Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Asia was hot and sweaty and the fans were crazy, but still, we loved every moment. It was our first tour as the headline act and we were having a blast.
The label had sent Milo to be our minder and we were under strict instructions to stay out of trouble, which we managed to do, at least while in Australia and Asia, but then we got to the good ol’ US of A, and things went downhill rapidly.
We arrived in April and played the East Coast first, then snaked our way across the country, playing inland and then back down to coastal towns.
The crowds were insane and the after-parties rocked.
No offence to any American college girls reading this, but shit, ladies.
You girls are just insatiable. I don’t know what happens to the females of America when they’re let loose at college, but let me tell you, they do not hold back.
Every time we played at a venue where there was a big college nearby, we had the best of times.
The amount of sex on offer was off the charts.
Hell, even our tour bus driver was getting in on the action.
The further West we travelled, the more the girls wanted to party with us and by party, I mean fuck with us, with each other, in front of us.
Whatever way there was to fuck, they wanted to try it and we were very willing to oblige.
I mean, we were only too happy to represent our green and pleasant land, and that we did!
We rolled into San Diego on a warm and sunny Thursday morning. We were due to be playing at Qualcomm Stadium both Friday and Saturday nights so we were booked into The Grant Hotel, in what we were told was Downtown San Diego.
The hotel had been newly refurbed and felt like a palace after so many weeks on the tour bus. Maca and I shared a two bedroom suite; Tom and Billy, another.
Jim hadn’t joined us yet in the US. She’d been with us through Asia and Australia, but was running our offices while Len joined us on tour, and quite frankly, he was a fucking nightmare to deal with when Jim wasn’t around.
They were engaged now and planning on a big wedding in a couple of years’ time, when things would hopefully quiet down a bit for the band.
They were good together, really good. Len was generally a nice bloke and a great manager, but he did tend to get a bit stressed about things, mainly mine and Maca’s antics when we weren’t performing.
Well, it was just our serial fucking that pissed him off.
He worried all the time about girls going to the press and selling their stories.
We had so many talks about Carnage being a brand and we were ruining its reputation with our behaviour.
We knew he was just doing his job, but at the end of the day, what was the point of being in one of the biggest bands in the world if we couldn’t behave like the rock stars we were?
Maca and I were busy building our reputations and the more we fucked, the more drink and drugs were involved in the wild parties we were either attending or throwing in each town we visited.
The more people talked about us, the more the women wanted a piece of us.
This was the last few months of my teens.
I was living the dream and I had every intention of seeing them out with a bang … several bangs, actually.
We checked into our rooms, had a quick shower, then headed off for a game of golf with Len and a couple of suits from our record label.
We had slept on the bus as we travelled through the night and were feeling pretty fresh that morning.
The label execs talked about how our plans would fit into there’s for the next two years, and where they thought changes could be made.
We ate lunch with them at the course's club and talked more business. This side of things bored me senseless, so I left most of the talking to Len and a little to Maca. We signed a few T-shirts for them and a few for some blokes who’d just come off the course and had kids that were fans, but mainly we drank.
We had a night off that night and we fully intended to enjoy the day and whatever the night would bring. As Milo drove me, Maca, and Len back to the hotel, Len began to lecture us.
“I know you have a night off tonight, boys, but I think it’ll be best if you just stick around the hotel. You have a photo shoot and an interview to do at eleven tomorrow and you’ll need to be fresh for it.”
I watched the traffic pass by from the back of the enormous four-wheel drive SUV we were being driven in.
I didn’t want to argue with my brother, but there was no way we were staying in tonight.
I remained silent, expecting Maca to do the same, so I was surprised when I heard him ask, “Best for who, Len?”
I looked over at my brother as he turned around in the passenger seat to face us in the back.
“Do what?” he questioned.
“Us staying in on our night off … who will it be better for?” Maca expanded on his previous question.
“I think it’ll be better for everyone, Maca. I’m not saying don’t kick back and enjoy a few drinks—”
“Then what are you saying, Len?” he asked again, his tone sharp.
“What’s your fucking problem, mate?” Len asked him.
I remained silent, catching Milo’s eye in the rearview mirror.
We both raised our eyebrows in surprise at Maca’s vehemence.
I was usually the one who argued with Len.
It was me and him that Milo, Maca, and the rest of the boys were continually separating before we could do each other any real damage.
“You’re my fucking problem, Len. Just coz Jim’s not here, don’t take your shitty attitude out on us.”
“That’s fucking rich coming from you. George has been missing from your life for almost a year and you’ve never heard me complain about the shitty attitude you’ve had since then.”
Maca kicks the back of Milo’s seat, once, twice, three times.
“Stop the car. Stop the fucking car! I need to get away from this cunt,” Maca shouted.
“Pull over,” I told Milo. “Nice one, dickhead,” I said to my brother.
Milo pulled over, double parking, causing drivers behind to pull around us. A few of them bibbed and I gave them the finger in return as I climbed out of the car after Mac.
I followed him along the street for a little ways, pulling my cap down low so you couldn’t see my face. It was two in the afternoon and hot as fuck.
“Slow the fuck down, Mac. I’m melting here.
” He turned around, lifted up his sunglasses and looked at me.
Before he could say anything, I jumped in.
“Don’t frown at me with them big bushy eyebrows.
You seriously need to get plucked or shaved, or whatever before the photoshoot tomorrow, dude. ” His frown deepened.
“Fuck off, Marls.” He looked over my shoulder and his frown became a smile. I turned and followed his gaze to a bar across the street. “I need a drink,” is all he said before making his way across the road.
The place was busy for a weekday afternoon; a mixture of construction workers, blokes dressed for the beach, as well as a few girls in shorts and vests.
We ordered a pitcher of beer and a couple of whiskey chasers from the pretty barmaid and sat ourselves at the bar, thankful that we hadn’t been asked for ID.
This being twenty-one to drink nonsense had caused us issues since we’d been there and I blamed that law entirely on the reason why so many parties ended up back on the bus or in hotel rooms.
After knocking back the whiskey, followed by two glasses of beer each, Maca finally spoke.
“Your brother’s a dick.”
“No,” I replied. “My brother’s a good bloke, but our manager is the dick.”
“Either way.” He let out a long sigh and raked his hand through his hair. “She’s been out of my head. I’ve kept her out of my head for these last few weeks at least, and then he has to go and say shit like that.”
“I know, mate, it was wrong. He shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
He poured us each another beer and held his fingers up at the barmaid who I’d noticed had been watching us for a while, and asked her for two more whiskeys. She came over with a bottle and topped up our glasses.
“You boys are asking for a headache in the morning if you keep going at this rate.” She said with a smile, looking between us.
She was pretty, in an all-American kind of way; tall, blonde, tanned, perfect teeth, and clear blue eyes. My cock twitched and I smiled back at her.
“Well, is there anything that you can suggest that’s gonna give us less of a headache and make us feel equally as good? Maybe something a little less legal?” I asked her.
That wiped the smile off her face and I watched her throat move as she swallowed, hard. Bingo. Miss USA knew exactly what I was after and where I could get hold of it.
We’d smoked a lot of weed and popped a few pills, even tried some LSD while we’d been on tour, but we’d stayed away from the marching powder. Yet right now, we needed a quick fix and couldn’t afford to be hungover in the morning, making cocaine the perfect drug of choice for the evening.
“You guys cops?” she asked me outright.
“No, love,” Maca said. “We’re tourists on holiday, over here from London, and we’ll make it worth your while for a few grams of good quality white stuff.” He made a point of being nonspecific about what we were after, just in case she did recognise us and went running to the papers.
She flicked her hair over her shoulders and looked up and down the bar.
“I get off in ten minutes. I’ll make some calls then, but it’ll cost ya.
” She narrowed her blue eyes at us, probably trying to work out if we had money or not.
We showered and changed after our game of golf and were both wearing cut off jean shorts—don’t judge, it was the 80’s remember—T- shirts, and flip-flops.