Chapter Six
"Hurry up, you git, I want in the bloody loo!" Ray called, banging on the door. He turned to Malcolm, who was doing his makeup while sitting on the kitchen counter. "Three weeks. He's here three weeks and he bloody thinks he owns the place."
Malcolm fought back his smile as he applied lipstick. "A month," he said when he was done, sliding the cap back on. "One month today."
"Well, happy anniversary and get the hell out of the toilet, you wanker!" Ray finished with a yell and another round of banging on the door.
The door opened and Arthur emerged. "Patience is a virtue," he said with a grin and Ray smacked him across the back of his head playfully as he entered the bathroom.
Malcolm laughed and tossed Arthur a scarf. "That goes."
Arthur wound the leopard print scarf around his neck. "Thanks."
"Is that my jacket?" Billy asked, eyeing the velveteen jacket.
"Yeah. Knew you wouldn't mind," Arthur said with a grin, popping a pretzel into his mouth.
"You're lucky I'm such a nice guy."
Malcolm glanced at the clock, then called. "Hurry up, Ray! We're gonna be late!"
The door slammed open and Ray stepped out, a sour look on his face. "And that's my fault?"
*
"Hold the doors!" Malcolm shrieked, leaping the rest of the way into the train.
Billy caught him before he toppled, shaky in his platform shoes. "Careful. Don't wanna lose you."
"How sweet," Malcolm said, straightening his scarf and shirt.
Ray rolled his eyes. "You have the tickets."
The Underground was crowded, people shoving against year other and wrestling for seats. Luckily, the ride was short and they shoved their way out of the doors first. They sprinted up the stairs only to be blocked by two slight, middle aged women, who stared at them, outrage plain on their faces.
"'Scuse me!" Malcolm muttered, pressing past the ladies. Pearl slipped by as well and the others went by ladies the other way. The two groups converged and ran into the road, not bothering to watch for cars.
"Hurry up!" Ray called to Pearl, who was lagging behind. He sped up and joined with his friends. They ran down the street, pushing past anyone in their way. "Damn it!" Ray cried, looking down. "I hate this shirt! Gimme your scarf, Mal!"
Malcolm sighed and unwound the black scarf from his neck and reached to hand it to him. Ray didn't grab it in time and the scarf fluttered to the ground, leaving Malcolm to go back and pick it up. He snatched it off the ground, then ran shakily after his friends.
They made it to the theatre with enough time to push their way to nearly the front of the crowd. Arthur stared up at the stage eagerly. Suddenly a fan started up and feathers rained down around them. One soft white feather fell on his nose, and Malcolm brushed it away with a laugh. Arthur was caught up in the whirlpool of cheers and screams. He waved his arms along with the crowd, yelling for Maxwell at the top of his lungs. Then the music began and an announcer called, "The Lycenium Theatre is proud to present Maxwell Demon and the Venus in Furs!"
And then he appeared, strutting onstage in a skin tight jumpsuit. The flashing lights reflected off the shimmering blue material, off his spiky hair, off his skin. Arthur watched in amazement as Brian Slade swaggered along the stage, parading himself for the mass of screaming fans before him.
Arthur turned his head to shout something to Malcolm when he caught a figure making his way toward the stage. He cocked his head and followed the shadowy man, then looked back to Brian. Maybe it was Curt, he thought, his head swiveling back to the man in the overcoat. No, too thin and short. Then the man's hand reached inside his overcoat and Arthur's breath caught.
A gun. The man had a gun.
He barely heard the shot over the opening strains of the Ballad of Maxwell Demon. His head went back to Brian just in time to see the singer fly backward, a bloody hole tore though him.
The screaming, joyful and full of anticipation, changed- they became terrified, ripping through Arthur painfully. Malcolm grabbed his hand hard; Arthur looked over at him, only to see his eyes bright with tears and focused on the stage.
Trevor let his guitar drop and fell to his knees at Brian's side. "Someone call an ambulance!" he cried shrilly.
The security showed up then, two men running onstage, and the rest beginning to usher out the throng of fans around the stage. "Head to your nearest exit please! There is no cause to panic!" a man yelled, waving his flashlight around to get attention.
Arthur and the Creatures stood completely still, ignoring the stampede around them and the crushed feathers beneath their feet. No cause for alarm? Arthur thought numbly, raising his eyes to the stage. Maxwell Demon- Brian Slade- was dead.
"Hurry up, you git, I want in the bloody loo!" Ray called, banging on the door. He turned to Malcolm, who was doing his makeup while sitting on the kitchen counter. "Three weeks. He's here three weeks and he bloody thinks he owns the place."
Malcolm fought back his smile as he applied lipstick. "A month," he said when he was done, sliding the cap back on. "One month today."
"Well, happy anniversary and get the hell out of the toilet, you wanker!" Ray finished with a yell and another round of banging on the door.
The door opened and Arthur emerged. "Patience is a virtue," he said with a grin and Ray smacked him across the back of his head playfully as he entered the bathroom.
Malcolm laughed and tossed Arthur a scarf. "That goes."
Arthur wound the leopard print scarf around his neck. "Thanks."
"Is that my jacket?" Billy asked, eyeing the velveteen jacket.
"Yeah. Knew you wouldn't mind," Arthur said with a grin, popping a pretzel into his mouth.
"You're lucky I'm such a nice guy."
Malcolm glanced at the clock, then called. "Hurry up, Ray! We're gonna be late!"
The door slammed open and Ray stepped out, a sour look on his face. "And that's my fault?"
*
"Hold the doors!" Malcolm shrieked, leaping the rest of the way into the train.
Billy caught him before he toppled, shaky in his platform shoes. "Careful. Don't wanna lose you."
"How sweet," Malcolm said, straightening his scarf and shirt.
Ray rolled his eyes. "You have the tickets."
The Underground was crowded, people shoving against year other and wrestling for seats. Luckily, the ride was short and they shoved their way out of the doors first. They sprinted up the stairs only to be blocked by two slight, middle aged women, who stared at them, outrage plain on their faces.
"'Scuse me!" Malcolm muttered, pressing past the ladies. Pearl slipped by as well and the others went by ladies the other way. The two groups converged and ran into the road, not bothering to watch for cars.
"Hurry up!" Ray called to Pearl, who was lagging behind. He sped up and joined with his friends. They ran down the street, pushing past anyone in their way. "Damn it!" Ray cried, looking down. "I hate this shirt! Gimme your scarf, Mal!"
Malcolm sighed and unwound the black scarf from his neck and reached to hand it to him. Ray didn't grab it in time and the scarf fluttered to the ground, leaving Malcolm to go back and pick it up. He snatched it off the ground, then ran shakily after his friends.
They made it to the theatre with enough time to push their way to nearly the front of the crowd. Arthur stared up at the stage eagerly. Suddenly a fan started up and feathers rained down around them. One soft white feather fell on his nose, and Malcolm brushed it away with a laugh. Arthur was caught up in the whirlpool of cheers and screams. He waved his arms along with the crowd, yelling for Maxwell at the top of his lungs. Then the music began and an announcer called, "The Lycenium Theatre is proud to present Maxwell Demon and the Venus in Furs!"
And then he appeared, strutting onstage in a skin tight jumpsuit. The flashing lights reflected off the shimmering blue material, off his spiky hair, off his skin. Arthur watched in amazement as Brian Slade swaggered along the stage, parading himself for the mass of screaming fans before him.
Arthur turned his head to shout something to Malcolm when he caught a figure making his way toward the stage. He cocked his head and followed the shadowy man, then looked back to Brian. Maybe it was Curt, he thought, his head swiveling back to the man in the overcoat. No, too thin and short. Then the man's hand reached inside his overcoat and Arthur's breath caught.
A gun. The man had a gun.
He barely heard the shot over the opening strains of the Ballad of Maxwell Demon. His head went back to Brian just in time to see the singer fly backward, a bloody hole tore though him.
The screaming, joyful and full of anticipation, changed- they became terrified, ripping through Arthur painfully. Malcolm grabbed his hand hard; Arthur looked over at him, only to see his eyes bright with tears and focused on the stage.
Trevor let his guitar drop and fell to his knees at Brian's side. "Someone call an ambulance!" he cried shrilly.
The security showed up then, two men running onstage, and the rest beginning to usher out the throng of fans around the stage. "Head to your nearest exit please! There is no cause to panic!" a man yelled, waving his flashlight around to get attention.
Arthur and the Creatures stood completely still, ignoring the stampede around them and the crushed feathers beneath their feet. No cause for alarm? Arthur thought numbly, raising his eyes to the stage. Maxwell Demon- Brian Slade- was dead.