Rock Revenge: Alex's Story

Then we got talking about music. Pete wanted to start another band. I didn’t want to tell him that, without Alex and Jake, he’d get nowhere. They’d been the driving forces; the ones people would pay money to see.

“You can play guitar,” he said to me one day.

I laughed. “Not well.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Dee. Anyway, we need you so we can call the band Dee Cups.”

“Not funny.”

I didn’t say anything that day but the idea grew in me. I’d never wanted to be part of the band. I’d been happy just watching the guys. But why not? Maybe something of Jake’s would stay alive if I played his music. When I’d cleaned his room, I’d found a bunch of notebooks with bits of songs. Nothing he’d played with the band, just scraps of songs he’d written himself. That could be a start.

I grabbed Jake’s Fender from his room one night and took it back to my apartment. A few days later, I began mucking around with it.

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.