Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 THE CURSE

   By KATZMAREK

   Chapter Three.

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   This is a work of fiction.  It remains my work and may not be used for
gain without my express permission in writing.

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   Michelle gently disentangled herself from Mick and slipped out of bed.
She grabbed the discarded robe and covered her nakedness.  She then padded
out into the lounge and retrieved her phone.  Dialling Anna's number, she
was rewarded when her friend picked it up almost instantaneously.

   "Michelle?" her friend answered in a voice full of anxiety.

   "Anna?  Can you take notes for me this morning?  I'm not going to be
able to make lectures."

   "Sure.  Where are you?  Y'still at Mick's?"

   "Yeah.  He's out cold.  I don't expect he'll be up much before
lunchtime."

   "Michelle...  um...  I think we need to talk about this."

   "Why?  Really, everything is so right.  He's such sweetie...  really
gentle and..."

   "Look!" Anna interrupted, "I'm sure he's all you say.  That's not the
point.  Don't you think he's too old for you?"

   "Age difference hasn't be an issue..."

   "For God's sake!  You say that now, but what if you want to have kids?
What then?"

   "Kids?  Hell, hold on a minute.  We've just hooked up.  Isn't that a
little premature?"

   "Michelle!  I know you - you forget.  I know when you're besotted with
some guy.  Remember that guy, Jason?"

   "Anna?  I was 11 years old and he was 15?"

   "You used to watch him at the BMX track.  You had the same goofy
expression..."

   "Anna?  We were kids?  I probably liked his shirt.  I don't even
remember what he looked like..."

   "So?  Maybe after a while you'll forget about Mick?"

   "Not a chance!  This is real, Anna!  I don't give a shit about his age.
I know it's right like I've ever known anything in my life."

   "Oh, Anna, don't get hurt.  I'm really worried about you.  I don't think
you've thought it through.  I don't think you know what you're doing."

   "Oh, be happy for me, Anna?  For once, don't try to be my mother.  I can
look after myself."

   "I thought you just wanted a little flirting.  I didn't realise how
serious you were.  If I'd known, I'd..."

   "Anna?" she replied, increasingly irritated, "Anna?  Let's go out for
dinner tonight, huh?  Just you and me?"

   "What about practice?"

   "After that, then.  Just the two of us?  We can talk then.  You're
really misjudging Mick.  I think he really loves me.  He's just the
greatest guy in the whole world."

   "Oh, Michelle!" she sighed, "we talk tonight, yes?  Men are all the same
underneath.  They only want one thing and when they get it..."

   "Oh, and you're the expert?" Michelle bristled, "you, who never lets a
guy lay a hand on you?  21, and you're still a virgin?"

   "That's a cruel and unfair thing to say," Anna sniffed, "just because I
make certain choices..."

   "Fine, but that doesn't give you the right to judge..."

   "I'm not judging...  I ...I, Michelle, I love you, I..."

   "Oh, Anna, I love you too.  It's just..."

   "Michelle.  You don't understand.  I said, I love you, I..."

   "Of course I understand, Anna.  Why wouldn't I?  We've been best friends
for twelve years..."

   "No, I..."

   "Hey, gotta go.  I think I hear Mick stirring.  He likes a coffee first
thing in the morning."

   "Michelle?  Uh, um, just take care, huh?  See you tonight?"

   "Sure.  Bye!"

   Michelle went back into the bedroom.  Mick was still sleeping like a
baby.  She climbed back into bed and pulled his arm back over herself. 
Snuggling, she grinned with contentment.

   Mick woke about 11.  He checked the clock through blurry eyes, before
leaning over towards Michelle.  She was on her back, eyes closed and face
relaxed in sleep.

   "Hey?" he whispered, softly.  He brushed the hair from her face, then
blew in her ear.  "Hey?"

   "Whaa?" she drawled, "th', tha' you?"

   "Yeah.  It's 11, you've missed morning classes."

   "Don't worry.  Anna's taking notes for me."

   "Oh.  Want coffee?"

   "I'll get it!" she sprang up so suddenly it almost tossed Mick out of
bed on the other side.  He watched her bare arse as she darted towards the
kitchen - shapely, wobbling and womanly.

   Michelle returned presently, while waiting for the coffee to brew.  She
was still naked and there was none of the self consciousness that
accompanied the first time she took her clothes off in front of him. 
Michelle searched in her bag for a brush, and stood before him running it
through her hair.

   Mick watched her.  Below her neck was a scallop of patchy, faintly red
and brown skin ending abruptly at her tan line.  She had freckles, there,
to balance those across her face.  Below the tan line her breasts appeared
creamy and delicate, beautifully formed, and crowned with brown nipples.

   Her white tummy bore testament to the fact she normally wore a one piece
swimsuit.  Her prominent pubis was dusted with strands of blond hair -
proof she was a natural.  No, her body had not undergone hours of cosmetic
reshaping.  It wasn't a magazine's ideal, but, to Mick, that just made her
appear more sexy.

   Last night their initial lovemaking had been broken by false starts and
nervousness.  Michelle seemed anxious to claim him - opening her legs and
shuffling over urgently.  She wriggled and butted back at him with every
stroke - sometimes upsetting the rhythm Mick was trying to set.

   She was anxious to know whether Mick was pleased - that it was as good
for him as she insisted it was for her.  He doubted, however, that she'd
come.  Her cries seemed forced and she seemed to have way too much energy
after for someone who claimed to have had a 'sensational orgasm.

   Mick had been relaxed about it all.  Their fumblings had been a helluva
lot nicer than some of his earliest efforts.  He enjoyed her cuddling up
afterwards and the whispered pillowtalk.  It was good to have someone, he
was fairly sure, wasn't going to say goodbye in the morning and not call.

   Then it was about two in the morning and he woke with a start.  Michelle
appeared to be asleep and he couldn't help grabbing a little feel.  After
running his hand lightly over her breasts, he reached down and cupped her
shapely arse - at the point wear it curves down to the parting between her
legs.

   Michelle stirred and wriggled against his questing hand.  When she
turned over, her mouth was open and face flushed with arousal.  She kissed
him fiercely and searched for his cock.  Mick stroked her vagina and found
it moist and hot.

   Then he had an idea.  He got her on all fours and took her that way. 
One hand caressed her left breast while the other reached down to give her
more stimulation.

   This time her cries were not forced.  She was as noisy as any lover he
could remember - howling and crying as Mick brought her to a very loud, and
real, orgasm.

   They lay cuddling long afterwards - her hand playing with his hair.  She
was quiet and reflective as her breathing slowed.  Eventually, she
whispered something.

   "Huh?" Mick asked, not hearing.

   "I don't care what anyone says," she said, "I don't even care what you
think.  I just want to tell you that..." She paused for breath, as if
recharging her courage.  "I just want to tell you that I love you so badly
it hurts.  I don't expect you to say anything.  In fact, please don't.  I
absolutely know in my heart that this is so right.  You're so fucking
wonderful, Mick..." Her voice tailed off to be replaced by gentle sobbing.
"You are so right for me," she added when she'd collected herself once
again.

   Mick chose not to reply.  She turned over, eventually, and he spooned
her once more.  Once again, before sleep, he could sense her crying - her
back trembling with emotion against his chest.

   To be honest, he didn't know what he could say.  Should he've told he
loved her as well?  Was that the truth, anyway?  Did he really know how he
felt?  In the end, did it really matter anyhow?  It was obvious to him he
*could* fall in love with this young woman.  But love, he knew, was built
on much stronger foundations than good sex.  The test was out of the
bedroom.  Could they form a true partnership?  If that didn't happen, Mick
just couldn't see it working for long.

   His thoughts drifted inevitably back to Sabby, his love of a lifetime,
who abandoned him 25 years ago.  'Sabby' was his pet name for her - she was
called Sabra - she was dark, buxom, and infinitely sexy.  They'd wrestle
half the night and into the morning - furiously coupling at practically
every opportunity.

   Sabra was his soulmate and she ripped his heart out, pure and simple. 
That someone who loved him, and accepted his love, could so callously
abandon him with not even a scribbled note or a phone message, was as bad
as life could get.  Mick went on a bender - one that didn't end until his
bandmates and friends put a stop to it.  Freddie had taken him to rehab to
dry out and flush the tons of chemicals he'd saturated his body with.  They
told him it had been a 'grief process,' but he never wanted that shit to
ever happen to him again.

   Michelle had professed love for him as well.  She wanted to be his
soulmate, but would he ever let her get that close?  Could he ever survive
the pain of parting?  Never again, he thought, he won't let it happen
again.

   "Penny for them, honey?" she asked, sweetly.

   "Uh, ah, just thinking.  You look beautiful!" That was a shrewd thing to
say, he thought, and was rewarded by a happy smile, a soft look, and a cup
of coffee in bed.

   Band practice that evening was remarkable because of the tension in the
air.  Michelle was on a high and appeared to be floating a little above the
Earth.  Freddie's son had turned up and hovered around Karen.  It was
obvious that his attention wasn't entirely unwelcome.  Anna, however, was
in a sulk the minute she arrived.

   Mick saw that the dynamics had shifted.  The girls' partnership was
readjusting itself, he thought, and needed time to work through.

   When Anna complained she couldn't focus because, 'of you two making eyes
at each other all the time,' Mick decided to wrap early.  He and Michelle
said goodnight with a quick kiss and grope behind the amps and that set
Anna off in a big way.

   With a furious kick she propelled the monitor clean off the stage.  She
then unleashed a fusilade of Russian that rendered everyone to gaping
spectators.

   "Anna?" Michelle called at her fleeing friend.

   "What you want, huh?" she snapped back, losing the flow of English and
reverting to a heavy accent, "what you do with him all the time?  I see
you, you no shame.  You say you my friend but you lie, you always lie."

   "Lie?" Michelle recoiled, "what?  I've always been honest with you."

   "You haven't, you never," Anna continued to harangue, "you don't love
me. You want to be with him.  He will never be here for you, unnerstand? 
He musician, he has whores, he doesn't have women..."

   Anna stalked the hall up and down, unleashing broadside after broadside
in both Russian and English.  Eventually, she broke down, squatted on the
floor and howled like a baby.

   Mick was completely lost.  Freddie looked on in a similar state and
Karen and Freddie junior quietly left by the side entrance.

   "It's all right, Mick," Michelle told him, "she sometimes goes like
this. She has demons, some awful memories of back in Russia.  I'll take her
home, give you a call later?"

   "Sure, babe."

   "Maybe I'll come back after?  I'd like to."

   "Sure, if you like.  Just let me know how she is?"

   "I will.  Don't worry," she smiled, "she's had these blowouts before. 
She's as soft as a lamb after."

   Several hours later she did call.  Her voice was strained with fatigue
and she apologised she couldn't come over that night.

   "How's Anna?" he asked.

   "Zonked out in bed," she said, "she has these pills she takes that lays
her right out.  I think I should stay with her tonight."

   "Of course you should."

   "You're so understanding, Mick.  Y'know?  Her insecurities are hiding
just below the surface.  She maintains her poise with self-control but, I
think, sometimes it just becomes too much and she just blows out.  Please
don't judge her.  I don't think we can know what went on over there in
Russia, so we can't judge.  She didn't mean the things she said about you,
y'know.  It was just her way of clearing."

   "Never gave it a second thought, babe.  I've been cussed out a lot worse
over the years."

   "I'm sure you have," she managed a tired giggle, "gotta go.  I love
you."

   "Yeah, babe, I know.  Bye."

   "Seeya."

   Mick lay in bed thinking.  To his mind, Anna sounded a helluva lot like
a jealous lover.  Nothing else he knew about her would suggest she had
lesbian tendencies, however, and he concluded she probably felt her and
Michelle's friendship was under threat.  Then again, there was a lot he
didn't know about the social dynamics among a group of women.  He wondered
whether they had a course on it up at the University?  He wished he'd paid
more attention to this stuff when he was younger.  Not for the first time,
the women of his band had rendered him into impotence.

   Mick was jolted awake by the phone by his ear.  It was barely 9 am and
he wondered for a second what inconsiderate arsehole would be phoning him
at this hour.  He then thought about Michelle and wondered whether
something had happened.  He grabbed for the phone, dropped it, before
finally retrieving it from the floor.

   "Yeah?" he said.

   "Mick, I'm sorry!" It was Terry.  She sounded in a panic, "do you know
where my son is?  He didn't come home last night."

   "Terry, ah, Terry?  He's 18!  That's what they do."

   "But he's got classes?  He doesn't do this - doesn't not call."

   "You tried ringing him?"

   "His phone's turned off."

   "Ah, Terry?  I remember he left with Karen last night.  Probably fetched
up with her?"

   "With Karen?  That's what Freddie said.  He said he'd turn off his phone
because..."

   "Well, really, Terry.  Imagine you're just getting real friendly with a
woman and your mum calls?  You any idea how traumatic that could be for an
18 year old?"

   "Look, I know I must sound like an interferring, protective mother."

   "Interferring?  You?"

   "Don't get smart, Mick, I'm not in the mood.  He just doesn't do this
kinda thing."

   "So, maybe he's growing up?  Y'know?  At 18 he can do pretty much what
he likes."

   "Not while he's under my roof.  We have rules, here, and even Freddie
calls when..."

   "Look, Terry.  He's a teenager.  He's not supposed to be considerate nor
follow rules if he doesn't want.  That's part of the prescription.  He's
not supposed to check in with his mum nor tell her what he's been up to for
the past week.  Teenagers sometimes slip classes and go surfing.  Sometimes
they get drunk and wake up in a ditch.  They suddenly call you from the
Lakes District saying they're with someone called Frances and not to worry.
Teenagers do all this stuff and it's perfectly natural.  You just hope
against all hope you inculcated him with enough good sense not to get
arrested."

   "Mick, you're not supposed to say that to a mother, for Christ's sake.
What do you know about Karen?  What does anybody know?  She could be on
drugs for all we know?"

   "Terry?  You're going over the top.  So what if she does a little blow
or wake up to a doobie?  You got a short memory or what?"

   "No I don't and I remember what it was like in the seventies.  Maybe I'm
being hysterical but I'll be what I damn well please!  I've got a bad
feeling about this and it's got nothing to do with him being a teenager. 
You forget I was one also.  I've slipped out a few windows in my time but I
was always back for breakfast."

   "Look!" Mick sighed, "I'll give Michelle a call and see if she knows
where Karen lives.  If we track him down I'll let you know, okay?"

   "Thanks, Mick.  If he turns up here, I'll call."

   "Good!  Bye."

   Michelle was sleepy when Mick called.  Blearily she explained that Anna
was still out cold and they'd probably skip Uni the whole day.  "But," she
explained, "we just have the one lecture in the afternoon and neither of us
like it very much.  We're thinking of dropping out of the course."

   "You always do everything together?  Even dropping out of classes?"

   "Um, yeah, pretty much!" she laughed, "kinda like twin sisters I guess."

   "You share boyfriends?" he teased.

   "Not funny, Mick!  You guys always think about that.  You bring sex into
everything!"

   "Speaking of which, y'seen Karen?  Apparently Freddie junior didn't come
home last night and Terry thinks he's with Karen."

   "I'm not sure where she lives, Mick.  She always drives home.  She's got
this little hatchback...  red, I think, or maybe darker.  I'm not sure,
now."

   "Hmm, so what?  We drive around looking for a little hatchback, maybe
coloured red?"

   "Hey, I'm sorry.  Why would I care what car she drives?  Only guys give
a shit about such things."

   "It's ok, babe.  I think Terry's overreacting, anyhow.  She maybe needs
to give the poor guy a little space or risk smothering him."

   "I've got her number!" Michelle ventured, "I'll give her a call and get
back to you?"

   A few minutes later Michelle rang back to say that Karen's phone, too,
had been turned off.  She did say, however, that she thought she could find
out where she lives through mutual acquaintances.

   "What about classes?  Y'know what she takes?  Maybe you could check the
time of her next lecture..."

   "Um, Mick?  I don't even know what degree course she's taking.  We've
never talked about it.  It's always been about the band."

   "Strange!  I kinda thought you girls gossip all the time?"

   "Not us, honey.  Karen pretty much keeps herself to herself."

   "Hey, maybe we could do lunch?  Say, about two?"

   "Two?  Y'got a strange idea of mealtimes," she laughed, "ok, can I bring
Anna?  I know you maybe wanted..."

   "No, fine!" Mick replied, "bring her along.  She might change her mind
that I'm some sort of predator looking to steal her little sweetheart..."

   "Mick, don't!  You don't understand her.  We have this kinda complex
thing.  It's hard to explain."

   "You're right, I probably don't.  I don't think Freddie and I ever sat
down and analysed our relationship.  We just hang out."

   "Yeah, well, I guess I'll see you?  By the clocktower in the square?"

   "Fine, see you then."

   Terry called, again, soon after.  She told him that her son had turned
up, tired, and she'd sent him to bed.  He'd told her he'd spent the night
on Karen's couch - that they were up till 4 in the morning talking and
listening to music.  It was then too late to go home so Karen offered to
put him up.  Terry said her son told her they'd only drunk a little beer
and that she believed him.

   "I can tell by his eyes that he hasn't had any dope."

   "There, see?"

   "Junior said Karen hates conflict.  She can't stand you guys arguing. 
It may be you ought to remember that."

   "Oh, sure," Mick laughed, "like a band that doesn't bitch at one
another? You heard of such an animal?"

   "Freddie's gone to the High School," Terry explained, "even though he's
not teaching until the afternoon.  I think I drove him away.  I drive
everyone away.  Even my son has to be devious..."

   "Terry?  You've got this need to fix everyone around you.  You've been
that way ever since I first met you.  I doubt you're likely to change now.
But I remember once...  that night you and Freddie picked me up from that
girl's place?  I'd been there for a week just doing dope..."

   "Yeah, I remember.  We were so worried about you.  Each day we expected
to get a phone call that you'd, you'd..."

   "O'Ded?  Yes, I probably would have, sooner or later.  You took me to
that awful place...  forced me to confront my old demons.  I called you a
fucking bitch, all the names under the sun, remember?"

   "Sure, but that was just the dope talking."

   "Maybe, but you didn't once back off.  You messed with my life and
finally showed me there was someone out there who cared about Mick Johnson.
I'd never've got through it without you and Freddie."

   "Oh, nonsense, Mick.  You'd do the same for Freddie, or me for that
matter.  That's what friends are for, fer goodness sake."

   "Yeah, I realise that.  Just...  just don't change, you old bitch, huh?
We all need an interferring old bag like you sometimes."

   "Just remember that, Mick Johnson, and don't get Michelle knocked up,
okay?"

   "There, that's better!" he laughed, "that's more like the old Terry we
all know and love!"

   "Oh, get off!  I'd better tell Freddie he can come home, now."

   "You do that, bye."

   When Mick met the girls in the town square, they were all smiles and
laughter.  Not once did Anna try to explain herself ot apologise.  It was
as if it'd never been.  Like she wanted to draw a veil.

   Mick suggested a Turkish cafe and they all readily agreed.  They had the
best coffee there, Mick insisted.

   He thought the two of them looked really good, although Michelle had a
special attraction with her sweet smiles and eyes full of promise.  Anna
seemed relaxed and even kidded with them a little about their 'goofy
expressions.' The pair looked freshly scrubbed and groomed, and Mick caught
wafts of scent from them both.

   So warm was the feeling at the table that Mick felt he was becoming an
honorary member of their exclusive club.  The rigid and unshakeable bond
that bound these two women seemed to have loosened a little to allow a
third person.  But the nature and substance of that bond was as mystifying
to him as ever.

   Michelle told him they had some more lyrics to set to music and
suggested they work something up tonight.  She added, sweetly, that she'd
bring an overnight bag.  Anna never batted an eyelid.

   Mick was struck, and confused, how things seemed to have shifted
overnight.  From a raging jealousy, Anna seemed to be more than relaxed
about he and Michelle's relationship.  He concluded he had so much to learn
about women that it was beyond humourous.

   Similarly, Anna seemed at ease when he and Michelle kissed and hugged
goodbye.  She even stepped into the frame to accept a hug, and a more
chaste kiss, from Mick afterwards.  He wandered back to the van feeling
that things seemed to have shaken down quite nicely, although he'd no idea
what had happened to change the situation.

   Practice that night went unbelievably well.  The band was hot and worked
up no fewer than three numbers inside of two hours.  Such a pace was
unheard of and Michelle told the band it must have something to do with the
wonderful instrument she now had to work with.

   Indeed, with Michelle playing a proper bass guitar, something of a
bottleneck had been freed up in the creative flow.  Bass lines were a lot
easier to transcribe and Karen found it simpler to drum to.  The playing
was generally a lot tighter than Mick ever heard before from the band.  At
the end of the session all of them were bouyant and excited about what
they'd accomplished.

   Junior turned up again to assist Karen and to hang out later.  He came
with Freddie, who'd left early, saying he couldn't stay late that night. 
After the wrap, Karen and Junior slipped out together without anyone
noticing.

   Because Anna didn't drive, Michelle arranged for Mick to drop her back
into town in his van.  Michelle sat in the front in the middle and her hand
quickly found a perch on Mick's thigh.

   Mick had never seen the girl's flat before.  It was an older style,
typically student-looking upstairs apartment with turn of the century bay
windows.  He went in with the girls to have a look around and for a quick
coffee.  The kitchen was tiny, although someone had built a servery into
the lounge.

   As was again typical of the era, the place was built the wrong way
around with the morning sun streaming into the two front bedrooms leaving
the lounge in shadow all day.  Michelle told him they mostly spent their
time in Anna's room, being the cosiest in the house.

   Her room was immaculate, tidy, with not even a sock on the floor. 
Anna's bed was low, futon style, with maroon covers and matching wall
hangings.  Mick thought Michelle must find his untidiness strange after
living in such a place.

   Michelle brought the coffees into Anna's room and set them down on a low
mahogany table.  The polished surface was protected by woven coasters and
Michelle was careful she spilt nothing on the wood surface.

   The room exuded feminity, Mick thought, and he couldn't imagine many men
intruding into this space.  As such he felt a strange kind of privilege. 
Anna showed him a family picture, taken in Chechnya, in front of a grand
romanesque house fringed with green shrubbery.  He saw she had a younger
brother, nearly as tall as she, and she'd clearly lived a privileged life
as a child.

   "They're my parents," she explained, unnecessarily, "and my brother,
Alex.  He was killed in the War."

   "Oh, God, Anna, I'm sorry!" Mick said, genuinely shocked.

   "Is no matter," she said, "many people were killed.  It's all so... 
pointless."

   "Yes."

   "Many brothers, many sisters, fathers, mothers," she continued, "all
dead for nothing.  Still they fight, huh?"

   "Yeah, for nothing!" he agreed.

   "Alex is still here," she declared, tapping her chest, "in my heart. 
They can't take that from me.  They can kill as many as they like but they
can't take my brother away."

   "Anna, are you going to be all right?" Mick asked, concerned.

   "Yeah, sure!" she said, brightly, "I have some assignments.  And letters
to write.  I'm terrible with letters..."

   Mick looked around at her pristine room and couldn't imagine she'd be
capable of any lapse in obligations.  He'd rarely seen such organisation.

   Later, Mick drove Michelle back to his place.  She looked serene in the
lights, and her eyes were softly closed.

   "Anna tells everyone she meets that story about her brother," she
explained, "it's like she needs to explain why she sometimes behaves a
little strange."

   "Still, her brother being killed like that?"

   "I know, and I really feel sorry it happened.  But she does go on about
it and it gets really emotionally draining.  I sometimes think it's some
attention thing...  like she does this drama queen bit to get everyone to
run around after her?"

   "Hmm, very likely.  It seems to me she likes people to think she lives
on her emotions.  But her room?"

   "Huh?"

   "Her room looks like someone in absolute control.  It's almost
obsessionally tidy."

   "A Psychologist?" she grinned, "compared to your place anywhere would be
obsessionally tidy."

   "True!"

   "But I think you have a point.  She's always been well organised.  Far
better organised than anyone I can think of."

   "See?"

   "But that doesn't prove anything, does it?"

   "Perhaps, no, but I've rarely seen a musician as tidy as that.  They're
generally obsessed, but about music, not about putting away their clothes
and smoothing the bed like some show home.  That place is a shop window,
not a student flat."

   "Hey, remember they were quite rich when they lived in Russia.  Maybe
she was used to the best of everything and..."

   "Yeah, there's that.  Maybe I'm judging her by the wrong set of
standards?"

   "Sure, the standards of a slob."

   "Hey!"

   "Just kiddin', beautiful!" she smiled, "you're a slob but you're my
slob."

   "Smartarse!"

   Indeed, Mick felt relaxed and contented as he arrived back home with his
'old lady.' It was becoming a natural thing to have Michelle around, even
if she'd only been home with him once.  She just seemed to blend into his
world, he concluded, as if she'd always been there.

   Michelle cooked up a plate of cheese toasties for supper and they sat in
bed together to eat them with a couple of beers.  Mick put on a little
music and they discussed the finer points of it while cuddling.

   They made love later, by tacit mutual agreement, and it was nice, slow
and satisfying.  Afterwards they talked well into the wee hours - about
Anna and Karen.

   The band had worked up about a dozen songs with Anna and Michelle
claiming they had the bare bones of around a dozen more in their songbooks.
Things were looking bright for The Curse, at least as far as the material
went.  The songs were still lyrically on the dark side and Mick wondered
whether they had any truly commercial material.

   "Does it matter?" Michelle asked him.

   Matter?  That was a question he couldn't answer on his own.  It'd been a
while since he'd written anything himself and he doubted his lightweight
style would sit right in The Curse's catelogue.  In any case, he was more
comfortable helping with the arranging and playing guitar and was glad he
didn't have the responsibility of coming up with the songs.

   There was one thing, though - a song that'd never seen the light of day.
Mick had written it in the depths of depression and addiction.  It'd been
the lowest point of his life and the lyrics were consequently sombre and
desperate.  He even had a sketch of a tune to go with it, over the beating
of a drum that reminded him of a funeral procession.  It was a song he'd
never dared share with anyone.  It was a song he'd barely shared with
himself.

   It was lying forgotten among his old songbooks he kept in a box on the
top of his wardrobe.  But Michelle spent the morning fossicking through
them in search of some inspiration.

   "What's this?  she asked, "when did you write this?"

   "Hmm, oh, that," he replied, "very Velvet Underground, that.  I think
that woulda been, maybe, about 81/82.  Those was Ultravox and Dire Straits
days.  That song was a bit suicidal...  in more ways than one."

   "Yeah, but, it seems well ahead of its time," she told him.  "It's
actually very moving.  I think we could do it."

   "Y'sure you want to?  It kinda feels like music to open a vein to?"

   "Yeah, my point," she laughed, "perfect Curse material."

   There was no let up that evening and The Curse assembled for their usual
practice.  Michelle introduced Mick's song to the band and they began to
play around with it.  Then someone remembered Karen's jungle rhythm thing
and they decided to give it a try, but slowed down.  The drummer beat out
the time on a couple of old kettle drums and the effect was immediate.

   Anna belted out the lyric with her husky contralto.  It rose in pitch
and volume like the old Grace Slick song, 'White Rabbit.' Mick decided a
murky and discordant style would suit the song best easing up on his stomp
box as he went along.  The song ended in a thunderous wall of sound with
Michelle going hard out on the Rickenbacker.  Afterwards they all sat down
silently, catching their breath, and lost in thought.

   "We got something there!" Freddie was the first to speak up.

   "Yeah!" Mick agreed.

   "I reckon that'll become our trade mark," Michelle suggested.

   "What about recording it?" Freddie said, "maybe a CD single with that
'Indigo' thing and a couple of others?"

   "Could we do it?" Michelle suddenly brightened.

   "We got a name for it?" asked Mick.

   "What'd you call it?" asked Anna.

   "You don't want to know," Mick grinned.

   "No, believe me, you don't!" agreed Michelle.

   "'Darkside?'" suggested Karen, helpfully.

   "Too similar to 'Dark Star', that Grateful Dead number," thought
Freddie.

   "Who're these 'Grateful Dead?'" asked Anna.

   "Hehe, I guess 'Darkside' would be as good a title as any," Freddie
laughed.

   The next day, Mick rang around the studios to find who had time
available and for how much.  Most of his old familiar haunts had either
closed down or changed ownership.  His reputation carried very little
weight these days, he found.

   But, someone suggested a small studio called 'Flyblown.' If he could
burn a disk they had someone who'd quite happily mix it for beer money. 
The guy liked to do favours for emerging bands, the guy explained, and he
liked the girls, having seen them up at the Uni gig.

   Mick wondered at the small print in the contract.  The music business
rarely offered a free lunch and he was suspicious.  No contract, no fees,
and you keep the rights and ownership of the recording.  A small plug on
the label would be sufficient.  Mick couldn't believe his luck.

   He got Freddie to download the song from the sound desk and whatever
else that still sat in the harddrive.  It was rough, but Mick was
interested how well the studio could clean it up.  Digital technology gave
you almost limitless power over the final copy.

   Making a few hundred CDs could be done reasonably cheaply.  'Flyblown',
itself, had the capacity to do that if they could find someone to get it
into the chainstores.

   However, the two largest distributers had pretty much sewn all the shops
up in exclusive supply contracts and to get 'The Curse' into the shops was
virtually impossible without a major recording contract, 'volume
guarantees' and other such bullshit.

   It was Michelle who suggested the Internet and 'You Tube' for getting
new music out to the public.  She immediately started to set up an account
and website.  By the afternoon, 'The Curse' had an Internet presence and,
worldwide, had 25 visitors.  It was getting very exciting.

   A week later, the recording was returned to them, professionally mixed
and clean as a whistle.  True to his word, Mick sent them a case of beer.
By Monday, the music was uploaded and ready for the voluntary contributions
Michelle was sure to follow in its wake.

   However, by Friday of that week something totally unpredictable
occurred. The Curse's song 'Darkside' was being played on the radio.

   'Flyblown' studios was the culprit.  Their engineer had been so
impressed by the sound and look of the band that he pulled some strings
with Student Radio.  By Saturday, half a dozen other stations had heard the
single and were bidding to include it in their late night playlists.

   On Sunday, Mick began to field requests from Press and TV journos for
interviews.  Several hundred downloads had already been accessed from the
website.  Things began to gather a little momentum for The Curse.

   Mick could feel a buzz growing that reminded him of the early seventies.
That time long ago, however, it took months to get a single on the radio,
let alone played during the most popular timeslots.  An act's popularity
was carefully controlled by experienced management who guided a band to
stardom or obscurity.

   But, with the technology available, Mick was astounded how quickly a
band could start to take off - virtually over the space of a weekend.

   Could 'The Curse' deliver on the public expectation?  Will its members
cope with the sudden attention?  Will the media focus on Anna, or himself,
and how is that going to affect those left out of the spotlight?

   But for Mick, ever suspicious of 'the business,' the first mission was
to sign a contract with Flyblown and secure the band's share of the
broadcast royalties.  This he achieved over the self-same case of beer that
Sunday night.

   A short interview followed for a late night satellite TV show, in which
Michelle, Anna, Karen and he had a three minute slot before syncing the
single on borrowed gear.  But, at least, it gave 'Darkside' added exposure
on a show renown for its so-called 'cult' following.

   Exhausted, Mick went back to Michelle's place and crashed there the
night rather than drive all the way home.  He slept in her bed, but both
were too tired to make love.

   Around three or four in the morning, however, Mick was shaken awake by a
trembling of the bed.  Feigning sleep, he watched as Michelle carefully
slipped out and tip-toed from the room.  A moment later, he could plainly
hear muffled sounds from Anna's room nearby.

   He began to wonder, then, what the set up was with these two?

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   KATZMAREK (c)