Lipstick Scars I ~ Broken Glass
By: Noctiluca
~ [email protected]
Here's looking at you kid
Hard to forget
Here's looking at you kid
At least not yet
Your memory stays
It lingers ever
Will fade away never
The Venus In Furs, 2HB
***
Broken glass.
He was surrounded by broken glass, millions, zillions of pieces, all mirroring
the same image.
There was no getting away from it. It was everywhere he turned. Haunting him almost mockingly. He couldn’t bear to see it.
He couldn’t take the icy chill.
Years and years and years... They had flown by in the blink of an eye. He
couldn’t remember one single day. All days were the same, lived only in the
colorful dreams of a never-ending daze. And now everything that remained was
broken glass.
Maybe he should never have come back to
He turned and looked up at the window, feeling his stomach tighten.
Oh God. So many years. He had pushed it all away,
tried to ignore it, erase it, wipe it out entirely. He
couldn’t believe that it was still alive inside of him, hitting him full
strength now like an unexpected blow.
Slowly he turned around and stared over to the other side of the street,
memories flashing before his eyes.
White limo. And Curt.
Curt.
The name gave him the creeps. He had avoided to think
of him in years. Curt, dressed all in black. Staring up to
him impatiently while taking a drag on his cigarette. His eyes full of
anger, full of life. Fixing on him standing there at the
window, hiding behind the curtain, seeing through him, merciless.
*Don’t think you can stop me. But you could at least try.*
*Go to hell!*
*Yeah, screw you too.*
Cigarette falling down to the ground like a helpless scream... Falling... A
moment later the limo was gone. And the glass of the window broke as he smashed
his fist against it.
Broken glass, stained with blood... Broken glass all around.
And the world around him exploded with a blast.
Boom!
Everything was gone.
He exhaled. He hadn’t even noticed that he'd held his breath. Five long years,
lost and gone forever. He had been fooling himself, making believe that he was
over it, that he had forgotten. And while he had been out, travelling
space, all the beautiful colors had faded away. Now that he finally had gotten
grip of reality again, everything was gray and cold.
Somehow he still couldn't understand all that had happened, why it had
happened, why it had happened to him - and why it was over in a flash. The only
reason why he had come back to
*If you can take it, sailor.*
***
And that same old feeling creeping over him as he got off the
plane. He always felt uneasy in this city. It was like the shadows of
the past were ever present. After all the years that had passed, he still
dreaded to come back here. It was more than stupid, he'd told that to himself countless
times. The past was over and gone, no way of getting it back. Not that he even
wanted to.
Life always goes on. There’s no stopping the change. Music had changed rapidly
in the past few years. Glam rock had perverted itself and was nothing but a sad
caricature of itself now. Meanwhile, a whole new area had begun. What had once
shocked the world was yesterday’s news, buried in the gutter. The revolution
had come to an end. And he was the only one still fighting.
He smiled ironically as the band made their way through the passport controls.
"Curt, this is serious! Are you even listening? Curt? Damn it,"
Barry, their manager said, annoyingly upset. He hadn’t even noticed him
speaking before.
"You should think it over Curt, really. Your last album wasn't such a big
hit, in case you didn't notice. We've got to do something. And playing that
song - people would simply go mad!"
He stared at Barry, cold but surprisingly calm.
"No. I fuckin' told you I won't play it."
He shook his head with disbelief.
"Fuck."
He couldn't believe that after five years and all the songs he'd written since
then, everybody still only wanted to hear that same old song. The only song he
refused to play. He'd sworn he'd never perform that song again, never in his
life. The mere thought of it spooked him back, made his stomach tighten. He
knew it was stupid, but he couldn't change it. Everybody thought he hated the
song.
He didn't hate it. He just couldn't take it.
Because it brought back the memories. And he was through with his past. For once and for all.
Stepping out of the airport, he glanced at the cloudy sky.
*Okay, here we are again. Let’s get over with this quickly.*
***
"You have the ability of
making people love you, of making you the center of their lives. That would be
a wonderful thing, but it's not. It's tragic. Because you
yourself aren't able to love anyone. You're just not able to."
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, the vision of Mandy standing behind
him in the door so real he had to turn around to make sure she wasn't there. It
had been the last time she'd really talked to him, a few days after he and
Curt... after the break-up. He remembered every word she'd said as if it had
only been yesterday. She'd looked at him with sad eyes, suitcase in hand.
"I wish you... all the best, Brian. I do."
He still remembered the sound of her high heels on the parquet as she left,
echoing through the empty rooms of an empty house. He'd stared at his
reflection for what seemed like hours, just like he did now. He'd just stood
there, hands on the wash-basin, looking into his own empty eyes. He didn't cry cause he couldn't. He was too empty for even one tear.
And now? It was the same old mirror, the same old
house. He never sold it, wasn't even sure why. Simply because
he forgot to, probably. He'd sold everything else. There was hardly any
furniture in the rooms, just like he'd left it five years ago. It was a sad and
empty house. But it was the only link to his past still left.
Brian took a step back and looked at his reflection again. He was thinner now.
The years of outrageous drug abuse had left their marks. He looked older than
he actually was. But he was still handsome. He wore his hair short again, in
his natural color. The clothes... Nothing special, just a pair
of blue jeans and a casual shirt.
*Not much of a rock star anymore, are we?*
He certainly wasn't. There was nothing glittery about him now, nothing special.
Even the sparkle had left his eyes. People passed him on the street every day
without recognizing him. Not even a single one did. Maxwell Demon had been laid
to rest. And that was a good thing, wasn't it?
***
He knew the room. It was the one
with the big armchair. A smile flashed across Curt's
face as he stepped into his luxurious hotel room and immediately noticed to
flowers on the table. He crossed the room and took the little card lying beside
it. It said:
"I can hardly wait. It seems
like it's been forever. Love, A."
*It seems like it's been forever cause it's been forever, hon.*
Curt smiled again and absent-mindedly put the card back on the table. He pulled
the curtain back and looked down on the busy street. Familiar
sight. He'd been in this hotel a couple of times before. They always
seemed to give him the same room. Or maybe he just couldn't tell them apart.
He'd been in too many hotel rooms in his life. There were nights when he woke
up and couldn't even remember which city he was in.
It didn't really matter anyway. He didn't have a real
home, a particular place where he felt that he belonged, a
place he missed when he was abroad. He had a couple of houses, but he hadn't
lived in any of them for more than three months in a row. That just wasn't his
thing. He was constantly on the move, he liked it that way.
*Just like a gypsy. Fucked up rock' n' roll gypsy.*
He chuckled to himself, turned around and looked at the flowers again. Red roses.
*Typical.*
Angelo and his romantic Latin lover shit. He was so fuckin
predictable it was almost amazing.
Angelo... There were few things they had in common. In fact, they were as
different as anyone could be. There had been many rumors when they first got
together, about it just being a publicity thing and shit like that. But as time
went by, people stopped questioning their affair. Now pictures of them were a
familiar sight in any fashionable magazine. No wonder, since Angelo was a supermodel, and everybody's darling. He was a real
sweetheart, impossible not to love this guy with all his charm and those killer
looks. When they first met Curt told him to fuck off and be nice to somebody
else. But Angelo was stubborn. He simply didn't give up, no matter how rude
Curt was. He was the only person he ever met who could take an insult with a
smile and a shrug. And eventually he thought that there had to be something
special about this guy or he wouldn't have been able to put up with his moods.
And there really was something special about him.
He made him laugh.
As passionate and intense as their affair had been at the
beginning, when he saw Angelo now it was more like being with an old friend.
Even sex had become routine. They both knew it, even if they didn't talk about
it. They had grown accustomed to each other, almost like an old married couple.
Curt only had to look at his lover now to know what he was thinking. And even his own unpredictability and hot temper didn't shock or
surprise Angelo anymore. Sometimes he wondered why they even stayed together. Maybe because it was easier that way.
They hardly saw each other anymore anyway. Angelo was always at some photo
shooting or fashion show god knows where and Curt was on tour most of the time.
Neither of them really had the time or nerve for a serious relationship. But it
was nice to know that there was someone somewhere out there, that you weren't
completely alone among all the strangers you had to meet every day.
He hadn't seen Angelo in almost two month now. He had promised to come to the
Curt sighed and shook his head.
*Compromises. That's what your life has become, buddie.
Nothing but a bunch of fuckin
compromises.*
He who had always wanted everything, who had refused to settle for anything
less.
Only a few hours more to kill till he had to go to the
theatre for the soundcheck. It was barely five
but already getting dark outside and a bit foggy. He remembered the
Almost angrily he wiped the thought out of his mind and walked over to the bed,
throwing himself on it. He lit a fag and turned on the TV. He didn't even care
what was on. Anything was better than being alone in this town and beginning to
think.
***
The silence of the empty rooms
was drowning him. He desperately needed to get out, get some fresh air. Brian
grabbed his worn-out leather jacket and left the house. Outside the air was
freezing, but it felt surprisingly good. It made him feel alive and real. Just
what he needed after hours in the empty house, engulfed and surrounded by
memories.
It was like the spirits of the people that had once lived there had somehow
been preserved. Or maybe he was just being paranoid. Either way, he didn't like
it. Everywhere he looked, everywhere he turned he seemed to see Curt or Mandy
or both. The memories, even if good, hurt and were hard to take.
What he needed now was to be among people, real people, not ghosts. He strolled
down the street and reached the bus stop just in time to fetch a ride downtown.
He got off near Piccadilly and felt better already as he mingled with the
crowds on the busy streets. Slowly he walked along, letting the masses guide
him, he didn't care where to. He came by a record store he remembered and
decided to go inside and look around for a bit. Shame, he didn't even know what
were the latest trends in music anymore. Half of the names he read on the
records were completely unfamiliar.
Suddenly he stopped in his tracks and gasped.
There was a huge Curt Wild poster on the wall. Underneath it, a small rack
filled with stacks of Curt's older records. Beside it
a big sign "
*
He took a deep breath and took a closer look at the poster.
*Boy, that's classic.*
He couldn't help but smile ironically. It was a picture of Curt on stage. He
was on his knees and had that distant look in his piercing eyes,
that look that had always sent shivers down his spine. Unlike any other
performer he knew, Curt was able to completely lose himself in his songs, his
performance. Sometimes it was like he performed the song for himself, as if he
didn't even notice there were hundreds of people watching him. He'd always
envied him for that.
He'd always been a totally different kind of performer. Every look, every
gesture was well-planned and aware of its effect. He literally did a show.
"You're an actor, not a singer."
Curt had once said that mockingly, but he had been right. He had lived for the
performance. Curt had lived for the music.
Brian sniffed uneasily, wondering if it still was that way. Or had Curt changed
too, did he just put on a show now, did he fake it?
He shivered. Was it so cold in here or was it just him? He pulled his jacket
closer and wanted to turn away, but instead he found himself stepping closer
and taking one record to take a look at it. When he realized it was the
He'd heard it was a classic now. It included Curt's
biggest hit, "Gimme Danger".
For a second a memory flashed before his eyes, Curt on-stage, looking so
surreal in the bluish light... like a fallen angel...
He closed his eyes and shook his head, annoyed.
*Pull yourself together, for Christ's sake, man! You're pathetic!*
Another glance at the poster, then he turned around
and rushed out of the store, suddenly angry. He stuffed his hands in his pockets
and walked on quickly as if he was afraid he could be followed. By what? By the poster? By a memory?
*Shit. Five years, Brian, and you're still trying to run away from that
bastard. Get a life, you bloody wanker!*
He turned around a corner and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.
*Okay, calm down. Bloody calm down! You're losing it, my friend, you're losing
it. Calm down.*
He sighed deeply as he slowly regained his self-control. This wasn't funny
anymore. He was really beginning to think that he was losing his mind.
Why did coming back here upset him so? He hadn't been touched by anything for
years! He had believed that he was empty, cold. And now, suddenly, all these
emotions... It was too much all at once. He needed some peace of mind. He needed...
redemption.
Redemption? From what? From his sins? He laughed out loud.
*You've always had a thing for drama, that's for sure...*
He looked up, eyes fixing on the huge poster on the other side of the street as
his laughter died abruptly.
"Curt Wild
- All Day, All Night Tour - 20.< January live at the Rainbow Theatre,
There was a big red sticker on it, saying:
"Tonight".