Chapter eight
Death of Glitter. It was a catchy name, and all too true. The glitz was fading since Brian's mock death and it was likely that this, the Death of Glitter concert, would be the last big concert the Flaming Creatures would perform at.
Therefore, getting very dressed up was a must.
"Is this working?" Arthur asked as he sprayed the blue powder he'd borrowed from Pearl onto his hair.
"Of course its working," Ray replied without even looking up, focused on his clothes.
"No, coz I want it bluer and my hair's darker than yours..."
"It shows up just as well," Pearl reassured him.
"What am I gonna wear?" Ray muttered, almost inaudibly.
Arthur grinned at the mirror. "I don't think you should bother, I think I should go on stage tonight instead of you."
"Arthur, come on, give me a hand here," Ray ordered, struggling with his shirt. Pearl reached up to help, but to no avail. "Come on, come on. I'm stuck!" he cried, toppling down onto Pearl.
Arthur sighed and called out, "Stop moving about! I'm doin' my eyeliner!"
"Bloody old ponce…" Ray muttered, rolling off Pearl and springing to his feet. He swung his shirt around, yanking on the sleeves. "I'm trapped! I'm being attacked by a bloody porno!"
Malcolm walked in then, already dressed and made-up, and tapping a plat formed foot. "Children, are we ready?" he asked patronizingly. Ray threw his shirt, which had finally deigned to come off, at him.
"Appearance is very important, Mal. One can't go onstage naked," Ray said, slipping his carefully chosen pants on.
"Unless one is Curt Wild," Billy muttered from his place in the doorway.
*
They were ready and heading for the club in a matter of minutes, this time not in such a rush. They arrived early, but the club was still crowded. As they neared the bar, they ran into Chris, who was staring at Arthur like a cat at his mouse.
"Can I buy you a drink, Arthur?" he asked, a smile on his full painted lips, slipping a hand up Arthur's back onto his shoulder.
Arthur paused, considered the warm hand on his shoulder, then shrugged it off. "Sorry, I think I'm busy." He flashed a dazzling smile at the other man and turned away as a pout settled on Chris's lips.
"Vicious," Ray murmured to him and grinned. "I knew he was gonna take after me," he said to Malcolm, who just smiled.
"We have to get onstage," Billy reminded them.
Malcolm and the others shrugged. Ray winked. "Have fun out here, Arthur. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Malcolm grabbed Ray's arm and tugged him forward. "Don't do anything he would do either."
Arthur stood awkwardly in the crowd, waiting for the music to start. Just as he decided to head to the bar to get a drink, heavy strains of music blasted and a black clad figure sauntered onstage. "To save your wild, wild lives. To ne'er your fans embitter. To cease your sad demise. Tonight, we toast!"
With Jack Fairy's words, the Creatures began. Arthur clapped in time with them to 20th Century Boy. He'd seen them onstage before but tonight was different. It wasn't the first time, but it could be the last. He moved with the rhythm of the music, dancing wildly. He knew he looked like a fool (he was completely uncoordinated) but he didn't care what the people around him thought.
Until a burly man approached him. "Dude, tone it down!" the man yelled, roughly pulling his flailing arms down.
Arthur sighed and looked away from the Creatures, towards the door. Someone was arriving. He craned his neck to see who it was.
He felt his heart speed up, his stomach knot into tight coils. Curt Wild. Curt Wild was less than fifteen feet away from him, hands on his silver-clad hips and eyes on the band onstage. And then he moved, with the wily grace of a predator, towards the bar, all the while looking around, as if searching for someone in particular.
Arthur's eyes followed him as he reached the bar, and was immediately handed a drink. Curt sipped it thoughtfully, staring into space. Arthur bit his lip, wanting more than anything to walk up to him and begin a conversation about anything- music, London… He'd settle for pygmy hippos!
Instead Arthur just watched him, the curve of his cheek, the soft bobbing of his head to the beat of Billy's drums. Suddenly, Arthur couldn't wait for his friends to get off the stage and Curt Wild to begin.
Death of Glitter. It was a catchy name, and all too true. The glitz was fading since Brian's mock death and it was likely that this, the Death of Glitter concert, would be the last big concert the Flaming Creatures would perform at.
Therefore, getting very dressed up was a must.
"Is this working?" Arthur asked as he sprayed the blue powder he'd borrowed from Pearl onto his hair.
"Of course its working," Ray replied without even looking up, focused on his clothes.
"No, coz I want it bluer and my hair's darker than yours..."
"It shows up just as well," Pearl reassured him.
"What am I gonna wear?" Ray muttered, almost inaudibly.
Arthur grinned at the mirror. "I don't think you should bother, I think I should go on stage tonight instead of you."
"Arthur, come on, give me a hand here," Ray ordered, struggling with his shirt. Pearl reached up to help, but to no avail. "Come on, come on. I'm stuck!" he cried, toppling down onto Pearl.
Arthur sighed and called out, "Stop moving about! I'm doin' my eyeliner!"
"Bloody old ponce…" Ray muttered, rolling off Pearl and springing to his feet. He swung his shirt around, yanking on the sleeves. "I'm trapped! I'm being attacked by a bloody porno!"
Malcolm walked in then, already dressed and made-up, and tapping a plat formed foot. "Children, are we ready?" he asked patronizingly. Ray threw his shirt, which had finally deigned to come off, at him.
"Appearance is very important, Mal. One can't go onstage naked," Ray said, slipping his carefully chosen pants on.
"Unless one is Curt Wild," Billy muttered from his place in the doorway.
*
They were ready and heading for the club in a matter of minutes, this time not in such a rush. They arrived early, but the club was still crowded. As they neared the bar, they ran into Chris, who was staring at Arthur like a cat at his mouse.
"Can I buy you a drink, Arthur?" he asked, a smile on his full painted lips, slipping a hand up Arthur's back onto his shoulder.
Arthur paused, considered the warm hand on his shoulder, then shrugged it off. "Sorry, I think I'm busy." He flashed a dazzling smile at the other man and turned away as a pout settled on Chris's lips.
"Vicious," Ray murmured to him and grinned. "I knew he was gonna take after me," he said to Malcolm, who just smiled.
"We have to get onstage," Billy reminded them.
Malcolm and the others shrugged. Ray winked. "Have fun out here, Arthur. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Malcolm grabbed Ray's arm and tugged him forward. "Don't do anything he would do either."
Arthur stood awkwardly in the crowd, waiting for the music to start. Just as he decided to head to the bar to get a drink, heavy strains of music blasted and a black clad figure sauntered onstage. "To save your wild, wild lives. To ne'er your fans embitter. To cease your sad demise. Tonight, we toast!"
With Jack Fairy's words, the Creatures began. Arthur clapped in time with them to 20th Century Boy. He'd seen them onstage before but tonight was different. It wasn't the first time, but it could be the last. He moved with the rhythm of the music, dancing wildly. He knew he looked like a fool (he was completely uncoordinated) but he didn't care what the people around him thought.
Until a burly man approached him. "Dude, tone it down!" the man yelled, roughly pulling his flailing arms down.
Arthur sighed and looked away from the Creatures, towards the door. Someone was arriving. He craned his neck to see who it was.
He felt his heart speed up, his stomach knot into tight coils. Curt Wild. Curt Wild was less than fifteen feet away from him, hands on his silver-clad hips and eyes on the band onstage. And then he moved, with the wily grace of a predator, towards the bar, all the while looking around, as if searching for someone in particular.
Arthur's eyes followed him as he reached the bar, and was immediately handed a drink. Curt sipped it thoughtfully, staring into space. Arthur bit his lip, wanting more than anything to walk up to him and begin a conversation about anything- music, London… He'd settle for pygmy hippos!
Instead Arthur just watched him, the curve of his cheek, the soft bobbing of his head to the beat of Billy's drums. Suddenly, Arthur couldn't wait for his friends to get off the stage and Curt Wild to begin.