You probably know this part of the story pretty well. Nigel and Nick, along with some new fellas by the names of Simon Colley and Steven "Tin Tin" Duffy (whom Nigel had met in art college) started playing together as a house band of the Rum Runner in the city centre of Birmingham. Through various lineup changes they finally settled on another Taylor, Roger Taylor, to play drums. So Nick played his synth, John played guitar and sometimes bass (he was starting to like playing rhythm with Roger) and Roger beat it out on his drumskins.
I came along, mostly because I liked the idea of them starting a band. My parents didn't mind so much as long as I came home for curfew, which I always made. My mum didn't even make a fuss when I bought a pair of bright red leather pants!
At a club, it's not uncommon for a girl to get hit on. Luckily though, Nick looked out for me. I was his girl wasn't I?
The three of them pooled some money together to put an ad for a guitarist in the "musicians wanted" section of Melody Maker. Many a guitarist went through the door of the Rum Runner but it wasn't until Andy Taylor from Tyneside, Newcastle auditioned that the boys thought they had their new guitarist.
I had been sworn to secrecy by my boys that I couldn't tell Andy that Duran Duran - that was the name they'd come up with for the band - was lead singer-less. That wasn't for very long though - the barmaid at the Rum Runner, Fiona, had dug up her boyfriend who was studying at Birmingham University. Her boyfriend Simon walked into the Rum Runner one day with quite an entrance. With purple leopardskin pants and very dark sunglasses, he looked to be the kind of character that Duran Duran needed, or so Nick and Nigel agreed. Nigel permanently took on the bass guitar and that was that.
I'd befriended all the many people that had become involved with Duran Duran - Fiona; the two guys that owned the Rum Runner, Mike and Paul; Giovanna, a girl who hung around the Rum Runner and became Roger's girlfriend, and later his wife; Tracey Wilson, a local hairdresser who took a liking to Andy; and many others.
Nick took to being the Rum Runner's house deejay, and on the nights when he was spinning records, I'd make sure I'd go. He was an excellent deejay. Nick once told me, "you know how to get people to listen to new music? You put on a popular record and get everyone out on the dance floor. Then when the floor's crowded, you put on a new record that no one's heard and then they *have* to dance to it. *That* is the way to break new records."
Sometime after they'd come up with the name Duran Duran, Nick's parents were dragging him to Blackpool on holiday. Sylvia Bates was a nice enough mum but somehow I felt that she was trying to separate us.
Nigel had found me sitting on the front porch of my house, bored.
"She might want to be separating me from Nick," Nigel reminded me. That could be true. Nick spent a lot of his allowance on buying records with Nigel - it was a ritual between them. When a new Roxy, Chic, or Bowie single was to be released, they'd rush to the record store after school to get their hands on it. I used to joke to them that I didn't need to buy anything from the record store, because all I had to do was go over to one of their houses and borrow it.
"True. Possibly. More likely though, I think she wants her son to get away from the likes of us because she doesn't think he should be in a band. Just because he's been on the dole for a while now, without university or anything." He sighed. "By the way, what are you up to, tomorrow?"
"Nothing really." Normally on Fridays, me and Nick would go on a date. Catch a local band or two. But he'd be out of town this Friday. Nick's parents had assured that. Instead they'd made sure I would be pouting that weekend.
"Wanna listen to some new records? Since Nick's out of town and all," Nigel asked.
I shrugged. "Maybe. That sounds good. I'll be kinda lonely. My house or yours?" Even when my parents were home, I generally holed up in my room. I felt I had more in common with the people on the records I owned. At least they were closer to my age and understood what I was feeling.
"Yours, preferably."
"How come?"
"Nick said that your grandparents bought you a new record player for Christmas."
"Is there anything he *doesn't* tell you?" I giggled.
Nigel shook his head. "Not really," he smiled.
"Yeah, it's true. It's a nice turntable I must admit. Why don't you bring over your records, oh, around 3, tomorrow afternoon?"
"It's a date!" Nigel smiled. I should have noticed something uncharacteristically bright in his smile, but I didn't.
A knock at the door, I bounded downstairs, eager to hear what new records Nigel had brought. They were likely to be different than the stuff that Nick listened to - Nigel tended to have a more funky taste, Nick liking the more experimental stuff. He sighed with relief when I opened the door.
"Wot?" I asked, as I opened the door and he stepped into the foyer.
"I've been standing here forever trying to hold these records *and* knock on the door," he huffed.
"Gotten any new records lately?" I asked, as we walked up the stairs to my room.
Nigel nodded. "Yeah, there's a single in here I've been dying to get you to listen to."
"Oh?"
"Yeah." He dropped the pile on my bed. "Say, you know how Nick said he wants to change his name?"
"What about? I hope he's not serious! He wants to change his name from Bates to Rhodes," I replied.
"Well, I want to change my name too. If we ever get famous in the U.S., they're not going to like the name Nigel...so I want to switch it to John."
I laughed. "Why would you want to do that?"
"It sounds...I don't know, more aesthetically pleasing," he replied. "At least that's what Paul and Michael suggested."
"But Nigel...I'll always remember you as Nigel. Even if you switch it to something as boring as...John." I smiled, punching him good-naturely in the arm. "Remember that, Taylor." "Thanks Angel." He flipped through his pile of records. "Here it is, that tune I wanted you to hear."
"What is it?" I asked, rolling over to lie down on my stomach, as Nigel slipped the 12 inch single out of its case and put it on my record player.
"A new T. Rex song - you know, Marc Bolan?"
I smiled. "Yes, of course."
The guitars began. Very funky. And very Nigel Taylor. He sat down next to me.
well you're dirty and sweet,
clad in black,
don't look back,
and I love you...
you're dirty and sweet oh yeah,
well you're slim and you're weak,
you got the teeth of the hydra upon you,
you're dirty sweet,
and you're my girl...
The song was so different from what I usually listened to. It had this raw sexual energy that shocked me a little. Something different...
Next thing I knew Nigel's lips were on mine, and we both tumbled from the bed. I gasped, for a moment my eyes locked with his. We knew what we were doing was wrong. If Nick ever found out... Nigel's lips felt soft like rose petals on my cheek.
I gulped loudly. Half of me knew this was terrible. But the other half of me wondered what it would be like to be with Nigel. "What if Nick ever found out? That we...you know..."
Nigel shook off all ideas of being found out. "He'll never find out."
"Nigel, I can't...we can't..."
"Why not?" he asked, sitting up. "You've been sending me all the wrong signals. How am I supposed to react? Angel, I've seen the way you look at me, when we're at the Rum Runner."
"And how would that be? How *do* I look at you, Nigel Taylor?" I asked pointedly, worried about what his response would be. I thought about all the times I would watch the boys practicing, sitting at one of the tables with Giovanna or some of the other girls at the club. When Nick first introduced me to Nigel, my first thoughts were oh my god, what a nerd! Nigel had these embarrassing glasses, and basically did whatever Nick suggested to him. Even though Nick was a good 2 years younger than him. I think it was Nick who truly wanted to be a rock star - and somehow convinced John that they should start a band. Nigel John Taylor in those days had no backbone.
But over the years, and through watching their band practice, something inside of me went soft for him. I sincerely hoped Nick couldn't tell that I was having these tendencies, because I didn't know how he'd react. Boys had a tendency to be jealous of each other, and the last thing I wanted to happen was for the two of them to have a falling-out.
Besides, it was normal for a girl like me to have overactive hormones, wasn't it? I tried not to let it worry me too much. They'd started dressing New Romantic and wearing a lot of leather. Something about the way those black leather pants hung to Nigel's curves seemed to turn the temperature up every time he wore them.
Just the other day, Giovanna was talking to me about something and I completely zoned out, concentrating on the boys, and the new song they were perfecting, "Girls on Film." And something about the way Nigel swung his hips - well, in all honesty, it was driving me crazy.
"Earth to Angel," Giovanna shouted, snapping her fingers in my face. "Hello?"
"Oh, sorry G, I was just thinking about something..." I replied sheepishly, suddenly intent on investigating the half glass of soda in my hand.
"I'll say!" she scoffed. I was bothered by this lust. I couldn't fall for Nick's best friend. It would ruin him. It would ruin their friendship. And it would ruin the band for certain.
I couldn't think of such things for long. After all, an eighteen, almost nineteen year old boy was right next to me, with certain things on his mind. "You have a habit of staring down my pants, Miss Spencer."
I started to turn a nasty shade of red. Nigel laughed a little.
"We shouldn't be doing this if it's one-sided - so if you don't want this, tell me. I had always hoped those looks you gave me at the Rum Runner every night you were there - that those looks meant something." He looked at me hopefully. "But if they didn't mean what they meant to me..."
My throat went dry.
Nigel's lips begged to touch mine. A jolt of electricity went through my whole body, and kept going as his fingertips touched my bare flesh. I had always dreamed of having my first time with Nick. After all, he was my boyfriend, he was who loved me, right?
But I was rapidly losing my resolve. I didn't want to believe it but Nigel Taylor had turned into this sex god under my nose. His hands ran under my blouse, played with the clasp on my bra. I gasped with anticipation as he slipped my blouse off. "Are you scared?" he asked quietly, as he held me tightly, breathing hard.
"What?"
He looked at me evilly. "'cos I know you and Nick haven't...ummm..."
"Oh great, so everyone knows I've never gotten laid, huh?" I said wryly. "He must tell you everything."
Nigel nodded. "Of course, he didn't neglect to tell me you're the best kisser." With that he started kissing my neck, then nibbling, then back to kissing, all the while his hands were being busy. I thought my heart was going to beat straight out of my chest. At first I wanted to be upset that Nick had gone around and told his guy friends about my kissing habits, about what we *hadn't* done.
A million conflicting ideas flitted through my mind. Did I really want Nigel? Now? Like this? Clandestine? Shouldn't I be waiting for the moment for Nick? I was a sixteen year old with a troubled mind.
I could feel Nigel's heart beating with similar intensity, against my breast, as he leaned over to pull off my leather pants. I was holding back. "He doesn't need to know..." Nigel's whisper tickled in my ear, as he softly kissed my neck.