Warlord Metal Read online

  Warlord Metal

  D. Jordan Redhawk

  P.D. Publishing, Inc. (2002)

  * * *

  The heavy metal band, Warlord, is in need of a new guitarist. Only one applicant stands out - a jewel in the very rough - Torrin Smith. She has the ability to make her guitar sing her soul - a sinister and shattered cry.

  Sonny Middlestead, little sister to a member of the band, is making her way through high school in accelerated learning classes. Her days are filled with education, her nights with rock and roll. An aspiring journalist, she spends a good deal of her free time writing in her diary.

  The two meet - dark and light, anger and love - with both disastrous and remarkable potential. Will Torrin be swept away by her substance abuse, unable to release her fury or accept the brightness of another's heart? Can Sonny find a way to heal a broken childhood, to make up for a lifetime of injustice and hate?

  Only time will tell.

  Warlord Metal

  Chapter 1

  Fifteen

  Aenima

  Tool

  Some say the end is near.

  Some say we'll see Armageddon soon.

  I certainly hope we will.

  I sure could use a vacation from this

  Bullshit three ring circus sideshow of Freaks.

  Some say a comet will fall from the sky,

  Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves,

  Followed by fault lines that cannot sit still,

  Followed by millions of dumbfounded dipshits.

  Some say the end is near.

  Some say we'll see Armageddon soon.

  I certainly hope we will cuz

  I sure could use a vacation from this

  Silly shit, stupid shit...

  One great big festering neon distraction.

  I've a suggestion to keep you all occupied -

  Learn to swim.

  The long hair cat drowsed in the sunlight filtering through the front window. The afternoon sun was warm on the back of the couch, despite the beginning chill of autumn in the air outside. Here in the living room, however, it was nice and toasty and quiet. With uncanny hearing, the feline's ears twitched, picking up a familiar step. On the front walk, an individual wearing jeans and a tan jacket approached. There was the rattling of keys in a lock and yellow eyes opened to stare at the front door.

  It opened and a teenaged girl entered. Attention on the bundle of mail she was sorting through, she absently shut the door with her hip, dropping her backpack nearby. Finding nothing of interest, she let the pile of envelopes and her keys fall onto the end table. Her jacket graced the floor as she disappeared into the kitchen. The cat lifted an interested head, but the refrigerator opened and the sound of a soda opening could be heard. There was an audible sigh from the Maine Coon and she lowered her head to her paws again.

  The teenager came back into the living room and made a beeline for the couch. The Pepsi and a bag of Fritos were placed on the coffee table and her lanky frame flounced down onto the couch with a groan. Slightly irritated, the cat sat up with a look of disgust and stretched.

  The movement caught the girl's eye. "Hey, Tink," she said in a naturally low voice. She held her hand out to the feline.

  "Eow?" the cat asked. She sniffed at the offered fingers. Finding them somewhat acceptable, she allowed a few seconds of scratching under the collar before pulling away.

  "Yeah, I know," the teenager said with a grin. She ran long fingers through her shoulder length dark hair. "I'm a rude bitch." She watched the feline wander to the other end of the couch and settle down again.

  "You got that right," another voice interjected. A young man in his mid twenties shuffled into the living room, tying the drawstring on his pants. His own dark hair was as long as the girl's and sleep tousled, a dark undergrowth gracing his face. With a yawn, he plopped into a nearby armchair and scratched at his bare chest. "How'd the exam go?"

  The teenager adjusted herself, shoving a couch pillow underneath her back to prop herself up. "Alright, I guess, though geometry isn't my strong suit." She leaned over and snatched up the bag of corn chips. "I am not looking forward to trigonometry next year," she said as she munched.

  "So... what? A 'B' maybe?" he prodded.

  The girl shrugged. "Yeah. Definitely. Maybe I'll luck out and get an 'A-'. Depends on the grading curve."

  The man nodded and there was a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the crackle of the chip bag and the crunching of food. He shook his head when the bag was thrust in his direction. "Corn flakes for breakfast, not chips."

  There was a snort of laughter. "Schyeah, right. Like you think it's morning or something." She looked pointedly at the watch on her wrist. "It's 3:30. In the afternoon, Tom."

  "Crack of dawn." He yawned again and rose, running his hands through his long hair in an eerie echo of his younger sister's earlier movement. On his way into the kitchen, he scooped up the jacket on the floor. It sailed across the room and landed on the girl's head. He chuckled at the resulting squawk as he ducked into the other room. "Pick up your jacket, Sonny," he called.

  Sonny Middlestead growled under her breath and tossed her jacket to the other end of the couch. The grey and white cat glared at her and jumped off the furniture, stalking away for quieter and sunnier climes. The teenager picked up the nearby remote control and switched on the television. Parking it on MTV, she rose and retrieved her pack. Algebra sucks!

  Sept 23, 1998

  I'm sure that Mr. Randolph hates my guts! That stupid article he wanted us to write? He gave me a B-!! Said that I'd obviously plagiarized it! The asshole!! Tom says I should go to the principal and challenge it. I don't know. Doesn't seem worth the hassle in the long run. I've still got to go to his class all year if I want to make it to college. Damn it!

  Shelly put a note in my locker. I guess there's a big party in the works in a couple of weeks. Only the most popular kids are going to be there. She wanted to know if I'd go with her. I'm sure I will. Tom won't care. Besides, I'll bet Jay will be there! That'd be so cool! Shelly thinks he's a jerk, but he's a cute one!

  I had a dream about Mom and Dad last night. We were out on a Sunday drive and Tom and I were kids again. The road Dad was driving on was getting smaller and smaller and smaller until there wasn't enough room for the car. Rather than turn back, we got out of the car and continued on. Pretty soon, we're walking on this teeny little ledge over a huge cliff. And then Mom lost her balance and fell. Dad tried to catch her and went, too. I was so scared. I couldn't look down, just leaned back against the cliff behind me. I don't know what Tom was doing. And then I saw Mom and Dad again. They were floating in front of me - they had wings like those stupid cartoons, you know? And they smiled at us and waved and then kept on going up.

  I woke up pretty scared. I almost got up to go check on them before I remembered that they were dead. So, I watched some of the Christmas videos instead. Fell asleep on the couch. Weird, huh?

  The day after tomorrow are the auditions. Tom said I could come along and watch. It's too bad about Chris having to leave the band. He was a pretty good guitarist. Oh, well. Maybe they'll find an even better one!

  Gotta go!

  "So, can I take that Women's Lit class this winter?" Sonny asked her brother.

  Middlestead steered the beat up Honda through traffic. "I dunno, Sonny," he began, only to be cut off.

  "I can pay for it! That's no problem," the dark haired girl insisted. "I've still got that money from babysitting last year. And since I'm a resident, the cost per credit is cheaper."

  The man grimaced and shook his head. "Money's not the issue, sis. The trust fund will cover your education."

  Sonny's dark brow furrowed. "Then what is it?"

  He
r brother shrugged. "I just think you're pushing yourself too hard, that's all. You're just barely a sophomore in high school and you're already trying to take college level classes." He pulled to a stop at an intersection and looked over at her with eyes that were a shade of darker blue. "I don't want to see you burn out."

  The teenager deflated a bit and looked back out the windshield. "Green light," she murmured.

  Reluctantly, Middlestead returned his attention to the road and continued driving. He hated having to tell his little sister no on anything, much less a decent education. But, damn it! When she isn't writing, she's reading! When she isn't reading, she's writing! That can't be a good thing! Watching her out of the corner of his eye, he could almost see the gears working and the smoke pouring out her ears. You might as well just say yes, he told himself. She'll talk you into it anyway.

  The man sighed and continued to drive in silence.

  As they pulled into the parking lot, the girl spoke up. "Hey! I didn't know Rita was gonna be here!"

  Middlestead parked the car and glanced at the woman in question. "Well, she must have come with Chris. I wanted him to look over the new meat." He shut off the ignition and unfastened his seat belt.

  "Cool!" Sonny exclaimed, unbuckling her own restraint. "We can sit at the bar and heckle you guys." She tossed an impish grin at her brother and bailed out of the car before he could grab her.

  "Now, wait a minute!" the man growled, making the expected lunge. He grinned at his sister's giggle and waggled a warning finger at her. She merely slammed the door with a grin, jogging off to meet the pregnant woman at the entrance to the bar.

  Middlestead locked her door while he was there and exited the Honda, securing it behind him. Not that anybody'd want this hunk of junk.... And then he followed his sibling.

  A young blond man had joined the two girls. He was tall and thin with closely cropped hair. The pregnant redheaded girl he was wrapped around was laughing as she ran her fingers through the stubble.

  "What the hell happened to your hair, man?" Middlestead demanded, reaching out to grasp his friend's hand. He smiled a greeting at Rita.

  His friend smiled ruefully and scratched at the buzz cut. "Well, figured they were gonna cut it all off in a couple of weeks anyway." He shrugged. "Might as well get used to the look."

  "Yeah, well, we need our toilet cleaned at home. Can I use you?" the dark man quipped.

  Sonny swatted her brother on the arm. "Stop that!" Turning to the couple, she continued with a grin, "Never mind Mr. I-Have-No-Fashion-Sense. You look great, Chris."

  "Thanks, Sonny."

  "And I like it," his girlfriend said, an eyebrow raised at Middlestead.

  The dark man raised his hands in surrender, taking a step backwards. "Far be it for me to insult a pregnant woman!"

  Sonny rolled her eyes and brushed by her brother, purposely pushing him with her shoulder as she passed. She opened the door to the bar and yelped as she entered. Pale blue eyes glared over her shoulder as she rubbed her rear. "Payback's a bitch, Tom," she warned. "You have to sleep sometime."

  Middlestead looked innocently back until she turned in to the establishment. Then he grinned and held the door for the couple.

  The bar was quiet, being closed until later in the afternoon. There were a few people lounging around towards the rear by the stage. Most of the chairs were up on the tables and an older man was sweeping the floor. When he heard the door, he looked up, his face lighting. The broom was promptly propped against a table and he stepped forward, arms wide. "Sonny! How are you?"

  The teenager gave the bar owner a hug. "I'm great, Lamont. How's business?"

  "Not bad, not bad," he responded. "These guys bring in some steady customers on the weekends. Even if they don't know how to play," he concluded with a conspiratorial whisper and wink.

  "I heard that, old man," Middlestead growled as he came in. "Are Lando and Max here yet?"

  "Yeah." A work worn thumb shot backwards. "They're dumping the recycling from last night. You got some people waiting for you by the stage, too." And then he dismissed the men. "Rita! You're looking wonderful!" He took the two females and escorted them towards the bar. "Can I get you beautiful ladies something to drink...?"

  Middlestead stared after the trio. With a sarcastic grin, he said, "Well, hi there, Lamont. I'm fine, Lamont, how are you? Certainly, Lamont, I'd love something to drink."

  The blond man with him chuckled and slapped him on the back. "Let's go check out my replacement."

  There were eight people lounging on or around the stage area. All had guitars. Most were in street clothes and the standard heavy metal leather jackets, though there was one who was in a button up shirt and tie. It was a toss up which was weirder, the preppy with the tie or the punk rocker kid in the corner with pink and green hair.

  The two men jumped onto the stage. The guitarist began checking over his instrument while the other man rummaged around behind the drum set and pulled out a clipboard. He handed the clipboard out to the first applicant in reach.

  "Hi, I'm Tom Middlestead, drummer for Warlord. I want you to go ahead and write your names down and a number we can reach you at. If you have any references, jot them down, too. This is Chris Fleming," he said, indicating the guitarist. "He's the one we need a replacement for. Max Hampton and Lando Atkins, our bassist and other guitarist will be here shortly and we can get underway."

  Eventually, the other two band mates arrived from their chores out back. The second guitarist was tall and well muscled with a strong jaw, long brown hair, and a wicked grin. Hampton was short and stocky, his chin sporting a stylish goatee and his head shaved. The two settled down in chairs at the base of the stage with the drummer, Fleming staying onstage under the lights.

  One by one, each applicant was called to the stage. Each was required to first do a few samples of different styles of music to show aptitude with metal, funk, and blues. Next in line was a jam session with the guitarist on the stage - Fleming would play a few bars from one of Warlord's songs and the applicant was required to pick it up and go with the flow in keeping with the song. And finally, if any of them had any songs of their own, they were encouraged to play a couple of tunes.

  Actually, it was a fairly quick weeding process. One man bowed out even before his name was called, citing a doctor's appointment and maybe next time....? The preppie went soon after. The third to be called appeared quite competent and had definite potential. He was been asked to stick around for a while longer. Numbers four and five were good, but not good enough. One didn't compose and the other wasn't able to pick up the band's tunes. Next came the punk rocker.

  Sonny sat at the bar, keeping time on the brass footrest beneath her shoe. She'd already decided that it was going to be either the third one or the last one who got the job. She could tell by the tilt of her brother's head when number three had been playing that he was interested. The blond man on stage appeared to be pretty impressed with him, too. As for the last guy, she was merely giving him the benefit of the doubt, since she hadn't heard him yet.

  As the kid with pink and green hair climbed under the spotlights, she frowned. Her eyes squinted and she scanned the slight form. Her dark eyebrows raised in amazement and she interrupted her friend. "That's a girl!"

  "What?" Rita turned her head and looked up on the stage. "No way!"

  "Yes, it is! The hips are too wide. See?" The dark teenager watched in fascination.

  Middlestead looked back down to the clipboard. "Jordan Smith?" he repeated. He looked back at the young woman on the stage, an eyebrow raised.

  "Yeah, that's me." The hair was shoulder length with stripings of the aforementioned colors. It was messily parted in the middle with long bangs hanging into the eyes. Near the scalp was a reddish gold hue where the dye job had been growing out. The apparition was clothed in baggy black trousers and a black, sleeveless "Pantera" t-shirt, the combat boots dyed a rich green. She hefted a beat up guitar, plugging it into the system.

&n
bsp; The drummer glanced at his companions. Atkins shrugged and leered at him. The bassist scratched at his goatee. Fleming, on stage with the newcomer, wasn't paying any attention, keeping an eye on the woman.

  Middlestead cleared his throat and looked back at her. "You are eighteen, aren't you?" he asked with concern. The last thing the band needed was an underaged member getting into trouble at the bars they played in.

  The woman bristled and turned to glare emerald daggers at him. "Yeah. Need to see my ID?"

  The dark man pursed his lips and decided to let it drop. Hell, it's not like it's an issue. "No, no problem. Let's go ahead and get started." He gestured for the punk rocker to begin playing. She can probably only play punk and ska, anyway.

  Sonny's eyes were riveted to the stage. It wasn't often she was able to see a woman play in the rock genre, though it had gotten more popular over the years. Usually, the women played pop music, not metal.

  There was a moment of silence, almost spiritual, from the woman on stage. And then she broke into the strains of Led Zeppelin's 'Stairway to Heaven'. A few moments there and the music melted into an old Muddy Waters tune. From there, it floated on to Black Sabbath, and then Eric Clapton, B. B. King, Van Halen, Pink Floyd, and Hendrix. She spent three to five minutes on each artist, moving effortlessly between them. Her eyes were closed under the spotlight, and she seemed far away. Finally, the music faded.

  The teenager found herself standing behind her brother. "Wow," she murmured. She's better than number three was.

  The blond man onstage appeared to be very impressed. He nodded grudgingly at the woman and began clapping. She inhaled deeply and opened her eyes as the other people in the room also began to applaud.

  Middlestead shook himself from his reverie. He had heard his sister behind him and agreed wholeheartedly. But they weren't finished, yet. "Well, okay, Jordan. That was great," he finally said, as the applause died down. "Are you familiar with any of our songs?"

  The Christmas colored hair shook in the negative as she busied herself with her guitar. "Nope. Just what I've heard here."