The air blast of excitement made a short circuit in his nerves and knocked out all protective devices with the ringing in his ears. Dave was panting. The tiny part of his brain was truly offended by his body's hysterical reaction, being unhealthily turned on in second only by a thought of future sex. He was feverishly grabbing Martin, clutching the sheets on the bed with his both hands, as hard as he could, he wasn't thinking what he was doing, making Martin not delay, not hesitate no more and not stand upon ceremony, yelling him to do anything, otherwise he will fucking come right now and without his fucking help.
From this time it was happening traditionally. Once in two weeks, in hotels, it was lasting several minutes. No one was hurrying them, but they forgot the last time they have kissed. Today they've managed to take off their trousers, and it was evident progress. One movement, another one and another and he felt like burning waves of orgasm raggedly pushing his blood up in his veins with the pressure of the steamer.
Later, Martin just rolled off him and they were lying down, side by side, panting. Dave was thinking that they deceived him a long-long time ago, and swindled and played a cruel trick on him, when they said that time is deadening feelings. No, some feelings were deadening in time but why no one told him about this trick. No one warned him that erotic impulse had a short way into the excitement center his brain was turned into getting one or another familiar signal. Those signals hit him harshly and immediately right into the solar plexus taking away the ability to think and to breathe. Fast sex without prelude and tenderness - rushing up higher to the climax feeling more like painful spasms, just to fall down, find a breath, loosing his interest in everything around, to feel a sudden rush of fucking hot blood again from every little thing, from the sound of His voice, from the turn of His head, from His occasional touch. And even worse. He became turned on from the banal smell of the hotel rooms, because it started to mean sex for him.
Dave turned his head to the window. Sunbeams hardly showing through closed satin curtains color of the baked milk. Painfully familiar LA's Four Seasons' suite with high ceiling, modeling walls all in golden white.
- This chandelier is like in Paris Grand Opera, - said Dave, bringing his hands over his head, staring at the ceiling.
- That one that fell down on audience's heads and they all died? - asked Martin, laying in the similar pose gazing at the chandelier.
- When? - Dave asked frightened, - I didn't watch news for a long time.
- Uhm,… - said Martin, - You know, it's not a news' repertoire. It's more like Carnegie Hall's repertoire, I think. The Phantom of the Opera.
- Oh, fuck, you scared the shit off me, fucking musicals, - Dave giggled, - I thought something had happened. Why? So this Pinocchio in mask was fucking hit by the chandelier?
- They say. It was a real story from in the beginning of twentieth century.
Martin's cellar phone rang. Dave wanted to say something, but Martin put his finger up to his lips, asking Dave to keep silence, turned around and grabbed his trousers that fell somewhere onto the night -table.
- Yes? Yes, honey I will be home tomorrow. No everything's alright, just need to do something here. Yes. Santa-Monica, - Dave raised his eyebrow in surprise, - Weather? - Martin thoughtfully gazed into the thin line of light between the curtains, - The weather is fine, I think. Okay. Yes. No, I won't forget to visit a bank. No, this time I won't.
Dave set up on the bed and showed his hands with crossed fingers right before Martin's face, shaking his head, his facial expression means «A-ye…Like we gonna trust you this time». Martin needed a big effort to hide his smirk.
- What? Who am I with? Oh honey, of course I am alone. Kiss my girls from me, tell them daddy miss them much.
Dave hid his face in his hands and fell down onto pillows. Martin showed him his fist in silent threat. Then he pushed the off button and hid put cellar phone onto the bedside table.
- So you are in Santa-Monica then, - Dave repeated.
Martin shook his shoulders in silence.
- Your wife hates me; - Dave pouted his lips thoughtfully looking at the ceiling.
- For what exactly she might love ya? - Martin retorted.
- HEH-HEH-HEH - spelling clearly each sound said Dave, - your influence, huh? Well…if to think…probably…
- Because you are desperately in love with her for so long? - Martin tried to help him.
Dave laughed out loud, and Martin too in his own genuine manner and Dave decided that it is not repeatable in any case.
- You know, my studio improvement is almost over, let's go and see? - said Martin, laying on his side and propping his head with his fist.
- Santa-Monica?
- No, Santa-Barbara.
- Triumph of Royal Idleness? Home studio… - Dave smirked, - what about lion skins and brazen cups and leather couches?
- Mmmm…yeah, - Martin said, - I've already thought about leather couches.
- Leather couches are hot, - said Dave.
- Mmmm…yeah, - Martin repeated smirking, some purring notes became audible now in his voice, and Dave realized in terror the fatality of this attack of boiling lust inside, getting him high like an ideal substitute for drug. He turned to Martin and kissed his mouth hot, grabbing his head with his hands and messing his fingers with his hair, not because of tenderness, but just knowing for sure that Martin couldn't stand this caress.
***
Although this Cheshire cat appeared to be very sociable. Dave thought it was a really nice surprise. Because Vince was rather taciturn by nature, but when he started to talk to Dave, Dave became to feel himself uncomfortable. Vince treated him like a clinical idiot or a little girl, or so Dave felt. He didn't know, though. But Vince's stare sometimes was too steadfast and estimating. And he looked at Martin in such manner too, but Martin wasn't too embarrassed by that, actually he just didn't give a shit. At least, he seemed self-confident and calm as a heavy tank and killingly coolly hearty with Vince. Somehow Dave felt Martin behavior was irritating Vince, even if he prefer better to hide it.
At the end of the week Andy almost scared the shit off Dave. He met Fletch at the Garage, the red-head pointed at him with his index finger and told with a trumpet voice of Archangel and without a shade of smile in his face:
- And that was given to Him to put a spirit into the shape of the Beast for the Beast to talk and act for everyone who won't be worshipping the image of Beast would be killed, - Andy's eyes were sparkling, - Those who have minds, count the number of the Beast, for it is the number of the Man, a number of six hundred sixty six. Protect yourself from the Beast! - Accusatorily he said.
Dave grabbed a door-handle.
- Mama, born me in, - he said.
Martin came from behind unnoticeable and pinched Dave's side and whispered to his ear.
- Don't be afraid, Fletch has a wicked sense of humor.
- Andy-y… - tenderly and reproachfully said Martin to Fletch, coming into the garage, and Fletch's face found its humanity, enlightened with a broad smile. Vince measured Martin up and down with his angry stare, moving synthesizer from one corner of the room to another.
- Need help? - Martin asked Vince.
- No, thank you, - unctuously said Vince and this too sweet tone of his voice meant to show Martin the depth of his insult.
- Fuck, you scared me, - said Dave, shaking his head following Martin to his way to Vince and grabbing the side of the synthesizer, imitating help, - Fletch, what did you drink before that?
- Hah-hah-hah, - said Fletch, - Fear the God, sinners! Or so John the Revelator said.
- How's your bump, Fletch? Gone? - Martin was almost purring.
- Yeah, better, - Fletch suddenly frowned and his desire to talk was gone for good.
Dave came to Martin's house to pick him up at Saturday morning to gad a little around the town, because there was nothing to do, or so he explained. When they were moving down the street Martin told him what had happened two days before.
- Fletch and Vince were telling the Gospel in some fast-food, were local rockers were spending their time, so I'd say they kicked our guy's asses pretty hard.
Dave laughed.
- Fletch is nuts.
- Fletch is a nice fellow, - Martin retorted.
- Then you are nuts too, - Dave giggled.
Martin smiled.
- Probably that's why I liked you most, - Dave added, - Tell me, Martin, is he dangerous?
- What do you mean?
- I mean how many men or women had he murdered already?
- Mmm… - Martin started thinking, - actually I though that his religious convention doesn't approve manslaughter, but even if…you know, I think hardly more then a dozen, huh? Don't be afraid, I will protect you, - he said looking at Dave's round eyes.
- HEY! - Dave giggled and shoved Martin's side with his elbow, - you did me, huh? Damn, you are making fun off me, you bastard…
Martin smiled rather self-satisfied.
They went to the empty soccer stadium, set down onto an almost broken wooden bench. Dave opened the beer bottle against the bench and drank a little, then exhaled.
- Fucking good.
- Life loves us, - added Martin, lowering his bottle, - Listen, Dave I wanted to ask you…
- Huh?
- Why there are no lessons in your art school at Saturdays?
Dave rubbed his nose pensively.
- Actually, it was a sort of an overstatement from my side to tell you that I am still studying, Mart.
- I see, - said Martin, - for how long?
- A year. Mom didn't have an idea for a long time, - added Dave.
Martin smirked.
- No more questions.
- School sucks, - said Dave in his defense.
- I must agree.
- No, really…
- So last year you were just loafing about?
- Not that simple, - Dave giggled, - Me and Mark, ya know, my best friend, we are hanging around some clubs and concerts, ya know, chicks, we kinda very busy lads…
- How are you finding an answer to the vulgar question of gold? - asked Martin.
- What? - Dave wondered.
- Where are you taking your money from? - Martin specified.
- Police knows, - Dave dragged a smoke from the cigarette, showing with all his look the depth and courage of his secret, - What are you gonna do in your life?
- Me? - Martin asked saddened a bit, - Like-a will go to the bank college.
- Wanna be a banker?
- Uhm…I think…probably...yes, - Martin said, - actually, no, not really.
- They will take you?
- Appeared so. I had good marks at school.
- Straight A student? - Dave laughed.
- Kind of, - Martin nodded, - I was in Germany some years ago, for my achievements in German.
- That's cool, - Dave said, - really cool. How's Germany?
- Uhm…. - Martin was thinking, - Germany is cool.
Then he seemed to remember something and he giggled.
- You know, I was at some village and that was wicked, I even was milking a cow.
- Whom were you milking?
- A cow.
- Hah… How was that?
- You know…it was a very…interesting sensation.
Dave giggled.
- What about her…errm… how it calls….nipple? I mean its diameter?
- Uhm…well, - Martin started, doomed from the beginning because he already knew where Dave was heading at, - Just like that… - he showed with his fingers.
- Hah-hah-hah, - said Dave, - It looks like, you know what…
Martin scratched his curly head.
- It does, - said Martin but he looked rather confused.
Dave was roaring with laughter, he almost fell off the bench.
- Fu-u-u-u-u-uck, - he moaned holding his tummy with his one hand, and bumping his knee with the other, - fucking intere-e-esti-i-ing exercise. Ha-ah…
Martin face turned red, he turned away from Dave. Dave put his hand on Martin's shoulder.
- Huh, Mart, ya know… - Dave said and butted him by his head into his temple, - you are cool. Do you have a girlfriend?
- No.
- Why?
Mart shook his shoulders.
- Have no idea, - he said, - somehow I did not succeed at that. Probably they think I am a fright.
- Have you lost your mind somewhere?
- I don't know, - Martin turned away again, - They don't like me.
- Bullshit!
- Why bullshit? - Martin was offended, - I asked one girl, my neighbour if she want to be my girlfriend, she looked at me like I am nuts. Actually I was into her for a pretty long time, - he said trustfully, - Well, sort of writing some poems. It seemed she liked them. But when I asked her to be my girlfriend she just suggested me to better fuck off.
- That was just wrong chick, - Dave said.
- No, - said Martin, - she's beautiful, all my class was chasing about her.
- I tell you, wrong chick, - Dave repeated, - Don't be too upset, shit happens. It doesn't mean that you are a fright. You are not.
- Yeah? - Mistrustfully asked Martin.
- Fuck me, I bet, - Dave said, - If I was a girl, - explosively he assumed, - I would agree for sure. Yeah, right. I'll tell you more if I was a chick I will let you shag me at first date!
Martin looked at him wary, very quickly and Dave almost choked. Suddenly he noticed that Martin's eyes were green. Actually he never could say which color were one's eyes, and he hasn't had an idea how this rubbish could be seen or remembered. But this time he noticed. He became to feel himself a little bit uncomfortable.
- Did I say something wrong? - He asked just in case.
Martin shook his head as saying "No".
- Thank you very much, Dave, - very seriously he said.
- Oh, c'mon… - Dave was dreaming now only to change the subject, - Mart, let's go to my rascally crew, huh? C'mon, you will meet some normal chicks they are not that cold like yours, ya know, and lads are quite cool, huh?
Martin nodded.
***
They went two blocks down by the street to some derelict construction site, climbed over the fence. In the middle of the construction site there was a rather cozy area near the metal barrel, there were some guys sitting. Music was playing loud in a bitten up recorder. One lad in a shabby leather jacket was sitting on the turned upside down wooden box; he was violently shaking his head in the air in time with the ragging bit. Dave sneaked up to him from behind and yelled right into the lad's ear.
- Oi to the Punks!
- Oi! - The lad yelled in answer, jumping up and turning to them, - I fucking had a myocardial infarction. Fuck. Almost shitted on my pants, Dave, you moron, stop doing it.
Dave laughed.
- Mart, this is my best friend. Mark, this is Mart, I've told you about him before.
They shook their hands.
- Cool hair, - Mark said with a hoarse voice, pointing on his head with some envy, - Always stands up?
- Yeah, just never falls down, - Martin smirked.
Dave laughed again.
- The Booze! - He said and pulled a bottle of vodka from his jacket, - Got glasses?
Martin shook hands with other two gloomy punks with pierced with the clasp-pins ears, wearing painted ripped jeans, they were looking at him with muddy eyes and they seemed to be somewhere else. Later he brought to himself and Dave pair of wooden boxes from the other side of the hangar.
Mark searched somewhere for some pretty used paper cups from the coffee automat near the cafe right aside the service station. He thoughtfully breathed on them and carefully rubbed them with the sleeve of his jacket.
- Fucking Bohemian Crystal! - He said, - don't be a chicken everything's gonna be disinfected soon.
Mark handed paper cups full of vodka both to Dave and Martin. The punk with bright red hair pulled out his hand with the glass, but the second one fell asleep already. Martin grabbed his rather dirty cup with courage, although some confusion was seen in his face. But only for a second.
- Booze's connecting people! - Mark said and toppled his cup. Dave and Martin followed him.
- OH…SHI-I-I-IT! - Yelled Dave with rapture, panting for breath, - fucking good.
Martin sniffed into his sleeve with some delicacy, hiding tears swelling in his eyes and quickly and silently handed his cup to Mark for more vodka.
- Huh, - Mark said, - look, he is one of us through and through!
And made Martin's cup full again.
Martin couldn't quite remember how this evening ended up, but he recalled that then some guys came to their place and some girls too. He didn't remember how did they look like but he remembered that he communicated with all them very heartedly, they all seemed so nice and sweet to him. Even drugged out, sleeping punk. Then they four, with some almost bold guy in military boots with white shoe-laces, they called him Doubloon went to search for more drinks. Martin asked, why did the call the guy Doubloon, Dave said that it was because he was Irish, but Mark laughed so hysterically, Martin understood that they were making fun of him and stopped the topic.
The night was dark. All stores were closed for a long time and Dave with Doubloon tried to steal some booze, after they broke a show-window of the Mr. Atkins's Liquor Store. Alarm signal was ringing loudly and they rushed away onto different sides, stumbling and falling down from time to time, agreeing to meet on the waste near the construction site. And Martin remembered very clearly that they fucking crashed this coffee automat near the cafe in the end of the night too. Without any specific reason.
He found himself in the morning rolling into a ball lying in the hall on the floor. Something keeps his back warm. He turned his head and almost screamed from the terrible headache and saw his dog, which probably wanted to show him some sympathy and rolled into a ball near him, back to back. His mother stopped talking to him, silently handed him water and a medication. He greedily lapped up the water and called to his office to say that he's feeling sick and probably can't go for a work today. He was slurring and the real reason of his sudden illness was rather hard to hide. His Lady-boss was reprimanding him for a long time, with her awfully piercing voice, screwing up his poor head. He was holding the receiver out of his ear and staring on it, squealing with the most annoying voice in the entire Universe, and then hung it down.
Next week he had to visit a Police. He swore with all his heart that Dave was with them at the rehearsals, and on the whole he managed to leave a good impression to the police officer. He was worrying that he hadn't seen Dave for a while but hoped that everything will be fine in the end.
And Dave appeared soon, so they continued their rehearsals.
- Those cunts were trying to hang a car stealing on me, - he explained, - but changed their mind somehow.
- We are sure that it wasn't you, - said Andy.
Martin remained silent.
***
They were spending all nights now with the same company on the construction site. Dave didn't forget to mention that Martin was the leader of the band he singing in and they will play at local club next Sunday. It helped to attract female attention to Martin very well. Martin didn't know what to do with it not for long. Soon Dave realized that he didn't need his help no more.
- Where's Mary-baby?
Mark was smoking his joint staring at the camp-fire and pointed with his finger somewhere past his back.
Dave turned around and saw with wonder that Martin was wooing Baby pretty hard. He seemed to know how to have fun. He hugged the girl from behind, using the help of the darkness that hid them from all those who was sitting at the circle of light from the camp-fire, his hand slipped into her panties. She wasn't objecting at all, she even moaned playfully and was rubbing her round backside against his body.
- Fuck me, - Dave said.
Mark looked at the couple above his shoulder and snickered, inhaling the smoke with familiar herbal smell. He handed a joint to his friend.
- Take a blow.
Dave took. Looked at Mary and Martin kissing behind his back and was staring at them until they disappeared somewhere in the dark. He didn't find a chick to himself today, so this evening came to an end with his melancholically wanking off in his own bed. He can't recall, it was his hash-fog hallucination or he really saw it, when was hanging around the place later. But the picture of Martin, screwing his ex on the cable-roll, refused to leave his mind tonight. He bent her down onto this fucking cable-roll and thrust his dick into her, barely moved away her panties, although she was rather drunk and it was okay for her. Dave couldn't see Martin's dick clearly, but he saw that her pussy seemed rather stretched on him. Dave was panting now, feeling the climax pushing up hot spasms up his tummy. He wiped dry his navel from his sperm with the special cloth and stretched himself on the bed, feeling that he fulfilled his duty for to day, feeling an afterglow of his orgasm, warming up his body still.
He should shag her like an old friend or something, right there where Martin fucked her today. Dave hissed desperately, because this thought suddenly awakened his cock with a familiar yearning. A hash was too strong today he thought.
But usually their time-table was just like that.
Martin and Andy were working until four o'clock, and Vince and Dave were heading to London by the train, visiting independent record labels. At five o'clock they've met in their garage and starting rehearsals, despise Andy's traditional desire to take his cup of five o'clock tea.
- Lads, I have an idea! - Said Dave right from the doors to Andy chewing his sandwich and to Martin sticking the name of some Elf Princess to his synthesizer, - Yesterday I found my sister's magazine. Let's name our band Depeche Mode, no, just like with French accent Depeche-e Mode, - Vince frowned and Andy almost choked with his sandwich.
- What? - He asked taking a big sip of his tea with milk.
- Depeche-e Mode? - Vince said, - why? I like it.
- What does it means your "Depeche Mode"? - Carefully asked Andy, - something pornographic?
- I told ya, it was my sister's magazine! - repeated Dave with some offence in his voice.
- Fast Fashion? - asked Martin.
- You don't like it?
- No…I don't know…probably… - Martin shook his shoulder, - you decide.
And they decided.
Next week, Baby Mary was celebrating her birthday. They all gathered at her backyard. Dave was drunk with girl's punch; he mixed it with some vodka, for more complicated effect. Martin and Mark and Andy were playing poker.
- Pass.
- Pass.
- Pass.
- Heh, - said Andy and showed his cards triumphantly. He won. Martin whined disappointedly.
- That's ok, chuck, - Dave tapped Martin's shoulder, - you'll be lucky in love then. Ya know it's a good sigh.
- A-ye, - the chuck said.
- How's everything? - Dave asked pushing away Mark from the bench, settling himself near Martin, - Did your princess Anna gave you her you know what?
- Not yet, - Martin said.
- Yet? - Dave giggled and rubbed his hands.
Martin laughed and shook his head.
Who'd say why the hell Vivienne started this silly game of Truth or Dare that day. On the other hand, have you ever seen the debauchery that was ended up without it? Andy was mocking Marilyn Monroe, singing "Happy Birthday mister President", that was Dave's wish and Martin almost fell down from the bench from laughing. Mark told them a story how he saw his brother fucking his girlfriend, in such vivid details - he made one half of the guests snickering buoyantly and the other half was squalling because of that.
Now it was Vivienne's turn. She was giggling and sipping her drink while telling everybody about her first man, American businessman. Dave was giggling evilly too and announced Martin right into his ear that she's fucking lying and it was Mark who really broke her flower in local forest last summer. Mary's elder brother Timothy, big muscular guy with a kind face was jumping back and fro the backyard, crowing like a village cock, and everybody was laughing hysterically again.
And then there was a Dave's turn.
- Truth or dare? - Coquettishly asked Vivienne's friend, she was making eyes at Dave all evening.
Dave hemmed.
- Dare, - he said.
He probably was too drunk, but he shouldn't listen for Vivienne's friend's wish. He just knew it right from the start. Okay that was a standard amusement for this game, actually why this game was made for, to kiss someone, you don't care who and the main thing to see this fucking disaster by yourself. Dare to French kiss Martin? Yes, I fucking dare. It seemed that Martin tried to hide from Dave under the table, yelling.
- Me? Why me?
But Andy caught him and dragged back, holding him tightly with his elbow under his chin.
- Thank you, Andy, - Dave said.
- Thank you very fucking much, Andy - Martin moaned.
Guys around them were laughing aloud. Dave stood up and then straddled the bench, bending over the Marin half-laying on Andy's chest.
- COWARD! - yelled Mark.
- SHUT UT! Dave doesn't fear anything! - Dave said.
Dave inhaled and pushed Martin's bended knee off to the side of the bench, to get closer to him. Uhm, well, but Martin didn't resisted too much. He was just gazing at him, and it was weird, but Dave couldn't understand what was he thinking, and probably this made Dave do what he did. He wanted to hide from that stare. And his shelter was the kiss.
Soft and fast, almost unnoticeable, like a light ticking over their lips, he touched Martin's lips with his own; surprised with the softness he felt and backed away.
- Sucks! - Guys and girls around were evidently booing them.
- Fuck - said Martin and Dave at the same time.
Mark jumped off his chair, giggling.
- Dave, you milksop, want me to show you what the French-kiss is?
Mark showed some strange composition with his tongue in the air, making girls to throw a cake paper box at him and call him obscene.
- Oh, your lips, huh? - Dave said, jeeringly, turning his back to the friends and facing Martin, - so soft, as girl's.
He moved closer to Martin's opened lips again and this time Martin amazed him, because he helped him. Martin touched Dave's mouth with his own, slowly moving his tongue over Dave's plump lower lip. Dave had to confess that his knees were wobbling and he grabbed Matins thighs with his both hands just not to fall down. His trick made Martin open his mouth more against his will, inhaling, although Dave meant nothing special….he did clutched Martin's thighs too high to remain unnoticed. Critically high. Don't forget the fact that Martin was lying before him, spreading his thighs to the both sides of the fucking bench and Dave's mouth was on his mouth, Martin realized that everything's just fucked up from now on. Dave hemmed contented; probably he sensed Martin's reaction. Then he bit his lip, tasting their kiss, savoring the feeling and enjoying Martin's stare stuck to his lips. Virtually his opponent was absolutely lost and he just had to use his advantage now.
They all, those who were off the board of their being now, were yelling something, inspiring them; even Mark called him fucking bugger obviously to cheer him up. From the side of the Mary's guests everything was so innocent and quick. Dave felt the time change into Eternity when he felt Martin's lips again. He started licking them, upper and lower, with light and tender motions. He felt Martin surrender to his kiss, warming up with every soft caress of Dave's lips, and abruptly Dave did what society around waited him to do. He turned his head a little, pushed Martins jaws open with his teeth, driving his tongue into his mouth making him to throw back his head, giving himself to Dave completely. He almost suffocated Martin with his hard attack and his friend clutched his hair in vain attempt to tear Dave off of him. Dave wasn't in a mood to give up so easily and he tortured him more extremely enjoying the feeling of Martin's compliance.
Finally when Martin's grip on his nape became unbearable he let their mouths to be departed with the loud smooching sound, licking his lips and hearing applause. He set down onto the bench, Martin accidentally shoved him with his knee, trying to sit back to face the table. Andy was snickering like a horse, Mary returned with the new bottles. Dave smirked and shoved Martin under his ribs. Martin didn't look at him.
- Hey, whassup? - Dave said.
Martin didn't smile. When he grabbed his glass his hands were a little bit shaky.
- Nothing.
- Hey, listen, I didn't mean to let you down, chuck, hey, cheer up, huh? We are just joking…
Martin opened his mouth to say something but Mary came closer to him and hugged his neck.
- Begone, Dave, - she said, - don't be cruel with my lamb.
Dave was staring intently on her, when she was rubbing her cheek over Martin's fair curls, whispering soothing words to Martin. Corners of Dave's mouth tugged up in smile and he sang loudly:
- MA-RY HAS A LITTLE LA_A_AMB!
Everybody was laughing now, even Martin.
First shows in five London suburbs Depeche Mode called their first tour. They were very nervous and Dave was just thousand times more nervous then they all.
They were sitting near the river with Martin they drunk a bottle of wine. The night was warm already and they were sitting on the grass. Martin leaned against an oak with his back and thoughtfully staring at the black and slow water flow. Dave was lying on the ground, he felt strange, like he was half asleep and half awake. On the one hand he was feeling hell nervous before tomorrow's show; on the other hand he felt that he just has no strengths no more to feel something.
- So, you've said that they were throwing cans at you in one show?
- Mmm….yeah, - Martin said with a strange voice, - until then Vince was sure that he can be a front-man. It broke his confidence completely.
- HUH! CHICKEN! - Dave giggled, - Afraid of cans! I bet I will not…
- You will, - Martin said, - A crowd is scary when it hates you.
- Throw something at me and I swear I will not fear!
Martin laughed and threw a shiver at Dave.
- Oh, I am so scared! - Dave snickered, - More! More! More!
Martin did it again.
- I fucking love it, - Dave put a shiver off the ground and threw it back at Martin, didn't has any doubts that it will back soon. They funny fight ended up with the loud laughter. Dave rubbed the tears off his cheeks trying to sit straight and hitting the ground with his legs; he thought he just couldn't breathe from laughing that hard.
- Listen, Mart, I have an idea! I will be running and jumping on the stage very fast. You know why Mick Jagger is jumping on the stage?
- Why? - Martin asked and bent his knees. Dave crawled to sit near him, shoulder to shoulder, leaning his back to the tree too.
- It is much harder to hit a moving target!
They were snickering for a long time. Oak trunk was wide but Dave had to lean very close to Martin with all his body, though he wasn't aware of that fact at all.
- You should start to run around your synth too, Mart. And why not?
- I will miss a key, - said Martin thoughtfully, - I am not always pushing the right keys even standing still.
They were laughing again.
- You are so warm, - suddenly Dave said.
His side was right at his side from ankle to shoulder and Martin forgot all words he ever knew. He closed his eyes and hit his head against the oak. He didn't expect that this touch would hit him so hard; he was just watching his weird body reaction shockingly. His heart was missing a beat and his temperature was rising, and it was obvious for him exactly why.
- Hey, whassup, Mart? - Dave pushed him with his knee, - Huh? - And once again.
- It doesn't matter, - Martin finally managed to talk, - But you don't seems to be too cold too, at the moment.
Dave giggled and hugged Martin's shoulders.
- Listen here, Mart, - he said with a deep importance in his voice, - what do you think, can we get along well?
- What do you mean? - asked Martin somehow a little bit aware of Dave's question.
- Uhm…this, - Dave said, managing to waving his both hands to help to express his thought, and the fact that one of his hands were pressed in oak bark by Martin's back, - I mean Depeche Mode.
Martin shook his head.
- Dunno.
- And they won't kick our asses tomorrow?
- I am not sure, - Martin answered honestly; - Chelsea fans hate Vince's song "What's your name?" I just hope they won't come.
Dave was laughing a little bit nervously this time.
All the boys we got to get together
All the boys together we can stand
We can go
Never know
All the things we need to show
Hey you're such a pretty boy (you're so pretty) *What's your name by Vince Clarke.
He sang jeering.
- That's the fucking shit, Martin, if you don't know how does fucking shit looks like, I'll tell you, just like that.
- Okay then. Let's sing "My girl is a skinhead" tomorrow instead, - Martin propped his chin with his elbow.
- In the gay-club? - asked Dave releasing Martin from his constant touch and moving away to looked at him, so it helped Martin to return to his senses a little, - Very funny. Huh-Huh.
Dave scratched his arm thoughtfully.
- Ya know I finally get it. Why all musicians are starting their carrier in gay-clubs, - he said.
- And why? - Martin asked.
- Because it is easier to fight gays then Chelsea fans.
Martin remained silent and looked somewhere aside.
- What's wrong with ya?
- Nothing, - Martin answered, - just imagined Ziggy Stardust singing for Chelsea fans.
I'm an alligator,
I'm a mama-papa coming for you
I'm the space invader,
I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you **
- Huh, - Dave snickered buoyantly, - You are doing it just fine, better then Bowie himself.
They started to sing along together, mocking hysterical vocal of the pop-star parody Bowie's Ziggy.
Keep your electric eyes on me, babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah!** Moonage Daydream by David Bowie
- Look up to the sky, here's the moon, - Dave giggled, - Let's freak out! Far out!
- Good old in-out, - gloomily quoted Martin with his natural voice.
Dave was howling from the laughter.
- Yeapp you are right, we could loose our Ziggy young then. Listen. Mart, is Vince a bugger?
- Uhm, - Martin began.
- I hate buggers, - Dave said, - huh? Mart?
Martin bit his lower lip.
- Well…I…I…how to say, glam-rock was built in bisexuality.
- Bugger-r-rs, - Dave said, - Buggers all around us. And Bowie is a bugger too.
- Bowie is not a bugger.
- He is, - Dave said, - He said that.
- He said that he is a bisexual, - Martin said, - There is a difference between bisexual and homosexual.
- Your bisexuals are fairytales. Bisexuals are just buggers that didn't find themselves yet.
- No-o-o, - Martin sounded offended somehow.
- Yes, - Dave jeered.
- No, - Martin said.
- How do you know? - Dave asked quickly.
Martin's ears became red.
- I…I… don't know, - he said, - I was just… thinking.
Dave snickered evilly.
- Okay then, fuck it, if you want them to be bisexuals, let them be. I hope your bisexual friends wouldn't screw us up tomorrow in unnatural way. Oh, - Dave exhaled, - and I'm afraid still.
- Mmm,…yeah… - Martin suddenly turned to face Dave, got up to his knees, he was searching something in his pockets, then he showed something to Dave in his opened palm, - Just don't laugh at me, - he said.
- Mart, how could you… - Dave said offended, when he looked more carefully he noticed a coin in Martin's palm.
- Take it, please, - he said.
Dave took the coin.
- It's old. I found it, a long time ago in Germany. It's a happy coin. It's….kind of….sort of…an amulet. Really, don't laugh, it helped me several times, I…I want it to be yours. If it….if it…wouldn't help…anyway it would be easier like that. Not that. Not that. Terrible.
- Mart, - Dave said and gripped the coin in his palm, feeling touched to the depth of his heart, - Mart.
He hugged his shm oulders.
***
There was furniture in the living room and curtains and like Martin was said the room seemed livable. There was a plasma board on the wall, Dave wanted to turn the TV on but couldn't find a remote control he didn't want to get up off the couch.
- MA-A-ART! - He shouted sitting on the leather couch with his feet, - Got something to eat?
Mart stood at the door with puzzled expression on his face. He held some bag in his hands.
- To eat? - He asked, - Mmm…Uhm, well…I think…no.
- Telephone directory?
- I am not sure, - Martin said, - probably no.
- Okay, do you know a good restaurant with delivery?
- Are there bad restaurants without delivery? - Martin asked with obvious interest.
- Jeez, - Dave said, - I felt with my butt that I should move to your place, you are dysfunctional at the point of normal living. Hey, - Dave stood up, - what did you supposed to do here? To call your ex-wife every second like Susanne, how to order a dinner?
He stopped his speech abruptly because Martin's face turned black almost literally.
- Fuck, I am sorry; - Dave rushed to the door, not thinking only trying to pull the bag off Martin's hands, - silly woman talks without thinking. - He said continuing his fight for the bag. Martin didn't yield. They almost fighting in the hall near the stairways, Dave was resisting him with all his might but Martin won and pressed him to the wall soon. His eyes were treating with their sparkling. But Dave only stared at him with deep affection.
- Don't look at me like that, I am loosing the rest of my mind, - he said.
Corners of Martin's mouth trembled uncontrollably, he stepped back from Dave, shook his head and his face in his hands.
- What's happened? - Dave carefully touched his shoulder.
- Nothing, - Martin tried to shook Dave's hand off him.
- I hate it when you talk like that, Mart. Ma-a-art.
- What, Dave? What? Dave? - he frowned, his voice broke down into a scream - WHAT?
Dave looked at one side then at another then at pressed his finger to his lips.
- Hush, - he said, and grabbed Martin's back across with his one hand, bringing his head closer to him with his other hand, persistently and tenderly. Martin didn't hug him in answer and Dave felt a hint of bitterness inside because of that. But on the other hand he stood there, so close like he was doomed to do it, his head was laying on his shoulder, ok, anyway it was easier to bare like that. Dave bent a little and chastely kissed the crown of his head.
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