Chapter 13

Michelle had once told him Anna was a real good kisser and Mick couldn't disagree. If she had any skill at all besides the tease, the promise of what might be, surely it was the kiss. Her whole body seemed to involve itself in the experience, for she squirmed, undulated and rolled against him. Her lips were like satin and imitated the act of coupling, slow, rolling, but with mounting passion.

She nudged him gently away and Mick backed off a ways. Anna looked up at him smiling, perhaps in triumph, and plucked at some errant facial hair Mick had left on her mouth.

"Hmm," she smiled, nodding slowly, "yah, is good!"

Mick felt he'd been graded a mark out of ten. His mind was in a turmoil as his lust battled with his sense of right and wrong. And this was wrong, so wrong, and likely to end in grief. "Hmm," she repeated, brushing the back of her hand over her mouth. "I think Michelle was right. You're a passionate man."

Mick didn't need the endorsement, but, coming from Anna, he felt no offence. But, no woman had caused him to practically come in his pants for a long, long time. "You're not comfortable?" she smiled, stating the obvious.

He felt a kind of anger that this woman had pulled him over the boundary. He'd little doubt, also, that one more act of encouragement would draw him way past and into where he knew he shouldn't be.

He squirmed away, breaking the contact, and giving himself space to breathe and collect himself. Anna sat up, her breasts jiggling beneath her top, and nodded slowly. Mick knew he had to regain control of the situation.

"Sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to do that."

"It's alright," she shrugged, "it was fun."

"Still..." he started to say, but ran out of words.

"Perhaps you should sleep on that side?" she suggested.

"Yeah, ah, sure."

It was a long time, however, before he could get off to sleep.

When Mick finally woke the bed was empty beside him - Emily's crib was gone and all signs of Anna neatly expunged from the bed. The pillow was fluffed and the bedcovers smoothed. Coffee and toast was placed on a tray on the side table.

Later, when he emerged, he saw Freddie was already up and sunning himself on the deck at the back. Shades protected his eyes from the light and he was staring out to sea.

"Whazzup?" Mick said to his old friend.

"Hey!" Freddie replied.

"Want some breakfast?"

"I'll pass, Mick. Sore guts!"

"Ah!"

"Wiz thinkin'," Freddie continued. His voice was cracked and he seemed vague. "Ah, don' think I'll come to the States," he said, "missus, y'know?"

"Yeah, mate," Mick replied.

"Figure yid need management there. Praps, da Yankees know someone?"

"Sure, mate. We'll find someone."

"Yeah, well, sorry, mate."

"You want me to call Terry for you?"

"Sh, sure, mate, ah, yeah, ta!"

Terry eventually arrived with Michelle to pick Freddie up. Mick and Michelle threw their arms around each other. She asked where Anna and Emily were and Mick told her he thought they'd gone to the park.

"Tea, black, squeeze of lemon?" Terry said pointedly, and Michelle scooted off to boil the jug. "Well?" she asked, once Michelle was gone.

"He's not coming with us to the States."

"Thank God!" Terry heaved a sigh of relief. "Any ideas?"

"Sabra's company, Sossity Talent Agency - STA, for short."

"Sossity?"

"From a song by Jethro Tull," Mick said, "she loved that song. Played it all the time."

"Ah, Mick? Not getting nostalgic?"

"Me? Nah! But it'll be good to catch up with her after all these years... when she's not in such a hurry. I'd imagine she'd be pretty good at her job. She's has just the right balance of push and shove and empathy. I reckon The Curse will be in good hands."

"Hope so," she replied, "a big ask for such a young band."

"The girls'll cope. We did Japan didn't we, and Europe?"

"Ah, but America? Big tour?"

"Across from the West to the East, then South - finishing in Florida. 17 dates."

"Hmm, I like that. Not too demanding. Headlining?"

"First ten shows opening for Blue Rembrandt," he explained.

"Oh, really!" she laughed, "how's Anna feel about that?"

"She's going to play them off the stage," he laughed.

"Oh, I don't doubt," she smiled in agreement.

"So, what's wrong with Freddie?" Mick asked.

"I told you..."

"No, I mean what's really wrong? You don't go that colour just because of a hangover."

"Liver!" she whispered.

"Ah!"

"He hasn't told me. Thinks he can keep a secret from me," she scoffed, "he's got to stay off the booze, Mick. It's going to kill him."

"Tea?" said Michelle, returning with the cups, "coffee, Mick?"

After Terry took Freddie home, Michelle came and put her arms around Mick.

"Michelle, ah?" he said, disengaging from her, "I'm, ah, thinking of moving out for a while."

"Why?" she replied, shocked.

"Need a little space... time to think, that's all."

"What about, Mick? You're not..."

"Hey? I'm not saying we should split. Just a little cooling off, maybe?"

"Oh!" she looked down, "ah, Anna didn't talk to you, did she?"

"Some. She didn't tell me to do this," he explained, "if that's what you're thinking. In fact, she suggested a romantic dinner."

"Yeah? Well, why not?"

"I'm not against it," he smiled, "but what happens the day after? I need to work things through."

"Mick, what happened here last night? What's going on?"

"Maybe you need to talk to Anna? You needn't worry, we're still friends."

"Oh! Where will you go?"

"Maybe stay at Karen and Junior's place for awhile," he told her.

"Ok, Mick," she said, apparently choking back tears, "give me a call? You want to take Emily out sometime?"

"Course, sure," he nodded.

As Mick drove over to Karen's, he wondered why Michelle hadn't been more upset, hadn't got hysterical, like he assumed she would? Perhaps she knew of his plans already and thought it a wise decision? He knew Michelle and Anna text each other all the time. He'd little doubt Michelle had received a full briefing from Anna before he'd even woken up.

He thought this was the only logical course of action if The Curse was to stay together for their tour of the USA. The dynamics between he, Michelle and Anna was just too complicated and stressful. Perhaps Michelle might visit him alone and they could work through the issues?

The Curse had to come first, of that he was sure. This was the best, and possibly the only, chance they had of breaking it in America and such opportunities were so rare they had to be siezed.

Karen and Junior's place was strewn with their presence. Old prints dotted the wall - prints he'd never concieve of possessing himself. It was far too tidy and the Danish style furniture wasn't to his taste. The beach was ok, but Mick wasn't a beach person. In short, this wasn't Mick's place and he didn't feel at home here. The TV was in their bedroom, for Christ sake, and he didn't feel right about watching it in there.

The first night, Mick was bored rotten. He'd left all his guitars at home and he'd nothng to do. Karen had a practice drum kit, of course, but he was hopeless at the drums. Apart from that, Junior had a workshop with shelves full of electrical equipment that were mostly incomprehensible.

Mick did the only thing he could think of - go cruisin'. He missed his little flat with its disorder and clutter. There, he could hide away in peace with no-one to answer to. If he felt like a smoke, he'd light one up, and there were no complaints, demands that he go outside, no hissyfits and no reproach.

The Curse was the hottest thing in the country at the present time and, at the back of his mind, he knew he'd be recognised. Interviews, music videos and a song or two in the charts had kept The Curse in the news.

To be recognised by people young enough to be his children seemed a strange kind of validation. Mick knew they'd just as quickly forget, but that was the business. Right now they were famous and that's all that mattered to him at the moment.

He found himself down the square where young people hang out around ranks of Japanese coupes. The Camarro was sure to attract attention and Mick felt like basking in the admiration. No matter he was in his fifties - he'd spent the past year and a half reconnecting with these kids and hipness knew no age barrier.

He parked behind a group clustered around a purple customised Skyline GTR. Two guys were drinking beer sitting on the bonnet chatting to three or four girls. He got out of the car and went to a nearby ice cream vendor. It wasn't long before he was noticed. He could feel eyes on him as he pretended nonchalance.

Mick leaned against the door of his car licking his ice cream. Presently, out of the corner of his eye, two girls came over. One was a leggy blond and the other a brunette. Mick noticed they wore the tights, short slirt, halter combination that Anna had recently popularised. High boots clacked on the flagstones - another Anna touch - and the blond wore a gold heart on a chain around her neck.

'Blondie' was wide eyed with excitement but her friend was trying to be cool, feigning indifference. Girls always come in pairs, Mick thought to himself.

"Whatcha doin'?" the blond asked him. Mick held up his ice cream. "Are you in The Curse?"

"Yeah!" Mick replied, matter of factly.

"Oh, yeah, I knew it," the girl continued, "you play guitar!"

"That's right," Mick smiled, "Mick Johnson."

"Where's Anna?" the brunette spoke up, "is she here?"

"No, just me!" The girl looked crushed and Mick felt a tinge of irritation. Maybe his pulling power wasn't as great as he thought?

"So, what?" the blond said, "you just hanging out?"

"Sure," he replied, brightly, "goin' to the States soon. Just want a quick look around before I go."

"Oh, yeah, I so know what you mean." She did, Mick thought? Like these girls were in a hot band on the point of an important tour of America? "When are you getting back?"

"Coupla months," he shrugged.

"You making another CD?"

"One more for our current label. Then we're free to do what we want."

'Which one?' Mick found himself wondering. The blond's height was disguised by her boots and both their prettiness was covered by a too lavish use of eye shadow. Such make up worked better on stage, he thought. Mick couldn't figure their ages and thought somewhere between 15 and 18. The brunette was bustier, rounded, and her midriff betrayed some baby fat. The blond was a stick - flat chested but with a tight arse accentuated by her heels.

"Whatcha doin' now?" the blond asked.

'It's that easy, ' Mick thought, 'like shooting pigs in a barrel.' "Cruisin', want to come?" he suggested.

"Sure!" the blond grinned in delight. The brunette was more reluctant, but squeezed into the back seat. Once ensconced in the car, the girls insisted Mick take them once around the square so all their friends could see. He obliged and there was a lot of waving and calling out to clusters of teenagers before Mick took the road off and towards the sea front. "Veronica," said the blond, extending her hand.

"Tanya," said the brunette.

"What do you do?" he asked them.

"School, ah, I'm going to music school."

"Ah!" She was lying, of course, because there were no 'music schools, ' only courses at university or community colleges.

"Like her," the brunette insisted, "I'm learning guitar."

"Great!" Mick smiled, "you going to play professionally?"

"Yeah. I want to be in a band."

They all want to be in bands, Mick thought, until they realise how much hard work is involved and how little the public cared.

Mick found himself heading straight back to Karen's with his 'catch.' The Camarro was on autopilot, but, really, where else was there to go? He crunched up the drive and parked. The girls grinned in admiration at the house, although, honestly, it wasn't that grand. But, there was a beach and a view and some beer in the fridge.

He watched them sipping beer stetched out on deck chairs and thought, 'both of them, perhaps?' But was he being too ambitious? It'd been a good few years since he'd tried to service two at a time and that'd been an abject failure - he'd been too high at the time.