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CHAPTER 52 “And how’s my dear company insider doing?” Kim laid back on the bed in her hotel, twisting the phone cord around her foot, which she had held in the air above her. She wiggled her toes at herself, grinning at the flashes of red and blue polish. “Ecstatic. You realize a British tour hasn’t done so well in the States since Depeche Mode with Violator?” And James Carroway did sound excited, without any of his usual casual irony hiding it. “You say that as if it weren’t only a few years ago, Carroway.” She dropped her foot, stretching the cord taut. “Still, it’s quite the honour to have my name put up with all these oldies-but-goodies. Had a few fans raving to us the other day how we’re the new up-and-coming darkwave hit, right in the footsteps of Smith and Murphy and Eldritch and Sioux.” “I’m sure you were beaming.” “Quite! And those li’l girlies got rewarded for the compliment with backstage passes.” There was a sort of expectant silence from Carroway’s end. The silence asked enough questions, and Kim understood them fully. “Don’t be daft, Carroway. They were 15, th’ lot of them. And really, dating one goth doesn’t give me a fetish. It’s Elvyn and Acwellen who took advantage and broke the law in the process. What do they call that, statutory?” “And by your tone of voice, are you trying to tell me you never slept with a 20-year-old when you were 15?” He laughed. “Hey, hey, I wasn’t complaining. Just wondering if the cops might.” “Want to shake Elvyn that badly?” “Look, you’ve never toured with th’ bugger, you can’t bloody understand what it’s like.” “Wasted Assumption is hope for young goth acts everywhere, Kim; you want to shatter their dreams by getting the lead sent to jail?” “Eh, they’re gonna break up soon enough anyway. Xavier is so busy dating pretty-in-pink that he doesn’t have time for his poor, neglected sophisti-goth friends. Oh woe are they, the friendless in despair.” She snorted. “I’ve bloody well had it with goths.” “Going to tell Ebony and Raine that?” “Ah, the model couple/company of the century. These guys are on fire, you know. We’ve seen evidence of Eb’s designs in every city. I sometimes wonder if she needs a band at all, y’know? But she’s got to at least be used to us, considering she doesn’t rush back to th’ motherland and start making more clothing pronto. And on the topic of goths, guess what those little underground pretties with BS passes said t’ me?” “What?” “That not only is m’ band destined for borderline mainstream greatness like Cure and the such, but that we are actually about as goth as Cure and the such. Haven’t quite figured out how one is supposed to react to that. I’m no bloody goth, that’s for sure.” “But your music is haunted, haunting, and intermittently angsty enough to confuse people on the genre.” “Only intermittently? I pride myself in my angst, Carroway-luv. What would Kim Kissably be without her indomitable angstiness? Nothing, I tell you!” Smiling, she reached down to unhook her foot from the phone cord. “You must admit that you left punk behind with Torn Horses.” “If I start writing three-chord songs again will you take that back? I can write ‘em again, it’s really simple,” she whined. “Would you have a platinum selling album without losing some of the punk edge?” “You suck, Carroway. You positively suck.” “Besides, even Torn Horses had Blood Clot in Repair and Cornerstore Brothel.” “You are not telling me Cornerstore Brothel is goth!” She almost shrieked that, sitting up very quickly. “I won’t listen, so shut up!” She could almost hear him smile. He took a breath. “Next topic, then.” “Yeh, yeh, next topic. I’ve been writing some songs. Lord knows when I’m back from this bloody tour, I’m going to have another album written. Speaking of which, when the bloody hell do we go home, Carroway? Americans bloody scare me! Their accents are all so strange.” “As though yours isn’t strange to them?” “But it’s not strange to me, and that’s what matters, so there.” “But you seem to have a penchant for dating Americans.” Kim fell silent for a bit. After the pause, she spoke carefully. “Plural?” “You can’t tell me you think I don’t know about Jess.” Strengthening herself, Kim tried to brush the significance aside. “Eh, she’s only a halfy. Think I’d be dating two full Americans at once? Too bloody much, and it’d be a wasted effort, too. See, at least she’s lost some of her sheer American aspects, having lived in the right kinda country for so long.” Without leaving James a chance to push the issue, she continued talking. “So seriously, when do you plan to ship us back to Britain?” “You know how well you’re doing out there.” “Yes,” she said slowly. “I do.” “And one of Raine’s minions from Angelic Darkness keeps reporting that the tour is severely increasing exports.” “Awright.” “You also have that American boy following you around.” “Yes. I realize.” James Carroway paused, probably rolling his eyes. “Kim, we want you to stay out there for a while longer.” “Longer?” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream at him or not. “Extend the tour. C’mon, you managed a year or so in Europe, why not try a year or so in the States?” “Less than a year in Europe, totally back to clubbing and festivals. We’re doing stadiums here, the huge crowds and bright lights. All the girls are wearing Ebony’s clothes, mimicking Elke’s style, or have my hair! All the boys are out to fuck my entire band, and I’ve met some people who wouldn’t mind an orgy with both th’ Sextet and Wasted bloody Assumption.” “Kim--” “And Heather’s turned Elke against me!” She hadn’t meant to burst out with that, but it had to be said. “Bloody hell!” She slammed her heel into her mattress, barely noticing when it bounced back. “Look, Kim, you’ve got two more months as it is. I can’t cut it short. So please just think about it. You’re bringing in enough money to get extravagant with the new album; bring in a famous producer, maybe.” “We’re fine with producing our own bloody material,” Kim muttered. She had deflated completely. “But whatever the grand high ruler and lord supreme of Beggars wants, hm?” “I want what’s best for your band.” “Oh, and isn’t that so obvious, stranding us out here in the middle of the worst bloody country on the face of the planet?” “I want what’s best for you, Kim. And if I thought that meant bringing you back to London ASAP, I would. But you’ll only get restless and start pulling stupid stunts again if I do that. I don’t want any of your grrls getting hurt, least of all you.” “At least you’ve learned the lingo now.” Kim closed her eyes. She felt extremely tired. “Carroway?” “Yes?” “What is it about me?” “How do you mean?” “Why does anyone fawn over me? I’m just a messed up grrl who grew up with shitty parents like everyone else.” “Something shines about you, Kim. I don’t know how to explain it.” “Oh.” She draped one arm over her eyes. “Dave’s a real brat,” she said quietly. James waited for her to continue. “Back in secondary school, I woulda’ castrated someone like him. I’m sure he used to hoot and holler at all the weird chicks about their sexual preference in some weird attempt to lay them, just like little buggers like Marcus Stanley. He used to be in some of my classes. Oh so popular, always ready with the right comments. Wanted me like all hell, called me a lezzie whenever I turned him down. I laid him once, y’know. Elvyn was better in bed than him.” James laughed softly. “And I just know Dave was one of those popular jock-boys.” “I notice you’re laying off on your thing-with-prick habit.” Kim ignored that. “The way he treats my grrls, it’s evident. They way he looks at all the goth-boys who’re tagging along for the trip. But he’s so goofy and forward and... It’s not the same as in school. ‘Cause in school to be popular, you hafta stay on one side of the boundaries. Now he’s still a brat, but he’s a brat who’ll be seen with me in public. And he’s got the weirdest, most wonderful smile. He does anything I ask of him, y’know. And he’s great in bed, I mean great to the extreme I forgot that guys can be. Actually worries about whether or not I get satisfied in th’ run.” “And your problem with him is?” “Sometimes it feels like I’m just his bloody conquest. I’m not a bloody trophy, and I won’t ever be. There’s no merit badge to slap on your bloody boy scout sash that awards you for laying Kim Kissably. Not like there hasn’t been an excess of things with pricks to do that before. But the worst part is that Dave’s different. I don’t even know how or bloody why, there’s just something about him, something I can’t let go of.” “The fact that he’s the last?” Kim bristled, scowling. “You shut your bloody mouth, Carroway, and quit listening to the bloody boots of my shows. That was just a rant to egg th’ guys on. To make ‘em want to be the last.” “Dave Lastman,” he reminded her gently. “Maybe I like brats,” she said. “All the guys I’ve ever fucked, except maybe Elvyn and Eldritch--though those two have nothing in common--have all been the exact same kind of brat. Even Eldritch needs surgery to remove his head from his ass, but my god, was that ever the best lay of my life...” She let out a breath. “But see, I’ve figured if every guy I’ve laid has been a brat, every one after that is still going to be a brat.” “And do you like brats?” “They drive me bloody insane.” “Are your grrls brats?” She gripped the phone tighter, hurt. “There’ve only been two. Gwen was...” Her voice caught. She cleared her throat, continued. “Gwen was ethereal. But that made her too far away, and I couldn’t see all my bloody mistakes. And anyone jealous of my band just couldn’t last, y’know? I love my band, but I also bloody hate it. Damn Heather and Elke doing their best to kill me with their evil bloody looks. Geneveve falling apart over drugs and things with pricks. Chatha and Ebony both growing out of the band, finding other things in life. You just know Chatha’s going to make a band with Xavier, pink grrl and industrial-goth guy.” “Which leaves Jessie.” “Yes.” Kim’s voice was painfully soft. “Jessie.” “If I may propose a dangerous thought, I think you love her.” “Nah, because that’s just a made-up Hollywood word. I can’t feel a made-up emotion, especially if it’s all about devastatingly beautiful anorexics falling for muscle-bound dolts with wonderful smiles.” “Love exists in the real world too.” “Nah. It doesn’t. And who said life on th’ stage is th’ real bloody world?” James decided to drop it. Kim sighed. “Carroway?” “Yes?” “I’m thinking of posing for a skin mag.” That caught him off guard. “What?” “I wanna do everything once before I die, and a skin mag’s just expected for a grrl like me.” “Does Jessie know?” She hesitated. “Nah. Dave does.” “He’s all for it, isn’t he?” “Uh huh.” “You have to tell Jessie.” “I know.” She sighed, taking her arm away from her eyes. “Look, luv, I’ve got to go. Another show tonight then we’re packin’ and out of D.C. Destination: some place farther north.” She forced herself to smile. “I really couldn’t bloody well care less which American city we’re dragging ourselves to next, just so you know. It’s all a bloody waste, and I promise you I’ll be out of here in two months; no extending the bloody tour.” “You said you’d have another album written before you leave the country.” “You don’t believe I can do that in two months? Have more faith in me, Carroway. I could sit down and write an album in one day.” “Ah, but a good album?” “Bugger yourself with a soup spoon, Carroway-luv. I’m going.” “Have a good time, then. Take care of yourself.” “What do you think I always do?” “Bye.” Kim
hung up, feeling almost numb. “Damn Carroway,” she muttered. |
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