Rock Revenge:Alex's StoryBy: Candy J. Starr
We started rehearsing together, and that stupid name ended up sticking because we couldn’t think of anything better and then we’d been talking to a guy at the pub who’d wanted to book us and we needed to come up with a name on the spot.
There was another reason I took up the guitar. Even though Alex had disappeared, I never let up on trying to find him. One thing I knew; he’d not give up music. No one in the world had the drive to play that Alex did. Otherwise, his parent’s money would be enough to ensure he’d stay hidden forever. They always thought they could fix anything in this world by opening their wallets. They were the stiffest, sourest people I’d ever met in my life and I used to wonder how they’d ever had a son like Alex. He was all fluid motion and snaking hips. Everything about him hinted at sex, long before I even realised what that was. I’d thought he was different to them but, when the crunch came, he was happy to let them clean up the mess he’d made rather than face the consequences.
Then, a few weeks ago, sweet mother of God. I’d found him. And now he was screwed. I’d mangle his life and put him through torture — and none of it undeserved. He thought he was so far above everyone else, that the rules of normal people didn’t apply to him. Well, I’d show him otherwise. My hate for that man sat like a solid lump in my chest, growing heavier every single day. They say time heals. It hadn’t for me. Every single day, that wound just got worse, turning septic and festering.
I had the article from the music magazine folded in my pocket. They’d made him sound like such a big man, with his band and his rock club. It’d twisted the knife in my chest. I quit my job, packed up my stuff and headed to this town. I’d told Pete and our drummer, Ferdie, that I’d call them when I organised a gig. I hadn’t told Pete about Alex, not yet.
So, I’d moved into this fleabag room a few days ago. Nothing but a bed with a lumpy mattress and a wardrobe covered with faded stickers. In the corner, there was a rust-stained sink and a shared bathroom down the hall. I didn’t have money to waste and I didn’t want to dip too much into my Revenge Fund.
During that time, I’d kept a low profile, while gathering intel. I’d even gone into the bar one night, my hair tucked up in a cap and a big coat with the collar pulled up. I’d sat at a table in the corner, watching and waiting. Alex hadn’t appeared but the staff obviously knew him well. I heard his name come in conversation a few times and people laughing.
One of the things I overheard was that Alex would be playing soon. It wasn’t going to be heavily advertised but he’d be in one of the bands playing upstairs.
I’d also sent in our demo to score a gig. I’d changed the bio to take out any details to link me to Alex. I couldn’t wait until Pete and Ferdie got to town, I had to attack now.
Tonight was the night he’d be playing at the club. The perfect moment to announce my arrival in his life. I wanted to see him flustered and sweating in his jocks. The first showdown. My chance to catch him off-guard. Once I’d done that, I’d be able to judge the best way to grind him down.
I gave my hair a final brush then touched up my lipstick. High voltage red. This was my game face. I had to be perfect. The outfit had to be perfect, my face too. I was preparing for battle. I’d changed a lot in the last few years since I’d seen him. That was part of the plan. I wanted to look like a woman when he laid eyes on me, not like a little girl.
My skin tight dress hung in the closet of this bare-bones hotel room. I squeezed myself into it, then added a studded belt and my biker boots.
Over the years, I’d learnt exactly the type of girl that Alex went for and I’d painstakingly turned myself into her. My honey blond hair was now platinum white. My eyes were lined into smoky sexuality. The dress caressed my curves. I topped it all with a leather jacket. Tough rock chick with a touch of class, that was exactly his type.
My stomach churned with nerves at seeing him again. I’d wasted years of my life being in love with that man, my entire teen years when he’d shone like a god. I’d been barely able to talk to him, lucky to stammer out a few words. I’d kept notebooks filled with observations about Alex. I’d heard him say that he loved smart girls so I’d study my guts out. Then he’d say he liked girls who pouted and I’d spend all my time pouting the mirror. When the band had rehearsal, I’d put on my best outfit and a ton of makeup and walk up and down the driveway so he’d see me from the garage. Then he’d say hi and I’d run inside.
I tried to settle my nerves. There’d be no trace of my sadness in my face or the way I walked.