Warlord Metal (17 page)

"You spent the night with Jordan," he repeated in a dangerous monotone. At her nod, he added, "The two of you. Alone. In her bed?"

"Yes."

A fist thumped down on the tabletop, rattling the plate and the centerpiece. "That bitch!" he snarled, rising to his feet. The chair toppled over, but he ignored it, taking a step towards the patio door.

Sonny flew off the stool and intercepted him. "Oh, no you don't, Tom! Where do you think you're going?!"

Hardly looking at the teenager, he glared out the door as he grabbed Sonny by the shoulders to forcibly put her aside. "First I'm gonna fire her. Then I'm gonna evict her. And then the best part is, I'm gonna kill her!"

"No, Tom!" The woman refused to be moved, struggling to keep her feet. "It's not her fault! I tricked her!"

"Tricked her?!" Middlestead bellowed with an incredulous look on his face. He focused on his sister. "I'm sure it didn't take a whole hell of a lot, Sonny! She's a fucking slut!"

There was no conscious thought. There was only the resounding ring of flesh on flesh. And Middlestead was left with a hand shaped imprint reddening on his left cheek, dark blue eyes wide in surprise.

"Don't you ever call her that again," Sonny warned in a low, menacing voice. She shook her stinging hand. "And for your information, it did take a lot - I've been working on this for months!" The teenager could feel tears of stress and anger well up, but she fought them back down. Not yet! Not yet!

Middlestead blinked at her. Where the hell is my sister and what have you done with her? Calming himself, he tried another tact. "Look, Sonny," he said in a voice full of common sense. "Jordan's a... she's... got a lot of experience... I don't think you'd be able to 'trick' her. There had to've been some point where she knew what was going on...." An irrational curiosity overcame him. "Was she drunk?"

Sonny blushed, not expecting to discuss her strategy with him. "Blindfolded," she muttered.

A dark eyebrow arched. And then he remembered that he was furious. "Anyhow, there was a point in time that she knew. And she didn't stop." So, I get to kill her.

Coloring further, the teenager rolled her eyes. "Trust me, Tom. There... wasn't much of an opportunity to stop things."

"Whatever." He sighed deeply, his stomach roiling with tension. Running hands through his dark hair, he sighed deeply. "Fine. I won't kill her. But she's outta the band and I want her outta the house."

"What?!" Sonny exploded. She pushed against him and he took a step back. "Why?! Because I slept with her? She's the best thing that's happened to Warlord and you know it!"

"She took advantage of you, Sonny! She waited until you were legal age and then...." He shook his head, banishing that particular image.

Eyes narrowed. "Let's set the record straight, here.... I took advantage of her. Not the other way around." Seeing she wasn't making any headway with her stubborn older sibling, she tried another direction. "What if I had just told you that I had slept with Lando?"

"What?" The change slightly confused the man and he took a second to catch up.

"If I told you I'd slept with Lando, would you be acting quite like this?" Sonny demanded. "Would you be so bent outta shape?"

"That has nothing to do with it," he sputtered, shaking his head. "The reality is that it's the other way around!"

"I think it has a lot to do with it!" the woman insisted. "I think you'd be pissed off but you'd let it go if it was what I wanted!" She shook her dark head in frustration. "Don't you dare drop Jordan because of this! The band will fall!"

"We'll get by without her," Middlestead grumped, nose rising into the air. "We've done it before." He ignored the thoughts that agreed with the teenager one hundred percent.

"Fine!" Sonny turned away and marched towards the doorway leading to the stairs. "Then you'll get by without me!"

The man trailed after her. "C'mon, Sonny! What are you talking about?"

The dark woman whirled around. Her pale eyes were snapping with energy and she pointed a warning finger at her brother. "If she goes, I go.... Got it?"

There was a long pause before he finally nodded in comprehension.

Sonny spun back around and stomped up the stairs. Middlestead could track her progress in the upstairs hall before he heard the slam of her door.

"Shit!" he cursed, his face sour.

Jordan stepped off the bus, a fresh cigarette hanging from her lips. She moved out of the way of the other people boarding and unboarding the public transport, setting the McDonald's cup down on the wide trash can lid. Digging out her lighter, the redhead lit up before retrieving her soda and walking away from the stop.

Paper cup in one hand, smoke in the other, her guitar was strapped comfortably to her back. The neck swayed back and forth over her right shoulder as she sidled along in the industrial area of southeast Portland. In six blocks, she arrived at the warehouse. It was late afternoon and the clouds remained in the sky. Jordan fished her keys out of her shorts pocket just as she heard a familiar motor.

A beat up, rust brown panel van pulled into a parking spot on the side of the street. The engine was cut off and Hampton hopped out. "Hi," he called, opening the side door and retrieving his bass.

"Hey," Jordan responded. She unlocked the warehouse and waited for him to join her.

As they entered together, the bald man glanced at her. "Have a good night?"

The woman glanced sharply at him. Innocent curiosity met her intent gaze and she mentally kicked herself in the pants. Chill, Jordie! It ain't common knowledge. Pause. Yet. She shrugged and said, "Yeah, it was okay. You?"

"Pretty good." No complaints about her lady friend pulling a disappearing act. In-ter-est-ing... "You must have gone to bed early. I didn't see you after we all went inside." He jumped up onto the stage and began setting up his instrument.

Jordan colored so slightly, it was hardly noticeable. "Yeah. Well, I was tired," she offered, putting her cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. She took a long swallow of her soda, enjoying the bite of Johnny Walker within before pulling her guitar from her shoulder and taking off her jacket.

"So, you were doing a lot of writing yesterday...?" Hampton hinted, deciding to drop the subject for now.

Back in her element, the guitarist chuckled. "Yeah, I got some stuff. Hold on." She unzipped the case and pulled her instrument out. She then pulled out the pad of paper with her scribblings, handing them over to the eager man. "No guarantee that they're legible," she warned. "I haven't looked at them since last night."

"S'okay," the bassist shrugged. "I've got you here to translate."

About half an hour went by. The band mates looked over the songs, deciding which seemed the most workable. The lyrics had been cleaned up and now they were working on the melody.

"I dunno," Jordan said. "We could speed it up a bit. Maybe make it a little rougher." She sang out a line, keeping time by tapping on her guitar. "*I'm standing on a ledge, cold and naked. / Will someone come and offer me their help?"

The bald man nodded in agreement. "Yeah. That'd work." Hampton turned when the door slammed. "Cool, Tom's here. We can see what kind of rhythm to put on it."

Whatever enjoyment Jordan was getting from the collaboration evaporated. She coolly regarded the approaching man, noting the angry stance and intense blue eyes glaring back. Great. Might as well pack up and move out now. She reached down and picked up her cup, sipping the melted ice water and dregs of her whiskey. Fuck him! another voice growled. Shit happens and he needs to get over it!

"Hey! You got here just in time," Hampton said to the drummer with a grin. "We're trying to figure out the beat on this song." Brown eyes noted the stiffness in both the man and woman, the very evident anger lurking just beneath Middlestead's demeanor. Oh, yeah, he thought. If there was any doubt about what happened last night, it's gone now!

The dark man grimaced. "Another Jordan Smith Billboard Hit?" he asked with a snide voice.

The redhead stiffened but refused to be baited.

The bald man frowned. "Noooo.... Another halfway decent song for us to work on. You know, we do have a CD to burn next month."

"Whatever." Middlestead stomped up onto the stage to check out his kit.

Hampton had to partially turn, craning his neck around to follow the drummer. He noticed the flexing jaw muscles of the woman beside him. Gotta get this out in the open. "What bug crawled up your butt?" he asked Middlestead.

The dark blue eyes narrowed. Rather than answer, he began playing the drums, loosening up. I can't kill her, he reminded himself.

Hampton sighed, looking askance at the ceiling. Arching an eyebrow at Jordan, he asked in a loud voice to carry over the drumming, "Is there something I should know?"

Teeth grinding, the redhead shrugged sharply. She set her guitar to one side and the music next to her cup on the floor. "You'd better ask him. He's the one with a problem." Jordan rose to her feet and stretched before stepping off the stage and towards her jacket.

Middlestead's baleful eyes followed her movement. Why her? He pounded on the skins, wishing it was Jordan in his frustration. Would it be different if it were Lando?

At an impasse for the moment, the bassist listened to the dark man beat his drums half to death and watched Jordan light up another cigarette before moving away. He sighed deeply and set his bass in its stand. Now what? he wondered, rubbing his bald head. Something's gotta be done.... Preferably today! For lack of anything else to do, he stepped from the stage, as well, parking himself on the old bench seat.

Jordan wandered over to the armchair she usually favored and slumped into it. What the hell do I do now? she griped as she scowled. Back to the streets, back to hustling and squats and eating out of dumpsters until another gig comes along? This fucking sucks! She smoked in silence. Well, he hasn't kicked you out, yet... Maybe he's just needing to work things out. Snort. Yeah! Working out the best way to kick my ass for fucking his little sister!

As usual, Atkins was late. He pulled the door open, almost drowning in the crescendo of the drum solo that rolled over him. With a huge grin on his face, he strode in, waving at Hampton and Jordan.

Behind him, unnoticed, Sonny entered.

"Sorry I'm late," Atkins said as he approached the pair. "Sonny wanted me to pick her up." He glanced over at the stage. "What's up?"

The bassist watched the dark teenager carefully. "Nothing. Might have some problems, though." She looks kinda pale, he thought with some concern.

"Really?" the tall guitarist asked. He looked around expectantly. "What kind?"

Hampton nudged his chin towards the drummer. "Trouble in paradise." At the confused look on his band mate's face, he shook his head dismissively. "Don't worry about it. We'll get it worked out. He just needs to get over being mad."

Atkins nodded sagely, trying to at least look like he understood the cryptic comments.

Sonny stopped for a few moments inside the door as she surveyed the situation. Her brother was taking his frustrations out on his drum kit, a cloud of anger over his head. The two other men chatted quietly, with many glances towards the stage. Jordan sullenly put out a cigarette and immediately lit up another. Not good.

The teenager inhaled deeply, steeling herself before sauntering further into the room. She could feel her brother's eyes light on her, but she ignored him. A warm smile and a slight wave to Hampton, a wink at the tall man beside him and then her attention was captured by the seated woman. Sonny slid onto the arm of the chair, leaning her right arm on the backrest. Startled green eyes looked up at her sudden proximity and the teenager gave a sly little smile as she bent closer for a kiss.

Hampton, his suspicions confirmed, grinned. Now maybe Sonny'll calm down. This constant jealous flirtation is getting on my nerves. As the kiss broke off, he became privy to a gentle look in Sonny's eyes. And maybe she'll be happy. He turned to Atkins. Backhanding the taller man's stomach, he said, "Close your mouth, nitwit. Haven't you seen Jordan kiss anybody before?"

"Wh... But... Wh..." Atkins sputtered, eyes rapidly flicking back and forth between his band mate and the public display before him. "But... but that's Sonny!"

"You're quick," the bald man chuckled.

Lost in her own thoughts of doom and gloom, Jordan hadn't seen her lover enter behind Atkins. First she was mentally pursuing a bleak future and then a warm body settled next to her. She looked up into pale eyes that sparkled and a crooked little grin that said, I understand. I'm here now. The grin faded as their lips met, soft and warm and steadying. Nothing sexual, simply a reminder of their time together. The guitarist automatically moved her cigarette to one side to avoid singing the dark hair her other hand had risen to caress. And then they were looking into each other's eyes.

There was a resounding crash, startling everyone.

Middlestead cursed, his face flushed, as he fought with a snare drum. In his anger at the blatant display before him, he'd put his stick, fist and all, through the skin. Finally freeing himself, he jumped down from the stage and strode towards the group, blood in his eyes.

"Uh oh," Atkins said.

"Did I mention trouble in paradise?" the bassist asked before stepping to intercept Middlestead.

"I think so." Atkins followed his lead.

Seeing Middlestead's approach, the redhead pushed her lover away far enough to get out of the chair.

His friends blocking the way, the dark man stopped and glared at the women. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, pointing at his sister.

Sonny stood up and took a step forward. "I skipped class. Jordan and I have an errand to run after rehearsal," she said, peering regally down her nose.

"Yeah, I'll just bet," he responded acidly. "You gonna bed all her little dyke friends, too?" Even as the words left his lips, a flash of pain crossed his eyes and Middlestead wished for them back. This isn't how it's supposed to go!

The superior air vanished as the teenager stared at her brother in abject shock. He's never spoken to me like that!