Fool's Gold - Chapter 2

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=3 height=90 BGCOLOR="#3399FF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <I><B>Liz Berry Books</B></I><I><B>    </B></I><FONT SIZE="7" COLOR="#FFFFFF" FACE="Times New Roman" ><I><B> </B></I></FONT></div> <bR> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=160 BGCOLOR="#FFCC66" TEXT="#080000" background="08bd4c00dkelyh.png"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Liz Berry Books"><U><I><B>Home</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id17.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE=" Meet Liz "><U><I><B>Meet Liz</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id18.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Books"><U><I><B>Books</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id98.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Third Book/Creativity"><U><I><B>Third Book</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id29.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Messages"><U><I><B>Messages</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id30.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Bookstore"><U><I><B>Bookstore</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id31.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Contact Liz"><U><I><B>Contact Liz</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id32.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Links"><U><I><B>Links</B></I></U></A></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="0e185c01egerdp.jpg"> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>Fool's Gold  -  </B><B>Chapter 2</B></div> <bR> <bR> <div> 'That performance tonight was <I>shit</I>. Face it, we've done some rough stuff lately - but that was an all-time low,' said Ronnie Craig, lying flat out on Dave Hampton's bed in the twenty-ninth hotel.</div> <div> 'Yeah. A disgrace.' Dave shrugged morosely. He was wound up tight, the adrenaline still flowing. He moved about the room, restless, unable to settle. 'What happened at the end of <I>Gale Force?</I>'</div> <div> 'I came in late and Cliff was a beat out and...Oh, bloody hell. I'm sorry.'</div> <div> Dave shrugged. 'We were all lousy. Why were you late coming in?'</div> <div> 'Do we have to have a post mortem? I was just late. That's it.'</div> <div> 'Come on, Ron, you're one of the best musicians in the business.You don't come in late.'</div> <div> Ronnie hauled himself up, and pushed back his dark gold hair. He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor. 'If you must know, for a moment out there my mind went. I thought we were playing <I>Wild, Wild Cat. </I>I think I'm losing my grip.'</div> <div> 'We need to get ourselves together. Do a run through.'</div> <div> 'When? Mike and Cliff are out there in the corridor with the gang. It's nearly two a.m. now, and tomorrow we move on again to...Where are we going tomorrow? Dave, <I>I've forgotten where we are tomorrow</I>!'</div> <div> 'What does it matter? We'll find out when we get there.' He listened to the screams and laughter outside in the corridor,  'What's going on out there?' </div> <div> 'They're racing hens.'</div> <div> 'Hens,' said Dave, not amused.</div> <div> 'Chickens. You know - cluck, cluck.' He wagged his elbows.</div> <div> They had taken the whole top floor of the hotel, and when he had come through, the corridors had seethed with the road crew, the publicity men, record company executives, and various hangers on. Mike, Cliff, Jeff, Ronnie's roadie and a girl from wardrobe, were trying to persuade six chickens to race to the end of the corridor, waving crusts of bread in front of their beaks. They were surrounded by a yelling, manic crowd, betting on the outcome.</div> <div> 'I know what a chicken is.' Dave got up impatiently, and went to pour himself a beer from the bar. 'Where'd they get them?'</div> <div> 'How the hell should I know? It's all part of the general madness. I can't stand much more.' Ronnie closed his eyes. 'I'm not going to make it, Dave. I'm cracking up. I never guessed it would be like this. I'm really hating this tour.'</div> <div> Dave sat on the sofa and put his feet up. 'What's the matter? You were all right when we were gigging last year.'</div> <div> 'It wasn't continuous.  We were living at home.  There was some peace and quiet between times. Some <I>reality</I>. This is like being in some kind of freaky nightmare where you don't wake up. You open a door and there's six guys immediately shouting and talking at you wanting something. It didn't matter so much if you made a balls-up at one show, now there's so many people dependent on us, thirty-five roadies, lighting people...</div> <div> 'You're taking it all too seriously. It's only Rock and Roll, remember?  We said we'd never get caught up.  For God's sake, we're not the only band. They can get jobs somewhere else.'</div> <div> Ronnie lay staring at the ceiling. 'It's a mad dream. Surreal. You know you've played badly, but the audience is going mad with pleasure. They've heard something in their heads, not <I>you</I>. It's all so mad and crazy, that after a while you're wondering if <I>you're</I> the crazy person.'</div> <div> 'You ought to try to relax more, Ron. You're not sleeping.  You're not eating. When was the last time you had a proper meal?'</div> <div> Ronnie shrugged and didn't answer. </div> <div> Dave said, 'I'm not too keen on this tour myself.'</div> <div> Ronnie raised his eyebrows. Dave looked away. 'I'm missing Janey like hell.'  </div> <div> Ronnie's heart contracted as it always did when her name was mentioned.</div> <div> 'I've been sitting next to the phone for two hours, waiting for her to call. She promised. I suppose she's with some other guy. Jay Bird, probably.'</div> <div> 'You've got an obsession about the bloke, Dave, you know that?'</div> <div> 'I just can't keep him away from her, not being married to her.  I'm going to kill him one of these days.'</div> <div> Somebody had thoughtfully provided a parcel of British newspapers. On an inside page of Saturday's <I>Standard</I>, there was a picture of Janey and Jay Bird dancing too closely at Gunners, London's most fashionable nightclub.</div> <div> 'For Pete's sake, Dave, they're just dancing. She works hard. Why shouldn't she go out to a club? There's no harm.'</div> <div> 'With Jay Bird?'</div> <div> 'Why <I>not</I> Jay Bird?'</div> <div> Dave got up and walked to the window and back. 'Oh, I don't know. I just know she fancies him a lot. She went skinny-dipping with him at Hastings that time. There's something between them. You can feel it when they're together.'</div> <div> 'You're mad. It's you she's in love with. She's living with you, isn't she?'</div> <div> 'There's something there, I know. It's not casual between Jay and Janey, whatever it is. If it was casual I wouldn't mind so much. It's important to both of them.'</div> <div> 'One thing - she won't be sleeping around with any nameless bint that happens to drop in.'</div> <div> Dave's face tightened. 'You've turned very moral suddenly - for a near addict. Janey's <I>my</I> business and nothing to do with you. And never will be.'</div> <div> Ronnie flinched. He said quietly, 'You don't have to keep rubbing it in.' </div> <div> 'Ronnie...Oh, Christ, look I'm sorry...'</div> <div> 'You see?  We're totally stressed out already. Dave, we haven't stopped since the Hastings Festival in June. It's been bloody blue murder. First we had to get the Album out in less than six weeks to take advantage of <I>Drum Beat, </I>in the U.K. charts. Then <I>Drum Beat</I> hits Number One in the States. There was the quick intro tour, radio, TV, newspaper interviews, photo calls, on and on and on, all day and bloody nearly every day.  Then the Album<I> </I>hits Number One too, in the States, and all hell breaks loose. London, New York, L.A. We're running from one plane to another, one car to another. One effing hotel or motel, to another. I just can't take any more of it. When are we supposed to get time to do some <I>writing</I>? Some <I>sleeping?</I> Some <I>thinking</I>?' His voice rose.</div> <div> 'Okay, so things have been bad recently. But you know this business. If you don't ride the success wave, you fall off and drown. In a few weeks we'll be free for a holiday. Things are bound to let up.'</div> <div> 'But will they? We've been saying that for months.You really think that? You think Gerry will let the momentum slacken off?'</div> <div> Dave considered. Gerry was an excellent manager. But he was ruthless and demanding.</div> <div> He shrugged. 'We'll have to tell him. We're not robots. We're musicians. We need some free time to top us up.'</div> <div> Ronnie laughed shortly. 'Too late. He's already fixed another tour. To Japan and the Far East. I can't do it.'</div> <div> 'You'll be okay, Ron.You'll ride it. </div> <div> 'I tell you I just can't get it together any more.'</div> <div> Ronnie stretched out again and put his hands over his head, but the muscles of his arms were rigid, and he was not relaxed.   </div> <div> 'I heard the L.S.O. need a clarinet.'</div> <div> Dave stared at him, and slowly put his feet on the floor. Ronnie was an all-round musician, an excellent guitarist, and an outstanding clarinet player studying at the Royal College of Music. It was perfectly possible that the London Symphony Orchestra would consider him for the job.</div> <div> 'You're not thinking of it.'</div> <div> 'Yes.'</div> <div> 'You'd split the band, just as we're making it?'</div> <div> Ronnie did not answer.  </div> <div> 'You'd be travelling with the L.S.O. too.'</div> <div> 'It'll be different.You're just one of a crowd. Anonymous. No image. No hookers. No limos. No hype. No fans trying to tear you to pieces. No craziness.'</div> <div> 'No money either.'</div> <div> 'That doesn't mean a lot to me. I can live on a musician's salary.'</div> <div> 'You're serious about this, aren't you? What about your course at College?'</div> <div> 'Dave, you can get another guitar anywhere. I'm not giving up completely. We can still go on writing together.'</div> <div> 'It'll break us,' Dave said, positively, finally. 'You know we start each other off. We're more than just four instruments playing together. There's a chemistry, a magic when we're really getting it on. Let's be honest. Sometimes we're a <I>great </I>band. You and I are a great musical tie-up.You can't take away one part without it all crumbles.'</div> <div> Ronnie laughed mirthlessly. 'It's me that's crumbling.'</div> <div> Mike Adams came in, past the security guard outside, and slammed the door on the babble of voices pursuing him. He flung himself down in one of the deep armchairs.</div> <div> 'Finished racing the chickens?'  Dave asked, nastily.</div> <div> 'Cliff's gone to bed with a six foot redhead and I'm fed up.  That gig tonight.You know it was real cheesy. What are we going to do?'</div> <div> Neither of them bothered to reply.</div> <div> 'What happened at the end of <I>Gale Force, </I>Ron?'</div> <div> 'Piss off.'</div> <div> 'What's the matter with you two then?' Mike said, surprised.</div> <div> Dave said, 'He's thinking of jacking it in. There's an opening with the L.S.O.'</div> <div> Mike looked staggered. 'You're joking! Seriously, Ron...'</div> <div> 'I am serious,' Ronnie said desperately. 'Can't you see, I can't handle this kind of life?'</div> <div> 'You'll get used to it. You're too sensitive. It's taking more out of you than us, but give it time.'</div> <div> 'I tell you I'm cracking up!' Ronnie's voice rose. 'I thought it was just going to be a nice quiet little tour. Get to know the country. Get our music out there. Have some fun. But since the Album stuck at Number One the audiences are huge and they're going crazy and there's all this hype and madness. I never thought it would be like this. I want some quiet to write music. I'm just a musician. I'm not cut out to be a megastar like you, Dave.'</div> <div> Dave shrugged. 'We're all just musicians. But now we're stars too.You have to accept that.You're too good, Ronnie. Even if you disappeared now, you'd still be hounded by the press like Syd Barrett of Pink Floyd. You'd still be news.'</div> <div> 'Oh come on, Ron,' Mike was very upset. 'We've been together since we started. All through school. Safety Rule.  Building up the Mission. All the dirty little pubs and clubs we played and didn't get paid. The Rock Top, Wembley. You were all right then. Even when we came to the States the first time.You never said anything.You enjoyed it.'</div> <div> 'I always had stage nerves. It's all right for you two,' said Ronnie. 'You enjoy it. All that posing and strutting. Guitar heroes! I don't know how you can do it and keep a straight face.'</div> <div> Dave laughed, ignoring the sneer in Ronnie's voice.</div> <div> 'It's easy - you'd enjoy it too if you just let yourself go. Ham it up. Put yourself in the place of all those kids out there. They don't want to see some ordinary, polite, self-controlled guys. They want someone larger than life. Someone who'll do things they wouldn't dare themselves. That's right - a <I>hero</I>.'</div> <div> 'Yeah, well, I'm not a hero,' said Ronnie, wearily. 'I never felt less like one. I know I'm ordinary and self-controlled...'</div> <div> 'I didn't say <I>you</I> were.'</div> <div> 'That was the message. And you're <I>right</I>, I am.'</div> <div> 'That's not how the fans see you, Ron.'</div> <div> 'They would if they knew me personally. <I>Boring,</I> that's me.'</div> <div> 'What's happened to your self-confidence, man?'</div> <div> 'I never had much,' Ronnie said, tired. 'Even less now. I just get along on a few jokes and hope no one finds out.'</div> <div> 'That's right!' Mike said, suddenly. 'All these years I've known you and I only just realised. All the jokes and clowning, they're a cover up, aren't they? Ronnie Craig, a laugh a minute, and underneath you're frightened aren't you?  Frightened of letting go.You know your trouble? You're <I>inhibited.</I>'</div> <div> 'You had my old man, you'd be inhibited too. Christ, if he could see me now he'd have a fit.'</div> <div> 'I thought he was dead,' said Dave.</div> <div> 'Right.' Ronnie closed his eyes. 'He died when I was nine. I can see him now. 'Hup! Hup! Hup!'  He was in the army. A physical fitness instructor. A sergeant-major.'</div> <div> 'A stroke of luck there,' said Mike, grinning heartlessly.</div> <div> 'Maybe.'</div> <div> 'He wanted you to be a <I>musician</I>? A dirty, long-haired, <I>rock </I>musician?'</div> <div> Ronnie sat up, smiling faintly. He pushed his lock of hair back.  </div> <div> 'He wouldn't have liked a classical clarinet player in a bow tie either. He tried to stop me playing the piano and made me have a crew cut when I was six, in case I grew up gay.  He was paranoid about gays.'</div> <div> 'That's one thing he didn't have to worry about,' Mike grunted, and Dave laughed.</div> <div> Ronnie was annoyed. 'What's that supposed to mean?'</div> <div> 'You're quite a legend, boy. We've all heard the stories. Very verbal our girls.' His voice turned falsetto. 'I just love that Ronnie. Honey, are you as good as Ronnie?'</div> <div> Ronnie flushed scarlet. 'Pack it in, Mike. I'm not in the mood.'</div> <div> 'He's shy, poor little fella. You see that one in the front tonight, throwing up her bra?'</div> <div> 'Yes,' said Ronnie, not amused. 'You think I'm blind or something?'</div> <div> 'Silicon injections,' said Mike. 'Must be. They wouldn't grow that big naturally. Tattooed too. Ronnie on one and Craig on the other.'  He snorted with laughter.</div> <div> Ronnie said, disgusted. 'She must be out of her mind.'</div> <div> Dave laughed. 'She just loves ya, Ronnie, baby...'</div> <div> 'Very funny. You can handle all the sex bit. But I can't. That's another thing I never bargained for. All these girls.'</div> <div> 'You used to want 'em,' said Mike. 'Couldn't think of anything else in Year 12 when we were at school.'</div> <div> The colour rose under Ronnie's cheekbones again.</div> <div> Dave laughed, 'Hey, I didn't know that. Bring out the skeletons, Mike!  I thought you were the aesthetic, intellectual type, Ron.'</div> <div> 'Not when I was sixteen.'</div> <div> 'You mean you're too <I>old</I> for it now?'</div> <div> 'Look, Mike's the one who humps boilers all the time. Cliff's the dedicated musician. You're the sex symbol. And I'm the clown, remember?'</div> <div> 'Yeah, that's where the problem is, isn't it Ronnie? You're always joking and acting the fool. Always have a lot to say, but inside, man, you are really screwed up.'</div> <div> Ronnie said, tightly.  'Thanks a lot, Mike.'</div> <div> 'Screwed up. I've never seen you lose your temper <I>once</I>, not even at rehearsal, when we're working it out. That's what's wrong with you. It's not the work and the tour and the fans.'</div> <div> Ronnie got off the bed and faced him. 'What am I supposed to be screwed up about?'</div> <div> 'Janey, for one thing.'</div> <div> There was another short, electric silence.</div> <div> Dave said, 'Mike, I don't think....'</div> <div> Ronnie said, blankly, 'Janey.'</div> <div> 'Yeah, <I>Janey.</I> You know, my <I>sister </I>Janey? You'd feel a lot better if you punched Dave's face in. He took your girl, didn't he? You hung around for four years waiting for her to grow up, and when she was ready Dave moved in while you were still thinking about it. And now she's living with him and you can't get over it.'</div> <div> Ronnie stared at him, white and sick.</div> <div> Dave said, lazily, trying to defuse the tension. 'You mean he can go ahead and <I>try</I> to punch my face in.'</div> <div> Ronnie glanced at him, and laughed suddenly. 'Yeah, that's right. Me and Woody Allen.'</div> <div> He began to aim blows at an imaginary enemy, staggering dramatically from one side of the room to the other, shouting in a posh English voice, 'Take that, you cad!' before collapsing on the carpet, felled by some huge invisible blow. He writhed, moaning, holding his belly like James Cagney shot. 'Hospital for a week - and oh man, not covered by the National Health Service.'</div> <div> Dave and Mike could not help laughing. Ronnie got up, shaking his lock of hair from his eyes, and made for the door. 'I feel better. I think I'll go see if the Doc has any more of those little joy pills.'</div> <div> He went out, slamming the door. Mike and Dave looked at each other. They had stopped laughing.</div> <div> 'For Pete's sake, Mike!  What got into you?'</div> <div> Mike shrugged ruefully.  'I thought some plain speaking would clear the air, and do him good - the truth, for a change. We all know what's wrong with him. Lack of sleep, lack of food, overwork, depression and - jealousy.'</div> <div> Dave went and looked out of the window. The view of the glittering town, spread against the velvet blackness was spectacular from the top floor, but he did not notice.</div> <div> 'I didn't know he was in so deep.'</div> <div> Mike shrugged. 'Maybe he didn't know himself. But he's fancied Janey for years. We used to go swimming and I'd see him looking at her. When they were doing <I>Dreamgirl</I> at school last year, and he was producing, they were together a lot. He might have said something if you hadn't come along.'</div> <div> Dave said, without turning around, 'What about Janey?'</div> <div> 'She loves him like a brother. Ever since she was a little kid. He makes her laugh.You know what she's like. She'd put her arm around him and hug him and never see what it was doing to him.'</div> <div> 'He knew how I felt. He never said anything. Didn't do anything to stop me. Why didn't he go out for her too?'</div> <div> Mike sighed. 'I don't know. Ronnie's a deep one. How am I supposed to understand a bloody musical genius? I've never understood him. I'll never know how we got to be friends.You know how many instruments he plays well?  <I>Seven.</I> Maybe more. I never knew a time when he couldn't play anything. Maybe he thought she was just another girl to you, and that you'd move on when you got what you wanted. You had a lot of girls, Dave. Perhaps he didn't realise Janey was special for you, or that she was so crazy about you.'</div> <div> Dave turned round. 'It's hit him hard, Mike.What are we going to do? He's my best friend but I can't help.'</div> <div> 'I feel lousy too, but he'll get over it. He don't know it yet, but he's had another lucky escape. Janey would have chewed him up. All that drama, all that emotion, all the storms she stirs up. She's my sister, and I love her, but by God, she's hard to live with.'</div> <div> Dave smiled ruefully, 'Tell me about it brother-in-law-to-be.'</div> <div> 'Ronnie's too nice and civilised. She needs someone like you.'</div> <div> 'Well, thanks, Mike. Nasty and uncivilised?'</div> <div> He grinned. 'I meant someone tough. Someone who can stand up strong in the storms that blow round her.'</div> <div> Dave said, slowly. 'Ronnie was stoned out of his mind last night. He's getting into the dope scene. It's getting regular. Weed, snow, ecstasy, uppers.'</div> <div> 'He says he needs to get high for the gig, to give his best performance. He says he can't make it through the evening without.'</div> <div>  'Granuski was dishing out smack like sweeties in the plane yesterday.'</div> <div> Mike said, blankly, <I>'Heroin?</I> Dave, he's not...?'</div> <div> 'Not yet,' said Dave.</div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id64.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Fools Gold Chapter 3"><U><I><B>Chapter 3</B></I></U></A></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Copyright Liz Berry 2002 All rights reserved</B></I></div> <div> __________________________________</div> <div> <A HREF="id23.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Fools Gold"><U><I><B>Fool's Gold  </B></I></U></A><I><B>|  </B></I><A HREF="id18.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Books"><U><I><B>Books</B></I></U></A><I><B>  |  </B></I><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Liz Berry Books"><U><I><B>Home</B></I></U></A></div> <bR> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" width=125 BGCOLOR="#3399FF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <A HREF="id23.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Fools Gold"><U><I><B>Fool's Gold</B></I></U></A></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id39.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Fools Gold Chapter "><U><I><B>Chapter 1</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <I><B>Chapter 2</B></I></div> <div> <A HREF="id64.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Fools Gold Chapter 3"><U><I><B>Chapter 3</B></I></U></A></div> </td> </tr></table></body>