Chapter Three

One Angel Short of Heaven

"I feel your anguish
I feel your pain
I feel your heartache, I must feel it again."
-Rosetta Stone

It was raining when I returned 'ome.

We landed at London early in the morning, about three or so, and as we got off the jet the clouds opened up and water poured from the wound in the sky as if t'welcome me back.

I was mostly in shock at actually being back on native soil, so I didn't pay much attention to everything goin' on around me. We set up base in the cellar of a fish'n'chips shop of all things, and Jubilee was promptly sent out fer coffee. Americans.

Worthington and Kurt got everything set up quickly, and soon enough Angel was after Stacy t'make sure she knew what she was doing.

"Alright. So Stacy, you're clear on what you have to do?" he asked.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about me," she replied with a smile. Warren nodded, and I could tell 'e was somewhat uncomfortable with 'er speakin' t'him like that.

"If you run into any trouble," Kurt started, an' she shook 'er head.

"I know, I know. I'll stay in contact so you know exactly what's going on."

Warren started goin' over more o'the details, talking to Bobby at one point. Robert really didn't look like 'e was paying much attention, truth be told. Me, I buried meself in a magazine featurin' an interview with this Ashbury character and tried not to look at Paige. Failed on that last count pretty miserably.

This Ashbury bloke was actually not that 'ard t'look at, I mused as I skimmed the glossy spread that accompanied the actual interview (which 'ad been written by some silly sod who obviously didn't know a thing about music). Long, dark hair and an absolutely devilish smile. As I stared at the pictures in the magazine, I felt a new determination t'give this stupid plan me best shot - it was like the bleedin' photograph was daring me.

Felt a tap on me shoulder and looked up t'find Drake lookin' at me expectantly.

*Wot?*

"Hungry," he said, like I should care.

*Good fer you.*

"I have no idea where I am. You're my native guide!" he said, grinning like the big bloody twit he is, his eyes a trifle frantic. I figured he must 'ave noticed everyone lookin' at us, too.

Sod on em all.

I shrugged, put the magazine down and stood. *Roit. Come on.* Left the room without lookin' back - mostly because I don't think I could 'ave handled wot I would've seen on their faces.

It was raining, but it was the sort you can still go outside in. Robert, raised in sunnier climes, muttered "Aw, shit," and 'unched up like a turtle.

*Wotcher want?* I asked as he ducked under every awning that presented itself like a gel that's just got 'er hair done.

"Thank you, Ronald," 'e said after a quick look around and pointed at a McDonald's. "I was afraid I'd have to choke down steak and kidney pie or something equally revolting."

Rolled me eyes at that one. Ok, so England's not known for it's cuisine, this I can admit. But really, it's not all inedible. O'course, I don't have t'eat anymore so wot would I know?

Got the door and Bobby darted past me and got inter line and ordered an ungodly amount of greasy meat. Thought about tellin' 'im he might catch Mad Cow disease but decided against it when I realised he'd probably find that really funny and find a way t'make a public spectacle of the gag.

When I first got me powers, I used to hate watching people eat. At first it was really just envy, and after that pure disgust. I mean really, 'ave yer ever actually watched someone chew? It ain't pretty. These days I barely notice, although Robert is a noisy fucken eater.

'E flicked his straw-wrapper at me after he'd consumed one of the grease-patties. "Hey," he said, sucking a sesame seed out of 'is teeth. "You okay?"

Oh, wot a brilliant question.

I shrugged.

"Okay, fine. You're fine. That's great. Glad we had this little talk." Apparently unable to go one without more fuel, he crammed a load of chips in 'is mouth and pointed at me. "Look, Jono, if you're having issues about Paige then we should clear them up before the assignment, okay? That's all."

*I can keep em separate from the'job,* I replied. No sense in denying there were 'issues' between Paige and I - every time I looked at 'er I felt miserable, after all. However I was confident that once we were actually on the bloody mission I could ignore me feelings with relative ease.

"Great," Bobby said, and went back t'his meal. Outwardly he seemed fine, but there was this general aura of unease clingin' t'him like a bad smell. His movements were a little too jerky, and he wiped 'is hands almost angrily on his napkin.

'E was worried. About me, I suppose, which was rather touching even if it was ridiculous. I reached across the table and touched 'is forearm. *Bobby.*

"Yeah?" Grudgingly hopeful.

*Don't worry.*

He smiled and I felt him pull away. "I'm not."

I 'ardly slept at all that night, and the following morning I woke up when it was still dark. I lay there for a few minutes, starin' at the ceiling. I could feel a nervous tension uncoiling at the base of me skull and slithering down my spinal column. I wanted ter scream, but…

Instead I got up, tryin' t'be quiet outta deference t'those still sleeping, and was surprised t'find Stacy crouching by the end of 'er cot. She was rootin' around in 'er bag with one hand.

*Morning.*

Stacy froze an' I saw her eyebrow twitch a little. Heh. She's awful fun t'sneak up on really, because she hates bein' surprised.

"Starsmore," she hissed. "Don't DO that."

*Sorry,* I lied. She casually flipped me off and finished rummagin' about in 'er bag. She pulled out wot I assumed t'be a clean pair of knickers and stood up.

"I'm gonna shower," she whispered. "Hey, you wanna get breakfast when I'm done?"

*You mean would I mind helping yer carry a bunch of food I'm not gonna eat?*

"Yeah."

*Sure.*

Stacy snuck off and I sat down in one of the swivel chairs stationed at the far end of the room. From where I was sittin' I could watch Paige sleep, an activity I decided was not healthy. So I swiveled the chair and looked at the wall until I 'eard people wakin' up. Stacy appeared and we went t'leave after getting' breakfast orders from Worthington an' Kurt.

Paige got up just as we heading out. 'Er hair was tousled and she was wearing some sort o'sleep-shirt that just barely came midway down 'er thighs. She was beautiful. She looked at me and I turned away, fast.

Outside, in the rain, Stacy stomped through puddles in her high-heeled boots, glancing at me every few seconds. It was aggravating.

*Wot?* I asked finally.

"That blonde girl... Paige?"

*Wot about 'er?*

"You two had a thing?"

I sighed mentally and shrugged. *I s'pose. Yeah.*

Stacy nodded. We reached a bakery and Stacy and I went inside t'stand in line, so I figgered she'd drop it.

"Hey," she said. The little old man ahead of us scowled over 'is shoulder at 'er. "You aren't gonna cheat on Icecube with Paigey, are you?"

Oh for… Americans, I've noticed, have no sense of timing when it comes to discussing personal affairs.

*Stacy,* I said. *That's really none of your business, now is it?*

"No." She paused. "I notice you didn't say 'no.'"

*Bugger this fer a lark,* I muttered and elbowed me way in front of the old codger ahead of us. *Sorry, guv,* I muttered when 'e squawked at me.

"Bleedin' kids terday," he grumbled, but didn't make any more fuss. Probably thought I'd steal 'is wallet.

I placed me order and pointedly ignored Stacy when she whispered she wanted coffee. Ordered tea instead, mostly to spite her. She grumbled and tried t'get me t'talk a bit on the way back to base but I was stolidly deaf and mute.

"I would have brought coffee," Stacy announced as the team, all of them now awake, dug inter the food we'd brought. "but Mr. UK-Idol here insisted on tea."

I looked down me nose at 'er and handed Robert his tea. He'd obviously just woken up.

"Thanks," he said. I nodded.

*Five sugars, like usual,* I informed him so 'e wouldn't go dumping more inter it. Robert needs caffeine and sugar t'wake up, but too much and he'd be bouncing around like, well, Jubilee.

Speaking of which, the hyperactive firecracker was watchin' us as she shoveled food inter 'er face, smilin' the whole while.

"What?" Bobby said accusingly.

"Nuffin'," she said as she chewed. Disgusting. "It's just bizarre to see you guys, you know, acting like a couple--"

"Jubilee," Paige broke in. All my thoughts of possibly drowning Jubilee in the toilet halted as I was hit with a sudden wash of discomfort. Not me own, either. I wondered idly if Paige knew she was projecting or not.

"What?" Jubilee demanded.

Paige looked at me, then. Meetin' her eyes caused a jolt t'run the entire length of me body. Then she looked away and I was left feeling nauseous, which is remarkable when you consider there's no way I could be sick. "They're not… Look, we've just got more important things to discuss, alright?" She turned t'Worthington. "Warren, is everything set up for the try-out this afternoon?"

"Yes Paige," Warren replied after finally getting' off his bleedin' mobile. "You and Jon just have to show up." He looked at me. "Are you ready for this? That is, do you have your material ready?"

Stone me.

*Yeah Worthington, don't worry yer pretty lil 'ead about me,* I said, wavin' a hand at 'im. Jubilee snickered.

"Hey," Bobby asked suddenly. Everyone paused and looked at 'im. "Is it still raining?"

No, Robert, I decided to swim the English Channel.

"Drake?" Stacy asked, sarcasm lacing the edge of 'er voice like a doily. "Hear that drip-drip noise? That's puddle forming around your boyfriend's feet! Of COURSE it's still raining!"

"Oh."

Was struck with a feeling of 'naughty thought' comin' from Robert's direction and resisted the urge to smack the silly grin off his face. Lucky fer him 'e crammed a pastry inter his gob before anybody else seemed t'notice.

Warren looked at Bobby oddly and then turned back to me. "I'm not worried. I'm just making sure. A lot of this mission depends on your 'talent' here, after all."

Suddenly, in a burst of manic yellow, Jubilee had bounced to my side, slingin' an around me waist. I was a trifle taken aback.

"Warren, babes," Jubilee said. "Jono's gonna knock em dead."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps not the best choice of words," 'e said. That killed conversation pretty effectively, and everyone ate their breakfast in relative quiet. Thank god.

After breakfast I took a walk by meself, tryin' t'get me thoughts in order. Didn't work. I gave up and returned t'the base where I was informed I'd better get ready fer me audition.

Audition. Cattle-call. Wotever. Buncha hopefuls lined up in a desperate attempt t'impress Ashbury enough that he's take em on tour. As I locked meself in the bathroom I thought, Well, let's get this fiasco over with.

I looked up then and caught sight of my reflection in the cracked and spotted mirror above the sink.

As usual, I saw wot I always see - a freakish, broken reminder of wot could have been.

And then it occurred t'me that I had been right before; it would never be the same. But that didn't mean I couldn't try. Staring at my reflection I was filled with a twisted determination ter put on the best damn performance of me life. At least that way I could say that I'd faced the last of my old dreams bravely.

Yeah. Punk rock, and all that.

So I showered and got dressed.

Black leather pants with buckles goin' down the sides an' a pair of buckled boots. Didn't bother with a shirt, as me bandages cover me upper torso well enough. After some deliberation, I put on me corset.

Wot the hell - I feel bound up ninety-percent of the time anyway. May as well look like a bondage fetishist's wet dream.

Just as I 'ad finished lacing it up there was a racket outside the bathroom door.

"Jono?"

Bobby. Hammering on the door like I was bloody deaf.

"You're gonna be late! Jon-"

Swung the door open and nearly clocked 'im in the face before movin' past him. Robert, with his usual tact and subtlety, stared open-mouthed at me.

"Muh," he said. "Jono?"

I stopped and turned, raisin' an eyebrow.

"What is that?" he asked, floundering a hand at me waist.

Oh. That. Yeah, I guess he'd never seen one on a bloke before.

*Wot? Oh, this?* I gestured at it.*S'a corset.* Thought about it. *Well, really more of a waist-cincher, I s'pose.*

Bobby was obviously not listenin' ter a word I was sayin', instead walking towards me and then puttin' one hand on me waist. He petted the leather absently, face completely rapt.

Finally 'e looked up. Oh lord, I could not help but love the stupid look on 'is face. He blinked and then put 'is arms around me, pullin' me close.

*Thought I was goin' ter be late?* I asked. Dropped the coat I'd been 'olding ter the floor.

"Yeah," 'e admitted. I moved, but 'e didn't' let go so I wrapped me arms around 'is neck and nestled close t'him. God, it was good t'be held. Robert kissed the side of me face, me ear, lapping at leather until 'e had managed t'squirm his mouth into me shoulder. He bit me, and I felt my body want to respond.

But there were prior engagements to consider. An' the fact that Warren was bound t'come lookin' for us if I didn't get downstairs soon.

*I gorra go,* I said reluctantly. Bobby looked up at me and I really, really wanted ter be able t'run late.

"Now?"

*Yeah.*

He blew hair outta 'is face with an irritated snort. "Yeah, okay." We let go of each other and I picked up me jacket again, slinging it over one shoulder. "Good luck," he said.

*Thanks.*

Picked up me jacket and 'smiled' back at Bobby before goin' downstairs. 'Good luck, eh? I was hoping I wouldn't need it.

"We're going to drown before we get inside," Paige complained as she tried in vain t'wipe raindrops off 'er glasses.

We were waitin' outside the building Ashbury was holding 'is tryouts at. Wannabes were lined up for blocks, some huddling under awnings in a desperate attempt to keep their hair and makeup from melting. Paige and I were not lucky enough t'be under cover, and while I didn't mind she most certainly did not appreciate getting' soaked.

She looked fantastic. Really, I had the hottest manager there.

She shivered a little and I sighed. *Yanks,* I muttered and stripped off me jacket, holding it out t'her. She blinked at it behind 'er water-spotted glasses and took it slowly.

"You sure?" she asked.

*Yes.*

She smiled cautiously. Paige and I, we never really 'ad a chance ter talk things out. It's not like we treated each other very well, and I always sorta regretted not bein' able t'explain meself.

"Thanks."

*Not a problem, sunshine.*

I expected the wait ter last forever, but it was quite the opposite. Time seemed ter be sped up a pitch and before I even realised it was 'appening we were inside the building. It wasn't anythin' fancy - I think it used ter be some sort of packing plant, actually. Paige and I stood in a gray hallway together, a group of malnourished blokes with multicoloured hair in front o'us and a gel with three arms and the worst voice I've ever 'eard behind us.

"If this is your competition," Paige whispered ter me, "I don't think we have much to worry about."

Indeed.

Wot seemed like seconds later, we were standin' in front of a squat metal door - the enrty ter the room where the actual auditions were takin' place. The malnourished punkers 'ad gone in about five minutes before and a short, efficient lookin' woman informed us that we were next. Paige thanked her and handed me jacket back ter me, fixin' her hair as bets she could.

"You okay?" she asked quietly.

Before I could formulate a reply that wouldn't 'ave made much sense anyway, the door swung open. A bloke of about forty with black 'air carefully scraped away from an angular face and tattoos swarming down 'is arms motioned us in.

"Starsmore? You're up."

We went in.

The room was bare save for musical instruments and cables at one end of the room, and a handful of foldin' chairs at the other. Seated there were two men in suits, a woman with a clipboard, and Aleister Ashbury.

'E was hunched forward, looking fer all the world like a leather-clad vulture. Paige approached him and introduced herself as me manager.

"Have a seat," he said in a low, cigarette-roughened voice. Paige did, and he turned his eyes on me and smiled.

Had a very sexy mouth, he did.

"So come on, Jon," he said. "Wow me."

I noticed out of the corner of me eye that the band who'd been in prior to meself had not left yet - they were milling about by the door. I jerked a thumb at em.

*Wot about them, then?*

Ashbury smiled. "We let them stay if they want. To get a better idea of what they're up against. Does it bother you?"

I shrugged. *Wotever.* Tossed me jacket aside and strapped on a guitar. Fiddled with it until it sounded right, doin' me level best t'ignore the people waiting for me t'begin. It was a horrid, nerve-wracking sensation.

Bugger it, I thought, and started ter play.

We were allowed three songs only. I played two of my own - one I'd written years ago in a dirty flat in London where me mates 'ad been sprawled out on the floor, sleepin' off a wicked drunk. It was fast, defiant and angry fun.

The second I'd written about four months before - just after I'd started seein Bobby but before we'd decided ter actually date. It was filled with a bruised self-loathing disguised as sexual appetite.

The third was a cover of 'Some Kind of Stranger' by the Sisters of Mercy, which is a song I've loved violently since the first time I 'eard it. The lyrics are bitterly romantic an' they just speak ter me on some level I can't explain.

As always, the second I concentrated on playing I sort of forgot about the people assembled and just put all me effort inter the music. Singing telepathically is strange, but while the mechanics are different the feeling is the same - you pour yer soul out for all ter see.

I played well. Every damn note struck right home, and emotions twined like creeping vines through words, and that was wot I used ter live for. As he final guitar chord petered out inter silence, I knew that no matter wot the outcome, I'd 'ave that at least: I played well.

And then… applause.

I blinked and looked around. Ashbury was walking across the room, clapping as he did so. He moved with the slinky arrogance of someone used ter bein' treated like royalty.

"That," he said once 'e was about two feet away from me, "was exactly what I was looking for. I ought to kiss you."

*Gointer be 'ard t'do, mate,* I replied and twitched me bandages low fer a second so 'e could catch a glimpse of wot was under there.

He laughed - a low raspy purr that made me think of nails dragged across pale backs. "Fair enough." He pointed at the door suddenly and I thought fer sure 'e was about ter tell me t'get out. "Look."

I did. The band there was staring open mouthed at me. One clutched 'is heart absently, and another was breathing slowly, as if t'calm himself.

"They feel you," Ashbury whispered, leaning closer. "Your song, it pierces their hearts. Their emotions are yours." He straightened and said in a louder voice, "The search is bloody well finished. Jonothon, you must tour with me."

He grinned at me, full, sensual lips splitting to reveal predatory teeth. "I insist."

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Paige did most of the talking, thank god, because I dunno 'ow coherent I would 'ave been. I was high on me success and lovin' every second of it.

Eventually we left. The bloke with the tattoos - Cecil, 'is name was - shook both Paige's hand and mine and told us we were ter be back the following day so Paige could go through a bunch of mind-numbing details about the tour.

Ashbury watched me silently the whole time. Sometimes, if he caught me catching him, he'd smile.

Very sexy mouth.

Paige and I walked quietly through the drizzling streets of London. When we were about halfway home Paige stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. I kept walking fer a few steps before realizing she wasn't beside me any longer. I turned around.

She 'ad taken off her glasses and 'er careful hairdo was a bit amiss and just sopping wet. Her smart little suit was soaked, too. And there she was, standing against the gray backdrop of the city streets, bright and beautiful and smiling daffily.

"Jono, you DID it!" she squealed when I gave 'er a questioning glance. "Mah God, that was incredible! I thought I was gonna cry for a while there…" She moved forward quickly and before I knew wot she was about she'd wrapped her arms around me.

"Ah never knew you could do that," she said.

I was suddenly and uncomfortably aware of the state of Paige's emotions. I knew that all I 'ad ter do was put my arms around her and actually talk ter her and we'd 'ave a chance at salvaging wotever it was that was once between us.

The rain whispered promises to me.

I closed me eyes, wishing I could inhale the scent of 'er hair, and when I did an image came inter sharp focus in me mind: Bobby, sittin' on the floor of me room with a twinkie, lookin' up at me expectantly like 'e does when he figures he's said something funny and yer supposed t'laugh.

Bloody twit.

I opened me eyes and gave Paige a very brief hug before stepping away from 'er. She looked a trifle embarrassed and I felt regret needling me - I wasn't goin' ter get another chance.

"Anyway," she said. "You were amazing. And this is great - the mission can go exactly as planned, now. We'd better get back to base and tell Warren and the others."

*Yeah.*

We started walking again, neither of us wanting to speak. When the base came inter sight Paige slowed a little and looked at me.

"Jono, I… I have to ask. You and Bobby. I mean…?"

Oh Paige, it doesn't make sense to me either.

*Would it make you 'appy if I told yer it was just a sex thing?* I asked, a little more sharply than I'd meant to.

"No," she said, and her eyes were both hurt and defiant. "Look, I'm not going to lie - the idea of you and Bobby Drake of all people is not exactly easy for me to accept. But for whatever stupid reason, I still care about you, Jono. And no matter what I may think of your relationships, all that really matters is that you're happy." Her gaze softened. "So, are you?"

I sighed. *Yes.*

She smiled a little. "Then I am happy for you. And that's all I'm going to say, because I don't think either of us is comfortable talking about it."

I nodded, a huge surge of relief sweeping over me. *Thanks, sunshine.*

"Let's get back to base," she said. "I'm drowning, here."

Warren greeted us at th'door when we got back. "Well?" he asked. Paige grinned widely.

"We're in," she told him. "Ashbury loved him." She then walked over ter the chair Robert was currently snoring away in.

Warren turned ter me and smiled. There was something a little different about the way 'e was lookin' at me. "Good work, Chamber," he said. The words felt genuine and I decided maybe 'e wasn't as bad as I thought sometimes.

*Thanks. T'be honest, I didn't think this was goin' ter work.*

He nodded. "Well, I'm glad it did. Now just remember to keep your focus on the mission."

Wot was that supposed ter mean? I was about t'ask when Bobby and Paige joined us.

"So," Bobby asked, smiling. "How'd it go?"

I turned ter him, smiling back in me own peculiar way.

*Bloody fantastic,* I said as coolly as possible.

"Yes!" he shouted and threw 'is arms around me. He was so happy for me - not just because I'd succeeded in furthering the mission, but because he knew how much me silly dreams meant ter me.

So I hugged him back. And all I said was, *Thanks.*

"You're welcome," 'e replied.

Well. The hard part was over with.

e-mail the author at decadentmazohyst@yahoo.ca