Metal Urge (36 page)

She threw herself into his arms, crying softly.  “I love you, baby.  I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Deanna.  More than words can say.”

She pulled back and wiped away the tears.  Hesitant to break the spell that bound them so closely and lovingly on their first Christmas Eve, Deanna got up and went to the bedroom to retrieve the most valuable gift she felt she could give Nigel.  Standing before him, she handed him a large envelope, watching him open it and pull out the official looking documents.

“These are your divorce papers?”

Nodding, she sat down next to him as he looked them over.  “I’ll give them to Thom after the holidays.  Once he signs them, I’ll get them filed.  In no time at all I’ll be free to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I can hardly believe this,” Nigel said solemnly.  “We both know that if I hadn’t been so stubborn it wouldn’t have gone down this way,” he said, shaking his head.

“You’re not the only one at fault.  I’m just as much to blame for hurting Thom…for hurting all of us,” Deanna said, stroking his face gently.

“No, Deanna.  I hurt everyone because of my bloody stupid fears.  God, I’m so sorry.”

They embraced; sorrow and guilt spoiling what should have been a moment of happy celebration.  In light of their mutual betrayal of Thom, it was a somber moment.  Even so, they both felt relieved that it would soon be over, and they could love one another freely and openly without guilt.  Deanna gently eased herself out of Nigel’s arms and walked towards the bedroom, turning back to give him a mysterious little smile.  He took the opportunity to
prepare an apple tart he bought at a local bakery earlier that day.  Hearing Deanna moving about in their bedroom, he wondered what other surprises she had in store for him.  Still full from dinner neither of them ate much of the tart.  Nigel decided to follow Deanna’s lead and change into his comfortable dressing gown.  When he came back from the bedroom there were candles flickering all around the room, and Christmas tunes playing on the radio.

Deanna lay on the couch, one smooth, shapely leg displayed very nicely through an opening in her robe.  She rose up so he could join her on the couch, laying her head in his lap after he sat down with a contented sigh.  He leaned down to kiss her, sliding his hands under her robe to caress her breasts and was surprised to feel lace against his palms.  When he hesitated, Deanna took that as her cue to stand up.  With a seductive smile, she untied the belt of her robe and pulled it out of its loops, running the soft terry cloth around his neck slowly before tossing it aside.  She slid the collar of the robe down one shoulder, and then the other, revealing a black, sheer lace baby doll nightie with matching barely-there lace panties.  Once the robe fell to her feet she turned around and bent over to pick it up from the floor exposing a slightly smaller version of Nigel’s Metal Urge tattoo on her left cheek.  “So, how do you like it, babe?” she purred.

“What is this?” Nigel laughed, reaching out to see if it was real.  He felt the greasy ointment and slightly swollen skin, and heard Deanna hiss with pain.

“It’s still tender so be gentle,” she said, turning to face him.

“You sly little fox,” he growled.  “You're so bloody hot I can feel the heat from here.”  Running his hands down her waist and over her hips, Nigel pulled her onto his lap.  He sucked in his breath when he felt her lacy panties slide over his legs as she straddled him, her thighs gripping him tightly.

Gently pushing aside the opening of his robe, Deanna grinned appreciatively at the sight of his impressive erection straining against his underwear.  “I take it you like my new tattoo.”

“Oh yeah, very much.”

She slid slowly and deliberately off of his lap and climbed onto the end of the couch, using the armrest to lean against as she arched her back.  Nigel groaned as she wiggled her hips, teasing him with a tantalizing view of her shapely bottom barely concealed by the sheer black lace panties.  “Maybe you’d like to take a closer look?”  She clutched the arm of the couch, giggling as he eagerly took her up on her saucy invitation.

Soon her giggles became sighs, which quickly turned to gasps and earth shattering cries as he pleasured her to the jaunty strains of “Santa Baby” playing in the background.

Chapter 43

It snowed on Christmas morning, painting the neighborhood with muted shades of blue, gray, and blinding white.  Despite her intentions to greet the holiday with a brave smile, Deanna crawled back under the covers, enveloped by loneliness and dread after Nigel kissed her goodbye and disappeared into a waiting taxi cab decorated by sparkling snow.  Why she was bogged down by such a harrowing sense of impending doom completely baffled her.  Nigel would be home tomorrow morning…he deserved to spend Christmas day with his family.  Yet she wept uncontrollably as fear settled its bone crushing weight upon her.

She stroked the beautiful rose ring he had so lovingly slipped on her finger the night before as needles of cold, burning ice pierced the length of her spine.  She tried to focus on
Christmas Eve, and memories of the hours spent in his arms as they made love so slowly and sweetly through the night.  Each kiss and caress touched her body and her heart as Nigel proved his love for her again and again.  She could feel his whispered sentiments and promises tickling her ears as she gathered his pillow to her shaking body, hoping his scent would ease her unfounded terror.  When the phone rang later that morning, and she heard his voice wishing her a Merry Christmas, a cold hand touched the back of her neck, each stroke of its fingers a malevolent omen.

The snowstorm raged through Christmas day, retreating from its furious assault during the night until it died out early the next morning.  Nigel rang Deanna early to let her know that he would be home sometime the following afternoon.

Television and radio stations throughout Britain had issued travel warnings on Christmas Day for all holidaymakers to stay put, at least through Boxing Day so that road crews and British rail could try and clear the slush and debris in order to make travel safe again.  Although she missed him terribly, she was glad he was safe and sound at his parent’s home.  During his phone call, he hinted at a huge surprise, and he wanted her to be prepared even though he knew she hated surprises and always had.  She begged and pleaded, but Nigel refused to budge, keeping his well-guarded secret just that: a secret.  He smoothed her ruffled feathers with whispered details of the naughty things he planned to do to her as soon as he got home.  After numerous declarations of love, Nigel rang off leaving her alone with her gnawing fear, growing enormous and almost out of control in the eerie bluish light reflecting off of the drifts of snow covering the tiny front yard.

She closed the living room curtains, made a couple of slices of toast and stirred up a batch of Mrs. Guilford's famous hot chocolate.  Wrapping Nigel’s football blanket around her, Deanna watched a silly BBC comedy and munched her toast.  She dunked slivers of the buttery bread into her hot chocolate, groaning at the delicious taste.  She felt pleasantly full and sleepy when she lay back on the couch, falling asleep almost immediately.  The telly murmured in the background, and the twinkling Christmas tree lights burned softly, their colors turning her pale skin shades of icy white and blue.  She dreamt of blood and shredded metal; an unearthly silence shattered by a chorus of screams, the terrified sounds swelling above a cacophony of exploding glass.  When she awoke with a shuddering start, her breath coming in irregular gasps, there were tears on her cheeks and a scream of pure terror building in her bone dry throat.

****

“Thanks again for the ride home today, mate,” Nick said with a grateful smile.  “The radio station news reported this storm as being the worst Christmas snow storm in recorded history.”

“It's no problem, Nick,” Nigel assured him.  “I’m glad you and Maggi made it to Bilston.  I heard the rail system was mucked up all across the U.K.”

“Yeah, we were lucky.”  Nick turned to the sleek, black Jaguar E-Series Coupe and sucked in his breath appreciatively.  “She’s a real beauty, that one.  Deanna’s gonna love her, no doubt about that.”

“She's going to be so surprised,” Maggi said.  “This is the only car Deanna ever talked about owning.”

“Yeah, it is.” Nigel said.  He turned and wiped away an icy spot on the glistening bonnet.  “I can’t wait to see the look on her face.”

They walked back into the house stamping their feet, and shivering from the frigid winter air.  Nigel’s mother hurried in with steaming cups of tea and hot, buttered scones.  Nick couldn’t help but ask about Thom, seeing that he was spending Christmas with his dad next door.  Nigel stated that Thom, his father, and some bloke who looked very much like Trevor Hampton, had taken off for parts unknown very early that morning.  Nick sipped his tea, shocked that Trevor, his junkie ex-manager would be spending Christmas with the McCordy’s.  He glanced at Maggi, but she pretended she hadn’t heard Nigel’s comment.  He could see the emotional strain in her face so he let it go.  Nick was also aware that Nigel intended to say nothing more about his precious Yank’s husband, and he supposed he couldn’t blame him.  What a fucked up mess.  He glanced at Maggi and breathed a sigh of relief that Trevor was finally out of their lives for good.  After swallowing the last mouthful of his hot, milky tea, Nick told Nigel’s family the reason for his and Maggi’s unexpected visit to Bilston that morning.  British Rail had stopped virtually all train travel, and the last open line was from Sheffield to Birmingham, which proved to be a lucky break for them since they were able to get a cab to Bilston.  He was grateful that Nigel was willing to give them a lift back to London.

Anxious to get home to Deanna, Nigel excused himself and went out to get the car warmed up and prepared for the journey back to London.  He had cleaned off the last bits of snow from the car’s shiny exterior, and shoveled the driveway earlier that morning.  That was when he noticed Thom, his dad, and a skinny, hunched figure in a long, expensive looking coat leaving in Ian McCordy’s Vauxhall.  The three men ignored him completely which was just as well.  He didn't fancy facing off with Thom until he was ready to tell him that he was quitting the band.  He had lied to Deanna.  He didn't want to quit Metal Urge.  Being in the band meant almost everything to him.  Sadly, there was nothing he could do to salvage his job as front man since betraying his old mate, Thom.  Apart from that bloody hopeless situation, the fact remained that he had to do what was best for his and Deanna's future.  Leaving Metal Urge was the sacrifice he was forced to make.  Willing his fists to relax, he shook his hands, surprised at the powerful negative force surging through his body.

Quitting the band was going to be far more difficult and painful than he had imagined.  He couldn't just shrug off the memories of all of those years spent working his arse off, traveling round to every dismal, bleak town in the U.K. to play a gig, ending most nights with some sorry bastard refusing to pay the band what was owed.  God, those infamous bar brawls, and the pretty little local girls taking pity on the band members; providing food and physical comfort for the musician’s raging hunger and need.  Every drop of sweat, every moment spent starving and bone-tired flushed down the proverbial toilet as he turned his back and walked away.

It nearly tore his guts to bits.

****

As the Guilford’s said their tearful goodbyes, Nick placed their luggage in the boot of the car.  He sat on the plush, leather passenger seat with Maggi seated on his lap.  It wasn’t the most comfortable way to travel over a hundred miles but it was a sports car after all.  Nigel slid into the heavily padded leather seat, turned the ignition key, and the engine started
up with a roar settling into a steady purr just like the ferocious cat that was its namesake.  They pulled out of the driveway, waving to Nigel’s family, eager to be on their way to London.  After he turned onto the M1 motorway, he revealed the story behind Deanna’s Christmas Jaguar.  He had spotted the “for sale” ad in the London Times and believed it was kismet when he learned the owner lived just miles outside of Bilston.  He wired the bloke a substantial deposit sight unseen, and his dad took his trusted mechanic to give the car a thorough going-over.  As soon as the mechanic gave the thumbs up, he wired the remaining balance, and his dad fetched the car back to Bilston, storing it in his garage.  The entire transaction had taken place just four days before Christmas.  Nick and Maggi agreed that it was fate at work in his favor.

Once Nigel exited the M1 and rolled onto the fairly deserted M6 motorway, he opened up the throttle and let the Jaguar demonstrate what it was made of.  Nick raved at the ease of maneuverability and smooth-as-silk ride.  Laughing for a moment at a silly slogan on a sign along the motorway, Nigel turned his attention back to the road noticing a large cluster of flashing blue and white lights in the near distance.  It wasn’t until they got closer that he realized it was a group of police cars boxing in the perimeter around half a dozen orange barriers indicating a detour with blinking amber lights.  Nigel tapped the brakes to ease back on the speed.  Nothing happened.  Willing himself not to panic, he pushed down again, gently.  The car retained its speed, barreling towards the flashing barricade.  Terrified, Nigel stomped the brake, pushing it down to the floorboard; it offered no resistance.  It was then that he realized the Jag's brakes were useless and there was no way to slow down or to stop on the slick, wet road.