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

   By KATZMAREK(C)

   Chapter Ten.

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

   The Curse's second official CD was to be recorded at the Phoenix Studios
with a producer imported from the States.  It proved how far their star had
risen since the days of Flyblown's basic facilities.  Flyblown, itself, had
been signed up by Sony Music as an 'associated label' - a means of picking
up The Curse without having to buy out their contract.  The next album
seemed destined for an international release if Sony thought it was
'marketable.'

   Mick and Freddie now had to deal with Sony's honchos at their production
meetings.  They wanted a fuller, more refined sound with higher production
values.  Sony wanted at least two hits from the CD - appropriate for
mainstream rock radio formats.  Like it or not, they were confronted with
'the industry' now, and its demand for profit.

   It was tough finding a balance between the creative and the commercial.
Although not necessarily mutually exclusive, the band felt loath to
compromise their sound for the sake of record company demands.

   The scratchy guitar sound had to stay, the band insisted.  Simple is
better, insisted Mick, and he talked long and hard with the American
producer to find some agreement.  The producer was under as much pressure,
too, to produce a saleable product, both because of his reputation and his
percentage of the gross.

   Sony's A and R man would sit in with them during the initial sessions
and Mick hoped he'd be able to please him enough to get rid of him as soon
as possible.

   Phoenix had a 92 channel mixer, sequencers, loopers and all the latest
gadgetry to play with.  The green room featured sofa's, a plasma TV and a
bar with sea views.  Cocaine could be had by simply asking, but Freddie
insisted drugs be kept well away.  He'd be a dominating presence throughout
the sessions to make sure it was so.

   A trickle of visitors came and went as they worked, including Roger the
Dodger.  Michelle grabbed him for some cameo backing vocals and he went
away chuffed with himself.  It'd been a good while since anyone had asked
him to sing.

   Mick wanted to get Sony's 'hit' out of the way so their people would
leave them alone.  The band endeavoured to give them a hook laden love song
of Anna's called 'Bondage' - and evocative and ambiguous title - which Sony
thought, contained the edginess they thought commercial.  No matter that
the song had nothing to do with fringe sexual practices but the enslavement
of the heart, it was bound to be interpreted as a song about B and D and
that suited the recording company fine.

   It took them three days to nail the song, with two dozen takes and three
final cuts from which to make a selection.  The producer put on strings for
one of the cuts over Mick's objections.  A rush was sent off to Sony post
haste and the word came back they were satisfied.  The band could now relax
and get on with the real work.

   For the next song, they plugged Anna's voice straight into the sound
desk a'la punk music.  The song was a rapid, full tilt, punk song with a
thundering bass and distorted guitars.  Anna's vocals were aggressive and
uncompromising.  Compared to their 'hit,' it was fun to record and left the
band in high spirits.

   The following number the band felt was their tour de force for the
album. Titled, 'You Burn Me' the words had been written by Michelle with
she and Mick putting together the tune in their little studio.  The lyric
had blown everyone away and the tune had a haunting beauty.  It was slow,
rolling to a faintly Blues style, with a scorching solo from Mick in the
bridge.  The sound was sparse and reminded everyone of a rocky cliff
overlooking the sea.

   For the first time, either on stage or in the studio, Michelle duetted
with Anna on the chorus.  They sang together, side by side, on one mike in
the vocal booth with their arms around each other.  It was all too much for
Mick and Freddie took him out and down to the pub after the session.

   "When's she due, Mick?" he asked, "you coping?"

   "Uh, ah, another month.  Maybe the 10th?  Something like that."

   "Boy or girl, y'know?"

   "You sound like Terry," he grinned.  "All clucky, cribs, baby clothes
and advice about four hourly feeds."

   "Hey!  I don't want to know about feeds," he laughed.  "She
breastfeeding?"

   "Fuck you!" Mick smiled.

   "That song," Freddie said, suddenly serious.  "Not about you, is it?"

   "How'd you guess?"

   "'Soft and languid like a rose?' Oh yeah, 'a rose' Mick?  Since when did
you become a rose?"

   "Yeah, well, thorny issue."

   "Oh, funny!  Bothering you is it?"

   "Not quite what I thought 'settling down' was going to be like.  'Here's
the missus and the missus's missus.' I get half, I suppose, and I should be
grateful..."

   "But?"

   "Hell, what would you do if Terry..."

   "I'd be happy for the piece and quiet," he laughed.  "Give me a break
from her nattering.  Other cultures can have multiple wives, except, I
guess, the shoe's on the other foot.  Multiple husbands, er, I mean, a wife
and a husband, er...  what the Hell is Anna, wife or husband?"

   "Um, beats me.  The roles seem all mixed up with me slotting somewhere
in the middle."

   "Don't tell me you and Anna..."

   "Nah!" he laughed.  "She's all Michelle's."

   "Right, so we have, lesbian, bisexual and hetero," he counted on his
fingers.  "Seems kind of a tidy set up to me?  Very United Nations!  Hey,
do you get to play in the middle of that?"

   "Fat chance!" Mick laughed.  "I think if I grabbed a piece of Anna I'd
wake up with a steak knife in my ribs."

   "Ah, so you think Mal..."

   "I dunno," he shrugged.  "Michelle doesn't think she'd do such a thing
but I'm not so sure.  I reckon there's sides of Anna we haven't seen, nor
do we want to."

   "Yeah?  You buy this Russian mafia thing?"

   "Hell, no!  That's the editor of The Echo trying to create copy.  If
there'd been any criminal connection Immigration would've bundled them all
out of the country for sure.  Nah, Anna's just haunted in ways we can only
imagine.  Imagine blowing away your own brother?"

   "Many times, he's an arsehole!"

   "For real?  You live with that?"

   "She's got this fantasy about him being killed by the Chechens.  Don't
sound like she's ready to deal with it.  Kids do stupid things, tragedies
happen, no-one's fault."

   "What if she flipped out and shot him on purpose?  Thought of that? 
What if she always was a little psycho?  They had an argument, Anna grabs
her old man's gun...  blam!"

   "Y'reckon?"

   "Possible!"

   "Then maybe she stitched up Mal, huh?  Made it seem like someone else?
She wasn't as wasted as she appeared.  Someone texted the address and
called home.  Had to've been Anna, and she must've known what she was
doing."

   "Flipped into her catatonia afterwards?  She's good at the drama."

   "Sure is.  She had the cops believing she was off her face."

   "So maybe Mal had her bailed and she jabbed him?  How'd she do that
without leaving a trace of blood on her clothing?  How'd she make the knife
disappear, with, presumably, her fingerprints all over it?"

   "Accomplice?  Someone's covering for her and got rid of the evidence?"

   "Could be," agreed Mick.  "She's persuasive with men.  I wouldn't be
surprised if she got someone to take the rap for her as well.  Maybe that
Rumanian dude she hangs with, Dimitru?"

   "That's fucking cunning, Mick.  D'you suppose she's that cool and
calculating?  She'd really think nothing of dropping her pals in the shit?"

   "Maybe, to protect her own arse.  She controls everyone around her.  Mal
was beyond her control, so..."

   "She control you as well?" Freddie asked.  "Maybe through Michelle?"

   "Yeah, probably, and through The Curse.  She's knows how important the
band is to me and Michelle."

   "And she stumbles and you're there to pick her up, cover her arse,
smooch up the press so they'll go easy?  You know your way around the
entertainment scene, you mentor her, refine the music and give her the
vehicle she needs to stand on stage.  It seems to me she'll outgrow you and
then what?"

   "I always thought it likely and some stage.  I'm more worried about
Michelle.  She doesn't see what she's got herself into."

   "Terry reckons Michelle grounds her - that without her she'd spin off
past the planets."

   "Shit, no pressure, right?  And Michelle's so bedazzled by her, I'm not
sure she wouldn't join her on Jupiter."

   "Maybe the baby'll make the difference, eh, Mick?  Bring her down to
Earth?"

   "Hope so, Freddie, hope so," Mick replied, shaking his head.

   The drum booth at Phoenix was as big as Flyblown's whole studio.  Karen
not only had her Ludwig kit set up but had a variety of other percussion,
including a large hanging gong.  During the breaks she played around, with
Junior always in attendance, smashing bottles and things to see how they
sounded.  It felt like they were a couple of kids and this was an ideal
playroom.

   Through the glass she could see Anna at the keyboard with Michelle on
bass cooking something up together.  They were waiting for Mick to get back
from the pub so they could start the next session.  Karen envied the girl's
partnership.  It was something she felt she couldn't quite be a part of. 
They communicated with each other like a couple of twin sisters - seeming
to voice each other's thoughts.

   Mick came into the studio looking happy and ready to begin.  She felt
reassured by his presence - he was the rudder that made everything come
together.  He took up his Gibson and strolled over to the girls listening
to what they were doing.

   The drum booth effectively put a wall between Karen and the rest of the
band.  Unlike the other instruments, the drum was an organic instrument and
bled into the microphones and the pick-ups on the guitars - hence the
booth. The booth allowed the producer to control the sound better -
deadening the drums' natural reverb.

   But for Karen, the booth also isolated and protected her from the
bickering and haggling that always took place during the creative process.
Fatigue caused tempers to wear thin, especially Anna's, who was frustrated
easily.

   Nothing could move fast enough for Anna.  Karen could see her grow more
prickly with each take they did of a song.  Mick could be something of a
perfectionist, always insisting they ought to do another take just to see
if they could do something better.

   Michelle invariably supported Mick and generally managed to calm Anna
down.  When things got too heated, Anna would stump off to the green room
and Mick and Michelle would work alone till she returned.

   The American producer, however, told her that The Curse was a cinch to
work with and he'd encountered much more difficult dynamics with other
bands.  At least they still talked to each other.  Metalica, he claimed,
fell out so badly once he had to bring them in one at a time to record
their parts.  None of them were on speaking terms with each other.

   They worked well into the night with Anna sometimes napping in the green
room.  She felt fine, playing around in the booth with Junior when not
needed to play.  Catering ensured there was plenty of snacks on hand and
cases of beer, which Mick and Freddie mostly drunk themselves.

   In all Karen loved the studio, its equipment and facilities, and it was
a comfortable place to work.  After a few days, Sony's men didn't hang
around and they were free to have fun.

   Karen even contributed another song.  It was a novelty, a filler,
consisting mostly of the results of her experimenting in the drum booth. 
Mick, Freddie and Michelle laid on some impromptu rap, over clanks, gongs
and bottles smashing, while Karen grounded it with a 4 beat on the bass and
tom.  Anna didn't take part, branding it 'silly,' and retreated to the
green room during recording.

   Last, and the least as far as the band was concerned, was their second
'hit' for the boys at Sony.  It was pretty much a ripoff of U2's 'Vertigo'
although changed around a little with new vocals written by Mick.  It
jangled along with a well-worked riff and text book hooks.  There was
little original about it and they did it to please their sponsors, not
themselves.  Tons of reverb on Anna's voice put Bono to shame, with their
diva rarely sounding better.  In all, one day saw the number come together
and another day for callbacks.  With that, the CD was in the can and they
could go have a party.

   Sony's young guns joined them all in the green room to shmooze and their
chat was platitudinous and hip.  Mick told Michelle that if the album
bombed he doubted they'd be so sanguine.  It'd go from, 'oh, yeah, really
great, dudes,' to 'I always knew you guys sucked, but didn't want to say.'

   True to his word to Catherine, Mick didn't let Anna out of sight.  A
couple of Sony men were set to whisk her away, but he told them the band
needed to stay together this one night.  Anna was for partying, but Mick
talked her out of it.  Instead, he whispered to Michelle to take her home
and 'sit on her.' He knew that could be interpretted a couple of ways and
Michelle caught the drift, glaring at him.  However, she obeyed and got her
into a taxi.

   Mick wanted to get drunk and had an able assistant in Freddie.  Soon the
two were in high spirits and unsteady on their feet.  A range of duets
between the two drunks featuring old time hits ensured nearly everyone else
left early.  Karen and Junior, of course, had slipped out long ago.

   Karen preferred her own party with Junior.  When they arrived home she
was still buzzing and very horny.  Junior was happy to oblige and they made
love like cats for half the night.  Sometime around two in the morning she
asked Junior if he wanted to get married.  At 2.02am he answered yes and
she noted the time in her diary.

   "Uh, oh," she told him, "how do I tell my parents?"

   "Phone, fax, Email, carrier pigeon, I don't know," Junior replied.

   "Shit, they'll go fucking ape shit!"

   "What about my mum?" Junior said, a look of trepidation on his face, "I
can hear the screaming already.  Lets just do it, Carrie, and not tell
anyone?"

   "No, I want to be given away properly.  I want the full bullshit."

   "Why?"

   "Cos it's something that's only going to happen once in my life.  I
don't want to be an old woman saying, 'I'd wished I'd gotten married
properly, with my dad, bridesmaids and a fucking garterbelt.'"

   "Garterbelt?  Oh, yeah!"

   "Relax, sugar," she grinned, "you're suppose to biff it at the crowd."

   "I thought the bouquet?"

   "I want a garterbelt, Jun', and I want to throw it to Michelle so she'll
have to marry Mick."

   "Why?  What do you care if she marries him?"

   "I do, Jun'.  She's really good for Mick.  I want to see him happy."

   "I guess.  But it's not like you to worry so much about what other
people do."

   "Mick's special, and Michelle.  Jun'..." she sucked in her breath,
"...she's carrying my half sister!"

   "Huh?  What the fuck..."

   "It's going to be a girl, I know it."

   "You do?  So, how come she's your half - um, I don't get it.  You're not
making sense."

   "I'm adopted!"

   "Ah, ha, uh, oh!"

   "Oh, yeah, Jun', you're really making sense."

   "Karen, could you dial me in?"

   "Simple, Jun'.  My dad's not my real dad."

   "Oh, shit, oh, no!"

   "You got it?"

   "Oh, yeah, the fog's lifting.  Holy cow, Karrie, does he know?"

   "No!  I was too scared.  He'll be pissed at me for not saying anything.
I don't know how to tell him."

   "How do you feel - I mean, like, you're in the band, for Christ's sake,
and there's your dad playing guitar and he doesn't even know he's your dad.
Fuck!  Michelle's like your stepmum and she's pregnant with your..."

   "Half sister, yeah, kinda weird."

   "Oh, yeah, you said it."

   "I want my dad to give me away, don't you see?"

   "Sure, but how long have you known?"

   "Since I was eighteen.  My mum's Israeli, Sabra Gideon-David.  I was
adopted at birth by the only Jewish family who'd have me.  They never told
me I was adopted.  I only found out when I got the info from Child
Services. My parents explained they wanted me to have as normal life as
possible.  They were too old-fashioned, Jun', but they did their best.  I
know they loved me - they even put money into the band when we were
starting out.  They said they didn't want anyone to know, but they weren't
going to have their daughter begging on the streets.  Typical of them,
Jun', they've known the worst of times and they didn't want that to happen
to me."

   "So Mick'll be my father in law," Junior considered.  "Michelle my
mother in law - that's good, at least she's not a hag."

   "Oh, sure, Jun' let's look on the bright side?  'I've got a blond babe
as a mother in law, who's only a couple of years older than me.' Don't get
any bright ideas, Jun'."

   "Hey!  Me?" he smiled innocently.  "My sister in law's a baby and my dad
and Mick will be, what?"

   "Friends!  Shit, I hope so."

   "Bridesmaid?  You can't have Michelle, so, what, Anna?"

   "I guess so," she shrugged, "so how do you feel converting to the Jewish
faith?"

   "What?" Junior looked astonished.

   "A quick Bar Mitzvah?"

   "Huh?  Do I have to?"

   "And the circumcision?"

   "Oh, no," he said, aghast, "not that, please, not that!"

   Karen roared with laughter.

   Mick woke up to the beeping of the phone by his ear.  Michelle groaned
and put a pillow over her head.  Beside her, Mick swore long and hard
before picking up the receiver.  The time was 10 past 10 in the morning,
unsocially early.

   Before he had a chance to speak, Terry started.  "Do you know what my
fool of a son has done?" she yelled.

   "What?  Karen pregnant?"

   "Worse, he's marrying her.  He told me he's becoming a Jew but I think
that was just his sick humour."

   "Huh?  What?  Um, congratulations!  Wish them both the best," Mick
mumbled.

   "He's not doing it.  He's too young.  He's not getting married at 18, if
I have anything to do with it.  Christ, what made him do such a thing?"

   "Love, I guess.  Ask him?"

   "What does an 18 year old know about love?"

   "I dunno, I'm not 18."

   "Mick, can you talk them out of it?  He won't listen to me - and
Freddie's gone to the pub."

   "Yeah?  Which one?"

   "He never said.  Don't you bail on me, Mick Johnson!"

   "Terry, calm down!  You throw a fit and they'll just do it anyway and
you won't get an invite.  Tell them to make it a long engagement and maybe
it'll blow over."

   "Y'think?"

   "I dunno, look, it was a hard night.  I'm kinda tired and Michelle's
flaked out."

   "I'll bet!" she replied, reprovingly.  "Freddie fell out the taxi at
three in the morning.  I left him on the couch.  No way was I going to have
the drunken bastard in our bed..."

   "Look, Terry, this is all fascinating and I can't offer any advice at
this time."

   "But, you'll talk to them, please?  Junior really looks up to you and
Karen, well, Karen sort of sees you as a Father figure."

   "She does?  They do?  Hmm, maybe later?  I promise I'll call them and
see what the game is."

   "You do that, Mick, and thanks."

   "Yeah, bye."

   "Whazzat all about?" Michelle mumbled.

   "Karen and Junior have announced their engagement!"

   "Oh!  Tell'm to wait till after little Mick's born.  I gotta be careful
about drinking alcohol."

   "I will," he smiled.  "Little Mick?  You going to have a boy?"

   "Sure of it - good night, babe!"

   With that she closed her eyes again.

   Michelle's waters broke three days later.  She was three weeks premature
and Mick raced her to the delivery suite in the Camarro.  Shortly after,
Anna screamed up in a taxi and bustled her way in to join the couple.

   "Did I miss anything?" she asked.

   "Not yet," moaned Michelle, "he's taking his sweet time."

   "C'mon," Mick said, "it's only been half an hour.  Give the little
bugger some time?"

   Anna stationed herself on the other side and held her hand.  "Remember
to push - and breathe."

   "I fucking know what to do," Michelle snapped.  "I've been over it so
many times - ow, fuck!  Sheeit!  That was a serious contraction!"

   "Doctor, doctor!" yelled Anna, excited, "the baby's coming!"

   "Not fucking yet, Anna!  Y'see anything?"

   Anna looked between her legs.  "Um, it's kinda bulging!"

   "What do you fucking - ow - fuck you, Mick fucking Johnson!  You fucking
put it there, get the fucking thing outa me - ow, sheeit!"

   "Doctor?" yelled Anna, again.

   "It's fucking too early so shut the fuck up, Anna!  They're just
contractions and they're too far apart still.  See?  Time me on that clock
over there?"

   Anna looked from Michelle to the clock.  At least it gave her something
to do.  "Come's in batches, Mick," she said, "then buttons off a little. 
When I feel the urge to push, that's the time."

   "Got it, babe!"

   "Try and get Anna to relax, huh?  Nothing's happening that's not
supposed to happen.  Women have been doing it for ages.  You alright?"

   "Course, Babe."

   "You're goin' to be a daddy, soon, lover.  You gonna cope at your age?"

   "Long time comin', sweetheart.  You watch me!"

   "Oh, shit, here's another one - ow, sheeit!  It's, ah, strong - ahhh,
Anna, get the fucking doctor, what's keeping you?"

   "The time..."

   "Fuck the fucking time - OWWW, shoosh, ANNA?"

   "Ok, ok, I'm going!"

   Twenty minutes later Emily Michelle Johnson popped out to say hello - a
quivering, greasy, little bundle that announced her arrival with a bellow
no louder than a cat's meeow.  Anna burst into tears and cradled both the
baby and Mother as Michelle put her to the breast for the first time.  Anna
seemed to have experienced every push and heave during the birth and Mick
thought she looked as tired as the baby's Mother.

   Mick went out into the waiting room to Freddie and Terry.  While Terry
zoomed in to coo and give more useful advice, Freddie took his old pal
outside for the required cigar.

   "Gonna get a look in?" Freddie grinned, "between all them women, I doubt
you'll have a snowball's."

   "Let 'em fuss," Mich shrugged, "there's always the footie on Saturday."

   "She's a girl, you dummy."

   "Is she?  I haven't been able to take a look.  Anyway, lots of girls
play rugby.  Maybe netball, then?"

   "Teach her guitar?"

   "Yeah, there's that!  And I get to give her away when she gets married.
They can't take that away from me," he grinned.

   "You fucker!  One more word about weddings and someone's going to get a
punch in the face."

   "Not looking forward to the happy day?"

   "I'll be drunk as a skunk all day.  You watch me?"

   "I believe you!" he laughed.  "I gotta officiate.  Karen wants me to
step in for her dad.  I'm fucked if I know why.  Apparently her folks are
in Alaska, or somewhere."

   "Yeah?  Not coming over to see their kid married off?"

   "Nope!  Don't want to upset their holiday, I guess."

   "I know how they feel.  Jesus Christ, do I know!"

   "Haha!  Terry giving you a hard time?"

   "She wants to organise everything.  I mean, at one time she's all
against it.  Then, she flips and she's running around like a blue arsed
fly. You watch her, I guarantee she'll have your little kid booked into
school tomorrow."

   "I think Anna's already picked one out!"

   "See?  They're fucking impossible when they're in this mood.  All you
can do is get out of the fucking way.  Come to the pub with me?  They'll be
at it all day," he nodded towards the door.  "Poor little thing," he added,
shaking his head.

   "I'll tell Michelle."

   "I wouldn't bother, mate.  She won't hear you over that racket."

   Mick looked into the room and waved to Terry.  She came over and he told
her he was going to the pub and to pass on the message.  Terry waved him
away before going back to the huddle by the bed.

   ------------------------------------------
   KATZMAREK(c)