Metal health

Halfway through the set I headed for the bar. The band were playing one of their few slow songs, and I was dying for a drink. There cannot possibly be a more strenuous exercise routine than a couple of solid hours spent headbanging in a club like the Irish. Sweat was pouring from every pore in the room. Some, with less experienced neck muscles, had already given up, and you could see these fallen soldiers hanging their heads at the bar, trying to stop the world from spinning. My left leg was shaking as I crossed the room, the thigh muscles stiff from the strain of holding back half a dozen drunken hooligans who had been trying to climb over me to reach the stage. That was one advantage of having Damien next to me – when the crowd got too rough, a few well-placed elbows normally cleared a space behind us. Didn’t win us many friends, though.

Two of the Horsemen stood between me and the bar. Not the safest of locations. These two weren’t the same as the two from the toilet, and they stood either side of some guy who was wearing a long black cloak. I didn’t care what he wore, as long as he got out of the way.

As I reached the trio, one of the bikers held out an arm and nodded that I should go around them. Now, this had not been my original plan, and I saw no reason to change plans mid-mission. I swept the hair from my face, using both hands to get the last of the sweat-stuck strands out of the way. Then I stopped in front of the group.

“’Scuse me, pal.” I thought I’d start with the civil approach.

“Go around.”

And that’s where it all started to go wrong. If only the man had said “please.” Or if he’d smiled. Or winked. But he just nodded off to the side again and gulped his beer, then tried to stare me down. As if he owned the club. Now, don’t get me wrong – I appreciate arrogance. Some misguided souls, who obviously don’t know me very well, have even, on occasion, described me as being arrogant myself. But here we had the irresistible force meeting the immovable object. In a place I liked to think of as my home away from home. I smiled.

Extract from Burning Roses, a decadent tale of sex, drugs, rock n roll & magick. Available from www.amazon.com/author/burning

Enjoy the festive season. Be as naughty as you like for the next 300 days. Check out the Smashwords Sale if you need something to read over the holidays. Lots of free/discounted ebooks, not just mine.

Till next time. Cheers.