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Chapter 1

2000, London

The phone was ringing in the relatively small flat’s living room. Mart stood up from the piano and stepped over some papers lying on the floor. They were everywhere, because he was working on his lyrics again. He wanted to rewrite a few ones, making them perfect and hoping that maybe this time his manager will accept them and will be able to sell some of them to a band. He snatched his phone from the table and looked at its screen. In that moment a hopeful expression appeared on his face. Speak of the devil…

“Hi John. What’s up?” he asked, trying to stay cool. He got always nervous when his manager called him.

“Hi there, Mart. I’ve got good news. I’ve talked to some people and got an opportunity for you.”

“Wow, that’s great!” he answered and let his two smaller kids – Ava and Calo – run pass him “What’d be the job?” he sat back to the piano.

“Writing some songs with another client of mine for a band in New York.”

“In New York? That means…”

“Yeah, you’ll have to go there.”

“And who will be my partner?”

“A talented man, David Gahan – you know him?”

“No, I’m sorry, his name isn’t familiar to me.”

“Whatever. It’s still a good opportunity for you.”

“I see. Sounds interesting. And for how long should I be there?”

“It seems for two months.”

“Uhm, well, that’s quite a long time…”

“I know that you have your family, but maybe this is the chance you have been always waiting for. The break-through. And it will pay well.”

“How well?” he asked, hitting a key on the piano absentmindedly, but when he heard the total, he gasped.

“Well, that’d solve some of my problems, but first I have to talk about this with my wife. Will call you tomorrow with my answer, okay?”

“Sure! But don’t wait for too long. Bye” John said and hung up.

Martin looked at the piano’s keys lost in thought. This’d be a great opportunity to show what he’s capable of. Maybe this’ll be the job he was waiting for, which’d bring him the long-awaited fame. But can he leave his family behind? What’ll his wife Sue say? And the kids? He loved them. He needed them. They made this life bearable after all those disappointments. Where was he from that naïve young boy, who told those lines for his pals back in 1979? He could still not get famous with his lyrics. And he didn’t know why. Because his manager, his wife said too that they were good. But it seemed they weren’t good enough yet. He only managed to sell just a few of them to different music bands, but that didn’t bring the big money he would have needed to provide a safe financial background for his three kids and wife. His beautiful Suzanne was the breadwinner of the family, he was just… well, as the term says “the misunderstood artist”. He often felt like a wreck, useless for doing anything normal. Earlier he had a job in a bank, but he hated it. It was deadly boring and he felt like suffocating there in the office, having so many rules to keep himself to. It had been slowly killing his free, artistic side, his creativity. Every day was exactly the same and after a while he had to quit. It was hard to explain to his wife, who went furious, even though he said he was fired. Since then he had just a few jobs, paying not too well. And for a long while he was unemployed. He got to know his manager during one of his other jobs and he seemed to understand him, this is why he had decided to take Martin under his wing. Kessler had the skill to see the hidden opportunity in people’s abilities and he’d promised to Martin that he’ll help him fulfill his dreams. So they have been trying to find that chance which could be “the one”. Years had passed since then and every time he called the blonde man, he started to hope that this time they’ll manage. And after every disappointment Mart felt a bit colder and hurt, but he didn’t say it to anyone. He stayed silent and buried his true feelings under the surface. Though Suzanne and John knew him well and tried to help him in their own ways. So he managed to survive and go on with his life, but after every failure he had less hope. Nevertheless this time he got quite excited. It was a feeling he had experienced a long time ago concerning his job. He could hardly wait for his wife and eldest daughter to come home from the shopping and tell Sue the news. He wasn’t sure how she’ll react, but he’ll see that soon.

And he was right. Sue and Viva arrived a few minutes later, heavy bags in their hands full of groceries and food.

“Thank you, sweetie, you can go now, I’ll handle this with your mother” Mart smiled at his eldest daughter, who happily went into her room after the tiring shopping session.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Sue asked absentmindedly, concentrating on the stuffed nylon bags in her hands.

“Yeah, but first give me one of those” he reached out for one bag and followed his wife into the kitchen, putting everything down on the counter. He retreated and stopped in the kitchen door. Suddenly he felt unsure. What if Sue says no? What if she’ll freak out from the idea? She can be quite scary when she does that… She has been always the one who was wearing the trousers in their relationship and he surrendered himself to her will. He was grateful to her for saving him from his misery he was in when they’d met and for giving him his children. Sometimes he still couldn’t understand what she liked in him or why she’d stayed with him. She was a strong and beautiful woman, a model, who travelled a lot in the early years of their relationship, until she got pregnant with Viva. Later when she was back in shape and Martin had no job, he became the “mother”, he was the one who had stayed at home with baby Viva and her mom went to work. This has changed just after she was offered a good job in London and they could settle down and have their two other kids. She had a strong will and clear aims in her life. And not to mention, she knew Martin’s needs perfectly. To tell the truth she was his Mistress and he was her underdog and he never had the need to change this. He was used to this.

“So?” she asked on a tired tone as she started unpacking, showing her back to him.

“John just called and offered me a job, but I’m not sure I can accept it. I’ll have to give him an answer tomorrow” he started quietly and frowned watching his wife.

“What kind of job?” she asked, not paying too much attention on him. She was stressed out and tense from the problems which came up at work and had not much patience now for her husband’s things.

“Writing lyrics and music for a band with another musician in New York City. Kinda co-working” he watched her reactions.

“Oh. Sounds good” she answered, putting some things into the fridge.

“And it’ll pay well and maybe this’d be that great chance…”

“I know, I know…” she rolled her eyes and sighed.

Mart got even more insecure “And as you see, the money they’ve offered would solve a lot of our financial problems. And it’s just two months instead of half a year, while I’d earn the same amount of money. I know that it’s still a long time, but…”

“… we will manage without you, don’t worry” she said on a neutral tone.

Of course this hurt him somewhere. He felt his uselessness even more for a second, but he swallowed his pride and asked on an unsure tone “So… what do you think? Should I accept it then? Or do you want me to stay?”

Suzanne turned around to face her husband and leant against the counter, folding her arms in front of her chest. “Well, it’d be good for your renown…”, ‘if there’s something like that’ she thought. “If you want to do something with your artistic side” she said and lifted one eyebrow.

“Yeah…” he scratched his nape with one hand and looked down on the floor.

“Some money would be good, you know.”

“So you think I should try this?” he looked up nearly shyly.

“What do you think? YES, if you really want to do something with your life” she turned around again with a sigh. “Be a man, Martin. I’m tired of making your decisions instead of you” she added after a short silence. He pressed his lips together not to say anything stupid.

“So… it won’t be a problem for the kids…”

“No, I’ll solve this. Just please move on and help me with the vegetables instead of just standing there like a jerk!” she snapped at him, losing the last remains of her patience too.

He suppressed a sigh and like an obedient puppy, walked to her and did what he was told.

---

As he stepped out from the modern building of the JFK airport, the rising sun made the water of the bay sparkle. Martin had to put on his black sunglasses if he didn’t want to go blind. He looked around for a taxi and luckily soon found one. He was finally here. It was the first time he travelled alone this far. He felt a bit insecure in this unknown buzzing city, which was so much bigger than London… He cleared his throat and gave the address to the driver.

As the cab hit the road, he sank into his messy and excited thoughts. Will he be able to do this job? Will they accept his ideas or he’ll be the miserable dreamer again? The target of bad jokes? Should he let this happen? Well, this job was very important to him and he’d prepared himself for the worst. He can’t afford losing this opportunity. And of course he was curious about his new workmates too. John just called him asking if everything was okay with his flight and informed him about the time of the first meeting, where he’ll introduce Martin for the others. He sighed and looked into the sun until his eyes got wet behind the sunglasses, making him blind for a few moments. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander a bit more before the cab stopped in front of the hotel where John had reserved a room for him.

---

After a few hours he was standing in front of the high building, looking at the number then he sighed and opened the door. Stepping out of the elevator he got onto a dark corridor, but before he could’ve stopped to guess where he should go, he heard a faint laughter from the other end of the hallway. He decided to follow the light and the voices and soon he walked into the right room. The mood seemed very good – a bunch of men were sitting and standing around a piano and another loud laughter hit his ears as he was observing them from the door. He didn’t know what could be so funny, but he was a little bit relieved that he could see laughing faces instead of strict or gloomy ones.

Kessler spotted him and a smile lit up his face “Martin, here you are!” he said, drawing everyone’s attention to the blonde man, who felt a little uncomfortable about this. His manager walked to him and shook his hand. “Guys, let me introduce you your new workmate, Mr. Martin L. Gore” he led the silent short man to the others “He had just arrived from London and will take part in writing the lyrics and composing the songs for this girl band – but I’ve mentioned this to you earlier.”

And with that he introduced all of the other men, though he tried to memorize just the names of his future workmates – David Gahan, Christian Eigner and Andrew Phillpott – the other musicians were irrelevant. To be frank he took a better look just on Dave Gahan, with whom he’ll work, but had not too much time to size him up, because John dragged him to another man.

He still couldn’t find his place after maybe half an hour, when he could stop the chit-chatting with the others and walked into a less noisy corner to unpack his lyrics. He knew that he’ll feel this at least for a few days until he gets used to the new place and people around him. But he was usually quite withdrawn anyway. He felt strange – as if he was being watched by someone – and yes, as he looked up from his papers, he met the disdainful gaze of Gahan. He got confused and looked away from the piercing darkness in his eyes. It was strange. Martin couldn’t understand why he looked at him like this. He didn’t do anything wrong, did he? Maybe he wanted to do the job all by himself? He didn’t know, but decided that he’ll try to avoid this and concentrate on his task. He wants this to work. He has to make this work.

The next time Mart looked up from his papers was when the others had left and John waved goodbye too. Just Chris and Andrew stayed, but they were busy with something by one of the computers, chatting about a new program. Mart didn’t hear it clearly, but it was for cutting and mixing music. His attention was drawn to David, who watched him with a cigarette in his hand, puffing smoke time after time. This silence made Mart uneasy and when he wanted to ask something, some of the papers slid out of his hands, landing on the floor. This caused another pitying look from the dark-haired man, who slowly walked to him, but didn’t help to pick up the sheets.

“So… Martin. John wanted me to talk about our job a bit more. You know for whom we’ll work, don’t you?”

“No. He left me in the dark in this question” he glimpsed up at him then seeing the rather cold stare he quickly picked up the last remained papers and stood up. “Could you please fill me in?”

For a moment the other man remained silent and took another drag from his cigarette. It was clear from his expression that he didn’t like the idea working with him. “We’ll have to write songs for a girl band. In goth-rock style. Mainly romantic songs, but not too drooly ones.”

“I see” he nodded “And the music?”

“Well, we’re talking here rather about alternative rock. I hope you know what that means nowadays.”

“Sure” he nodded frowning.

“Anyway, I thought about something like this” he handed a CD to Mart “Listen to this selection.”

“Okay.”

“I’d like to do something similar to this. I mean the sound.”

“I see” he nodded.

“Tomorrow we’ll talk about that too.”

“OK…” he said absentmindedly as he checked the paper under the case, which contained the track-list and the artists on the CD. He sighed and mumbled under his nose: “Boy, I hate that rock-macho style…” Right after this comment had slipped out, he glimpsed up at Dave, and immediately saw that he said something wrong. Within a moment the other man looked at him with clear disgust on his face, but luckily didn’t say a word just cussed something under his nose, which Martin couldn’t understand, and left him there by the synthesizer to arrange his things. The blonde man watched him from the corner of his eye – he still didn’t seem too happy to have him here. ‘Shit! Congratulations Martin, you’ve already screwed up something… Well, it seems it’ll be tough… of course… like always’ he thought.

---

 He was preparing some food in the studio’s tiny kitchen. He forgot to eat before they’ve started working on the lyrics and some demos. A few days had passed since that first night. Despite the faces Dave made when he said something or just left his gaze on him, he liked it here. Christian and Andrew were nice guys and workaholics! They helped a lot with the music. Martin was amazed by them, because it seemed that they always had lots of ideas and those were usually good. Of course Dave did his own share of the work too.

Martin took out his plate from the microwave and sat down to the small table. From there he could watch the others working and laughing on something. He couldn’t hear what it was, just the murmuring of their voices reached him, but he didn’t mind it. He was lost in his thoughts again. The others had to get used to his nature as well, but it seemed that Chris and Andrew were coping – Gahan was the though one.

Gahan… Mart knew that he was British too, but he didn’t know where he came from. He never talked about that as if he was ashamed about it or something like that… His name sounded Irish, but he was so… Arabic. He had short dark hair, brownish-green eyes, which often switched color – sometimes it turned deep black and had an eerie light in it. Especially when he was angry or impatient – and it wasn’t rare that Mart was in the focus of his suppressed anger, though he still didn’t know why. He watched the lean body – he still looked like a teenager, although Mart knew that he must be around forty. He found him quite handsome – if Mart was his old self, he would’ve winked at him for example. This made him chuckle. Yes, the other musician did it again! Mart could not fail to notice that Dave had quite girlish moves when he didn’t pay attention. He was a good observer, so he usually noticed these little things.

As he was chewing on his mini pizza, he let his thoughts wander further, watching the other man. Now he stood up and explained something to Eigner with vivid gestures – his hips dropped to the side, his long hands and slender fingers helping him to express what was on his mind. And the way he walked came into the blonde man’s mind too – sometimes he moved ethereal, like a cat or a woman. Even his slim form with the round butt reminded Mart on a young girl. He couldn’t understand why Dave played the though macho, if he had such soft gestures. Why was so important for him to look that strong? Did he have a secret? Why did he want to seem untouchable? He was quite arrogant in his attitude, which sometimes bugged Martin, but he tried to avoid it and concentrate on work. Or maybe he acted like this to balance his woman-like moves? What was he hiding? Could it be…? No…

He shook his head, sighed and sipped from his mineral water then bit from the pizza again, observing Dave a bit more. It was clear to Martin that he was an energetic, passionate man, who paid attention on his appearance and said what was on his heart – often talking before thinking. A real no-brainer. He had his heart on his sleeve – even though he tried to hide this fact so hard. But he could somehow see through him. Of course he didn’t like when Gahan made him feel like an intruder on his territory. Sometimes Mart saw him as a predator, which was protecting its prey. But if he was so cool then why did he care about Martin, who was just an English nobody to him? David seemed to keep his distance from him and he didn’t miss one single opportunity to mock his ideas just to make the others laugh on his lame jokes… to show that he was the “boss” here. But Mart came to the conclusion that he won’t let Dave bother him – even if he didn’t like his ideas, the main point was that the work has been going well so far.

“Hey, Martin, are you finished?” he suddenly heard Christian’s voice “We could use your help here with some guitar theme.”

“Sure. I’ll be right there” he answered and put his thoughts aside to concentrate on what he was here for.

---

Next week the work went on too. But some kind of barely noticeable tension was in the air. Mart could feel it, but he didn’t say a word. He had to stay calm and put the piling-up offences aside, not wanting to cause any problems. Now he and Dave were in the studio. Dave was sitting in front of a microphone, holding a sheet of paper with the lyrics in his hand; Mart playing a slow melody on his guitar. Martin was secretly mesmerized by Gahan’s rich baritone as he was singing the love song – he found himself lost in it completely. He liked that it was so passionate and expressive. He could use it so well and in so many ways that it had surprised Martin. It seemed that the singer was much more under the surface than he had thought.

Suddenly he was dragged back to reality when Dave waved with his hand and stopped singing.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s the matter?” Mart asked, frowning.

“I can’t read or sing this bullshit anymore! Look!” he held the sheet up by its corner and shook it slightly “The paper is dripping from drool!”

The guys in the other room laughed hard enough to hear it from where they were rehearsing.

First Mart couldn’t say a word, just his mouth opened slightly. Then after the laughter died away, he said quietly: “After all John asked slow, suffering love songs from us…”

“Yeah, true – but he didn’t mean dreamy ones from old fairytales. Don’t let the fact deceive you that it’s a girl band. They are hardcore rockers, not sweet innocent little girls! They’ll laugh into our faces if we show them something like this!”

Mart felt that certain anger starting to boil inside of him. The last time he felt that was on that night in Basildon, in the gay club, where his lads started mocking him and his lyrics. He got fed up with Dave now and hissed through gritted teeth: “I don’t know what’s this big act – you are the one who preens your hair like a top model and move like a diva!” He didn’t think and let this slip out, but he didn’t care anymore. He had enough. This was his CHANCE to break through with this band and he won’t let it slip away again. He’ll grab it and squeeze the best out of it even if he has to step up for himself. He won’t let some kind of a jerk joking around with his art. He was fed up with always being submissive to others. Yes, back in those days he liked it and he does that at home with his wife too, but this was bloody serious work, which can influence his future. He can’t always stay quiet and swallow the sometimes even rude comments. If he wants to do something with his life, he has to start working on it. He won’t get anywhere with his always withdrawn attitude.

Dave was floored. This was the first time Mart had raised his voice and he wasn’t used to get such comments anyway. And how dared he?! Anger flickered in him immediately – as we know he was hot-tempered.

“Oh yeah?! I don’t know who’s the one who writes these sweet little dripping songs, like a fucking knight from the Middle Ages! Open your eyes, man!” he jumped to his feet, fisting his hands and he didn’t care that with this he crinkled the paper.

Mart kept cool and said on a much calmer tone “If I remember clearly, you were the one who has been working on these lyrics with me in the last few days. And you’ve accepted them earlier… What has changed since then?” he looked at him with cold eyes and added carelessly “Are you having your period, or what?”

Now Chris and Andrew had a hard time to suppress their laughs because of Mart’s comment. It was clear that Dave’s head was about to explode and needed all his strength to hold himself back not to move forward and beat up this annoying bastard. Dave’s pals were standing in the doorway now, ready to intervene if necessary, but they still had their smiles on their faces. This made Dave even more furious. He was the one who was on home ground here, this little intruder has no right to talk to him this way!

“No, I just tried not to hurt too much someone who probably grew up on Modern Talking in the far Albion!”

“I have to disappoint you, I was a punk in Basildon and went to Fat Gadget shows, Modern Talking was never my cup of tea” he smiled coldly and looked down at his guitar, starting some catchy melody, showing that the debate was over from his side.

Dave couldn’t add anything to this, he was too angry for that and to be frank, a bit taken aback from this piece of information. It stirred something up deep inside of him, but he suppressed the feeling, threw the crinkled paper into the corner and stormed out of the room, muttering to his friends something like he needs a smoke.

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