The White Amah (6 page)

‘I fool around on the keyboard, but I can sing. I was chosen to sing both solos for the school’s Eisteddfod.’

‘Singing in the school gym is hardly the same thing, Crystal luv.’ Josh didn’t like hurting her, but he wasn’t prepared to trash the band’s integrity by taking on a singer just because she was his girlfriend.

‘At least you could let her try out,’ Tom said. ‘There’s nothing cooler than a metal chick. Some guys think women should just stay home cleaning, but I disagree. Everyone should be judged on their merits, and gender shouldn’t come into it.’

‘Could I just try out? Please, Josh.’

‘Okay, what are you going to sing?’ Josh snapped, angry with Tom for making him sound chauvinistic. He didn’t think he was. Well, no more than any other bloke. It was just that Speed’s style was aggressive, machismo, and introducing a girl as feminine as Crystal would ruin their image.

‘ “Smells Like Teen Spirit”. ’ Crystal knew Josh was a Nirvana freak. ‘You’ll play for me, won’t you, Tom?’ She tried to steady her breathing. Her heart was pounding like it did every time she looked at him.

Tom was standing in the middle of the stage like he owned it, dressed in black-studded jeans and a fringed suede jerkin, open at the front. Cables from the sound equipment snaked on the floor around his Cuban-heeled leather boots. He was worlds apart from the other band members in their torn jeans and shapeless grey-white T-shirts. No wonder he’s angry at playing second fiddle to Josh, Crystal thought. Anyone could see he should be the star.

Tom nodded, his eyes dark and brooding. He reached down, picked up his electric guitar and began to play the opening riff, hesitantly, as if he was trying to remember how it went, when in fact he and Crystal had secretly been rehearsing the rock anthem for days.

Crystal crossed the stage and sat on a straight-backed wooden chair, head down, her bare legs spread wide apart. Josh thought she looked a dream in her cut-off blue jeans and one of his old T-shirts, but he’d never seen anyone who looked less like a metal chick. He noticed she was trembling and his heart went out to her. The poor little darling was nervous. He winked and gave her thumbs up.

Crystal licked her lips. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She hadn’t felt this nervous when she auditioned for the White Diamonds against twenty wannabes. She had to get a grip … take a breath … breathe … She knew she was good. Tom had assured her that their take on the number was going to blow Josh’s mind. At the sound of the first discordant chord her head snapped back, a low primitive growl started deep in her throat and she began to rock backwards and forwards, throbbing with the demanding beat.

Go for it, bitch,
Tom mouthed, jerking the guitar hard against his chest like an impatient lover.

‘Hello, hello, hello, how low?’ she howled, the microphone crammed hard against her mouth, her voice a strangled whisper as Tom played and replayed the pounding riff as if he could keep it up for ever.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ she yelled, threshing wildly as the music peaked.

Geoff nudged Aryn. ‘Fucking hell, I think she’s coming,’ said Geoff.

Aryn never heard him. He was staring at the stage in openmouthed awe.

Josh didn’t know where to look. He couldn’t believe Crystal had simulated an orgasm in public and in front of his best mates. That’s what comes of getting mixed up with that White Diamond crowd, he thought with disgust, too shocked to grasp how, by sheer audacity and cheek, Crystal had made Cobain’s macho lyrics her own.

‘Am I in?’ Crystal asked Josh, her face like sunshine.

Josh’s stern gaze softened as he looked at her and his balledup fists unclenched. She’s got about as much idea as a newborn kitten, he thought. He wanted her real bad and wished he didn’t have so much to do or he’d take her back to their room right now. ‘Can we talk about this later?’

‘No, we can’t. I want to know now.’

‘I’m sorry. You’re phenomenal but you don’t look metal. We wouldn’t be taken seriously with you in the line-up.’ Even to himself he sounded unreasonable.

‘She’s too chocolate-box pretty, isn’t she, Josh?’ drawled Willie, looking down his long, thin nose in the way that always got Josh’s back up.

‘That sucks,’ said Tom. ‘Give her a chance. She can’t help it if she’s drop-dead gorgeous.’

‘How about we take a break for an hour and I’ll try to figure out how we can use you.’ Josh’s mind was racing through their stock songs. He knew one thing for sure: there was no way she was going to sing ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ on stage ever again.

‘Josh, you’re wonderful.’ She put her arms round his neck and winked at Tom, a jubilant smile lighting up her flawless face.

Willie glowered at her. The little tramp had got her way again
and now she was making up to both Josh and Tom while Aryn beamed at her like a love-struck adolescent.

‘Are you coming’ she asked Josh, who had gone back to experimenting with the lighting.

‘No, but you go,’ he replied abstractedly, impatient to try out some ideas he had on laser effects. ‘How does this look from front of house?’ he asked Geoff as he turned on a harsh red light and the fog machine.

By the time they opened at the Tropicana in Penang, Crystal was an established member of the band, with a strong following of male fans crazy about her sexy, strong physique, shaved head and the tat, which snaked down the entire length of her neck and coiled around her shoulder.

It was Tom who had got her hooked on both bodybuilding and tattooing. At first she had been turned off by the photos of muscular women, and she told Josh she thought they were gross. She’d shown him couple of bodybuilding magazines Tom had given her and she and Josh had joked about how many steroids she’d need to take to look like the muscular girls posing with the massive pecs. But Tom had kept on at her and she began working out with him. At least it gave her an opportunity to see him without the others hanging round. Now even Josh admitted she looked incredible. He was even reconciled to the brutal haircut that made her dark, almond-shaped eyes look enormous and set off the cheekbones in her perfect, oval-shaped face. But he hated the king cobra tattooed down her neck, the hooded head rearing up from her shoulder blade poised to strike.

‘Why didn’t you talk it over with me before you went ahead and ruined your looks? Your hair will grow back, luv, but you’ve
got that for the rest of your life. What were you thinking of? Or don’t you think?’

How dare he criticise the way she looked when he was the one who wanted her to look like a metal chick. At least Tom thought she looked hot. She wriggled into her new leotard. It fitted her like a second skin and she smiled in the mirror, admiring her strong, toned legs and bum. Wait till Tom sees me in this, she thought, drenching herself with the perfume Josh had bought for her from the in-flight duty-free shop on the way to KL.

‘For god’s sake, Crystal, do you know what time it is? This working out is getting ridiculous. You’re obsessed.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘It’s all right,’ he said, sitting up and reaching for her. ‘Give it a miss this morning, luv. Come back to bed.’

Oh no, she groaned under her breath. When it came to a choice between her gym date with Tom and morning glory with her boyfriend, there was no contest.

‘I wish,’ she said with a pretty pout and dodged his embrace, ‘but I’ve got a session booked with a personal trainer and I can’t keep him waiting. Go back to sleep,’ she whispered and blew him a playful kiss.

‘What’s new, pussycat,’ said Tom a short while later, crushing her against his hard body, wet and warm from the billowing steam.

At five in the morning only a few enthusiasts were working out in the hotel’s fitness centre and they had the Turkish bath to themselves. Crystal moaned with pleasure as he ground himself against her. She’d been awake for hours thinking of this, imagining him inside her. She pulled at the towel draped round his
lizard hips and it dropped to the floor of the steam room. She wanted him, and she was tired of waiting.

‘Harder, harder, give it to me –’

‘I’ll give to you, all right,’ roared Josh, standing over the shameless lovers who were blatantly making out on the bench in the hotel’s steamy Turkish bath. He grabbed hold of Tom and pulled him off her.

‘Don’t! Stop it! Stop it!’ screamed Crystal as Josh lashed out.

But before Josh could get in a good punch, the door opened and Willie grabbed him from behind in a wrestling hold. He braced himself, waiting for the beating he knew he had coming, but Tom just shrugged and wound a towel round his waist.

‘You two need to talk. Let’s grab some breakfast, Willie.’

Willie waited until Tom was safely outside before he released Josh. He smirked maliciously at Crystal before following his friend. What I’d give to be a fly on the wall, he thought.

‘Oh, Josh, I’m sorry.’

‘Shut up!’ he screamed at her. ‘Don’t give me that sorry shit. Just shut up.’

Josh thrust his hands in his pockets in a desperate attempt not to hit her. He was shaken by the intensity of his rage. As a child he’d been scared by his father’s unpredictable temper and he’d vowed to be different, but that was before he caught his girlfriend cheating. He looked at her now, huddled in the corner, enormous black eyes in a white face, trembling lips, quivering chin. Josh’s bitter, angry eyes swept over her. He picked up her discarded towel and threw it at her.

‘Cover yourself up. Anyone could come in. Or didn’t you think about that when you were screwing that bastard’s nuts off?’

She gave a weak cry, dropped her head into her hands and began to sob.

‘Go on, cry. That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? Well, it’s not going to work anymore. Do you want to know what I think of you? I don’t suppose you do but I’ll tell you anyway. You’re a cheat, you’re a user … you’re
rubbish.
One of these days you’re going to get what’s coming to you and it can’t come soon enough for me.’

T
HE HOTEL MANAGER WAS SORRY TO SEE
J
OSH LEAVE
. He’d been impressed by the talented, level-headed lead singer who managed the group. Unlike many UK bands, Speed didn’t turn up on stage stoned, drunk or both. The group was always reliable and it was largely due to Josh. Not only was he efficient and cooperative to work with but he could really sing. The hotel manager thought he was phenomenal. Before Josh left, the manager had asked him to sign the promotional poster on display in the foyer.

‘That boy is going to make it big one day. Who knows, his autograph could be worth a lot of money one day,’ he had told his wife, who didn’t like head-banging music.

But on the subject of changing his music, Josh had proved stubborn. And, though her husband always said she could have nagged for China, the manager’s wife hadn’t been able to persuade Josh to play ‘Dancing Queen’ or ‘Mamma Mia’, not even when she explained that the customers drank more when they were hot and tired from dancing.

That first month after Josh and Geoff flew back to Manchester felt like a honeymoon. Tom couldn’t get enough of her and Crystal was always ready for him. There was no talking, no endearments, no whispered confidences, just fast, hard sex, so hot and so good that they’d be at it again within minutes. Sometimes they didn’t wait until they were back in their room after the show.

He would open his fly and push her up against the cold steel of the lift wall. ‘You want it, don’t you, bitch?’

Crystal was excited by the rough talk and the brutish sex. She was in love. It
had
to be love. She’d never felt this excited sense of anticipation with either Josh or Taylor. That was kids’ stuff. Tom was the real deal.

She would angle herself on stage so that he was always in view. She loved the way he seemed to burn up the stage like he was on fire, jerking the guitar vertically, working the fret like a madman. She would think of those killer fingers on her skin, playing her as she quivered, drawing the music from deep within her – a yearning, cavernous chord. Sometimes a violent spasm would shake her body and she would feel a rush of fluid soak her panties. Somehow he always knew.

‘You look so damn sexy,’ he would whisper softly, intimately, and she would throw her head back and howl, the lyrics deep in her throat like a nubile tigress on heat.

Tom’s fear that the manager might use Josh and Geoff’s defection to cancel the show was put to rest when their run was extended. The audience couldn’t get enough of Speed and their compelling female singer. The only fly in the ointment was Aryn. Tom resented sharing Speed’s fat fee four ways.

‘What’s he sticking around for?’ Tom complained to Willie. ‘Wouldn’t you have thought he’d have left with Josh? They were supposed to be such good mates.’

Tom did his utmost to make the shy, tongue-tied youth feel unwelcome but no amount of abuse had any effect on Aryn. He was staying put for Crystal’s sake. He didn’t blame her for falling in love. He knew Tom was a player, a serial philanderer. He guessed that getting the better of Josh had given this affair
with Crystal longevity and a little extra zest. Right now Tom was on top of the world. Not only had he stolen Josh’s girl, but he’d assumed the role of lead singer and manager without consulting the other members of the band. He was ‘cock of the walk’, as Aryn’s grandfather used to say. Internally, Aryn seethed but he didn’t say a word. He wasn’t going to rock the boat. He wanted to be on hand to comfort Crystal when it all went pear-shaped, as he knew it must.

Crystal wasn’t concerned when her menses stopped. She’d read an article by a former Ms Fitness America and she knew that could happen when you trained and dieted excessively. But after she’d been complaining about throwing up for two solid weeks, Aryn, who had three older sisters, gave her a pregnancy test kit.