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

   By KATZMAREK

   Chapter Four.

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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.

   ----------------------------------------------------

   Anna liked to sit in the quad of the Arts Faculty building - on a bench
with panoramic views of people coming and going.  A week after The Curse's
single 'Darkside' hit the radio Anna's bench featured a scrum of admirers.

   At first Michelle enjoyed the novelty of strangers coming up to the pair
telling them how much they liked the song.  Some even wanted to share
depressed moments in their lives and some suggested counselling agencies
her and Anna might like to contact.

   'No, they hadn't written the words and the pair were definitely not
suicidal.'

   "It's just a song," she told them, but she was growing tired of
explaining.

   People wanted to know the story behind the words.  The Curse seemed to
have established an emotional connection with so many people it was truly
scary.

   Anna was established, in many people's minds, as the glamour focus of
the band.  Michelle, on the other hand, was 'the quiet one,' the 'George
Harrison of The Curse.' As such, her still waters must run deep.  Karen, as
'just the drummer' seemed to escape most people's attention, thanks, in
part, to her natural reticence.

   Mick was not a frequent face on campus and so dodged most of the
attention.  Very few students had a clue who he was, in any case, or that
he'd been a local star in his day.  Music was such a generational thing
that the stars of yesteryear had absolutely no relevance to the fans of The
Curse.

   Ironically, very few of the fans were aware he was the writer of the
lyric that so captured their imagination.  Or, indeed, that he and the
ignored Karen had been mostly responsible for the hypnotic tune.

   All this seemed not to bother Karen one whit.  As usual, she'd turn up
for practice dead on time and anxious to get to work.  With increasing
confidence, she was becoming a major contributor to the creation of The
Curse's catelogue.  If the fans thought Michelle's waters ran deep, Karen
was still very much a mystery wrapped in an enigma.

   Band meetings took on more of a potency, perhaps even an urgency. 
Several hangers-on would often turn up, beside the ever present Freddie
Junior, often claiming they'd been invited by Anna.  Mick suggested they
keep a close eye on the situation lest things get out of hand.  Here
Freddie, a bulky and seemingly intimidating individual, was an asset as few
guests were willing to invite his displeasure.

   Flyblown offered the band a contract with generous terms.  Mick felt
they could hardly refuse because of the break they'd given them.  The small
label and studio was a two man operation having been started by a couple of
enthusiastic youngsters.  Mick invited them to their rehearsals and they
went away pleased with what they'd heard and seen.

   With a contract signed Mick knew they had to put the partnership of the
band on a legal footing.  Everybody was getting on famously well, at the
moment, but Mick knew that was unlikely to last.  If they made any money
the potential for internal conflict would increase as a consequence.

   They were still setting a furious schedual of practice and rehearsals
and some signs of fatigue were developing.

   As was usual, the singer was the first to show evidence of exhaustion.
The voice can only be abused so far, whereas those playing instruments took
longer to wear out.

   The band itself was running hot at practice.  Songs were coming together
faster, with them all having a clearer sense of how their music should
sound.  Although Mick had doubts about the commercial possibilities of
their dark music, he had to admit that there was something going on.

   He, Michelle, Freddie and sometimes Anna and, less frequently, Terry,
often adjourned to the local after.  They were still unknown at the pub,
the patrons and punters having little interest in what The Curse were
doing. Business was banned from being discussed - Mick thought it unfair to
make decisions without Karen, who never turned up for a drink.

   Two or three nights a week Michelle would come back with him to his
flat. The logistics of getting her to and from University in the morning
made it awkward for them to see each other more.  Mick was never an early
riser and Michelle thought it too much trouble to get him up first thing to
drive her anywhere.

   They decided to do another live gig at the University to 'consolidate.'
Anna persuaded the Student Union to do publicity for nothing and they'd
only be up for the cost of the hall, at 'special friend's' rates.  Ever
watchful of spending the band's limited kitty, Mick was easily persuaded by
the sweetheart terms.

   "After Uni," Mick declared, "I'm urging everyone to take a fortnight's
break.  During that time, I think Freddie and I should organise the legal
side of things before stuff gets out of hand."

   Michelle readily agreed - Mick having already talked it over with her.
Anna needed little persuading, telling everyone her voice needed a break.
Karen was strangely reluctant, saying she saw no reason why they couldn't
keep working.

   "Nothing to stop you coming here anytime for a little practice?" Freddie
suggested.  With that offer, she, too, agreed to the break.

   "I think Freddie should be included as our fifth partner," Mick
continued, "after all, he's as much a part of the band as everyone?" There
was no argument.  "Also, we need to select someone who will represent the
band.  Someone we all trust to speak for us.  They will not necessarily be
a manager," Mick stressed, "and all decisions should still be made by all
of us."

   "You, obviously," Michelle said, "you've the most experience, you're the
obvious choice."

   "Ah?" Anna spoke up, "I wouldn't want to put you down, Mick, but don't
you think you're a little old?  I mean, you would be the face of the band,
right?"

   "Anna?" Michelle started to protest.

   "No, hold on!" Mick put up his hand, "I think Anna has a good point. 
It's all about branding and image and, well, look at me?" he laughed.

   "No, Mick!  Anna?  What are you up to?" asked Michelle.

   "We want someone who'll represent the band," she explained, "like Mick
says, 'be the image?'"

   "You putting your hand up?" Freddie asked her.

   "Well, I'm the singer.  Like it or not, people look to me for..."

   "Well maybe it's a good idea to spread the responsibility around?" Mick
told everyone.  "I don't really want to dominate.  I'm just happy to go
along..."

   "See?" Anna made a face at Michelle.

   "You're just lovin' this, aren't you?" Michelle snarled at Anna.

   "Girls, girls!" Mick put up his hand, "look, maybe if this is too
difficult right now..."

   "No, fine!" Michelle said in a voice that made it clear it wasn't. 
"Anna can play the star.  See if I care?"

   Mick looked at Freddie who rolled his eyes.

   He and Michelle drove back to his place in silence afterwards.  Mick
thought if the girls were starting to fall out at this stage, wait until
later?  Michelle had a face like thunder and he suspected there was a lot
more going on he wasn't aware of.

   "She's being a real bitch to me at the moment," Michelle complained
after they'd got in the door.  "She's fucking insufferable."

   "Alright, alright," Mick said, holding her lightly by the shoulders, "so
what's been happening?"

   "It's not fair, Mick.  We wouldn't be where we are if it wasn't for you.
She just wants to push herself in front of the cameras."

   "Hey, so what?  Let her smile and sashay and we'll just get on making
music.  You don't really want to be answering all those dipshit questions
anyway, do you?  I certainly don't.  The truth is, the way the Press works,
they'll always be wanting to take her picture.  You really want some
cameraman trying to get a down-blouse shot of you all the time?"

   "You saying I'm not pretty enough?"

   "Oh, for Christ's sake," Mick said in exasperation, slapping his
forehead.

   "Just kiddin', Mick.  You're such an easy mark."

   "Look, honey, you girls are going to have to resolve stuff between you.
You lot are a fucking mystery to me.  One minute you're all over each other
like a rash and the next you're spitting tacks.  I can't keep up with it
all."

   Later, they cuddled in bed talking.  Michelle tried to put Mick in the
picture - about the cause of the latest spat within the songwriting
partnership.

   "She's just loving being the centre of attention.  Everyone thinks she
wrote 'Darkside,' y'know?  She doesn't say who really wrote it.  She wants
all the credit herself."

   "Y'know what I think?" Mick said, "you won't like it?"

   "What?" she asked, suspicious.

   "Well, at first, Anna felt rejected because you were hanging out with
me, no?  She was afraid of losing you.  It seems now the shoe's on the
other foot and it's you who's fearing rejection."

   "That's bullshit!" she snapped, "why do you think so?"

   "She's grabbin' the attention leaving you out of the mix.  Does she ever
say, 'here is my best friend and she plays a really great bass guitar.  We
write everything together.' Huh?  Does she tell everyone that?" Michelle
shook her head.  "And what else, Michelle?  Is she going out more with her
friends?  Maybe there's a boyfriend in there - a girlfriend, maybe?  Is she
sleeping with some guy?"

   "No, she isn't!" she insisted, "but, I guess, some of the other stuff is
true.  I don't see her quite as much and she is going out more often."

   "While we're at it," Mick continued, "just what the hell is it with you
two?  Can I be honest?" She nodded uncertainly.  "Do you sleep with her?"

   "Sometimes," she replied, her voice a whisper.

   "I mean, *sleep*!  Not like buddies, but..."

   "Like sex?"

   "Yeah!  Look, I really don't care, y'know..."

   "You asking me if I have sex with Anna?" Her tone of voice suggested to
Mick he maybe shouldn't have asked the question.  "Like I'm bisexual or
something?"

   "Look, it doesn't bother me in the least," he tried to explain, "it's
just that, if we're going to be a couple, I ought to know."

   "What you're really asking, Mick, is whether I've been faithful to you?
Is that how little you think of me?  Is that what you think of my morals?"

   "Michelle?  You haven't answered the question.  It sounds like you're
evading?"

   "Does it?" Her voice was cold, now, and brimming with offence.  "You
think you know so much, why don't you answer the question?"

   "I've heard you in her room.  You sometimes slip in there early in the
morning when you think I'm asleep."

   "You been spying?"

   "No!  Sometimes you wake me up when you get out of bed."

   "So you've never peeked through the door?"

   "Of course not.  What do you take me for?"

   "I'm beginning to wonder.  So you think me and Anna have been fucking?
That's a laugh!" Again, her tone of voice suggested she was far from
amused.

   "Why can't you just be straight with me?  I've always been completely
honest."

   "Have you?  You wait all this time to tell me you think I'm a dyke and
you claim you're honest?"

   "Ok, Michelle, guilty!  Now, can we discuss you and Anna's
relationship?"

   "Maybe I don't want to tell you?"

   "Obviously!" Mick snapped, frustrated, "and maybe we can go on all night
with you evading answers?  Then, again, maybe we can try a little 'cards on
the fucking table' and share stuff we maybe find hard to talk about? 
Maybe, that's what a true partnership is built on?  Talking about the shit
we find tough?"

   "Partnerships are built on trust."

   "Absolutely!  So why do you find it so hard to trust me?"

   Michelle recoiled as if stung.  She was silent for an uncomfortably long
time.  "Ok," she squeaked, eventually, "I don't want to fight.  You want me
to tell you stuff?  Does the same go for you?  You going to tell me about
the shit, too?"

   "I guess that's what it's all about, Michelle."

   "You ever had sex with a guy?" she asked, with a flicker of a grin.

   "Ahh, not that I recall," he pondered, "unless I was so smashed I
forgot! You?"

   "Errm, maybe one or two!" she teased.  "One I recall was a great lay!"

   "Oh?  Who?"

   "Some slob!" she giggled, "how many women you slept with?"

   "Holy, shit!" Mick laughed, "I'm sorry, I don't have that many fingers
and toes."

   "Fucking rock stars!  So, who was the best?"

   "That's a set up question," Mick laughed, "whichever way I answer I'm
cooked!  Ahh, I'm in bed with you - do the math?"

   "Oh, great save!" she laughed, "cute, very cute!"

   "Next one?"

   "Who's Sabby?  I've heard you say that name, sometimes, in your sleep?"

   "Ah!  'Sabby?'" Mick ran his finger through his beard, "ah!  Um, her
real name was Sabra Gideon-David.  She was born in the Northern Israeli
port city of Haifa..."

   "Mick, I don't want her CV.  I know she was born - who was she?"

   "Huh!" he let his breath go suddenly.  Looking down at his hands, he
continued.  "I first met her way back in 74/75.  She was going with one of
the guys in my band.  She'd follow us around on tour.  Even then, I had the
hots for her," he stiffled a laugh, "she was stunning, absolutely stunning,
and I think all the guys were in love with her."

   "Including you?"

   "In the worse way!" he smiled, "it was obsessional - a physical thing,
the likes of which...  well, you get the picture."

   "Right!  So you hooked up?"

   "Broke up the band," he laughed, "we lost two members because of the
shit that went down.  Six years we were together - practically married!"

   "So you split?"

   "I guess.  She just cleared out!  One day she was there, then the
next... I don't know what happened - even today, I've still no idea.  I
didn't realise anything was wrong.  She never told me she was unhappy.  I
just don't know..."

   "I'm sorry, Mick," she hugged him, "it must've been hard for you."

   "When I realised she was never coming back I guess I just fell to
pieces. At that time, punk rock was taking over and my career was going
down the toilet.  All these things came at once - I couldn't cope."

   "Y'know?  Sometimes it feels like you're holding something back.  Like
you're not willing to commit to the relationship.  I kinda see, now, that,
maybe, you're afraid I'll take off like her?"

   "Does it bother you?"

   "Yeah...  yeah, it does," she pondered, "I didn't think it matters but
it does.  I guess I'm afraid you won't be there one day, too."

   "What a pair of dumb shits!" Mick told her, running his fingers through
her hair.  "Each afraid of the other leaving?"

   "You've never said you love me, Mick.  I know because I'd remember... 
boy, would I remember!"

   "Those words important to you?" he asked, "I thought actions..."

   "Yes, they are, Mick!" she interrupted, "right now they are the most
important words in the universe."

   "Well, I guess, of course I love you.  Would I go through all this shit
if it wasn't so?"

   "Would you?"

   "Anna?"

   "Anna?"

   "You've successfully avoided talking about Anna," Mick told her, "now
it's your turn to spill."

   "I...  I, don't know that there's too much to tell," she said, "it's not
that I'm trying to avoid answering.  I just don't know what to say."

   "Sex?"

   "Oh, typical male!" she laughed, "like straight to the point, huh?"

   "Michelle?  You're trying so hard not to answer.  What's a guy going to
think, huh?"

   "We faced puberty together," she smiled, "that's all I'm prepared to
say."

   "Michelle?  You're bloody infuriating!"

   "Well, didn't you guys go through the curiosity phase?  All these things
happening to your body?  Didn't you at least check out what was happening
to your buddies?"

   "Not that I recall, no," he laughed, "but then, my 'buddies' were mostly
girls.  That's why I learned guitar, to attract the girls."

   "Huh!"

   "So you fooled around a little?"

   "Sure, I guess.  Anna has this thing about saving herself for marriage.
She's kinda real straight about such things.  She's got lots of male
friends, but she tells them straight out what they're allowed to do and
that's not much," she grinned.  "She knows all about it, though, we
sometimes laugh about it afterwards."

   "About what?"

   "Y'know, about having guys on?  You'd call her a 'real prick tease.'"

   "Huh!  Very likely!  I could see that, I could."

   "Yeah, but that's not answering your question, is it?  Depends on what
you call 'sex?'"

   "The 'Bill Clinton' question?"

   "Yeah!" she laughed, "okay, we, ah, fooled around a bit, I guess. 
Kissed and stuff, y'know?"

   "She a good kisser?"

   "Beast!" she batted at him, "you're just doing this as a turn on, aren't
you?"

   "Of course not," he smiled, "starter question for ten?"

   "As a matter of a fact she's real good and some guy is going to have the
time of his life.  There, is that what you want?"

   "Hmm, go on?"

   "No, I haven't licked her twat and she hasn't stuck her fingers up me.
Nor all the other stuff you slobbering guys imagine girls do all the time."

   "I'd never..."

   "We cuddle, okay?  And there's nothing wrong with it.  I like her
touching me and I enjoy my arms around her.  We have a special love for
each other that's got nothing to do with sex.  So, we touch and cuddle
some? What the fuck's wrong with that?"

   Michelle's eyes ran with tears and her face appeared stricken.  Mick
brought her into his chest and whispered that everything was okay.  With
the scent of her shampoo pervading his senses he, again, told her how much
he loved her.

   Doubts persisted and Mick thought himself a fraud.  The love stuff just
didn't feel honest to him at this point in their relationship.  Was it just
about 'holding back' through some fear of rejection as Michelle claimed? 
Or was there other doubts in his mind - doubts about the nature of Michelle
and Anna's 'special love?'

   Did it really bother him if her and Anna had raging great sex every
other night?  Strangely, he thought, he felt little jealousy about that. 
Jealous of a woman lover just didn't resonate the way a male would. 
Perhaps he ought to examine his attitude to homosexuality, he wondered? 
Perhaps he didn't see gay relationships as legitimate, when his liberal
aspirations would demand he did?  That bothered him more and fed his belief
he was being a fraud.

   He eased down in the bed and Michelle spooned into him.  He hugged her a
little tighter and she hummed in contentment.  When Mick closed his eyes, a
vivid picture flashed into his mind.

   He saw a twining of pale limbs and squirming bodies.  He heard the sighs
and gasps of two people locked into an erotic dance.  There was a cascade
of blond hair, one slightly darker than the other, and two sets of breasts
being caressed and nibbled.  As the dream unfolded, he saw his lover's face
- eyes closed, and teeth clenched in ecstasy.  Anna smiled over her as she
continued to molest her with fingers, or the sawing of her thigh - the
dream was unclear.

   Michelle cried out in orgasm and buried her face into Anna's breasts. 
Anna had a look of jubilation.  She looked towards him and grinned in
triumph, in satisfaction - taunting him.

   Mick felt a sudden need reclaim his lover.  He opened his eyes and the
dream vanished.  As if Michelle could sense his attention, she, too, opened
her eyes and turned to look into his face.  Mick lowered his mouth to her's
and reached out to her naked breast.

   Their lovemaking was more passionate than at anytime he could recall. 
It was as if he was in some kind of competition and needed to prove he
could be as soft and considerate a lover as he imagined Anna would be. 
Nevermind that the set up was mostly a construct of his imagination.

   His knowledge of her sexual triggers and erotic zones, plus some small
variations that occurred to him at the time, inevitably resulted in a quick
and powerful orgasm.

   He layed pinned to her - reluctant to withdraw until he whithered to
such an extent it seemed pointless.  Her arms were still locked around his
back and he pressed his cheek to her's - just listening to her rasping
breath.

   "That was wonderful, Mick," she whispered.

   'Oh, yeah, beat that, Anna!' he thought to himself.  "Yes, babe, I love
you, babe!" he told her.

   Another fraud, he thought?  Another lie to keep her bound into his life?

   "It just keeps getting better?" she continued, through gasps for breath.

   "Yeah, it is," he agreed.  For once he knew he was speaking the truth.
Sexually, the relationship *was* going from strength to strength.

   That was not the point, however.  Could he forge a true partnership with
Michelle while Anna remained hovering to claim a large part of her love? 
If in forcing her to choose, what then happens to the songwriting
partnership that was sustaining The Curse?  He'd no doubt in his mind that,
if Michelle and Anna should part, The Curse would dissolve without
achieving what he was sure they were capable of.  Did he want the
responsibility of ending the journey?

   Professionally, he saw The Curse as his chance of restarting his stalled
career.  Unlikely as it was, he was being propelled back on to the stage as
part of a band playing to a potential market that, by rights, he shouldn't
be able to connect to.  It was a dream right out of the fantasy basket -
one he should have no right to.  He just couldn't allow the dream to
shatter over this supposed love triangle.

   And how, he thought, would Michelle survive a split with Anna, in any
case?  Would that provoke a rift between them?  Common sense would suggest
it would always be there to poison the relationship.  No, the situation had
to be dealt with by other means - one that left no loose ends and festering
wounds.

   Michelle's breathing was regular and slow beneath him.  He realised
she'd dozed off with him lying on top.  Gently he eased himself to her
side. She sighed and turned her back to him for the usual spoon.  He put
his arm over her and she gave it a little kiss before nestling contentedly
against him.

   When Mick woke in the morning, he could hear Michelle in the kitchen
making breakfast.  It was a little after ten and he realised it was
Saturday, there was no Uni, and The Curse was to play tonight.  It was
good, they'd nothing planned for the day until set up and sound check
around four.

   He got up and padded out into the kitchen naked.  Michelle was at the
bench in just her underwear - white bra and matching panties.  She turned
quickly, smiled, and made some smart remark about it being a bit early for
him to be up.

   Mick came up behind her and put his arms around her waist.  She turned
her head and accepted a good morning kiss.  It wasn't sufficient, however,
and he eased her around for a passionate clincher.

   "Hmm," she said, "what's got your motor running?"

   He thought it a very 'old lady' thing to say - as if he needed something
besides her to get him aroused.  Some erotic fantasy, perhaps?  Or just a
morning woody?

   "You," he replied.

   That did the trick and she kissed him again, open-mouthed with lots of
tongue.  He stroked his hands over the back of her panties before slipping
them inside - caressing down to where he knew she liked.

   "Hmm," she hummed.

   "You're a great kisser," he told her.

   At that she looked at him strangely, examining his eyes for signs of
double meaning.  "Why did you say that?" she asked him.

   "Huh?"

   "I know what you're getting at and it's not funny."

   "What am I getting at besides telling you how well you kiss?"

   "Don't play the innocent, Mick.  This is all about what we talked about
last night.  You were getting at me and Anna, weren't you?"

   "Was I?  I didn't think..."

   "Oh yes you were!  And who said you could put your hands inside my
panties, huh?  Did you think to ask?"

   "Um, no.  Do I need to?"

   "Well, uh, I think it would be nice, sometimes!" Her anger was beginning
to dissolve into absurdity.  "Well, um, sometimes I think you should ask. I
mean, ah, I think it's sometimes alright to..."

   "So, when do I know?" he smiled, cheekily, "you got some sort of signal,
perhaps?"

   "Well, uh, perhaps, this?" she made a circle sign with her fingers, "or
maybe I could just wriggle my bum?  Like this?"

   She couldn't keep a straight face anymore and broke down in a fit of
giggles.

   "Wriggling your bum works for me," he considered, in mock concentration,
"or maybe we can get a little signal flag or something?"

   "Oh, stop it," she laughed, "and then what, a flagpole?"

   "I think I can help you there," he teased.

   "Oh, you smug bastard.  Put that away!"

   "I could raise it some more.  Let me show you how?"

   "Huh!" she sighed, "you're not going to leave me alone, now, are you?"

   "You want me to?"

   "Maybe?" she grinned, "let me turn off the coffee for a bit?"

   "Go ahead!  The bedroom, I think?"

   Mick picked her up amid cries of protest and surprise and carried her
back to bed.  Depositing her on her back, he dragged down her panties and
climbed over.

   Sometime later, Mick and Michelle decided to go for a quiet walk by the
sea front.  Each was reflective, both by their previous activities and the
upcoming gig.  Mick held her hand and it felt good, comfortable, and seemed
to him more intimate even than their recent lovemaking.

   For this was a public display - one that invited opinions from passersby
about their obvious age difference.  'Were they father and daughter?  If
not, what is an older man like him holding hands with such a young woman?'

   Despite Mick telling himself such considerations didn't matter and they
weren't anyone else's business, it started to gnaw at him.

   They stopped and looked out to sea - irenic, peaceful - and, there was,
for once, little wind.

   "Babe?" he asked, "you thought of kids?"

   She turned, bemused, "not since I was one," she grinned, "I try to avoid
them as much as possible."

   "You, ah, thought of having any?"

   "No, you?  Are you telling me you're pregnant?"

   "Try to be serious?"

   "I haven't Mick," she replied, "I've got too much to do before I even
want to think about it.  Do you want to nest?  Is that's what this is all
about?"

   "Nah!" he said, "'cept, while we're in a 'cards on the table' mood, I
guess I'm starting to feel my age a bit today."

   "You?" she smiled, softly, "the original Peter Pan?  You heard me
complain?  I don't care, Mick, like I've told you a hundred times."

   "In ten years I'll be nearing retirement age and you'll be only, what
30, 31?  Hitting your sexual peak..."

   "Oh, haha," she laughed, "afraid you won't keep up?  You're a real guy,
Mick, terrified of not getting it up."

   "Michelle?"

   "Okay, I'm sorry.  I don't know what you're going on about anyway.  Most
50 year old guys would jump at the chance of a 21 year old lover.  Isn't
that some kind of fantasy?"

   "Probably," he shrugged, "but, to be honest, it still don't make a lot
of sense to me.  I mean, look at you, fer Christ's sake, you could pull any
guy you want..."

   "And I pulled you, so fucking get over it.  I'm getting tired of your
insecurities, Mick.  Why don't you just accept the situation?"

   "That's the funny thing," he replied, "I thought I had."

   Mick and Michelle arrived early for set up and sound check.  Karen was
already there, and Freddie Junior, and had most of the drum kit assembled.
Freddie was also there, directing some volunteers from the Student Union to
wheel in the stacks.  All was bustle and activity and there was little for
the pair to do but warm up their fingers.

   Their exercises were interrupted by a visitor backstage.  Mick saw him
first and his instinct was to run for his life.  He recognised the bulk of
Roger the Dodger, Michelle's dad, and it was clear by his demeanour there
was little he didn't know.

   His eyes flickered in Mick's direction as he strutted towards his
daughter.  He hugged her warmly and made some remark about how proud he
was. Then he confronted Mick.

   "Break a string!" he told him in a manner that suggested he meant every
word.  That phrase was an old muso's wish for good luck, equivalent to the
theatre's 'break a leg.'

   But it was the power The Dodger exerted in the handshake that alerted
Mick.  His stare was full of menace and his smile clearly forced.  Mick had
no doubt he'd be hearing more from him after the show.

   Anna was the last to arrive, accompanied by a small party of
wellwishers. Her entourage was tactfully escorted by Freddie offstage,
while Junior stood back by the kit looking as stern as an 18 year old
could.

   Mick brought the band into a huddle imediately before the house lights
dimmed for a vow of unity.  They all realised this show could be the making
of them and they solemnly declared this would be their best ever.

   They had the luxury, this time, of a set list in which they could
discard the weaker numbers and still have a full show.  The duet, the
decided, was to be included as part of the act and this time Mick and Anna
were to do Lou Reed's 'A Perfect Day.'

   Mick didn't need to sing, and that suited him fine.  'A Perfect Day'
transcribed easily from piano to guitar and he'd worked up the song inside
an hour.

   The hall was packed by 7pm - some 5 or 600 - very near its fire license
limit.  A press of young women lined the front - mostly dressed similarly -
often with the self same steaks through their hair that'd become something
of an Anna trademark.

   Anna strutted onstage to a rapturous applause.  'Her' people appeared to
be all upfront - an amorphous, solid wall of the faithful.  "Indigo'
opened, followed by a bracket of new material.  Another familiar song
followed before Michelle and Karen faded off the stage for the duet.

   For the rest of the show, a sparkle of cigarette lighters hovered just
above the audience.  No-one could discover who started it but Freddie mused
the fire marshal was probably having a hernia.

   The finale was 'Darkside,' the single, and the Anna faithful sang the
words along with their hero.  A couple of prepared encores followed the
regular show and Mick called a wrap a little after ten.

   The Student Union had arranged a small buffet, and a large amount of
beer, for after the show.  The exhausted band trouped in to a solid phalanx
of fans and instant officials.  Freddie sorted out the scrum with a fair
amount of push and shove and bullied them into order by threatening to take
the band home imediately.  The Union concerts had never seen the like
before and the tired organisers were completely overwhelmed.

   It was clear The Curse had caught a wave that threatened to turn into a
tsunami.  Mick, Anna and Michelle exchanged compliments with the line of
wellwishers until it slowly began to thin.  Karen couldn't be found
anywhere, nor, apparently, could Junior.

   At last, the trio found some seats in the corner and flopped with a
couple of beers.  Freddie still guarded the perimeter and refused
admittance to anyone without reasonable excuse.  He was joined by his wife
Terry, who was no slouch as a bully herself.

   Mick spotted The Dodger before everyone else.  He was trapped, however,
with Anna to one side, Michelle on the other and the wall behind him.

   Freddie let him through and he went first to Anna - known to him, of
course, as his daughter's longtime friend - sweeping her into an embrace.
Michelle's turn was next and he hugged and kissed his daughter.

   "Can't say the music does much for me," he told Mick, with hand
extended, "but it's the same old game, isn't it?"

   Mick spotted the double entendre, although the girls hadn't.  The
Dodger's face was a little flushed from alcohol - he having a prodigious
capacity, Mick recalled.

   He still held his hand vicelike.  Bending low, he asked Mick for 'a
quiet word.' He knew it was time to 'face the music' and, for Michelle's
sake, he needed to show strength of purpose.

   The Dodger lead him to the bar and pushed a beer in his direction. 
"Smile and shake my hand," he commanded in a low voice, "my daughter's
watching us."

   The show finished, The Dodger slowly got down to business.  "We go back
a long way," he said, his voice low and menacing, "lots of good times, eh?"

   "Yeah, ah, sure, Roger," Mick replied, uncertainly.

   "Still with the touch, eh, Mick?" he continued, "you were always good,
very good!" he laughed, suddenly cut off.  "Y'know, we used to call you
'Comeback?' Y'know why?"

   "Ah, no!"

   "Because you always had the smarts, Mick.  Bright as a button, you were,
and always had something to say - always had the final word, the
'comeback.'"

   "Ah, if you say so, Roger."

   "I do, and that's why I want you to shut the fuck up while I tell you
something.  You never had any kids so maybe you don't understand?  Michelle
is our only daughter, see, Mick?  She's more precious to me than the air I
breath.  As a father, you want to be able to pick and choose who she hangs
out with - who she dates.  But she's headstrong like her mother," he
chuckled, "and she does as she fucking well pleases.  That didn't used to
matter much cos she always made sensible decisions.  Maybe I didn't agree
with some of them, but she's a smart girl and sometimes she knows better
than her old man!"

   dRoger put his bottle to his lips and took a deep draft of beer.

   "Take this kinda music you guys play?" he continued, "personally, I
think it's crap!  But there's no doubt that you found an audience.  I
didn't think anyone would listen to that self-indulgent shit, but I was
proved wrong, see?  Gotta hand it to my daughter, she knew better than her
old man.  That is as it should be.  She knows her own mind and that makes
me proud to be her dad."

   "Roger?" Mick ventured, the tension becoming a bit much.

   "Y'heard what I said before, Mick?  Shut the fuck up or they'll have to
carry you out of here.  Now, smile, you cunt, while I give you some advice.
We go back a long way - that's why you're still standing.  I wouldn't have
picked you for my daughter - in fact you wouldn't have made the bottom of a
very long list.  I don't trust you at all, never have.  It's the smarts,
y'see, you're way too clever for your own, or anybody else's, good.  You're
only interested in yourself and everyone else has to play your game or
they're out the door."

   "That's bullshit, Roger," Mick protested.

   "That's the last time, Mick.  Next time I'll flatten you and I won't
care if my daughter's watching.  You're a selfish son of a bitch, but my
daughter thinks the world of you.  Do I see it?  No, I don't.  But my
daughter thinks so and she has to put up with you.  Because we go back a
long way and because my daughter thinks so highly of you, I'm giving you
this one chance.  If I ever catch you messin' around on her, if you harm
one hair on her head, if she comes home bawling her eyes out, I promise
there's nowhere you can hide.  I'll come after you and I'll do serious
time, you catch my meaning?  I'll hand you your balls, Mick, you see if I
don't?  Now, the missus has invited you two for dinner tomorrow and you
will not turn it down.  I'll never hear the fucking end of it."

   "Yeah, sure, Roger."

   "Good, mate, and mind your manners tomorrow?  Now, I think my daughter's
anxious that I'm going to pull your ears off.  Y'better go and tell her
everything's fucking alright, because it is, isn't it?  We understand each
other, don't we?"

   "Sure, Roger, nice to see you."

   "You, too, git!"

   Mick retrieved his place between the two girls.  He squeezed Michelle's
proffered hand and gave her a wink of reassurance.  She released a deep
breath, as if she'd been holding it the entire time.  He then relayed The
Dodger's invitation and she smiled happily.  It seemed Mick had been
accepted, albeit with some conditions.

   The place had thinned out considerably and the three remaining
bandmembers decided it was soon time to go.  It was then Michelle spied an
elegant woman - one who seemed strangely out of place among The Curse's
entourage.

   She must have been well into her forties, Michelle concluded, very well
dressed in a fashionable gown.  Michelle thought she looked Meditterranean
- Italian, or maybe Greek?  But she kept looking in Mick's direction as if
trying to catch his eye.

   "Who's that?" she asked Mick, "do you know her?"

   Mick followed her finger and spotted the woman.  Michelle saw the blood
instantly drain from his face.  He was transfixed, as a possum caught in
the headlights.

   The woman strode over towards them purposefully.  Out of the corner of
her eye, Michelle spotted Terry making to intercept, only to be restrained
gently by her husband.

   She stood before Mick and extended a hand cluttered with rings.  "Hi,"
she said, "been a long time?"

   Mick was struck dumb.  He tried to work his mouth but nothing came out.
Michelle covered for him, leaning into Mick protectively.  Anna, too,
leaned forward as if ready to spring.  If Mick had been aware, he would've
seen them as two bodyguards with their Uzis slipping from their concealed
holsters.

   "Hi," Michelle butted in, "you must be Sabra?"

   "Mick's mentioned me?" she said in surprise.

   "Of course," Michelle said breezily, "we know all about you."

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   KATZMAREK (c)