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 THE CURSE

   By KATZMAREK(C)

   Chapter Sixteen

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   Mick signed over the villa to Michelle and Anna through their
solicitors. The pair had a good slice of the publishing royalties and he
saw no need for him to be excessively generous.  Between the two of them,
they now held it freehold and Mick was half a million richer.

   He could've offered it to them for the full list price, but he thought
of his baby daughter.  He figured he was helping provide for Emily and his
concience was clear.

   Mick bought a more modest place on a cliff face overlooking the ocean.
It was isolated and down a long access road, which suited him fine.  There
was enough land to build himself a studio and still plenty more for a
garden and maybe a pool.  It had a nice ambience and he could fill it with
the antique oak furniture he was fond of.

   He'd paid a call on Freddie not long after The Curse's return from the
States and found him in significantly better condition.  He was off the
booze and under medical care for his liver problems.  Terry was more
relaxed as well, now that she'd got her husband back under control.

   The hiatus following the US tour gave Mick the opportunity to compose
some more songs.  The lyrics he came up with were inspired by the emotional
upheavals he'd undergone during that tour.  Instead of fretting, he was
writing, and it felt good to create.

   Finally, he admitted he needed to protect his own interests and formally
applied for access to Emily.  He and Michelle drew up a notarised agreement
with little rancour, having informally agreed on the main points
beforehand.

   Apart from that, Mick occupied himself with building the studio and
laying out his garden until it was time to reassemble The Curse.

   They were up for a Grammy, but Mick had failed get a decision out of the
band whether they were to show.  He thought that, at least, he should go
and it would have the added bonus of being able to spend some time with
Sabra.

   They called each other about once a week to discuss business and to keep
in touch.  She was divorcing her husband and they were fighting over the
assets of the company.  It was costing her plenty but she insisted she
didn't want any financial help from Mick.  This, she told him, she needed
to do on her own.  Her future plans had to wait until she'd got present
business out of the way.

   The US tour and sales of their CDs had benefited the band's coffers
considerably.  Mick added to his car collection, an Oldsmobile Cutlass he'd
spied in the States, and bought some land in the country he hoped to run
some horses on one day.  Karen and Junior made some 'sensible' investments
and Anna and Michelle bought themselves a club downtown.

   Mick's relationship with Michelle turned from frosty to civil after a
week.  Michelle wasn't inclined to hold grudges but, at the same time, had
a good memory for perceived offences.  She'd forgive, but never forget.

   By week two Mick was allowed to enter the house and, by the end of it,
Michelle made him a cup of coffee.  Progress was slow but, for the sake of
The Curse, he had to keep moving forward.

   He brought all the band together the next weekend by way of a BBQ at his
new place.  Mick invited a few record company execs, Flyblown's partners
and the studio folks from Phoenix.  Mick figured a shmoozing session with
as many people he could think of that had a hand in The Curse's success. 
Even Freddie turned up with Terry, although his old friend was drinking
water.

   The Dodger and his wife were cordial.  Despite telling Mick what he
would do if he upset Michelle, The Dodger implied he was sympathetic to
Mick's predicament.  He even told him he believed he'd been provoked beyond
reason by his daughter and had told her so.  Of course he knew Sabra and
probably had a crush on her in the old days.

   Karen, Michelle and Anna brought salads and Mick provided the steaks. 
He and Michelle cooked them together while Anna circulated around the
garden.  Few of his guests would've failed to be charmed by The Curse's
lead singer.

   It felt like a celebration yet, at the same time, there was kind of a
family atmosphere.  Mick was getting on well with the girls and the tension
had eased.  Michelle still seemed to hold a grudge towards Sabra and all
discussion about her had to be handled tactfully, however.

   But Mick had failed to take into account the power of the mobile phone
or, more specifically, the ability of young people to spread the word very
quickly.  Fans started arriving from two onwards - determined to hang out
with The Curse for the afternoon.  Generally, they were young and well
behaved and Mick didn't mind too much.  Anna, naturally, was the centre of
attention, but, most of the gatecrashers appeared reluctant to approach
their icon.

   Around 2.30 another gatecrasher arrived with a blousy redhead on his
arm. Mick wasn't happy to spy Mal 'the Man' Mouton with his oft-tolerant
wife.  Mick was wary that he'd come to cause trouble and had a quick word
with Rangi, The Curse's security guy on their last domestic tour.  The big
man agreed to keep a close watch on the MTV host.

   More people began arriving and Mick and the girls were growing
concerned. Many of these newcomers had been drinking and some were being
abusive to his invited guests.  Rangi suggested The Curse retreat into the
house and lock the doors.  He would gather a small posse and restore some
order.

   Mick was in a bad mood, both because his day was being ruined, and his
garden was likely being trashed.  He'd considered calling the cops but
Rangi talked him out of it.  They were just youngsters, he explained, and
he could deal with them.  Mick went into his bedroom to sulk, shutting the
door.

   To calm himself down he took out his baggee and rolled himself a joint.
He was lying on the bed when he heard a soft knocking.  Irritated, he
licked his finger and stubbed the joint before getting up to unlock the
door.  Opening it a fraction, he saw Michelle's face looking in.

   "You alone?" she asked.  Mick nodded.  "Can I hide in here?" He stood
aside and let her into the room.

   "What's happening outside?" he asked her.

   "Rangi's getting everyone to move off," she explained, "some people have
gone home and there's about 20 or so in the lounge."

   "Where's Anna?"

   "Anna's ok.  She's hanging out with Dimitru and Terry's looking after
Emily.  Karen and Junior went home an hour ago."

   "Good, good." Mick was relieved that none of his friends and guests had
got into squabbles with the gatecrashers.  It seemed Rangi was getting
everything back under control.  "How's my garden?"

   "I think a few plants have been trampled and there's some beer cans. 
Otherwise, not too bad!"

   "I guess I shoulda helped out there, but - well, this whole celebrity
bullshit.  You need to be careful about getting into situations..."

   "Hey!  We understand, Mick, don't reproach yourself.  Rangi's good at
this shit - better than you.  Some guy coulda punched you out just for
being who you are.  Y'know how those idiots are when they're drunk and
trying to prove something?"

   "I guess."

   "You been smoking dope?  I can smell it."

   "What of it?"

   "Nothing.  It's just I've never seen you toke up before."

   "I have a joint now and then," Mick told her, "mostly to relax."

   "Yeah?  Mind if I have a toke?"

   "What about breastfeeding?"

   "A little shouldn't hurt, should it?"

   "You've changed your tune," Mick laughed.  "You used to get paranoid
about smoking within a kilometre of Emily."

   "Yeah, well, maybe I was a bit tough on you?  Maybe, in a lot of things,
Mick?"

   "Ok," he sighed, "you can finish this with me if you want?"

   Mick sat back on the bed and retrieved the joint from the ash tray. 
Michelle sat beside him and drew deeply of the smoke before handing it back
for him.  Mick then lay back down and Michelle nestled against him.

   "How are things between you and Sabra?" she asked.  "When is she coming
over?"

   "Dunno," he shrugged.  "Might never happen.  I might pop over for the
Grammys..."

   "Oh, I see.  Things not going, y'know, all that well between..."

   "I dunno, Michelle.  She's up and down like a yoyo.  Quite frankly, I
don't know where I stand at the moment."

   "I, I'm real sorry, um, y'know, about how things turned out," she said.
Her voice was uncertain and struggling with the dope.  "Good shit!" she
grinned.

   "Coromandel!" he told her.  "Dry as fuck - had it too long in the tin."

   "I miss you, Mick," she said in a faraway voice.  "This feels real nice
just lying here with you.  We used to do a lot of this shit, remember? 
Just hanging out - lying on the bed - talking shit."

   "Yeah babe," he said softly.  "Then Emily came along and - well, I just
felt left out, y'know?  You wanted Anna, and..."

   "She needed..."

   "Ok, I get that.  I needed you as well - you gave me shit, Michelle."

   "Oh, Mick!" she stretched her arm across his chest and rested her head
on his shoulder.  "It's like - I'm stretched between two poles, y'know? 
There's Anna on the one side, and..."

   "And you let go of one to..."

   "Well, see, my mistake was - I always thought you'd be there for me.  I
didn't think you'd - then you took up with Sabra.  Anna thinks you picked
up a couple of girls - she reckons she heard it from someone who saw you.
That's not true, is it?"

   "What if it is?  Didn't see you in my bed that often.  I was waiting for
you, but you chose to fuck Anna.  I'm not made of granite - not staying
there forever waiting for you to grant me..."

   "Ok, ok," she said, "I know I fucked up.  Two girls together, Mick? 
Kind of surprises me.  What, you fuck them separately, or get one to sit on
your face or something?"

   "Why do you want to know?" he laughed.

   "Because - um, why do you do it?"

   "Why do you think?"

   "Silly question?"

   "Yeah," he smiled.

   "Shit, I really miss this," she said, "the cuddling - all the other
stuff."

   "Like?"

   "You know?" she smiled.  "The fucking."

   "Anna not satisfying you?"

   "We don't actually do much of that," she said.  "She likes to talk,
cuddle - mostly."

   "No body massages?"

   "You're teasing me," she batted at him.  "Sometimes, I guess - she gets
off mostly.  She likes to..."

   "Yeah, what?"

   "I wouldn't be saying this if I wasn't stoned," she told him.  "She rubs
herself - on my leg - here."

   "Yeah?"

   "Yeah.  She likes it when I pinch her nipples."

   "Don't we all?" he laughed.

   "Sometimes she puts her fingers down there," she continued, "and it's
ok, y'know?  But - but, what I miss is - your cock, Mick."

   "You do?"

   "Fucking you always got me hot."

   "So why didn't..."

   "I don't fucking know, Mick, ok?  Anna gets so lonely sometimes and I
can't just leave her.  You got to understand, it wasn't about rejecting you
- I love you, now, and always."

   "Hey, chill!" He bent over her face and kissed her.  Michelle
immediately put her arms around him and held him down - her mouth working
softly and passionately against his.

   Outside in the lounge Mal 'the Man' Mouton slumped on the two seater in
the corner - his wife beside him all but passed out.  He'd managed to slip
past Rangi purely and simply because he was a 'face' and obviously not one
of the young gatecrashers.  The security guy just assumed he was there by
invitation.

   He'd had a fair bit to drink but had paced himself well.  His wife was a
'binger' and guzzled the booze like there was no tomorrow.  Mal was feeling
a little disappointed.  Among the gatecrashers were a few good looking
girls and he could've copped off with one of them if this huge Maori guy
hadn't decided to throw them out.  There was still a little talent about
but it was diminishing fast and he was looking to have to take his wife
home and put her to bed.

   His mood hadn't improved by the sight of Anna Kuznetsova flouncing
about. He thought her a class 'A' bitch who needed to be taken down a peg
or two.  At the same time she was the best looking piece of skirt this side
of the Pacific and he'd love to have a throw at her.

   Mal had heard the gossip, however, that she was a full blown dyko. 
Well, he thought, that would be a sad loss to mankind but he wasn't
entirely certain it was true.  Like them all, he'd seen the DVDs of The
Curse on their American tour and the smooching act with the bass player. 
Even so, he doubted it was more than a bit of theatre.  A lot of bands try
to shock and dismay and The Curse was no exception.

   If he knew little else, he *did* know how to approach women.  He
considered himself practiced in the art of the pick up and he usually got
what he was after.

   Anna came into the room with her faggot pal - the little Rumanian cunt
that had stabbed him.  Mal wasn't a violent man, but he'd often dreamed of
putting that son of a bitch out of his agony.  Dimitru had caused a lot of
trouble for him - got him busted for drugs and nearly had him thrown off
MTV.

   All he needed was the right time to carve Anna out from the herd and
away from Dimitru the cutter.  He wasn't going to risk getting sliced
again, thats for sure.

   Meanwhile, Mick had wrestled Michelle's top off and pushed up her bra.
Her breasts smelled sweetly of milk and they were sticky, as if she'd been
leaking.  As he nuzzled and sucked, Michelle panted and moaned, pushing her
hands through his hair.

   Mick hadn't had sex for a month and he was horny as Hell in no time at
all.  Michelle was practically raping him, pulling at his shirt and
grabbing his belt.  There was little finesse involved - just a desperation
to get each other naked and fucking.

   Michelle's jeans were tight on her and stubbornly refused to slide over
her hips.  Mick got her zipper undone and pushed his tongue in there as far
as it would go.  He could smell her arousal and felt the warmth of her
pussy on his chin.  She was still wrestling with her jeans as Mick
scrunched down her panties enough to get his fingers in.  Michelle squealed
and, with one almighty heave, shoved her jeans down her legs.  Mick ensured
her panties followed then his tongue dived in.

   "Oh, God," she moaned, "I really need a fuck, Mick."

   "And I need some of this," he flicked his tongue at her like a snake's.

   "Don't take too long," she whined.

   "Babe," he looked up from between her legs, "there's an artist at work
here.  We take as long as is necessary."

   "Alright," she chuckled, "get on with it then."

   "Mmmff!"

   "Oo," she panted, "that's good!"

   "Told you!"

   "Keep - ah - going!"

   "Like this?"

   "Mmm - mmm!"

   "Ya gonna come?"

   "Oh, yeah - uh - s,soon - uh - oh - oh fuck!"

   "Ah, now it's time, gentleman, please."

   "Huh?  What?"

   "For this, babe!" Mick slid off his trousers and showed her his very
erect penis.  A broad grin stretched over Michelle's face and she opened
her legs a little wider.

   On the other side of the door, Mal finally had a chance.  Dimitru left
to go to the toilet leaving Anna alone by the servery.  He sauntered over,
endeavouring to be on his best behaviour.  Anna spotted his approach and
looked apprehensive.  He reassured her with a broad smile and opened with
an apology for past 'mistakes and misunderstandings' and flattered her
about the US tour.  She was 'one Hell of an artist' and she was right,
'Blue Rembrandt were crap.'

   Anna relaxed and accepted a handshake and a kiss to the cheek.  So far,
so good, thought Mal.

   "Hey, ah, I really like the kissing thing," he told her.  "Nice touch."

   "Thank you.  The crowd liked it," she shrugged, "so, why not?"

   "Why not, indeed," he agreed.  "Is, ah, your boyfriend here?  I don't
remember seeing him?"

   "Huh?  Oh, you mean Dimitru?  He's just gone, ah - he'll be back soon if
you want to wait?"

   "Dimitru?  Yeah, I thought he was gay?"

   "Gay?  Yes, he likes men.  You like men too?  You, maybe, want to meet
him?"

   {Ouch!} Mal thought, {I asked for that.} "No!" Mal said quickly, "I'm
not that way.  It's just, well, I thought you had a real boyfriend.  I'm
sure I've seen you around?"

   This was taking too long, thought Mal, the Rumanian will be back soon
and he'll blow the opportunity.

   "I'm not sure..." Anna continued, "I don't know who you mean.  Perhaps
you're thinking of Mick?"

   "Mick?  Oh, yeah, must be.  So he's your boyfriend?"

   "Maybe - maybe soon?  He's a nice man.  He went with Michelle, then he
went with our manager in the States.  I think Michelle wants him back, now.
That's ok, cos she is very unhappy without him."

   "Huh?" Mal shook his head.  Maybe they were having a communication
problem because he sure as Hell didn't ask for Peyton Place.  "So, Mick's
Michelle's boyfriend - or she wants him to be - or something?  So, where
the Hell do you fit in?"

   "Me?  I'm not going with anyone yet.  I'm waiting."

   {Gotcha, she's available!} Mal let out a mental whoop.  "A beautiful
girl like you doesn't need to wait?" Mal said smoothly.  "I'd say you're
the prettiest girl around.  Hey, tell you what - you Russians like your
vodka, right?  I happen to have the real stuff in my car - a bottle of the
finest money can buy."

   "So, why don't you go and get it?" she said.

   "Sure.  Why don't you come with me?  Everyone'll want a belt if I bring
it back.  There won't be enough for us."

   Mal waited while Anna digested the information.  Time was running out
and he needed to get her out of here fast.

   "Not sure," she considered.  "I have to keep an eye on our baby."

   {Baby?} "Um, you got a baby?" Mal asked.  "Whose the father?"

   "Mick, of course!"

   This Mick suddenly had Mal's respect.  The guy certainly spread it
around, that's for sure!

   "Oh, I see.  So, tell me again?  You're no longer with Mick?"

   "He's Michelle's, I think.  He maybe's still with our manager, Sabra. 
Michelle will tell you."

   Mal tapped his head as if something had worked loose.  He was fighting a
losing battle with this chick.  {Change tack,} he thought.  "Say, y'know, I
really felt something when I first saw you.  It was as if there was this
connection.  I don't know what it is - maybe we were together in some past
life?  It's your eyes, they say something to me." Mal looked anxiously
towards the toilet.  No way was he going to get caught by that gay nutcase
friend of her's.  {On the other hand,} he mused, {she wasn't that far from
crazy herself.}

   "Connection?" she replied, narrowing her eyes in concentration.  "I
don't feel it."

   "Yeah?" he looked behind him.  "Funny, but it's really strong.  Your
baby will be alright for a few minutes.  My car's just down the drive."

   "Thank you, but I can't go.  Dimitru will be back and he'll wonder where
I've gone."

   "Tell someone - leave a message?" Mal was starting to sweat.  "C'mon,
only a couple of minutes?"

   "Who do I tell?"

   {For fuck's sake, lady!} This gig wasn't worth his life.  Maybe he
should bail tactfully before he gets his nuts cut off - figuratively as
well as literally?  "Anyone!  Look, I, ah, am sorry, but I see someone over
there that..."

   "Ok," she said, breezily, "we go get this vodka, huh?"

   {Strike!} "Sure, this way."

   Mal lead her off out the door and down the driveway.  The gatecrashers
had gone and all was quiet.  The sky had darkened considerably and Mick's
security lights had come on.

   Mal's car was actually a fair way down the access road - maybe 200
metres or more?  Gorse and scrub lined the drive waiting for Mick to get
around to clearing it.  Mal had a white Mercedes sports, which, he was
sure, would really impress this lady.

   His next move was to get her into the car and persuade her to go for a
cruise.  He'd then take her to a secluded spot, or maybe back to his place?
He wasn't sure exactly and was playing it by ear.

   "Here it is," he announced.  "What do you think of the wheels?"

   "Nice car," she agreed.  "My family had three of those in Russia."

   "Really?" He raised his eyebrows.

   "Sure!  And a limousine.  I think it was a Lincoln - or maybe a
Cadillac?"

   "Your family was rich?"

   "Yes, a Lincoln.  It was a Lincoln Continental.  What?  Rich?  Sure, we
were rich.  The Chechens took everything - and killed my baby brother!"

   Mal was growing uncomfortable.  Anna was starting to ramble, to
disconnect, as if she was high on something.  The last thing he wanted was
her to flip out on him.  "You want to go for a drive?" he asked, looking
back the way they'd come.

   "Drive?  Better not.  I have a baby."

   "Sure, sure.  Ah, maybe you'd like to sit in the passenger's seat?  I
can show you the controls - what it does?  It has some really neat
accessories?"

   "I must go to my baby," Anna said.  Her voice seemed even vaguer now and
Mal was becoming frightened.  Was she going to have fit right here in the
driveway?  That sort of trouble he didn't need.

   She stumbled a little - Mal held her by the shoulders and looked into
her eyes.  They were focussing on a point about a kilometre behind his
head. Slowly, her legs began to buckle and Mal steered her around and into
the passenger's seat of the Mercedes.

   Mal tapped her on the cheeks a few times but she appeared to be out to
lunch.  What this babe had swallowed he'd no idea, but he was determined
none of the blame was going to land in his court.

   Mick had his arm around Michelle as they rested in the glow of aftersex.
They were still naked and Michelle cuddled into him, delighting in the
physical intimacy.  His hand still clutched to her breast and he was idly
playing with her nipple.  She'd leaked, of course, and Mick treated it as a
lubricant - dipping his fingertips in the milk and smearing it around.

   What this meant and what the future was, she didn't care right now. 
Tonight she had him to herself and it felt real nice.  Suddenly, there was
a pounding on the door and someone tried the handle.  Mick leapt up and
unlocked it - opening it a fraction and peering around.

   "Anna - is here?" It was Anna's friend Dimitru and he was wild with
panic.

   "No, why?" Mick asked.

   "She gone, she gone," the Rumanian said.

   "Huh, what?" Mick blinked.

   Behind him, Michelle was throwing on her clothes.  "Anyone see her go?"
she asked.

   "Not tell," Dimitru replied, "not tell."

   Michelle pushed Mick aside and raced out the door.

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   KATZMAREK(c)