“The young men are surprisingly attractive for such a raw lot. I just saw one with no top on, just a couple of leather straps, and when I spot him again I want to get a closer look at those tattoos.”
“Oh, he won’t mind, he’s very proud of them. He’s a lot sweeter than he looks, check out the tattoos on his head. That’s Ron, good friend of mine.”
“Do you know all these people?”
“Yes, I write about them in my weekly column sometimes. If you’re thinking hunky, check out the band, it’s The Red Hot Chili Peppers, they’re just wonderful. I’d take you backstage, but here that’s a skuzzy little room jam packed with friends and fans, and they’ll be coming out any minute. In fact, here they come, look at the cheeky one with tin cups on his shoulders. Everything’s original with this crowd. That’s Flea,” she grinned.
The noise drowned out the sound but Madeleine’s astonished face registered her mouth saying “Flea??”
While the crowd surged forward and concentrated their heat on the band, Ann flicked her eyes everywhere, looking for a face, knowing that Madeleine’s attention wasn’t on her. In spite of the huge turnout for a popular local band, there was someone missing, and Ann wondered why.
The band was so strong, confident and unconditionally adored by the crowd that their set was a nonstop blast of enthusiastic joy all round. The time passed in a short whirl, with excitement and approval written on every face. Here and there people were dancing, alone or together, some were walking around in the back, it seemed like there was a Corona and lime in every hand. It resonated as the best place to be in town and Ann was happy to see how much Madeleine and Craig were reacting to the scene, loving it all.
When it was over they drifted to the backstage room, only because Madeleine insisted on meeting them, it was a riot in there and they didn’t stay long in the crush. Madeleine got what she wanted, including acknowledgement from the band, who knew enough about their rock and roll history to see this was Pete Stebbings’ legendary girlfriend, checking her out with leery boyish smiles.
When they arrived at the car, Ann could see that Madeleine’s face was flushed with excitement, and Craig was still tingling like a dowser.
“Hey, what do we do now? I’m not ready for sleep,” said Madeleine. “There’s still time for a drink somewhere. Anywhere fun we can go?”
“Fun. Let me think. Well, there are a few bars and clubs, but not much different from this one, and we’d have to face the parking hazard all over again. I’ve got an idea though. There’s a funny guy I’ve been working with, well sort of working with and sort of funny. You’d have to see for yourself. He has a brilliant mind, bursting with provocative research, quite nuts but very amusing, he conducts a nightly pot party for the hip. I don’t know why he wasn’t there tonight, he usually is. I’d be interested in your take on him actually. It’s sixties acid survivor in a young punk ghetto. Quite a standup comedy act when he’s in good form. And I’m writing a story on him for the paper. Which he doesn’t know about yet.”
“Is he a lover?”
“No. There was one time but I had to apply instant amnesia to the situation. He swept me up and it was obviously a big mistake because afterwards I got hit in the face with a huge emotional wall. I didn’t want to give him up, and I’ve learned that in this jungle if you find someone delightful and they adore you back you don’t let sexual confusion interfere with it. I’ve never spent a boring moment in his presence, but his antics are manic driven and sometimes he loses it. Recently he got so impossible to deal with I’ve been ignoring him. He’ll put out the welcome mat. Let me make a call and see what kind of scene he’s got going on.”
“Scene? Hey, are you trying to scare me or invite me?”
“Madeleine, dear, you’ve always made it sound like the same thing. No, nothing antisocial, it’s just that when he gets depressed he’s no fun at all. I can tell the minute I hear his voice. So let me make the call.”
CHAPTER 6
Griffin’s Place – Fairfax District
There were four other people in Griffin’s dark domain when they arrived. The atmosphere was light party, lots of stupid big grins from the two men whom Ann knew from other visits, one a lawyer turned poet, the other an up and coming comedy writer; they got a strained smile from a pretty teenage punk girl who probably looked her best when scowling, and an unfriendly greeting from a tense glamorous middle aged woman Ann had never seen before but knew to be Griffin’s ex-wife Juno. They’d obviously been smoking a joint or several and had some snorts because there was a definite buzz on.
Ann knew it was worth a visit, just by the way Griffin had answered the phone, in mid-sentence, flying high and saying the first thing he thought of as a greeting. She could imagine the sly look he’d thrown at his audience as he told her to come right over. New visitors to spice up the scene. Griffin was the ringmaster of his little circus. Ann knew there would be more characters dropping in once the clubs closed, and so did he.
When they walked in Ann introduced Madeleine and Craig by their first names, but Griffin didn’t pay attention to the details, he was too much in the moment, continuing to entertain his personal crowd, who rearranged themselves and their chairs under Griffin’s direction so the new arrivals could have front row seats. They still had to listen hard to catch the surfer wave Griffin was rolling in on. Ann enjoyed the process and glanced at Madeleine to see that she was peering at him with interest, clearly finding his intelligence level and quick dance with vocabulary worth her attention.
Juno left noisily while everyone was shifting positions and there was no encouragement from Griffin for her to stay or to make much of her departure, just a grazing of cheeks on the way out.
Craig had placed himself as close to the punk girl as he could, but after a few whispered exchanges, glared on by Griffin, they had settled for watching him until the heat was off. Everyone was drinking just water, except Griffin, who sipped from a colored glass, concealing the syrupy intoxicant in there. He occasionally invited people to try some, in a manner indicating that to decline his expensive liquor would be appreciated by the host.
Madeleine had discreetly turned down the shade of a nearby lamp in order to seek the shadows but Griffin pinned down her gaze as he displayed his erudite knowledge and whizz-bang repartee, obviously intrigued by her and not allowing anyone else to share her orbit with him. He was doing everything in his bag of tricks to focus her attention on him, so it seemed like a corny gaffe when he nodded wisely, staring at her through narrowed eyes, and uttered.
“You remind me so much of a beautiful woman I once knew.”
Madeleine wasn’t helpful. Just waited for more of the same.
“You have a similar… look. I met her in Europe. You’ve been in Paris?”
“Of course.”
“It’s so long. You could really be her.”
“Who?”
“Madeleine Raleigh, it’s your eyes…”
Madeleine broke her mood and laughed merrily.
“Well that is funny, darling, because I am Madeleine Raleigh.”
Ann just happened to catch the unguarded moment on Griffin’s usually controlled features. Like he’d seen a ghost. Imperceptibly, shock and horror ran across his face like a flash of lightning, then he immediately recovered his cool in time for Madeleine’s amused scrutiny.
“I don’t remember meeting you in Paris,” she said.
“It wasn’t Paris.”
“Where then?”
“Follow me.”
When the music stopped, other conversations opened up, with Ann listening to the writer, so she missed Griffin’s move, until spotting him in the dusk, guiding Madeleine to a far area of his one room apartment, showing her something on the wall while whispering intimately.
Madeleine was getting a memory from a sweet early place in her past. It came on like a cinematic flashback as Griffin flicked on a cigarette lighter and waved the flame briefly to give her a better look at the framed photograph.<
br />
It was quite a portrait. They were all sitting in a big tree, showing off for the camera. London’s main swingers, vintage 1967, which at the shutter’s click was still a very good year, but not for much longer. Caught them in the rapture of their first real acid experience. She remembered with sharp detail how very deeply happy she felt being with the friends she loved most and seeing fresh flowers after being in the London winter so long. In her memory a close-up of buttercups and vivid green abundant grass flashed the first hint of psychedelic in their bright spring colors.
For a hallowed moment she was back in the same state of bliss that filled her almost twenty years ago. She saw her own hand, framed by a floppy lace cuff, picking off a stem and adding the flower to her bouquet. She remembered lifting it to Pete’s nose as he gave her that wonderful grin.
Looking over at that handsome face she thought she’d never forget, her bright voice came out of some big space.
“Hey! King Leo. When does it start working, your stuff?”
He was leaning against a tree. Playing with a cigarette, icy blue eyes dancing, and a knowing smile.
She watched herself, a young Madeleine, reaching her arms into the air with sheer joy and letting the bouquet fly high and free as the lysergic acid so seductively took over her senses. The flowers wandered down from the cool blue sky, tinkling like stars, birds joining in the laughter, everything so clear, including their young faces. Five guys and herself, a palette of beautiful youth, plentiful hair, velvet pants, reptile boots, hats, feathers and scarves, merging into a joyful surge as all six senses called in their response.
It was their last really happy day. They were all smiling, glowing, gliding through the grass. No music. Just the super deep sound effects of being in the loving soft embrace of nature. And him, the American geezer, taking the photo, someone Justin met in a club, a medicine man with some magical new drugs, who called himself the Acid King.
CHAPTER 7
Back in the dimly lit corner of his cave Griffin leaned closer against the wall and peered into Madeleine’s face to get a reaction. She ignored him.
In her memory she heard his words, “You’ll really feel it when we get to this place I found,” as Leo sauntered off and led the way across another meadow. The Pied Piper and his happy child disciples skipping along behind him.
Next thing the whole group was climbing in the limbs of a big spreading oak tree, new leaves sprouting. Scrambling like kids to locate the right perch and arrange a theatrical pose.
Now all Madeleine could do was keep staring at the photograph. A montage of innocent lives floating in the big old tree. For one last second the image still sparkled with the charisma of the three most famous young media darlings of sixties London and their elegant friends. Then it was just an old black and white photo she’d never seen before.
She remembered him watching their faces all the time, silently chuckling in a sly kind of way, pleased with himself. The snitch who set them up and sold them out.
Now he was standing beside her, doing that same thing. She felt mesmerized, her whole body held in a spell, waiting for the hate to shoot to the surface like bile.
After a few moments Madeleine turned away from him, and walked back to Ann.
“Time we left, I think.”
Griffin rushed over hoping to stop them.
“No. Stay. Here’s a blanket, you’ll catch a chill.”
“Thank you,” said Madeleine, sweeping up the steps as she threw the blanket around her again like a cloak. She grabbed the door handle and gave it a strong pull.
“No, I didn’t mean…”
“Oh, I thought you did, and you can’t change your mind now, can you?” she said, grand and cold as the arctic, aware that Griffin was following her anxiously.
Ann waved nicely to the people left in the room, and beckoned Craig who was only torn away from his growing connection to the girl by the priority need to be driven home at this late hour.
Poor Griffin, thought Ann, watching him take the beating, stunned and confused as Madeleine and his precious blanket walked away down the alley. This was a vulnerable Griffin, a new face for the joker. She was still annoyed with his attention to Madeleine and was glad, for a change, to be leaving, wondering what happened.
Madeleine couldn’t wait to get into the car.
“Ann. I want you to promise me that you will never see that man again,” she said, closing the door.
“Why?”
“Because that’s Mister X.”
“You must be…”
“I’m not. That’s him.”
The young studio dude, exhausted from tagging along all night, went blank during this exchange. It meant nothing to him; he just wanted to lie down and sleep.
“What did you say to him?”
“Are you kidding? I didn’t say anything. It took me what felt like ten minutes to pull myself together before I could act cool enough to make an exit. Look, I suddenly knew this was the legendary Leo, the man who changed all our lives. The man Fleet Street dubbed Mister X.”
Madeleine paused at the drama of it. Ann was speechless.
“We blamed ourselves for being so stupid. None of us knew who he was, he just turned up through the grapevine with his little aluminum attaché case full of the best drugs only the inner circle could have access to. Barry said he brought the devil into our lives. We drove ourselves crazy trying to work out what happened, who did it to us and why. He couldn’t have just been the lone ranger. How did he get in with us and how did he get out of the country?”
“My God. That explains so many strange things about Griffin. I’m still trying to take it in. Don’t forget I never actually met him back then but I was included in all the talk about the bust. It was Justin and Tarquin he met first, he worked on them, told them about his pure acid, and they couldn’t wait to introduce him to Pete and his circle, always wanting to impress them. Tarquin never got over the guilt, you know what happened. Justin’s still around you know, he was made of harder stuff. His daddy wasn’t such a brute as Tarquin’s father.”
“How the hell did you meet this man—Griffin he calls himself?”
“A semi-professional blind date. What else would it be in L.A.?”
“And you fell for him?”
“Are you surprised? He was so well informed and erudite, and he knew how to make me laugh like a silly teenager. I guess I’ve been in the Hollywood desert too long.”
“I suggest we take Craig home, then go to your place where you can tell me more about this story. I’m intrigued and completely wide awake.”
CHAPTER 8
Ann’s Apartment, West Hollywood
“Yes it was probably the laughter, and the shower of brilliant non-stop references he tossed at me. I felt like a lead cloak had been lifted off my shoulders.”
“So it was a sweet old mind fuck from the start. He hasn’t changed since 1967. Good thing you never met him back then.”
Madeleine and Ann were drinking tea now, in Ann’s apartment off Holloway Drive, having dumped the sleepy guy, and eager to continue their investigation.
“I was the Monday morning quarterback, knew all about him but never saw his face. He’s been very clever all this time, no slips, no clues. Just that old black magic. He’s always playful, fun. Got my brain working again, you’ve no idea how boring most movie people are. And he had really nice grass. I couldn’t tear myself away that first time. Never been so late for lunch in my life, and not the slightest bit sorry about it.”
“You must have known he was doing a number on you?”
“I just enjoyed being swept off my feet. I thought, well, this could be my last love affair, it was not something I could turn down. It was like an act of fate, kind of irresistible. Wouldn’t you do the same?”
“I would, I have, and I guess I will again. Must I imagine the rest?”
“Yes, because that’s all I feel like talking about right now. I’m suddenly exhausted. What’s important to me is how you
turned up and changed everything.”
“What puzzles me is this. He’s obviously hiding his past, he never told you, so why the hell did he reveal himself to me? Just like that. He didn’t have to, I didn’t recognize him.”
“Maybe he got carried away, suddenly seeing you, he’s got a terrible ego. And he was seriously stoned.”
“What are we going to do about this, Ann?”
“Oh, God, nothing I hope. I can’t tell him I know any of this. I’ll just lie. This night of revelations is too combustible. Pete mustn’t know either.”
“Course not.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“I feel vengeance, that’s why. Just a little bit, but women do. We don’t completely forgive the man who took us down the road into love and passion then suddenly snatched it away. Pete’s it for me. I know Griffin did that to you. Drive him crazy stabbing him in his Achilles heel, and enjoy being the number one person in his life while you’ve got something he wants, just briefly, one more time, because he dropped the ending on you before you had the chance to do it to him.”
CHAPTER 9
Whitley Bay, Northumberland – Saturday
The phone rang several times before the fat middle-aged man picked it up. He was slumped lazily in a shabby recliner, clicking a remote control over the Saturday sports programs on an oversize television screen, sucking back the last drops from a beer bottle. Hidden in this man somewhere was a once cherub-faced teenage hooligan, Barry Turnbull, an equal match for showy Pete Stebbings in the much loved sixties rock band, The Veils.
Barry was irritated by the interruption and made a loud barking hello noise at the caller, then sat up with a huge grin when he recognized the voice.
“Fuck me, Pete, it’s you. How are you, man? No, I changed it couple of years ago, no more Barry Turnbull, mate, anything for a quiet life, name’s Barry Whiting now, the wife’s moniker actually. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m okay, just don’t ask, you know what I mean, life is what it is, man, you know, fucking grind and all that.”
The Acid King Page 3
