Greed. He knew it was all about greed. That was what he said to Alan as they were walking downstairs to his car.
- It's all about greed, - Dave said, - you know, I'm always wanting more. I hate to share him with somebody. Anybody. It fucking hurts me. I'm ready to strangle myself, when he is with somebody else. Yeah, right. Just like that.
Alan narrowed his eyes.
- Not a boy's speech, but a husband, - he said.
- I hate even Fletch sometimes, because Martin needs him.
Alan laughed.
- Such a perverted cynicism.
- It always seemed to me that he could do more for me.
- For example? - Alan showed some interest to their talk now.
- I don't know. I told ya... It's all about greed. I know, I was thinking about it. He doesn't even write songs for himself. Never. It looses its sense for him. He doesn't need anything. I know, Al, I know. He doesn't think about himself. I know he does it for me. He gives himself to me. And that's not a game. He never speaks about our relationships, he refuses to discuss them. He doesn't say a word. He even doesn't consider necessary to demand something in return. He just silently gives himself to me, realizing that would be better for me, but it won't be better for him. That's the truth. That's the fact.
Alan cleared his throat.
- Are you laughing? - Dave asked suspicious.
- Oh no-no-no, I think I've lost my sense of humor completely at the moment - said Alan.
- I feel like an idiot, - said Dave, - everybody knew everything and I looked and can't see again.
- You see, Dave, - Alan said suddenly seriously, - I actually was fighting with you and it was the deadly fight for me. If I ever had a chance to…if not to win but to knock you out of his mind at least in a half, I could be happy.
- Really? - Dave asked surprised, - Did you need it? Why the fuck?
Alan shrugged his shoulders.
- It was fucking useless. Every time we were together with him I always was three's a crowd.
- S-sorry?
Alan sniffed. The air seemed to be so cold today.
- Look, I've got to go now, - he said, extending his hand to shake Dave's hand goodbye, - I was so glad to see you, David. And I wish you every success in your solo works.
He turned around on his heels, muffled up himself in his jacket and walked away.
- Al! - Dave hailed him.
Alan turned around already near the corner of the next building.
- And remember, - he screamed from the distance - I will do my best to replace you if I ever have a chance, Dave, so you'd better watch out!
We're damaged people
Drawn together
By subtleties that we are not aware of
Disturbed souls
Playing out forever
These games that we once thought we would be scared of
When you're in my arms
The world makes sense
There is no pretense
And you're crying
When you're by my side
There is no defense
I forget to sense
I'm dying*
As Dave wished, they were gathered in EMA office purchased a control stock of Mute, in Los Angeles. There was bald as an egg Daniel wearing glasses, leather jacket and unbuttoned shirt without a tie, Jonathan Kessler from Baron with his stylish moustaches a-la porn-star of the 70-s, and Mister Fletcher. Mister Martin Lee Gore didn't find a way to come.
Dave announced that he desires to raise a question about his, Dave Gahan's, role in Depeche Mode and alternatively asked about the extension of the authorship of some future songs. Miller's face turned black.
They had to arrange another meeting. Dave's nerves reached the verge. When he hadn't found Martin at the bargaining table for the second time he was cursing like the Lord-Creator seeing on the seventh day what he had done. But soon his secretary entered the room and apologized for mister Gore. Secretary announced that Mister Gore was late because of the law proceeding dealing with his divorce with Mrs. Boisvert, and he kindly asking dear gentlemen to delay the conference on fifteen minutes. Bruce shook his head discontentedly. Dave was drinking so much coffee it seemed to him, he has stopped blinking.
Fifteen minutes passed. Miller stood up, keeping his hands behind his back and gazing at the window. Kessler gnawed his pencil; Fletcher was intently staring at his electronic notebook and poking it with the plastic stick. Dave giggled and wondered aloud if Fletch and Martin were finishing the set of online 'sea fight' game, but Andrew's gaze grounded him to the chair. Dave's assistant, Jeff, brought all the papers, apportioned them in front of the members and sat near Dave, clearing his throat. Bruce looked at the clock on the wall collated it with his platinum Rolex watches and gave an order to begin.
Dave said that he had analyzed all the arguments from the last meeting and decided to change his requirements.
- Excuse me, gentlemen - said Martin entering the room. He nodded to all present members of the crew, and sat down near Miller.
Dave paused, waiting while he'll open the folder lying on the table before him.
- Mister Gore, I decided to change my requirements concerning the last meeting, where you couldn't present, but I can inform you…
- I'm pretty well informed, Mister Gahan, - said Martin, not raising his head and not moving a muscle, - please continue.
Martin lounged on the chair; unbuttoning the collar of his white shirt under the austere suit without a tie, put his leg in his usual manner ankle on the leg. Dave's just noticed that Miller and Martin didn't wear ties fundamentally. Dave pensively loosened the knot of his dark-grey tie practically in tune with his shirt.
- Thank you, - he said, - in that case, I won't reiterate. I will be maximum short. I think that in this case, fifty percents of our releasing material under my authorship would be sufficient redemption.
- Redemption? - Martin jerked up from his chair; - why are you so sure you are captivated here, Mister Gahan?
- Martin, - Miller pulled him by the jacket, forcing him to sit down, - Gentlemen, can I ask you…
- No, I'm afraid, I was wrong, excuse me, Mister Gore, - Dave said, rubbing his cheek, - yes, I've expressed my point incorrectly. I just think, yes. I equitably hold that I, being the second creative component of the band, can demand appropriate rights for me.
Fletch shuddered and that was too obvious.
- I don't want to derogate Mister Fletcher's administrative endowment in the band. But I should mark that he isn't a creative component of Depeche Mode…of what remains from Depeche Mode. But Mister Gore is a creative component and if you don't mind, me. That's why I think I have the moral right to raise my vicious demands here. I hope I won't be too arrogant but I must warn you if I will fail now, I'd say I have my doubts about the possibility of our future work together, Mister Gore, - Dave said, - Probably you have some questions?
Dave looked at Martin point-blank. Martin bore this look without an effort and shook his head as answering no. Dave didn't like it. That wasn't the reaction he needed most now.
Fletch raised his hand.
- We ask to interrupt the conference for a fifteen minute break.
Bruce nodded idly.
Fletch, Daniel and Martin retired to the smoking room. Dave was strolling the corridor calmly, thinking about the way how to steal Martin from the smoking room, because it was only the first part of his plan. Before the smoking room's doors Darrell was standing, crossing his arms on his chest. He pretended not to be acquainted with Dave at all.
- I need Martin, - said Dave appearing right before his face, but Darrell didn't even bat an eyelid. Meanwhile, the time was running out.
Dave sighed and started looking through the glass door, trying to pass over Darrel either from the right, or from the left until Miller pushed gloomy Martin with his elbow making him to look at Dave and Dave waved his hands, showing him that he want Martin to get out.
- What the fuck? - asked Martin opening door.
- I need you bad, - Dave said, - in the small hall.
Dave entered the next room right after Martin and Darrell, who was following his boss step by step and closed the door.
- Martin, we need to talk, - Dave said.
- I don't, - Martin answered calmly.
- Okay, I need to talk.
- Talk then.
- In private, - Dave looked at Darrell evilly. Bodyguard stood there imperturbably, he doesn't give a shit about all Dave's problems - Martin, I am asking you to give me just ten minutes in private, is that too much? - Dave lost his voice.
- Darrell, - Martin said quietly and his genie fumed away in a split of a second, - Well? - He turned to Dave quickly, - Have you decided yet?
- Yes, - Dave said.
- So then, why did you need me? What for? - Martin asked - for bigger pleasure?
Dave laughed unwillingly, not because it was that funny but probably because he felt extremely nervous.
- Yeapp - he can't help but giggled, - a lot bigger.
- Finished? - Martin hissed.
- Nope, - Dave said, - Martin I need you.
- Do whatever you want, Dave, just don't bother me. What the fuck are you doing?
- I'll tell you.
- Oh, c'mon please tell me. If you're leaving, leave, Dave, and leave me alone. I am far too tired.
- But I am not.
- And I am so glad for you…
- You should be glad for us. There is no me there is no you in this world there are only we.
- Dave, I can't stand it anymore. I don't want to. If you won't leave then I will.
- The fuck you will.
- Huh?
- You don't have the right.
- Why the fuck is that?
- Because then you will ruin my life. And you won't. You won't take your responsibility for ruining my life. You know you will kill me.
- Don't overestimate…
- If you want me to prove you that I am right, Martin, I will. You perfectly know you can ruin me I've proved you many times, if you want, I will do it again without a second thought.
- Uh-m…no, thank you, - Martin suddenly nodded, as if calmed down, - I think I believe you.
- Excellent, - Dave said, - when your words have some weight in your opponent's mind, it flatters.
Martin didn't answer. He was standing opposite Dave and looking somewhere far-far away. Dave was looking at him and didn't know what to say. The silence was pressing them both now. He felt that Martin was getting angry and it made him glad and sad at the same moment. He felt it hurting Martin, because he can feel it too. Suddenly the tears appeared in his eyes.
- Listen, you there, - Dave whispered, - you are my life, Mart.
He clutched Martin's hand. - I know, - Dave said, - I know that you remember too good all the shit we've been through.
- I call it Reality, - said Martin.
- A-yeah, - Dave said, - And our Reality is - after all that you've given me, after all that you've done, Mart, to me, Mart, I'm already a part of you. We've grown together like Siamese twins with our heads and asses, like Daniel says often. If you ask me what I want, Mart, I'll say that I don't fucking know, Mart. I want it all. All you're giving to me and even more. It's not enough. I want to give myself to you, Mart. I want you, Mart, beside me, Mart. When you're away, I have a phantom-limb, as if I have a half of my body amputated.
- Tell me something I don't know, Dave, - Martin said with some weird smile in his face.
- You want to ask me, why am I, fucking asshole, have started all this shit? You have your point to ask me, but you should know, Martin, you drove me into the position where I have nothing to lose. Please, don't speak. Stop before you can and I will say something wrong… please. I will say it. I have nothing but the phantom-limb now, Mart. Fuck it. I'm screaming to you, take me back and don't let me go, 'cause if you'll do, I'll snatch your collar and won't let you make a step. I'll kill everybody who will be standing on my way to you, Mart. Mart, you were always telling that words are meaningless, that they're not important for you. You know, I can prove them, and I had done it many times, Mart.
- That's enough, - Martin said, - I'd prefer to avoid any sacrifices this time.
- Well, let it be, - there were notes of disappointment in Dave's voice.
Martin hid his face in his hands, his shoulder were trembling from laughter.
- And what now, Dave? - He said, - What are you wanting me to do now?
- I don't have an idea, and I don't care, - Dave said, - you're the smart one here; it's your time to decide. I needed to get you and say what I didn't manage myself to say for twenty five years. And I did it. What to do next, I actually forgot to think out. I didn't believe in my luck to do that.
- Fuck you sideways, Dave… - Martin said very honestly.
Jeff was opened the door, and showed his head.
- The break is over, - he said.
Martin walked to the door first.
- Promise to never let me down, huh? - Dave said.
- Dave… - Martin waved away from him in a tip of temper.
- Well, I'm a dolt, - said Dave, - Dave is Dave, what can I do? Chuck, please, do something, huh?
You have bound my heart with subtle chains
So much pleasure that it feels like pain
So entwined now that we can't shake free
I am you and you are me** I am you by Martin. L. Gore
Jeff adjusted his tie, it started to throttle him. He wiped his forehead. Bruce poured some mineral water into his glass, drenched his lips with the napkin and cleared his throat.
- So, gentlemen, let's continue our conference. Before the break we've heard Mister Gahan's opinion, so now it's time for Mister Gore to talk.
Martin pensively licked his lips, looking somewhere aside, lazily slid his gaze through Gahan, who has nervously clutching his own hands in cramp.
- I, - he started slowly, as if he was pondering, - believe…
He stopped and started again.
- We discussed the possibility of giving Mister Gahan fifty percents of all the songs we can record on our possible new album.
Dave stopped breathing.
- It think… probably …it could…be…a little bit too much, - Martin said, Dave ground his teeth not to laugh, fuck me sideways, it worked out right, he thought. His assistant started a debate with Martin and Dave actually wanted to kill him for that.
- But Mister Gore, - Jeff said, tousling Parker in his hands, - we can justify it.
Dave looked at Martin's surprised face; he crossed his arms on his chest and leaned his back against the back of the chair and that was a bad sigh for Jeff for he didn't know that. Jeff's voice strained, he took a sip of water from his glass he somehow decided that Martin is giving him an advantage with his behavior.
- In fact now we already have fifteen songs, written by Mister Gahan in co-authorship with Mister Eigner and Mister Philpott, whereas we have only three songs from you, mister Gore. We think, in the name of justice…
Probably he was wrong.
- I think it is too difficult for me to decide what should be done in the name of justice, Mister Jeff. Unfortunately, I don't know your surname, - Martin said, leaning above the table, there was steel now in his voice. Dave saw Jeff's upper lip, twinkling with sweat and realized that his assistant would die himself, and perhaps even die naturally and without any Dave's help. At least, Dave wasn't envy him, he saw Martin's eyes end in this eyes he say Jeff was already dead, - Probably I didn't make it clear enough. That was the definitive answer.
- I think it will be unfoundedly to have such a risk after twenty five years, - Miller said without raising his eyes, he was trying to soften the situation.
- Uhm…yeapp, - Martin nodded.
- I…appreciate your serious consideration of my proposition and your willing to collaborate with me, mister Gore, - Gahan said, pushing Jeff with his leg under the table, since Jeff was in a half-swoon condition, - no, really, actually I appreciate. You even can't imagine, how much.
Martin took a sip of water from his glass, he didn't move a muscle.
- Will you take an advantage to interrupt the conference to discuss new circumstances, mister Gahan? - Bruce asked, stroking his striped tie, peacefully lying on his round belly, his main muscle, as he was often joking during the dinners.
He thought that his main duty was to eat and to drink as well as to be on friendly terms with some big people in show business. Gahan was joking usually the showbiz is a big shit-hole, and Bruce claimed that no one would pay him that much, if he didn't do the shit that others don't want to.
- No, - Dave said, - we don't need to.
- What can you say about Martin Gore's point of view then? - asked Bruce.
- I have nothing against it, - Dave said quickly, catching Martin's piercing gaze crossing with Daniel and Andy, with deep satisfaction. He closed his eyes thoughtfully, counting to ten to maintain the needed tempo and produce the desired effect, - I have nothing against it, gentlemen, - he said, parting his hands, - I agree, I totally agree with everything. I think you have your apprehensions and I have mine. I've granted to you all the necessary material, and I insist that I should have my maximum participation in a creative part o f activity of Depeche Mode. I emphasize maximum possible.
He saw that grin has spread on Martin's face without a reflection in his witch eyes. He realized that Dave had won. He grinned again, leaning in the table and rubbing his elbow with his hand. He admitted his defeat. Dave hardly suffocated with the wave of relief, overflowing him. Martin didn't have his way back. He'd done it. HE HAD FUCKING DONE IT!!!
Gore whispered something in Miller's ear, and Miller assured everyone that the fact of mister Gahan's more active participation in the recording of the album they consider as a right and fair one, and he supposes that they will be able to take a risk of approximately one fourth part of the future album.
Gahan made an offended face, but at heart he was celebrating his victory. And after half an hour of heated arguments he imitated capitulation. Demanding that one of his songs will be securely released as a single.
Then everything went its course, Martin hung his jacket on a seat back and began to smoke. Bruce ordered coffee for everybody and green tea for himself and Daniel by calling his secretary. The working routine has began. They've discussed all the details about the future work. Bruce's assistants, two young managers a little elder than Jeff, but already round and bald diligently recorded the work schedule in New York, London and Martin's Santa Barbara studio. Three singles and album.
Miller was tediously dislodging the increasing the part of his own income from the single's selling. He was doing that every time, and Bruce was screaming at him without any embarrassment in his rude expressions, jumping up from his chair, strolling round the table, but Miller couldn't be displaced from his position, and Bruce realized with horror, hearing his first words that he will be forced to surrender. Sooner or Later.
We're damaged people
Praying for something
That doesn't come from somewhere deep inside us
Depraved souls
Trusting in the one thing
The one thing that this life has not denied us
When I feel the warmth
Of your very soul
I forget I'm cold
And crying
When your lips touch mine
And I lose control
I forget I'm old
And dying * Damaged People by Martin L. Gore.
Martin woke up almost in the morning for no particular reason, probably just because the habitual conditioner's buzz had subsided. Someone opened the balcony door carefully, and he could smell a cigar smoke from there. Martin cursed; he felt a desperate need to smoke, in spite of all his attempts to give it up. He stood up, took his bathrobe from the bathroom on the way to the balcony, in a pocket he found a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter and went out, screwing up his eyes and tying his waistband..
The balcony was girding the whole first floor per se it was more veranda than a balcony. That's why there was nothing surprising in the fact that Dave came out for a smoke on five o'clock in the morning appeared near Martin's bedroom. Martin lit a cigarette and stood aside Dave in a boxers, melancholically examining the ocean through the jutting out palms.
- Hello everybody, - Dave said, lisping.
- Morning, - said Martin and let out the smoke through his nose, - why did you turn off the conditioner?
- I have laryngitis, - Dave said gloomy and inhaled the cigar smoke.
- I know that. I've asked why did you turn off the conditioner? - Martin asked again heartlessly.
Dave was staring at him offended.
- It's hot in here, - Martin explained.
- Oh-oh-oh! - Dave exclaimed, - it is hot for them, it's hot in New York, yeah, you can't live without a conditioner there, and this place? I can feel the air; - he breathed the air in his lungs with the blissful look. His cigar was smoking towards Martin. Martin said pensively:
- You know, Dave, finally I've recalled what the smell of your cigar reminds me of.
- And what is that? - Dave asked suspiciously.
- Remember, when a skunk was hit by a car on the intersection near the studio? - Martin asked, giggling, - he was stinking for a month probably.
- Cunt - Dave hissed.
- I love you too, Dave, - said Martin.
Dave put his hand on Martin's shoulder in a silence. They were standing and keeping silence for some time.
- I've heard you've met Alan, - Martin asked suddenly, - how is he?
- Ye-a-app, - Dave answered unwillingly, - everything's alright. He's fine.
- Well, it's nice to hear, - Martin said.
A strange bird with a long yellow tail was jumping across the lawn; they were gazing at it for a long time in complete silence.
- I bet you are dying to ask me if he mentioned you, -suddenly Dave said.
Martin was keeping silence.
- No, he did not, - said Dave.
Martin was keeping silence.
- You know I'm lying.
- Yes, I know, - Martin said calmly.
They were standing onto the balcony for some time more in silence.
- He's a nice lad, - Dave said.
- Yes, I know, - Martin said.
- Fuck, what the hell am I talking good things about people? - Dave said suddenly, - fuck them. I won't. They all are just assholes. All of them, who are good. Fuck them all. And I'm bad. I am bad. But I'm standing on your balcony wearing shorts at five o'clock in the morning and smoking my crushed-skunk-smelling cigars. And all of them are fucked up. This fucking life is unfair. Evil always conquer the Good. Hallelujah!
- Heh-heh-heh, - Martin hee-hawed cheerfully, - he throw off his cigarette on the lawn with a click and went to his bedroom, - Dave, you fucking asshole, turn on the fucking conditioner, huh? - Martin asked in a most tender voice.
- What did you say? - Dave screamed, indignant.
- You've heard it, - Martin said.
- And what will you give me for that? - Asked Dave, - Will you give me? I know the magic word - Ple-e-e-a-a-ase…
- TURN ON THIS FUCKING CONDITIONER!!!
- WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SHOUTING AT ME?
- AM I SHOUTING???
Martin was laying in his bed, waving away Dave's grumbling, and soon quiet and steady buzz said that the conditioner had finally started to work. Martin closed his eyes and strangely fast fell in a deep slumber. That was the consciousness of Dave's hands, holding him across his body, that awakening him. Dave whispered gloomy:
- One of your rare good qualities is that you're always sleeping naked.
Martin didn't know what to reply, anyway, Dave wasn't asking, he just claimed that it is necessary for him to take off his shorts immediately. Then he jumped back to Martin, dreamily rubbing his cheek against Martin's back.
- Dave, - Martin said suddenly, when he realized all the odd smooth feeling of Dave's cheek on his back, he even forgot about the slumber, - why the fuck did you decide to shave?
- Uhm…any special requests? - Dave giggled cheerfully.
- Oh, no, - Martin said.
- Oh, yes, - said Dave.
Martin suddenly turned in Dave's arms took his face in his hands and tenderly kissed his chin and cheeks several times.
- A-a-a-h, cool…I'm like-a in heaven, - said Dave.
He kissed Martin's lips slowly barely touching them, like it was for the first time, like they weren't lying now so close to each other, naked, sharing the same bed, pressing their hot bodies together. Martin answered to his kisses very tenderly, then Dave kissed him again. Then one more time, and one more, and more. He caressed Martin's hair, because he knew it was his weakness, making Martin's lips more open towards him. Martin's tongue was tickling his lower lip and he caught it with his lips, making them both grin, because it was tenderly still, but too funny. Dave's hand was lying under Martin's head, he was caressing Martin's lower lip with the finger of another hand, dreamily staring at his mouth. Martin's fair eyelashes trembled on the cheeks, and suddenly Dave was managed to kiss his forehead hard, just to hide his own tears swelling in his eyes. It was joyful tears.
My joy, the air that I breathe
My joy, in God I believe
You move me ***
He seemed to whisper something like that aloud it was the only thing he could whisper that moment.
My joy, the blood in my veins
My joy, flows in your name
You move me ***My Joy by Martin L. Gore
Martin's grabbing hands hardly broke his romantic mood by clutching his ass unexpectedly.
- Oh, fuck, - Dave said, unwillingly taking Martin's hands off and making him lie on his back.
He threatened above Martin, leading his hands behind his head and looking on his catch with a smug grin. Martin couldn't bear it and he lowered his gaze under these burning eyes, burning with some strange fire, black, strong and warm. Dave was watching Martin's lips opening slowly...
- Ooooh, fuck,- he added, feeling his body coming alive after that motion.
Dave threw his leg over Martin's hips, slowly closing, shortening the distance between them. When it shortened to the critical, his mood changed a little. He slid along Martin with all his body down and uttered a celebrating howl. Martin breathed out loudly, his movements didn't leave him indifferent. Dave was moving on him a little bit more, this time he was sliding up, throwing head back and breathing out himself:
- A-a-a-ahhhh… - a satisfied smile nevertheless didn't want to leave his face.
Dave arched his back, interrupting their contact, getting almost sexual pleasure from watching a kind of fear of loosing this contact on Martin's face. Dave looked at his face, as if he was charmed, shifting his gaze from eyes to lips and back.
- You know what? - Dave whispered, - I wanted to say, but either it was out of place or I kept forgetting. I've read a book about the medieval times
- Oh my god, you've read… - Martin said.
- Don't make me laugh, - Dave closed Martin's mouth with his hand, - so, there've been said, that people who had green eyes, no matter women or men, they say are witches and sorcerers. I'm looking at you and sometimes I understand what they were afraid of. Yes. I'm afraid of you sometimes. Oh, c'mon, yeah, that's right… look, look at me like that, I can cum only because of your gaze, honestly…
Martin shook his head, this outlook didn't suit him, perhaps.
- You don't want to? - Dave asked.
- Probably later… - Mart said and the tone of his voice was not better than his gaze.
Dave breathed in through the closed lips, throwing the blanket away; he slipped along Martin's body caressing him with his both palms up and down from his thighs to his shoulders. Martin groaned and that was the best reward for Dave's energies. He repeated this caresses again and again, playing with his mate's body in different ways, just like it comes into his mind. He was caressing him from above and below, licking his neck, grasping him between his hips with his palm. He put out his tongue, tickled his navel, up, catching his nipple with his teeth, making Martin to scream.
- A-yeah, - contentedly said Dave, putting out his tongue like the lizard and started licking the bitten nipple like a cat lapping water with unbelievable enthusiasm, - you know what, he said make a smacking sound with his lips, - when I'm depicting all this shit on a stage, it's for you.
- Fucking slut, - Martin said.
- Yeah, - Dave said already near his mouth, - give me names, yeah; you know it fucking turns me fucking on.
Martin grinned, when their lips embodied that they couldn't be parted. Dave opened Martin's mouth to him, thrusting his tongue inside Martin's mouth, he was so excited by the feeling of immense power upon his lover's body, more than he could ever felt before. Their tongues confronted in a fight for the domination, but Dave made his amends today.
Dave turned away for a second, breathing and licking off his lips, enjoying the taste of Martin's skin, taste of Martin's kiss, pressing his man's head against the pillow, he kissed him again, he actually just captivated his mouth. Next time Martin just grasped his mouth with his lips, making Dave enter him again.
Dave lowered along Martin's body without interrupting their tongue contact, until he reached the precious aim. He was sucking him for a long time in fever then he asked him to stand up. Martin obeyed, kneeling on the bed. Dave spread between his legs, continuing his fascinating pastime, explaining that it was much more interesting like that. And it was really more interesting, he caught Martin's dick with his mouth at the bottom and from the top, with his lips, tongue, delighting their closeness at the moment. Dave grasped Martins hips from behind, pushing him inside more and more and making Martin to come into his mouth. And Martin did it. However, he didn't owe him something…actually, he returned the pleasure very soon, making Dave not only not to regret about it and even think out some plans for future.
They were making love for a long time and different ways, and then they fell into a deep slumber. They were awaken by the telephone ringing, when indignant Fletch shouted that today is Monday, actually, and they must be at work sometimes.
- What time is it now? - Martin asked yawning.
- I fuck you both, eleven! - Fletch screamed.
- Oops, - Martin said, - perhaps we were too carried away while hanging Britney Spears' posters into the bathroom wall, you know.
- Give me Dave, now - Fletch said.
- Fletch, - Dave was still lying, holding Martin across his waist, so he was shouting in the receiver from Mart's shoulder, not listening what was said to him, - Fletch, be human, don't croak. Don't you want this album, huh? Yeah, we don't have time, yeah, we will record it. Okay, okay, I'm already up and on the way, fuck me if I am lying. Fletch. Andrew. Could you please order me, some Starbucks coffee, huh? And chocolate Donuts. Aha. I'm already up and on the way, Fletch. I'm outside already. I am sitting in my car.
Martin put the receiver on the bedside table.
- Ma-a-a-art, - Dave whispered and bit his ear.
They arrived at the studio not as soon as they seemed.
But Fletch just gave up on them.
***
They began to make a record. That one that was later named Playing The Angel, in New York, there was released their first single. Martin's single. They were making a video for this song, then somewhere on the East Coast they had to meet Anton for the photo-session, after that they were ready to go to Santa Barbara. Dave was in a good mood in the morning one of Elvis' songs came to his head. He laughed and opened the next door to his dressing room.
You look like an angel (Look like an angel)
Walk like an angel (Walk like an angel)
Talk like an angel (Talk like an angel)
But I got wise
You're the devil in disguise
Oh yes you are
Devil in disguise* Elvis Presley Devil in Disguise.
Martin was sitting at the table he was playing with his cell phone. He looked at Dave askance, it wasn't clear if he understand Dave's sense of humor or not. Nothing could be ever clear when he was around.
- You know, I'm glad it happened, chuck. I'm glad that you divorced, - Dave said immediately.
- I should be surprised? - Martin said coldly and put his phone in the pocket.
- She was never worth you, - Dave said.
- Oh, my God, Dave! - Martin shook his head reproachfully, - this is complete bullshit. She was my wife and she will always be the mother of my children. Apparently we deserve the partners we have.
- Oh, how generously was that! I'm going to cry and my make up will flow.
Martin looked at him deeply and Dave understood that he shouldn't have said that.
- You know, - Dave tried again, - I'm thinking sometimes…why God sent us such a perverted punishment? What have we done? Was it SUCH bad?
Martin didn't say anything, he didn't even smile. Dave put his hand into his pocket and took out something; he stretched it to Martin on the opened palm.
- Check it out, - he said.
- What's that?
- Your lucky coin, - Dave said, remember, you gave me this? I always keep it with me. In a hospital, where we were with John, the guitarist from Duran, I've almost killed the nurse, when she lost it…I was shouting as a wounded right in the ass lynx. And not in vain. She found it finally. It was always near. When you weren't. I was holding it in my hand and it seemed to me that you were with me. I wasn't afraid, even of death. I was afraid of not feeling it anymore. Not feeling you. My hands grew cold, and it was warm. I wanted to feel it one more time. When I stopped feeling, I remembered about it. Thanks to the doctor, who didn't let them take it away. It brought me back.
Martin didn't answer anything, his jaws were paralyzed, his hands and shoulders were trembling. Dave seemed to cry himself. He jumped up and turned, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He walked along the room to calm down.
After some time Martin rose in a chair, his face becomes impenetrable.
- Where is Fletch? - He asked.
- Yeah, where is our Guardian Angel?, - Dave repeated, - it's high time for him to appear, until we, carried away with our talk, didn't fuck up all the good things we have found in each other, and didn't quarrel on a closest couple of years.
- We will quarrel anyway, - Martin said melancholically, - sooner or later.
- Yeah, we will, - Dave nodded willingly.
- But not now, - Martin said.
- No, - Dave confirmed, - not now.
Martin grinned.
- Do you also think that he is an Angel?
He didn't really want the answer. It was so alike him.
Dave laughed, tossed up the coin and caught it in the air.
- When I talked to Bugs Bunny he always advised me to take life as it is. Life is not good but life is not bad or so other people are thinking. It is hard thought. But it is hard for everybody. Forget your despair. You are not the first but she is not the last.
The man who was sitting at a table looked at him with the weird expression on his face.
- Should I take it like that…- he said - All my problems are following the fact that I have never talked to Bugs Bunny?
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