Tangled Web (13 page)

So she wasn’t sure about seeing Johnny right
now. She was nervous, and the guilt she felt crippled her so that
she doubted she’d be able to string six words together to make a
sentence to him, even if it was an apology. But Heather made her
promise. She told Katie she’d never be able to get anyone else to
go to the concert on a moment’s notice. Katie laughed and told her
that wasn’t true, that they knew plenty of people who’d gladly skip
studying to go to a free rock concert.

“Dang it, Katie. Do I need to slap you in
the face? We got the backstage passes because he expects
you
to be there! If I were to show up with someone else (no matter how
cute said someone else was), I’d be kicked out on my fat butt. You
have
to come.”

And with that, Katie relented. She knew
Heather was right. When she was honest with herself, Katie knew
that she hesitated out of fear of having to face Johnny. But
another part of her wanted to see him, wanted to talk to him,
wanted to know everything was okay. Heather didn’t have to twist
her arm after all.

So, after they left Sonic, Heather drove to
the radio station and went in with Katie to claim the tickets. True
to his word, Johnny made sure there were backstage passes included.
There was nothing personal in there, though, and the only
information written on the outside of the note was what Katie had
provided to the radio station: One Katherine Logan would pick up
said tickets and bring her driver’s license to verify that she was
who she claimed to be.

But Heather wasn’t satisfied with just
getting the tickets. They went shopping at a mall. Katie hated
shopping, especially at malls, because they were always crowded and
expensive. But this one smelled like cinnamon popcorn, so she just
followed Heather around, enjoying the air. They went into a store
called My Gothic Closet, and Heather gasped, marching a few feet
into the store to a rack full of lingerie posing as clothing.
Heather chose a short-sleeved, sheer, lacy black top, then stared
Katie down. “Now you.”

Katie shook her head. “Uh-uh. I can’t afford
this stuff.”

“I’m buying, young lady.”

“Oh, Heather. I can’t let you do that.”

Heather ignored her and started rifling
through another rack. She held up one black blouse after another,
on occasion holding one up to Katie’s torso. Katie smiled,
continuing to shake her head. Finally, Heather pulled out a red and
black corset. It had thin black straps and the fabric was a rich
brocade. She held it up to Katie. Katie protested. “This is a
little extreme, don’t you think?”

Heather scoffed. “For a metal concert? Not
even.” Katie grimaced and waved her hands, as if pushing it away.
Heather tilted her head and tried to glare as if at a naughty
child. “At least try it on, for heaven’s sake.”

Katie sighed. “Fine.” She shouldn’t have.
The corset fit like a glove and hugged her curves. It wasn’t too
tight, but it accentuated what little she had. It made her breasts
look at least a size or two larger and made her waist look even
tinier. It made her look really good. She looked at herself in the
dressing room mirror. She’d thought she’d have to buy something to
wear with it, but it looked fine with her blue jeans. She walked
out of the room to see what Heather thought.

Heather was leafing through yet another
rack, holding another hanger with a heavy jacket in royal purple
and black. Katie cleared her throat to get her attention, but
Heather was humming to herself. “Heather,” Katie called.

Heather turned around and squealed. “Oh, my
God, Katie. You have
got
to get that! You look like a
freaking model!”

Katie shook her head. “No, I shouldn’t.” She
turned around, fishing the tag out from the back of the corset.
“What’s that say?”

Heather looked at it. “You don’t want to
know.” She walked around to see Katie’s face. “It’s my treat.”

“No way. I know this stuff costs a
fortune.”

In a sing-song, Heather said, “I’ve got
daddy’s credit card!”

“Then definitely not!” Katie laughed and
marched back in the dressing room. When she pulled it off, she
glanced at the tag. Wow. It was costly. Almost two hundred bucks.
Katie wasn’t the kind of person who made a habit of spending a lot
on clothes, especially a single top for a special occasion. But,
she reasoned with herself, she was going to be seeing Johnny for
the first time in almost a year. He was worth dropping a little
extra cash on. Besides, she wasn’t spending too much money on
school, what with her fellowship and all. Needless to say, by the
time she rejoined Heather, she’d already decided to do it. Heather
tried to pay for it herself, but Katie wouldn’t let her.

When they got to their apartment, Heather
made Katie promise to “do a little extra” with her makeup and hair.
“No ponytails and no light ‘I-am-a-grad-student’ makeup. If this
guy means that much to you, then prove it. Make your hair look
nice, and wear some extra makeup. It’ll be nighttime, and there
will be bright lights everywhere. You don’t want to look all washed
out and pasty.” Katie was grateful right now that Heather was her
roommate and friend. She knew she wouldn’t be seeing Johnny tonight
if not for that girl. She’d have to do something nice for her
later.

“Front row seats, my fat butt!” Heather
exclaimed as she and Katie were jostled in the mosh pit. Still,
they were at the foot of the stage, and Katie suspected it was
because she was short and cute. Most of the guys in the pit, for
the opportunity of touching the small of Katie’s back as they
guided them forward, helped the two women closer to the stage. In
fact, the last guy to help them to their current spot kept trying
to start up a conversation with Katie. Poor guy--he had no idea his
competition. But Heather didn’t allow much to happen, because she
kept talking to Katie.

Before the show got started, Katie looked
around amphitheatre, drinking in the lights, sounds, and the faint
smell of pot smoke in the air. It had been a few years since she’d
been to a concert. The last time, in fact, was with Johnny, and it
was about a year before his self-induced rehab in her apartment.
They’d made the drive to Denver to see Slipknot in concert.
Afterward, Johnny said he’d never attend a concert again. Slipknot
was great, but fans who recognized Johnny in the mosh pit kept
hounding him. Johnny didn’t mind the attention, but he thought it
was rude and inconsiderate to the band onstage, and he was also
frustrated that he couldn’t enjoy the show. On the street, Johnny
had no problems blending in with a crowd, but in an auditorium of
metal fans, he couldn’t stand a chance. So, for the first time in
over a decade, Katie was attending a concert without Johnny.

The first act--Bitch Slap--got Heather and
Katie in the rock concert mood. Katie had been nervous, ready to
chew not just her fingernails but her entire fingers off, but
listening to Bitch Slap’s raw hardcore sounds helped her relax.
Being in the pit, though, Heather and Katie couldn’t relax for
long. They got pulled into motion--group head banging, dancing,
getting up close and crowded with dozens of sweaty, noisy fans.
Both women let themselves get swept away in the fun and movement,
feeling the music inside them. Katie was glad that Heather had been
thinking straight the entire afternoon. She’d stopped by a
drugstore on the way to the concert and purchased a couple of cheap
foam earplugs and gave Katie a pair to tuck in her jeans pockets.
“Just in case it gets too intense,” she’d said.

Of course it did. They were as close to the
amps as any fan could get, and it was loud. It was so loud, they
could feel it in their chest, their bones, their hearts. So when
the music started blasting, Katie put the earplugs in and smiled,
because she could still hear the band perfectly. Boy, did she owe
Heather big.

The women enjoyed the first band--a
relatively new one on the rock scene, but from what they saw here,
these guys would be around for a long time. They were good on the
radio, but they were on fire onstage. So by the time Shock
Treatment had their opportunity onstage as the second act, both
women were glistening with a fine film of perspiration, their black
eyeliner slightly smudged, several small hairs out of place--a
vision for any male metalhead.

They reclaimed their places at the foot of
the stage as Shock Treatment began an insistent rhythm. The band
began playing a song that was not on their new album, so Katie
wondered if Johnny had written too much to be contained in a CD or
if he was writing constantly, and this song would be on their next
effort. Katie could hear the definite sounds of Johnny’s style, but
it was different from anything else she’d ever heard from him. It
did have a definite “maturity,” for lack of a better word, and
Katie knew Johnny had gotten everything in this new band that he’d
wanted.

And there he was, almost close enough to
touch. The women were slightly off center of the stage to the left,
and that’s where Johnny was standing, shredding his guitar. Katie
heard behind her that he had his fans there. Loyal J. C. Gibson
fans didn’t care that he had a new band, as long as they could hear
him play his Les Paul like no one else could. She looked over and
up at him. He was a sight to behold: Black combat boots, black
vinyl pants, a red wife beater that said, “If it’s too LOUD...” in
white lettering, little white thunderbolts animated around it, and
Katie was pretty sure she saw a new tattoo in the jungle already
engraved on his left arm. She couldn’t make it out, though. Johnny
was focusing on his guitar but then looked up at the fans. He stuck
out his tongue (reminiscent of Gene Simmons), smiling, his nose
crinkled, a message to his fans, telling them he was in his
element, having fun, and was hoping they were too.

Katie wondered if he could make out people’s
faces in the audience from where he was. She knew from her limited
times onstage (in a high school play and at awards assemblies) that
sometimes the lights were so bright that it was difficult to see
anything but the insistent white orbs of light beating down on
them. Instead of worrying about Johnny, she tried to treat this
night like any other concert, focusing on the singer, watching the
other band members play, but she was drawn back to Johnny time and
time again and finally gave up looking at anything else. Johnny was
the guy she came to see, so she was just going to watch him.

Wow. She hadn’t been to a concert featuring
J. C. Gibson in a long time, so long, in fact, that she was having
a hard time remembering when it had been. She’d never been to a
Scathing Vengeance concert, had never had the chance, so it had to
be at least five years ago. She’d forgotten what an entertainer
Johnny was. He had been right--there was no need for him to be the
frontman. He belonged right where he was--at his axe and only his
axe, and also behind the scenes, shaping the entire sound and feel
of Shock Treatment. And she’d forgotten just how impressive he was
to watch. He had a charisma onstage. He was always charming in
person, but onstage he was a god. Katie stood still and held her
breath during his guitar solo--he played almost the entire thing in
a series of hammer ons and pull offs, his right hand rarely
touching the strings. He’d tried once to teach Katie some chords,
and while she was able to do some strumming, she never had the
strength--nor the patience--to play without a pick. Johnny made
those sorts of maneuvers look easier than they really were. He made
playing the guitar look as simple as walking across a room. And for
Johnny it really was that easy.

Next, the band played the first single off
the CD, a hard and heavy song called “Battlefield.” Katie wasn’t
entirely sure, but it sounded like Johnny’s take on the media.
She’d have to ask him sometime if her interpretation was correct or
way off. Katie was continually impressed by the singer; his name,
if she remembered correctly, was Kiefer Steele (Katie figured his
name was a stage name too--it just sounded too tailored to her).
His mixed voice on the CD didn’t do him justice--yes, on the CD his
voice was beautiful, smooth, melodic, and fully metallic as fans
would expect, but he had a husky quality onstage that wasn’t
captured on disc. And, as at other concerts, Johnny always varied
the way his songs sounded when he played onstage. He told Katie
once, “If fans want to hear it like it sounds on the CD, why the
fuck do I even have to be there?” She couldn’t argue with that.

As the fans screamed at the end of their new
favorite song, Johnny threw out his two-fingered salute, signaling
to his fans that he got the message. Kiefer said, “Thank you,
Colorado! We love you!” to which the fans began a new wave of
screams and howls, and then the band started a new song.

Another new one, this one slower and more
melodic with a lot of minor, haunting chords. Katie grew more and
more impressed with Johnny and his new band as the evening wore on,
especially hearing the music that hadn’t been released yet. Because
it was slower, she was able to hear and understand more of the
words with this song than the first one. The frontman sang in a
lower key for this song than with the previous one, and Katie
thought she heard him sing, “Off with the gauntlet, I strip myself
bare / Drop the chain mail; you don’t seem to care. / You stab my
heart; your dagger goes deep. / So I lock my soul away in the
keep.” Katie smiled, enjoying the Medieval (if corny) references,
trying to figure out what the song was ultimately about. At first,
she was put in the mind of the facetious Tenacious D, but the song
grew serious. When she heard the chorus, she thought she might have
a good idea of what the song was alluding to: “You were always my
friend, so why did you hurt me? / One fateful night that should
have been everything. / You threw it away, and it’s all over now. /
Never thought you would harm me, didn’t think you knew how. / But
the wounds, they go deep…deep...deep.” Ouch. Katie had no proof,
but those words felt like they were directed at her, reminding her
of the “deep, deep, deep” hurt she put on Johnny. She looked over
at Heather, hoping to get confirmation, but Heather’s eyes were
pasted on the lead singer. Katie couldn’t have gotten Heather’s
attention if she’d been semaphoring onstage. She sighed, then
allowed her eyes to slowly drift up to Johnny in the other
direction. Johnny’s gaze was already on her, for the first time
that night that Katie had noticed, and when Katie’s eyes locked
onto his, he smiled and winked, then strode to center stage to lay
down a sorrowful guitar solo for his insatiable, screaming
fans.