Warlord Metal (21 page)

Seeing her course change and the tension surrounding the stage like a cloud, Foley continued on her original path to intercept the groupies before they got to the stage and muddled things up further.

She loves me?! Jordan's tension increased at the whirlwind of emotions that the comment had stirred up. Gritting her teeth, she growled, "What of it?"

"What of it?!" the drummer yelled, his face flushing. He trembled at the effort it took to hold back from hitting her. Middlestead sputtered, his anger overcoming his ability to think and speak.

"Yeah. It's not your life. It's hers." She can't love me! Can't! She's not that stupid!

Middlestead pulled back, his fist clenched and aching to come into contact with the grim young woman before him.

"Tom! Stop it!" Sonny ordered, jumping onto the stage and getting between them. She reached up to grab his shoulders and stepped him backwards.

"Stop it? She's as much as admitted that she's going to hurt you, Sonny!" Middlestead's face was a mixture of fury and confusion. Why is she defending her!? Why can't she see!? "You need someone who can love you... Can't you see that?"

"Jordan does love me... In her own way," the dark woman insisted. "And if I get hurt, it's my own problem. Not yours!"

The redhead could hear the voices in her head, cackling. What the hell is there to love!? She loves me, she loves me not, she hates me, she wants me to rot. Sonny's last comments filtered through and she blinked in shock. I don't love her! No! The darkest little voice, the one that had guided her for years, piped up. Guess you'll just have to show her how wrong she is, huh, Horny Jordie?

The mask firmly settled into place, Jordan took the two steps needed to be within reach of the siblings. She reached out to touch Sonny's shoulder, gaining her attention.

The dark teenager looked over her shoulder, seeing the cool, aloofness in her lover's eyes. Her heart leapt into her throat, knowing instinctively that something wasn't right, something ominous was happening within the redhead.

"He's right, you know," Jordan confirmed with a purr. "You are going to be hurt." And to prove her point, she scooped up her jacket that had been draped across an amplifier and jumped off the stage.

Foley was still trying to talk the groupies into leaving, but the altercation on the stage had further garnered their attention. She was surprised when Jordan was suddenly there beside her.

With great purpose, the redhead thoroughly kissed the woman that had waylaid her on her way to the stage earlier in the evening. "You got someplace?" she asked, her voice husky.

The delighted woman blushed in anticipation and nodded happily. "Yes, I do."

"Let's go, then." And Jordan led her and her entourage out of the establishment.

Sonny watched in first amazement and then heartrending sorrow at the exchange. She seemed to deflate before her brother, turning away from the apologetic and sympathetic look on Foley's face. As her lover left the bar with the other woman, she stepped down from the stage and returned to the bar to get her jacket, shoulders drooping.

A gleeful feeling overtook Middlestead when he saw the guitarist kiss the groupie. Yes! Maybe now she'll listen! And then, he returned his attention to his little sister and his face fell as he realized the extent of her pain. His anger drained out of him, leaving him feeling hollow and empty.

Hampton entered through the stage entrance, wondering at the strange tableau he found awaiting him. "Where's Jordan?"

The tall guitarist sighed heavily. "Don't ask," he warned, watching the no longer volatile Middlestead return to his gear with a lost expression on his face.

Rubbing his bald head, Hampton looked to his girlfriend who approached with a concerned look on her face.

Mar 16, 2002

I've been sitting here for half an hour and I still don't know what to write.

I'm in Jordan's room. I know I probably shouldn't be here. God knows what'll happen if she brings that woman here and finds me. But I needed to be close to her. And this is as close as I can get right now.

The woman... It hurt so much when she kissed Jordan. I know that Jordan didn't start it. But, she enjoyed it - I could tell. I don't know if I should feel jealous or not, or which one to be angry with. At least Jordan didn't pursue the matter initially. I think she would have come to me if Tom hadn't interfered.

I can't even look at Tom. I realize that he's only looking out for my best interests.... But, damn it! He's complicated things so much with his idiocy! Pushing Jordan like that! And then expecting me to just say, "Oh, sure, bro. You're right. How silly of me."

I'm not sure exactly what set Jordan off. I don't think it was him saying she would hurt me... She told me that a year ago. I hope it wasn't anything I said....

Anyway, I couldn't even be in the same room with Tom afterwards. Max and Lisa drove me home. I brought Jordan's guitar up here and have been here ever since. I don't want to see Tom right now.

I just want to see Jordan. To tell her it's okay. To tell her that I don't have to like it, but there's nothing tying us together except having some good times.

I wish there was more than that.

Jordan lay naked in a strange bed with a strange woman wrapped around her. It wasn't anything that hadn't happened a multitude of times before. Casual sex had been her byword for so long, she couldn't even remember when it hadn't been. But, this time it was different.

This time Jordan didn't want to be there.

The woman - I don't even know her name - was soundly asleep, her head resting on the guitarist's shoulders. Her arm was around Jordan's waist and she cuddled the Warlord in her sleep.

The redhead couldn't close her eyes. Every time she did, she could see Sonny's face crumbling as she comprehended what her lover was going to do. And then she and the stranger were in the backseat of some car, making out as her friends giggled and chattered and drove them to this small, neat apartment.

Jordan sighed and craned her neck to read the bedside clock. The luminescent green numbers proclaimed it to be precisely 3:12 a.m. Even as she watched, it changed to 3:13.

I can't stay here. She looked back down at the sleeping stranger's face. With slow, methodical movements, Jordan was able to ease herself out from under the woman, wrapping her arms around a large, stuffed bear that had been tossed to the floor during their frenetic activities.

Finally free, she stood at the side of the bed and glanced around. They had stripped each other of their clothing as they made their way to the tiny bedroom. The gentle light from a single lamp in the main room caused just enough illumination to see dark shadows on the floor. Jordan followed the trail, donning her clothes in the reverse order of losing them.

At the door, the redhead shrugged into her leather jacket, her hands digging into the pockets reflexively. Smooth glass met her fingers and she pulled out a tiny vial and studied it.

Jordan weighed the pros and cons before finally shrugging her shoulders. A quick search revealed a bathroom and she entered, shutting the door and switching on the light. She checked the medicine cabinet first, pushing aside various vitamin bottles and toothpaste. Not finding what she wanted, she switched her search to the three small drawers in the vanity. The first yielded a razor blade and the third had an old handheld mirror. Bingo!

With experienced hands, Jordan poured out a small amount of white powder onto the mirror before recapping the vial and putting it back in her pocket. She used the razor to cut it and then form the powder into two thin lines. A dollar bill from her wallet was rolled up into a small tube. The redhead used this as a straw to inhale the methamphetamine into her nostrils.

Jordan's nose burned, causing tears to spring to her eyes. She used a wetted fingertip to pick up the rest of the powder on the mirror, licking it clean. The mirror and razor were then rinsed off and put away.

A quick glance in the cabinet mirror assured her that she didn't have anything on her face. Jordan ran her hands through red gold hair, already feeling the bizarre sensations of her fingers against her scalp. "Much better," she murmured to herself, sniffing a little.

In a matter of minutes, Jordan had let herself out of the woman's apartment and started walking down the street.

Fortunately, the woman had only lived about a mile from the house. Jordan was able to make it home within half an hour. Moving around the side of the house in the dark, she opened the gate leading into the backyard and the stairs to her room. Closing it quietly behind her, she stepped onto the patio, looking up at Sonny's dark windows.

Despite the euphoria of the drug in her system, Jordan didn't want to go to her room. There was too much of Sonny there now. Ain't that a laugh!? She shook her head ruefully and settled down on one of the benches. Her breath steamed in the chill March morning and she fished out her cigarettes, her heel tapping restlessly all the while.

As she smoked, she could hear a dog barking at some delivery truck in the distance. The lights went on in the house next door, the inhabitants rising to prepare for another workday. The cold air smelled clean and fresh. The temperature had dropped a bit, as was normal for the early morning, but the redhead's jacket was open and she was sweating a little.

She jerked around when she heard the screen door opening behind her and her eyes narrowed.

Middlestead stepped out of the house, zipping up his own jacket and shutting the door behind him. He approached Jordan's bench and sat on the other end. They sat in tense silence for long moments before he finally spoke. "Got a cigarette?"

Jordan blinked emerald eyes at him. "You don't smoke."

The dark man shrugged. "First time for everything." He glanced sidelong at her. "Well? Do you?"

Wordlessly, the redhead slid her pack and lighter down the bench to him. She continued to fidget as she watched him light one up and inhale deeply before breaking into dry coughs. With a raised eyebrow, she asked, "Feel better?"

Knowing she wasn't referring to the smoking, he scowled at her. "No. Do you?"

Jordan debated whether or not to be honest with him. What the hell. Whaddya got to lose, Jordie? She sighed and looked away, legs bouncing. "Not in the least."

Middlestead nodded and the tension seemed to ease between them. They smoked quietly for awhile, the only sound a car engine as the newspaper deliverer made his rounds, the only movement Jordan's fidgeting.

Perversely, the guitarist asked, "How'd Sonny take it?" She tossed aside her cigarette and lit up another one.

"Not well," was the gruff answer.

Jordan nodded in thought. "It's for the best."

The drummer chewed the inside of his mouth, his stomach acid. "I don't think so," he finally said, the words almost being dragged from within.

"What?" The redhead turned to regard him in suspicion. "This is what you wanted, wasn't it? For Sonny to be away from my 'evil' influences?" And you haven't even begun to corrupt her, ya dog!

Middlestead rolled his dark blue eyes and blew out a breath. "Yeah, yeah, it's what I wanted." He tossed the half-smoked cigarette into the nearby butt can. "But, I don't think it's what Sonny wants."

"Oooh, there's a surprise," Jordan responded sarcastically. "What gave it away? Her telling you to back off?" Dammit! Shut up! she ordered herself. Unable to sit still any longer, she rose to her feet and walked a few steps away.

Stiffening in anger, the dark man glared at Jordan's back. And then he forced himself to look at the situation, accept his culpability in it. He dropped his gaze. "Yeah, so I'm dense. No big surprise there. If she hadn't have told me to begin with, I would have never figured out you two were an item."

Jordan considered this. "I think it might have been obvious the first time I planted a big, ol' wet kiss on her lips." She shook her head and turned around to face him. "Look, Tom, you know I'm bad news. I know I'm bad news. Even Sonny's gotta know I'm bad news. Shit, she's seen the women come and go as much as anybody else."

Middlestead recalled a fifteen year old teenager on a wet October morning finally figuring out that the women that their roommate had over weren't homeless. Despite himself, he let out a dry chuckle. "No.... I don't think she knew you were as bad as all that." An amused look crossed his face. "She thought all those women were attending slumber parties when you first moved in."

There was silence for a long moment. The redhead snorted. And then chuckled. A vision of the groupies she'd hung out with doing the slumber party gig straight out of the movie 'Grease' was hilarious. Jordan's laughter was infectious and soon they were both holding their sides with tears streaming down their faces.

Eventually, their laughter died off and they were back to sitting quietly, albeit a bit more pleasantly, although Jordan still jittery.

"My apologies for being an asshole. She's all the family I've got and I don't like to see her get hurt."

Jordan shrugged. "Don't blame you. She's a good kid and deserves better."

A speculative look crossed Middlestead's eyes as he regarded her. "I don't know."

The guitarist raised a red gold eyebrow. "Look, Tom, there's one major problem here. I'm not a man." As he opened his mouth to protest, she overrode him, standing up and towering over his seated form. "No, now listen to me! I'm not saying you're prejudiced. Hell, if you were, I wouldn't be in the band, would I?"

Frowning, the dark man shook his head. "No. You wouldn't."

Jordan waved her arms and shrugged. "She's your sister. It's understandable. Even if I were a man, there would have been some friction between us over the whole mess. But, it woulda been a hell of a lot easier for you to accept."

"Do you..." Middlestead stopped and reconsidered. Deciding to forge onward, he asked, "Do you think she's gay...? Really?"

Emerald eyes lost focus as Jordan considered. She scooped up her cigarettes and dumped them in her pocket. "I don't know for sure. She's had absolutely crappy luck with young men her own age. I can't say as I've ever seen her lust after any man. Schoolgirl crushes, yes, but never anything else." Again she sat on the bench, foot tapping to the unheard beat of crank. "The men she chooses to hang out with are her friends, comrades, helpmates. I haven't seen a romantic attachment." That's 'cuz she's already attached, Jordie! To you! Pause. Would it have been different if I had stopped that first night? A tiny voice whispered, I don't know.