souls of black | fever in, fever out

chapter 133: off to the races again

Lars was kind enough to take her back to his hotel room right down the corridor from Testament's room: even though she had no clothes of her own despite the wedding dress, she was more than happy to take it off in front of him and crawl under the covers right there in his bed. She wondered, with Metallica's own rise and venture through the metal world, why he was staying in such a place, and also why the five of them shared a room together.
"Don't you want a shower before we get some dinner?" he offered her as he took off his shoes.
"Maybe later," she replied, "I just wanted to get out of that dress. That long skirt got annoying to pick up all the time and it was starting to get tiring to wear around me, too."
"I do not blame you one bit. When Debbie and I got married a few years ago, she wore this snug little white dress. She was so relieved when we got home and she took it off."
"Why'd the two of you split?"
"I was away from home a lot," he explained. "She was a British gal I met while we were on tour over there and it was—it was one of those things where we didn't really think it through once we signed the deal and made her into an Ulrich. Lots of touring on our end and creating the new album. She also thought I was cheating on her, even though I wasn't."
"It wasn't like—leaving you at the altar," she said in a low voice.
"No way." He took his seat at the edge of the bed, right by her feet. He then peered over his shoulder at her. "Do you—mind me at all—asking what your intention was?"
Sam leaned forward and folded her arms over her knees.
"I still love Joey but I'm not cut out for marriage," she confessed.
"That's it?"
"Yeah."
"Well—after being married myself for a time, I can say with completel confidence that it is just—not for everyone. It's not just love and romance. It's coming to terms with each other and realizing 'oh my god, I am legitimately and literally going to be with this person forever'. I remember that was my realization after I married Debbie was, 'wow, I am really going to be with this woman for eternity, am I?' because the very next day, we went out on tour. We couldn't even have our honeymoon in Paris right then."
She shook her head at that. She couldn't even recall the honeymoon she had planned with Joey: the last several months all felt like a fever dream. He shifted around in his spot on the foot of the bed so he had a better look at her.
"Would you like to borrow one of my shirts?" he offered her. "We're about the same height."
"But do you have boobs, though?" she asked him with a straight face, to which he took a glimpse down at his chest.
"Yes!" he declared and she giggled at him.
"I think it'd be nice to wear," she confessed. "Do you have any spare pants, though?"
"I am afraid I do not," he replied with a shake of his head. "I have boobs but I don't have hips, though. Do you think you could wear my shirt over your dress? It is sleeveless after all."
"I dunno, I can see it getting hot," she admitted to him.
Lars ran his tongue over his bottom lip.
"How 'bout this?" he suggested. "I go out and get us something to eat and I come back with it."
"Where's the fun in that?" she scoffed. "I don't really want to be alone, either."
He raised his eyebrows at that and his round face softened up to that of a young boy.
"It's funny—I don't, either."
"Do we have room service here?" she asked him.
"Room service? Sam, it's not like we're staying at the Ritz Carlton or the Four Seasons."
"Just curious is all," she said in a soft voice.
"We do get breakfast here, though," he pointed out.
"I would hope so. All the days I hung out with Testament and the Cherry Suicides on their tour, they're just so eager to have breakfast."
"Aren't we all?" he chuckled. "But those guys are, especially. When you're not making a lot of money with what you do, you relish the small things like that. I know we did when we were starting out." He stopped right in his tracks and he stared off to the side.
"What?" she asked him.
"Can't believe it's actually coming up on—ten years since James and I met," he stated, and he raised his eyebrows and fluttered his eyelids at that as if he had just woken up from a total daze. "Ten years ago this May."
"Seven days of May," she declared.
"Seven days of May, yes!"
She knew that, in the back of her mind, she still owed Eric a date or two. But for the time being, she had to relish her time with Lars. Her weekend with a new date in the mean time. She hoped that they could perhaps visit Joey at his house at that some point, but then again, she needn't drop in on him with such haste. He needed his time away from her as she needed her time with Lars.
He sniffled and rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his hand.
"I know it's not really a problem with them—they are saints, those guys—it's all in the name if you ask me—but—"
When he said that, she recalled on the time Alex got high on a bit of acid in the back of their van; but then Lars leaned back on one hand and gazed on at her.
"You will not find anything nefarious here with me," he assured her. "You and I, we are going to have good clean fun. I will say this: I did do cocaine a few years back, though."
"Really?" She was stunned, given she never recalled seeing him with the white stuff at any given time before. But then again, a few years ago, she was back at the house in Elsinore and trying to get away from there.
"Oh, yeah. It helped me play drums real fast, but that was about it. I stopped when Debbie came in the picture, but then I started up again. Then I gave it up because I didn't like how it made me feel—all jittery and out of touch with everything. Now I am all about eating healthy and nourishing myself and taking care of myself."
He turned his head to the wedding dress, which she had draped over the back of the chair before the desk on the side of the room.
"Do you think your girls can handle some more time with the dress?" he asked her with a fleeting glimpse down to her chest.
"I dunno, to be honest." She shrugged her shoulders and she lifted her knees closer to her chest. "I can always try."
"Oh, absolutely," he replied, "when I was in training for tennis, I always heard that there is in fact great value in trying, even if you serve the ball too hard over the fence."
He strode on over to his travel bag on the floor while she slid out from under the covers with her arms over her chest and her bare belly; but he turned to her with a smile.
"No need to cover up for me," he assured her, and he raised his eyebrows at her. "Sam, trust me. You are in your underwear. I am going to tell you this right now: I have seen far worse from women I don't even know."
"Strange women who were bare naked," she replied and she moved her arms away from her chest and in turn her body, and he nodded his head at her. She picked the dress off of the back of the chair and she opened it at the top. She stepped inside and slid the bodice over her body once more. She zipped up the back when Lars strode on over to her.
"Here—" He handed her a shirt with a Basquiat self portrait on the front, to which she was taken aback by the sight of it.
"Wow, where'd you get this?" she asked him as she tugged the shirt over her body. Given she was wearing it over a wedding dress, it fit her a bit on the snug side but it fit her nonetheless.
"Thrift store," he promptly replied. "It's a little big on me so—how is it?"
"Little snug. Well, I'm wearing a dress underneath it, so figure nothing less than that."
"Are you hot at all?" And she shook her head.
"It's getting dark so it's not nearly as bad as it could be," she pointed out and she tugged down on the bottom hem of the shirt.
"I can promise you this, dearest Samantha," he started again with his eyes fixated on the thick broad colorful paint strokes across her chest, "you'll find the arts rather valuable here with me."
"That's what I'm told," she recalled with a little smile. He doubled back to his bag for a pair of sandals and some tennis shorts.
"Charlie introduced me to a woman named Scarlett," she said as he stripped off his jeans.
"Oh, Scarlett Valentine! I've heard of her. She's a badass with it all."
"That's what I'm told anyway. When I got back to Hell's Kitchen, I caught some people on the street talking about me, like they recognized me."
Lars gaped at her in the middle of pulling up his shorts.
"Already? Holy shit, Sam, that's huge! Like I said, Scarlett is a badass—take mine and Charlie's word for it." He flashed her a wink and he pulled the shorts the rest of the way up his legs. He slipped on the sandals and then he reached past his mirrored sunglasses on the desk for the flat white room key.
"Let's get something to eat," he beckoned her. Still with her holding up the skirt, Sam followed him out the door to the warm evening there outside of Syracuse. She thought back to the times she and Joey had gone into the northern end of town: how weird it would feel there without him if they were to head up that way for dinner.
Lars led her to his rental car at the left end of the parking lot, to which he held open the door for her. She nestled down in the seat and tugged the long billowy skirt in around her legs like the outer protective cover of a tube to hold a large piece of art. He took his seat next to her and ran his fingers through his smooth hair before he fired it up.
"Should we bring back something for them?" he offered with a gesture back towards Testament's hotel room.
"Why, 'cause Eric made a joke about a chocolate shake and curly fries earlier?" she cracked, and he laughed out loud at that.
"Well, 'cause they're staying a junkie hotel. They're trying to make their way alongside us. They're local boys—our neighbors. Help thy neighbor, if you will."
"Love thy neighbor, Lars," she corrected him.
"Right," he said with a playful roll of his eyes, and she giggled at him. "I do have money, though. I can do it."
"What do you think they would like?"
"I don't know, to be honest." He flashed her another glimpse with raised eyebrows. "Chocolate shakes and curly fries."
She laughed at that.
"Nah, we shall do what they do in the European jazz scene and improvise," he proclaimed, and they backed out of that spot, and they headed back towards the street.
"I don't think of you as a jazz guy," she confessed as they rolled up to the first stoplight.
"Yeah, I definitely seem that but—it's a big part of my life. It's a big part of my dad's life, too—I want it to be a big part of my kids' life when I have one of my own some day."
"You want kids?" It seemed strange to hear that after Joey's snap decision to not procreate early on.
"Yeah. I'd like to meet a girl and start a little family with her all of my own some day. Raise and love a tiny human that she and I made together." He turned his attention to her and the red glow from the stoplight washed over his milky skin. "You ever thought of having kids of your own, Sam?"
"Yeah, but—I don't really see myself in that position, though."
"Well, each to his—and her—own. We are in the Nineties now, after all. There's this big 'girl power' thing going on right now—I'm not sure if you are aware of it. Or maybe you are from hanging with the Cherry Suicides. But I'm going to be thirty in a couple of years time and so it's like—start planning now for that sort of thing if you want the offspring to be healthy."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"I like the idea of having a bunch of dogs and cats," she confessed. "Easier to take care of and they're a lot more snuggly, too."
Lars chuckled at that.
"A lot more snuggly—now, that, I can completely understand that," he told her; the light turned green and they rolled forward. "You know Dave is starting a family of his own, right?"
"Dave—Mustaine?"
"Yeah. Oh, yeah, he got married this past fall. You didn't hear about it?"
She gaped at him. "No, I was busy with my own wedding."
"Wow!" He was stunned by that. "But yeah. He got married and they—him and his wife, Pamela, I think is her name—they're thinking of having kids, too. It stunned me, too, because—Dave was always a trouble maker, you know? We had fired him about eight years ago because he was drinking and using like crazy—he was a mean drunk, too. When we get drunk, we're a bunch of clowns. But Dave was always really aggressive—even though I didn't really want to send him home, because we were like brothers to him. But it had to be done, though."
He then returned to the vast street before them as it took them into the outer rim of Syracuse.
"So you want pets but—you're not cut out for marriage, though," he said.
"Yeah—it sounds complex and weird."
"Not necessarily," he assured her. "It's just a sign that—some things are not for everyone. More power to you—girl."
She smiled at that. And yet all the while, all during the whole ride to the thick of the neighborhood there, she couldn't help but think about Alex. She had teased him and did all of that with him. Came all that way with him and yet she still went with Lars. She shook her head and sank down in the passenger seat next to him.
They took the first spot closest to the front door and Lars rounded the front end of the car, and he opened the door for her and helped her out to the parking lot outside there. He also held the door for her as well and she stepped inside of the diner first, wedding skirt and blonde hair and everything.
She thought back to when Joey first took her out on a sort of date to North Syracuse.
On one hand, she longed to feel him again through her fingertips. She longed to feel him again.
She did tell him that she still loved him after all.
To feel him again.
To feel him close to her again.
Sam gazed out the window right next to them at the violet sky and the few twinkling stars outside: the orange glow from the Syracuse skyline kept her from seeing anything further than the few brightest ones.
"There's supposed to be an eclipse soon," Lars spoke out of the blue.
"What kind of eclipse?" Sam turned her attention to him and his head bowed down over his vanilla milkshake: the straw rested in between his little lips for a moment before he lifted his head and spoke again.
"Solar, I believe," he told her. "It's supposed to be in the next month or so. What is it, April?"
"Yeah."
"I think it's supposed to be June or July. I tell you this because I noticed you looking out the window just now."
"I'm just—I keep thinking about Joey," she confessed as she stirred her glass of lemonade. She needn't anything else to drink, at least not at the moment.
"We should go visit him," he suggested in a soft voice. "You know. See how he's doing right at the moment. We can get your clothes out of there, too."
"Yeah, I think we should, too," she agreed as her face fell.
"You should take off the shirt before him and then the dress to show that you mean business with him. Even if you're not marrying him."
"Like—strip before him?"
"Yeah." Lars' green eyes twinkled when he said that, but she shrugged her shoulders at that.
"I dunno, to be honest with you, Lars," she admitted. "I feel bad about it but I think that would be too much for him to handle."
He tilted his head to the side so it made his eyebrows seem much more flat than regular.
"C'mon—you sure he wouldn't be willing to see your naked tits and ass one last time before you boogie out of there and back to Hell's Kitchen?"
"I—I don't really know, to be honest." A part of her wanted to laugh but she was also taken aback by his suggestion. "Why're you so obsessed with seeing me naked?"
"Sam, I'm European. We are not nearly as restrained as Americans."
"Yeah, you guys are more free with your naked bodies than we are," she teased him.
"By far more free with it all. Why cut yourself off from one side life while taking another to the point of overkill? And yes, I am referring to all the violence in American movies. I say this as two of my favorite movies are American: The Godfather and Scarface."
"Yes, but at least those movies have some sensual vibes to them, though," she pointed out.
"Hence why I love them! But that's beside the point, though. You should give it to him straight up. Strip before him and make him miss you. That's really the whole point to it—not to take him back but—"
"To tease him," she followed along.
"To tease that big fat cock of his," he replied with a raise of his eyebrows, and then he bowed his head back down to the glass of vanilla milkshake. She was taken aback by that.
"Have you—seen Joey?" she asked him, and he almost spat out his milkshake at that.
"What do you mean? 'Cause I said he has a big fat cock?"
"Yes!" The warmth bloomed across her face.
"Sam—let me tell you a story." He held back with his hands out before him. "I have showered with James, Dave, Kirk, Cliff, and also Jason as of recent whilst on tour. I have seen the male body in full buff form numerous times. I have seen the female body in full buff form numerous times. I grew up in a time period and in a region in which that sort of thing is not in the very least a taboo. Now, because of this sort of thing, I have found myself looking at the bits and pieces of a human being regardless of their gender. I have found myself looking at Joey's crotch and I can say with complete confidence that he is of considerable size. And with that I can say that a woman like you can tease that big fat cock of his if you go to his house and strip off my Basquiat shirt and your wedding dress. I can also say that you can swing your bare ass over his cock like a pendulum and treat it all like it wouldn't matter. I can say all of that with a straight face because it's all completely natural to me. It should come to you in a completely natural sense and if it isn't, well, then—I'm no sexologist but I can tell you that therein lies your problem. I can tell straight away that it is your problem because your face is as red as a tomato right now."
Sam nibbled on her bottom lip. She had no idea as to what to say to him right then as a wave of nausea swept over her. Suddenly things didn't seem as appetizing to her as before.
"Can we—at the very least talk about this sort of thing in private?" she asked him.
"Of course! It's a personal thing after all."
They ate their dinner and then by her direction, Lars took her to Joey's place down near Camillus. The dark forest led them all the way down to that little apartment, the place where she had planned on living in until they found a bigger place. That was the plan, anyway.
Lars bounded up to the spot before that familiar front door. She was just going in there for her clothes, and that was it.
"You go in there and you own it," he advised her as he killed the engine. "You go in there and get your things. If you need any help whatsoever, I will be right here."
Sam sighed through her nose and then she stepped out of the car into the warm spring evening.
She hung out with Testament for a long time and she wished that she could do it again at some point. She could do this with Joey.
With one hand on her skirt, she bowed towards the front door of the apartment, which she noticed hung slightly ajar. Even though it was the middle of the countryside, she wondered as to why Joey would do that to his own place.
Sam nudged open and she poked her head inside of there.
"Joey?" she called out.
She heard someone whisper something in the kitchen. She padded inside of the room only for her to catch the smell of flesh on flesh. That familiar smell of two bodies pressed together in a single realm.
Sam crept closer to the kitchen door: it was a bit of a challenge given the sheer length of her skirt, but she managed to reach the rim. She peeked into the kitchen only to find them laying there on the kitchen table. She only had to take a single look to know.
She could hardly breathe. She bowed out of there and back outside to Lars, where the tears began to fall. He climbed out of the car and opened his arms to her.
"I can't believe it," she wept to him.
"What happened?"
"He's in there with—with Krista—" She couldn't hardly finish given the tears cut her off. She buried her face in her hands and bawled. Lars threw his arms around her and held her close to him. He rocked her and stroked her back with both hands.
"Oh my gracious god," he muttered into her ear.
"Sam?"
The sound of his voice cut through her like a knife: no way she could face him. But she had to.
She let go of Lars and she saw Joey tucked back there in the doorway. His black curls were tousled over the crown of his head to where she could see the roots over his left ear. Small beads of sweat lined his temple and the side of his neck. Her bottom lip trembled as she stared on at him, wounded. More wounded than he felt, that was for certain.
"Can I at least have my clothes back?" she asked him in a broken voice.
"Of course," he replied in a flat tone. He ducked back behind the door for something and he doubled back with her suitcase in hand. Right behind him, she could see Krista on the kitchen floor. She could only see her knees and the fronts of her shins, but it was enough for her to know what was going on in there. Joey had already moved on in a single flash and a drop of the hat, and the casualness of his behavior only added to the feeling around her.
She stepped closer to the door and he handed her the suitcase. With the tears falling, she turned away without biding him goodbye one last time.
"Come," Lars beckoned her with his arm outstretched towards her. "I'll take you home."
But then again, home to her at that point was back out West. She was just happy to be back in the cozy dryness of his rental car for the time being. Another few hours and she would be back at the safety of her couch. Somewhere due north of Binghamton, Lars spoke again.
"You are—staying with Marla, right?"
"Yeah," she replied with a sniffle. "Back in Hell's Kitchen. My couch is there, too."
"Your couch!" he chuckled at that.
"I'm serious, Lars, it's my couch."
"I believe you!" he declared. "It's just—kind of funny to me."
"Why's that?"
"The word 'couch' is a funny word," he explained. "I will tell you this, though. It's even funnier in Danish."
"What is it in Danish?"
"Sofa," he replied, and his eyes twinkled when he said that.
"That's it?" she giggled.
"That's it!" he exclaimed and he giggled as well. "Yeah, I know, right? It's like—my native tongue might seem so creative and everything but when presented with the most basic piece of furniture, we are like, what is it? Ummm... well, SOFA!"
She giggled at that. With his free hand, Lars nudged a piece of hair back from the side of his face. He peered out the window to the impending darkness over upstate and she followed his gaze to all the rolling forest before them.
"I do like upstate," he remarked. "It actually kind of reminds me of Denmark a bit."
"How so?" The way in which Denmark and that part of Europe sat in her memory was akin to upstate New York, but not quite. That part of Europe wasn't as nearly sprawling and remote, or that conservative for that matter.
"It's the trees, the quietness, the stillness, and the cavernous darkness," he replied. "Right about this time of year, because it's further north than the United States, the sun is starting to set a little bit later than us. And by a little bit, I mean about an hour, give or take. I remember nights would last only a few hours during the summer time when I was a kid."
"I always heard like—when you get closer to the North Pole during the winter time, it's just total darkness."
"It really is," he said. He bowed his head and swallowed. "Sometimes I think about—the accident up there. How the last thing Cliff saw was complete darkness."
"I do, too," she confessed.
"We always thought Cliff would go closer to home, too," he added. "He was such a local boy, such a California boy. Sometimes even now when I think about it, when I think about how we took his ashes home, it just—it felt like a betrayal of sorts. Since that day, I sometimes think about dying closer to Copenhagen."
"Do you?" she asked him.
"Do I what?"
"Do you want to die closer to home? To Copenhagen?"
"I'm not too sure," he confessed. "Though I still call Copenhagen home to a degree, I also call California my home. Metallica are my brothers. I would move mountains for James, Kirk, Jason, and Cliff. I would still move mountains for Dave, too."
"You do it for Jason?" She knitted her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side at that.
"Oh, yeah," he replied as he gave his hair a slight toss back. "Even though he's still technically the new guy, it's still imperative to make sure he's at home with us. I would rather do that than treat him like the new guy every day of work."
She shuddered and shook. Even though it wasn't nearly as cold as it had been over the course of the winter, she shook as if her bones had frozen over with a layer of ice crystals. Frozen and taken aback by the one she loved.
"Lars, let me ask you a question," she began.
"Go ahead."
"How do I—reclaim myself? After something like this?"
"Reclaim yourself like—sexually?"
"Yeah."
"Well—seeing as you are here with me right now—" He slowed up the car as if he was about to pull over but he never did.
"We can do it here if you wish," he declared. "It's all up to you, though. It's your decision. If it were my decision to make, you wouldn't have this problem."
She swallowed out of nerves, given she had no idea if he actually meant to her.
"When I hung out with Testament the first time around," she started again, "—when they were making Souls of Black—I felt so good. I was a girl hanging out with five guys and they were all so nice to me. I wish I could go back to that."
"I reckon you can," he told her. "They're your boys. You can totally do that if you so wish. Like I said, it's your decision. It's all yours to make."
He slowed up even more.
"I have to get gas," he said, and she flashed back on when Alex took her back home to her mother's house from the Central Valley. She pictured the snows overhead in the violet upstate New York skies.
He pulled over to the gas station there on the side of the road and he climbed out. Sam watched him walk up to the front door and ask the clerk there to fill it up. He doubled back outside to the payphone there next to the front door. He rose his index finger and she decided to take it up herself. She climbed out and, with the dim light of the lamp overhead, she opened the door of the gas tank and stuck the pump in there. She tried to not picture what was going on back there at Joey's place as Lars returned to her with one hand upon his mouth.
"What's wrong?" she asked him once he came within earshot.
"I just got fired," he said in a broken voice, and she gasped. "Built the whole fucking thing from the ground up and at what cost? This is the thanks I get for it? For getting them going?" He shook his head and leaned in closer to her. "Son of a bitch."
Sam put her arms around him and held him close to her chest. His body shuddered but he never cried out into his own shirt.
It just was not fair.