rich and famous were normally entitled to.
"I’m not sure it quite makes up for it," Baldur remarked, straight faced.
“How do you still manage to guess what I’m thinking? You’re not supposed to have powers anymore,” she said in mild irritation.
“I know you,” he said, with a sidelong smile.
Once in the suite, Green, Baldur and Hodr changed into their concert best. Green had spent more than she liked to think about on a gold silk top and black jeans, Baldur was eye-catching in levis and a white cotton shirt, and Hodr, for some reason, chose to slip on a leather jerkin and hiking pants. He had the weirdest fashion sense of anyone Green had ever met.
Ruby poured drinks from the mini bar for everyone while Green admired the luxurious décor. The soulless modernism was enlivened by large posters of celebrities who’d played at the Gardens in the past: Mohammed Ali posing in boxers and gloves; Madonna in the iconic cone bra: Celine Dion.
“Guess Orpheus’ll be up on all the walls soon, if he isn’t already. So where is he?”
“Oh, he’s backstage, drinking off the nerves,” Ruby explained offhandedly. “He always gets really weird and shitty before a show and takes it out on everyone. That’s why I’m out here with you. You’d think it was his first one instead of his hundredth. But he’ll be like a lamb on tranquillisers after."
Green caught a bitter note, but Ruby’s smile was a blur of charm.
"What’s he like?" The closest she’d ever got to a rock star before was a poster of Eminem on her bedroom wall when she was fourteen - and even that was Ruby’s idea, because she thought Green needed to get with it a bit more.
"He’s..." Ruby paused for thought, "He’s really, really talented. And just a kid. You’ll get what I mean when you see him. The music’s everything to him, he�
�s not up himself like most big artists - but it’s funny...it’s like he doesn’t really know how he got where he is. It’s endearing," she ended. "You’ll like him, count on it."
"I’m sure I will."
"Does he have the groupies?" asked Hodr, who had been doing some research on rock music. Green kicked his ankle, but Ruby just laughed.
"Sure, hundreds of ‘em. But Orph isn’t really that into women. I mean, he’s into women - he’s not gay - but he’s not like your common or garden rock star who fucks three different girls every night - if he was, there’s no way I’d still be here. He’s, like, driven. His music is what really matters to him. Even I come second after that."
They chatted idly until it was time to find their seats. Although Ruby bounced and sparkled, Green got a feeling she wasn’t entirely happy. Maybe Orpheus was playing around despite her denials: it’d take more willpower than most guys had to resist the girls who were probably throwing themselves at him 24/7. Or maybe the lifestyle was getting to her – whatever it was, Ruby seemed…brittle.
Once ensconced in their premium seating, they gazed around the huge space. People were pouring in now, filling up the endless rows of seats, the stairways, the galleries: many of them wore tee shirts with Orpheus’ face emblazoned in arthouse black and white and one of a number of cryptic slogans: ‘Make Sense’, ‘Just Chill’ and ‘Fuck More, Fight Less’. They didn’t make an awful lot of sense, but then, they didn’t need to. Green wondered who’d come up with them – Orpheus’ publicity team, or one of his divine backers.
Unbelievably, the entire vast space was filled almost to the rafters in less than half an hour. Baldur grinned at Ruby and gestured back over the crowd.
"Orpheus," he said, sounding impressed, "seems to be bigger than Jesus."
Hodr, who couldn’t see a thing but could sense the enormity of the venue, kept a tight grip on Green’s arm. She pried his fingers off - he was stronger than he realised, and a nervous Hodr was a painful Hodr. He mumbled an apology into his beard and clasped his hands in his lap.
"This show…when does it begin?"
"When the lights go down," explained Green. "They usually have a support band on first, but not for Orpheus, he’s too big."
"It is late," said Hodr fretfully, after another half an hour. "We have been sitting here for quite some time and nothing is happening."
"Really big acts always come on late, apparently." Green felt like the blind leading the blind - after all, she’d never been to see any musician at all, bar the Sydney Chamber Orchestra.
"I don’t think he should keep his audience waiting," said Hodr primly. Green noticed he was sweating profusely. Hodr obviously didn’t feel comfortable in big crowds. She wished she’d told him to take something cool to wear - a leather jerkin was going to be way too hot with all these people, and if there was dancing...Hodr wouldn’t dance. Would he? Would either of them? She looked to either side speculatively, and Baldur shot her a quick, dazzling smile.
"I dance divinely."
She laughed, and the lights dimmed, and a swirling kaleidoscope of green, blue and violet washed the giant screen behind the stage. The crowd swayed and called out ‘Orph-e-us! Orph-e-us!’, the mood at fever pitch.
"It’s the lights!" Green exclaimed in a loud whisper, grabbing Baldur’s arm. "The Northern Lights!"
He smiled and clasped her hand, his eyes fixed - like every one of the ten thousand present - on the stage. There was a roar as the band members walked on - skinny little Stevie in her black singlet top and skinny jeans, Robbie with his big bass, and a trio of black backing singers. They took their places beside their instruments. And then, the crowd erupted in joyous applause.
A slim black clad figure, long hair crowned by a wide-brimmed hat, ambled on to centre stage, took up his guitar, and without any preamble struck the opening chord to Break the Chains, the current single that had been topping the charts for the last year. Teenage girls screamed out his name, wild with adulation: those at the front jumped up and down, arms in the air - and then the music began, and an absolute hush fell over the stadium. It was uncanny.
"Is this normal at rock concerts?" Green whispered to Ruby.
"Nope," she whispered back. "People usually hoot and sing along and take videos on their phones. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s like they’re hypnotised."
Green tore her eyes away from the lone figure on the stage and scanned the crowd. A couple of well-known models were sitting next to them in the VIP section - she recognised their haughty, high-boned faces and greyhound figures. One was staring at the stage as if she was listening to Jesus on the mount, and the other was swaying gently, her eyes closed in what looked like pre-orgasmic bliss. Even Ruby - who must have turned up to just about all of Orpheus’ gigs and had undoubtedly heard it all before - was almost catatonic.
Green closed her eyes and listened, shutting her surroundings out - and suddenly she understood why everyone was so silent and rapt. Through the guitar, through Orpheus’ magnificent voice, she felt the music cutting right through to her soul. It was more than just music, more than just rock. There was something primal about it, something transformative. You didn’t just listen – you changed.
As one song followed another, the crowd breaking out in rapt applause, she found herself picturing the world as it could be. More understanding, less judgement. More tolerance, less zealotry. More hope, less faith. A world where humans treated the natural world with respect, not greed, and where they approached the future not with dread but with reasoned optimism, as real as a handful of soil.
Not that all this was in the words - it was in the music itself, felt rather than heard. Every single person around her clearly had the same feeling: even the models were beaming, and behind his dark glasses, Hodr seemed completely immersed. Green glanced at Baldur to see if he, too, had fallen under the spell, and he leant towards her, whispering in her ear.
“Can you hear the lyre?"
She saw a guitar, a double bass, drums, a second guitar - but no lyre. She shook her head, confused.
"Listen."
She focused on the instruments, one at a time. There was no lyre - wait a minute, yes, there was a lyre, its melancholy, sinuous ripples lying under all the rest, like an underground river.
"Where does the sound come from? I don’t see it."
"It is my father Apollo’s instrument. My mother has given it to Orpheus, and it is this that he plays, but he does not know it."
She squinted at Orpheus.
"How can that be? He’s playing a guitar."
"So he believes, because he is only human.”
She digested this for a moment. “Why?”
“The lyre gives him the power to move people beyond themselves, as you see. But she should not have given him this - it is too much for a mortal man to bear, too strong. He will not be able to endure it."
She looked at Orpheus in a different way. He was a star, yes, adored by millions - but he was also so very alone out there, a small dark figure, clutching his guitar – the lyre of Apollo - riding the whirlwind. She glanced at Ruby. No wonder she was uneasy: no wonder they were both weary.
The opening set ended and the crowd surged, stamping, clapping and whooping. Orpheus lifted his hand in brief acknowledgement and disappeared, while Ruby went to the bar to fetch more drinks.
“Do you think he knows?”
“Perhaps, on some level.”
“I’m worried about them both. Especially because – well, if this lyre thing is too strong, then, you know, maybe you should ask your mum to borrow it back…”
"I think it may be too late," said Baldur, “He is already on the crest of the wave, and must ride it to the shore. But the music - the music is wonderful, truly."
She looked up at him, and saw that he wept. She reached up a finger to brush his cheek.
"I am reminded of my father," he said, simply. “So he’d lost someone - like she had - and it grieved him. He looked so simply huma
n that it made her heart ache.
As Orpheus launched into his second set, she let herself be swept away on the current, swaying mesmerised like all the rest. At last, after three encores, Orpheus walked off stage for the last time, the lights went up and the roadies came out to collect the equipment. People drifted from their seats, still under the influence, not seeming to mind the long wait to get outside and then home. The mood was quietly joyful.
Hodr abruptly woke and gave a loud snort.
"Is that it?"
Ruby grinned up at him. "Don’t tell me you’ve been asleep this whole time?"
Hodr looked embarrassed.
"I do not have the ear for music," he explained sheepishly.
"What now?" asked Green, eyeing the slow cavalcade up the aisle stairs to the exits.
"Now you get to meet my man." Ruby grabbed her arm and hustled her down in the opposite direction. They slipped into the private elevator, but instead of going to the suite Ruby had hired for them, they got off on the top floor and slipped into a private bar, thickly carpeted and ornately decorated with mirrors and retro art.
Ruby hurried in, her face alight with puppy-like eagerness.
"Don’t be nervous, will you - he doesn’t bite."
She looked around the empty room as if Orpheus could be hiding under a stool or in a corner somewhere.
"Oh," she said, her face falling, "he’s not here."
Chapter 22
"Did he say he was going to be here?" Green asked, looking about her in awestruck envy. So this is where celebrities got to relax after the show. She could have murdered a beer.
"Well, yeah - I told him you were coming to the show, and he was really looking forward to meeting you - so I don’t understand where he's got to. Never mind," she said, turning around with a disappointed shrug, "maybe he’s held up or something."
"I know where to find him." Little Stevie swaggered in, still dripping with sweat. Ruby made belated introductions.
"You do?" Ruby looked at Stevie doubtfully. "New York’s a big place. He could be anywhere, the sneaky bastard."
The Wildcard Page 11
