Classics Mutilated Part 39

"Do you want me to go?" the bird asked.

"I'm not bothered," I said. "Stay or go. I don't care."

I went to sleep. I had these dreams. Bad dreams. Faces looking at me. All these f.u.c.king faces. Shouting and laughing. Twisting out of shape. Turning into something bad. I was trying to push them away, but I was trapped. I couldn't get out. I couldn't breathe. I was a kid again. I was crying for my mum. I was cutting myself. Slash slash, across my arms, across my chest. I wanted the pain and the blood. But there was no pain, no blood. I couldn't make myself bleed. I couldn't feel anything. I cried out, but I couldn't make any noise.

"Shh, mon pet.i.t."

The voice was in my head. It went through me like a cold breeze on a hot day. It blew all the s.h.i.+t and fear away. Made me feel calm.

I opened my eyes. Big brown eyes looking down at me.

"Who are you?" I said.

This wasn't the bird I'd f.u.c.ked earlier. This was someone different. Light brown skin. Smooth, like toffee. Big brown eyes and big red lips. Black hair in little twisty dreads. She was f.u.c.king beautiful. She was so beautiful I couldn't breathe.

"You want to be saved?" she said.

I was s.h.i.+vering. My leather jacket was over me like a blanket, but the floor was cold underneath me and I felt like there was nothing left of me but bones.

"Saved from what?" I said.

"From yourself."

"Dunno what you mean."

I tried to sit up. I felt so weak. She had to help me. She jangled when she moved. She was wearing all these bracelets and necklaces. She smelled like flowers and spice and dark forests.

"How did you get in here?" I asked her.

"I go where I please," she said.

She put her hand under the tap in the sink and turned it on. She held her dripping fingers over my face. I opened my mouth and the water ran over my lips and tongue and down my throat. It tasted sweet, made me feel like a kid again. Everything new and bright.

"You want to be saved?" she asked again.

I shrugged. "I dunno. Are you one of those Jesus nutjobs?"

She laughed. "I believe in spirits, mon pet.i.t. Do you believe in spirits?"

"Yeah," I said. "Whisky and vodka."

She didn't laugh this time. She reached out and touched a badge on my jacket. "Is this true?"

"What?"

" 'I'm A Mess.' Is it true, mon pet.i.t? Are you a mess?"

I looked into her big brown eyes. They held me. They were f.u.c.king hypnotic. It was like just by looking at me she was clearing all the s.h.i.+t out of my brain. I wanted to cry. I felt it all rus.h.i.+ng up through me like puke. I nodded, but I couldn't speak.

"Tell me," she said.

I still wanted to cry, but I swallowed it back down again. "I'm a junkie," I said. "I'm f.u.c.ked up. I don't wanna be, but I can't help it. People offer me stuff and I can't say no. But I'm gonna get straight. I am. I'm gonna get straight and pull this band back together. I'll be a better ba.s.sist than that art school c.u.n.t, Matlock. We'll conquer the f.u.c.king world. We're the best f.u.c.king band there's ever been."

I stopped. It sounded like someone else talking. After a minute I said, "My head is f.u.c.ked up. I don't know what's true and what isn't anymore. I don't know who I am."

"Who do you think you are?" she said. "Tell me everything. Let it all out."

"I'm Sid Vicious," I told her. "I'm a s.e.x Pistol. I'm a f.u.c.king star. I'm the ba.s.s player who can't play. I'm a joke. A pathetic junkie. I'm gonna live forever. I'm gonna be dead before I'm twenty-five. I f.u.c.king love Nancy. I can't live without her. She's f.u.c.ked up my life. She's the worst thing that ever happened to me. John's my best mate. He looks out for me. I hate him and he hates me. He's got no future. I want him to f.u.c.k off. I love him. I don't wanna lose him. Everything's falling apart. Everything's turning to s.h.i.+t. We're gonna rule the f.u.c.king world. We're gonna be heroes. We're gonna destroy America. Malcolm's a f.u.c.king genius. Malcolm's a c.u.n.t who doesn't care about us. I'm gonna be a legend. I'm gonna be forgotten."

I couldn't stop. It was like cutting my arm and watching the blood spurt. I put a hand over my mouth to stop it pouring out of me. What I was saying was all true and all lies. It was everything and nothing, the good and the bad, the dream and the nightmare. They were different, but they were the same. It was all happening together, all at once, and I was stuck in the middle.

"You are at the crossroads, mon pet.i.t," the girl said.

"The crossroads, yeah," I said.

"Which way do you go from here?"

"I dunno."

She was staring at me, like she could see the thoughts fighting in my head. What was I? The ba.s.sist in the best f.u.c.king band in the world? Or a walking f.u.c.king cliche, press fodder, Malcolm's f.u.c.king puppet? If I cleaned myself up, got myself together, we could be f.u.c.king huge, we could go down in f.u.c.king history as the band that changed music forever. But did I really want that? Did I wanna be a legend? Did I wanna be Elvis Presley twenty years from now, fat and ugly and useless, dying of a heart attack on a f.u.c.king toilet? Did I wanna be a dinosaur, like Led Zep and Pink Floyd and all that hippie s.h.i.+t? Did I wanna be a f.u.c.king rock star?

f.u.c.k that. f.u.c.k it all. I'd never be f.u.c.king establishment. But I'd find a way. My way.

The girl was still staring. Her eyes were glittering. At that moment she could've been an angel or a demon.

"It is your decision," she said.

"Is it?"

"Of course. If you want it to be."

"Can you help me?" I asked her.

Instead of answering, she stood up and held out her hand. "Come with me."

"Where we going?"

"To get you what you need."

I took her hand and she pulled me up like I weighed nothing.

"Noel and Glen are outside," I said. "They won't let me go."

She smiled. "Like I say, mon pet.i.t, I go where I please."

She pushed open the door and led me outside. Noel and Glen were sitting in the corridor playing cards. They didn't even look at us.

"Come," she said, and she gave me a little tug. I kept thinking that any second Noel would look up and say, "Where do you think you're going, Sid?"

But he didn't. Him and Glen just kept playing cards.

"What's wrong with 'em?" I whispered.

"They cannot see us," she said. "To them we are like the wind."

"Yeah?" I said. I walked right up and leaned over them. "Oi," I said.

They ignored me.

I laughed. It was like being a f.u.c.king superhero. The f.u.c.king invisible man. Noel had a can of beer on the floor by his chair. I picked it up and spat in it. He didn't respond.

"Oi, Noel," I said. "You're a f.u.c.king c.u.n.t."

He kept on playing cards.

I laughed again. And then suddenly I felt scared. I looked at the girl.

"Am I dead," I said. "Am I a ghost?"

She smiled. "No, mon pet.i.t."

"But no one can see me," I said. "I don't like it that no one can see me. I don't wanna be ignored."

The girl was still holding my hand. She leaned in and whispered in my ear, like it was a secret. "Trust me, mon pet.i.t."

I felt calm again. "Yeah," I said, "all right."

"Come," she said.

We went down the corridor and out through the stage door, into the main hall. There were still a lot of people around. Roadies, journalists, some f.u.c.king groupies and fans. I thought they'd turn round and look at us, but no one did. It was weird. It was good not being ha.s.sled, but I like it when people look at me. I like seeing their faces when they recognise me. Specially the birds.

There was no sign of Steve and Paul and Malcolm. I knew Steve and Paul were sick of all the driving, and earlier Steve had said he was gonna tell Malcolm that from now on he and Paul wanted to fly to the gigs like proper f.u.c.king pop stars, otherwise he'd f.u.c.k off home, so maybe that's what had happened.

John was still there, though. Still hunched over in the same place with his can of beer and his f.a.g. He was surrounded by c.u.n.ts hanging on his every f.u.c.king word, but as usual he looked bored and p.i.s.sed off. He always took the p.i.s.s out of me for being a "Daily Mirror punk," but he was just as bad. He was all right on the bus, then soon as he went out in public he turned into a moody, hostile c.u.n.t. Johnny Rotten, the punk rock star.

I was glad he was there, though. Glad he'd decided to stay with me and not f.u.c.k off with the others. Maybe it'd be easier with the others gone. Maybe we could be mates again. I hope so. Me and him, we're the real s.e.x Pistols. The others are just f.u.c.king w.a.n.kers.

Me and the bird walked right across the room and no one even looked at us. We walked out of the room and out of the door and into the night.

It was f.u.c.king cold. Raining. Downtown Baton Rouge was a dump. The whole of America was a f.u.c.king dump. That bird had been right.

"Where we going?" I said. "I'm not f.u.c.king walking nowhere."

"Didn't I tell you to trust me?" the girl said, and she tugged on my hand again. "Come."

I don't like being told what to do, but with this girl it was all right. I didn't even wanna f.u.c.k her. Well, I did, but it would've been wrong. It would've been like f.u.c.king an angel or something.

She had a pick-up truck parked round the side of the club. An angel with a knackered f.u.c.king s.h.i.+tmobile of a pick-up truck. Ha f.u.c.king ha.

She opened the pa.s.senger door and told me to get in. I did. I was cold, s.h.i.+vering. She started the engine. It sounded like an old man coughing his guts up. I put the heater on, but I was still cold. But at least I didn't feel sick anymore. At least I didn't have stomach cramps. At least I wasn't itching.

"What's that smell?" I said.

"Crawfish. My brother is a fisherman. He supplies restaurants here in town and out in the bayou."

There was a f.u.c.ked-up music system with a tape hanging out of it. I pushed the tape in and turned it on.

"What's this music?" I said.

"It's zydeco."

"Zydeco? What the f.u.c.k's that?"

"Roots music. You like it?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's good. It's like reggae, but faster."

"It's the music of the land," she said. "The music of the blood and the soul."

"Like the s.e.x Pistols," I said.

She smiled. "You think your s.e.x Pistols will play zydeco music?"

I grinned. "Yeah," I said. "Why f.u.c.king not?"

We drove out of town. It was just traffic lights and rain. The world looked like it was melting. The roads turned to dirt tracks. The truck bounced in and out of pot holes. Trees and swamps all round us. Shacks at the side of the road.

Then there weren't even any shacks. Just trees tangled together. Bent over and covered in slime. No stars, no moon, just darkness. I didn't know where we were and I didn't care.

The girl pulled over at the side of the track and turned off the engine. When the engine stopped the music did too. That's when I knew the sound of rusty violins weren't part of the music. They were insects screaming in the darkness.

She looked at me. Big brown eyes glowing.

"We're here," she said.

"Where?"

"At the crossroads."

"So where do we go now?"

"That's your decision, mon pet.i.t."

I got out of the truck. It had stopped raining. The trees dripped. The world still looked like it was melting. There was a smell of something old and rotting. I liked it here. It was dead, but it was away from the madness. Away from everything.

Something slithered in the darkness nearby and splashed into the water. I thought of the mayhem behind me. The blood and puke and s.h.i.+t and fights. The first sweet rush of smack through my veins and into my brain. I thought of all the people and the noise. The faces crowding me. Demon eyes and hungry mouths. Sucking my life away. Feeding on my corpse.

"I wanna stay here forever," I said.