Chapter Text
V, typing: I first met Kerry a couple of weeks ago; we’d gone round to his villa cuz Johnny...
“What you doin’?”
“Oh hey Johnny. I’m writing in my diary, not had time for weeks what with... y’know...everything. So I’m tryin’ to catch up”
“What’s that gonk Kerry done that’s so important that you need to write about it?”
“Nothin’, it’s just... once you’re out of my head I don’t know how much of all this I’m going to remember, so I’m writing down stuff I don’t want to forget.”
“So...you been talkin’ about me in there?”
“I just told you asswipe, this is stuff I want to remember”
“Ooh, harsh. I can take a hint I’ll leave you to it.”
“Mhm.”
...where was I? Oh yeah...
...cuz Johnny was worried about him. He’d read some goss in the screamsheets about depression and suicide attempts and wanted to buck him up...
“I mean that was one of the reasons, yeah. Just seeing him again, jamming, tequila shots...”
“Johnny Silverhand not totally altruistic, quick call the media. Now fuck off and let me write.”
“...”
...The security bots were easy enough to bypass and the fact that he’d left his door unlocked helped, we get inside and poke around. The place is messy, like hella messy, but he has some preem axes and some other shit that Johnny was pretty pissy about – not the car though, he loved the car.
I couldn’t see how this was going to work, but Johnny had a plan so I handed over... the next thing I know is I feel like shit and Kerry’s looking at me with a kind of disappointed, confused and drunk expression on his face.
“...”
“Here we go... go on what do you need to get off your chest?”
“That’s just what Kerry’s face looks like. They’re his three main emotions, well them and high as fuck.”
“Johnny, it’s late, I’m tired, I want to get this done. FUCK OFF!”
“...”
...I’d kinda heard something about talk of a Samurai revival, but was too deep to make much sense of it. Kerry was super pumped about the idea though, gave me Nancy’s number, he’d take care of things at his end and I’d meet with Nancy and we’d be back in touch when it was in the bag.
Kerry seemed like a good guy, a bit sad maybe, but with an energy like bottled lightning. I was looking forward to the gig, it would be good to see him again.
Finding Nancy in the first place was more complicated than we thought it would be, but getting her on board was no problem; as soon as she knew Kerry was in she was already planning where, when and what to wear. The rest of the band not so much...
“So, you’re not going to write down what went down at the Totentantz?... That shit was off the charts! You machine gunned one guy’s legs clean off!
“I don’t need to write that shit down. I do it every day....Am I mistaken or is there a hint of respect there?”
“Maybe. Don’t get used to it though.”
“For fuck’s sake go to sleep Johnny, let me get on.”
“Fine...”
Out of the blue, Kerry calls me to meet at Denny’s place....
“.......Johnny?”
“.........Are you awake?”
(typing) Johnny is a corpo rat with a flat ass and zero talent...
“Hm” (backspace)
the way he says “Hey V” in that deep, gravelly tone of his stirs up something I’d not felt for a long time. When I asked him how we’d explain my (Johnny’s) presence at the concert, he casually said, “We’ll just tell ‘em that you’re my latest input.” I couldn’t deny the thrill I felt at that.
I was at Denny’s villa within the hour, Denny and Henry had had what you could call a fight and there was no way of getting them both to join the reformed Samurai. Since Henry seemed like a dick it was Denny that would be joining us ... after she’d sorted out her swimming pool problem. Kerry didn’t want to get involved, didn’t want to choose between his two old friends, so it’s me that Henry is mad at I guess – don’t really know the guy so it’s no biggy.
Couple of days later, Nancy calls, the gig was on for that night. I was nervous as all hell, but as Johnny was quick to remind me, I wouldn’t actually be there. Didn’t stop the butterflies though. Johnny wasn’t having any of my fashion choices so I let him pick out some leather pants and a Samurai vest top, we were ready to go.
I pulled the Apollo up outside the Red Dirt at around 9 and walked in trying not to look like a merc playing the rock star, but Nancy was quick to make me feel at home. I was disappointed that Kerry hadn’t arrived yet, but unless I took a ‘Learn to play guitar like Johnny Silverhand in just 5 minutes’ course it was time to hand over the keys...
“....”
“Go on...”
“Holy fuck that gig was preem, just like the old days. Kerry absolutely rocked it – singing was a bit rough but the guitar work was even better than I remember. Don’t know why he chose that song though, ‘Never Fade Away’ always played better with the crowds.”
“You just can’t bring yourself to give the guy a compliment can you?”
“I give credit where it’s due, the problem is it’s due rarely and not worth shit anyway.”
“Gotta admit, it was a great gig. Saw a recording of it after that a friend of Denny’s took, really weird to see myself doing that stuff and not remembering anything about it.”
“Kinda like being drunk.”
“Yeah, something like that. Go back to sleep Johnny, I’m nearly done.”
I come round sat at the bar with Kerry, not a bad place to wake up. We talk like old friends which is nice – I think he finds it difficult to separate me and Johnny still sometimes. He seems detached, distracted maybe and I’m disappointed he doesn’t stick around a bit longer; he does however give me his gun. It seems like it’s a hugely symbolic gesture to him, maybe as it’s the gun he nearly blew my (Johnny’s) head off with when we broke into his house, maybe it’s something more.
He said he’d be in touch, but I wasn’t so sure, what would multi-millionaire rockerboy Kerry Eurodyne want with a merc from the streets of Heywood? But true to his word, a couple of days later he called with a paid gig for me. Preem! There’s always rent to pay and being able to see him again wouldn’t hurt either.
It was a pretty standard gig, blow some stuff up, and intimidate some gonks, but Kerry was pumped. Don’t really understand the music biz, but he seemed to think he’d got one over on someone and this made him happy, so I was happy too. Good job all round. After, he bought me coffee at some place he’d been going to forever. Coffee’s not really my thing so I just ordered what he ordered – it still isn’t my thing. He made another quick exit after what seemed like a meaningful talk, I missed him when he was gone.
“.......Johnny, you there? .....”
When I got back to my apartment that morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. How the melancholic sadness in his (beautiful, blue) eyes had transformed over the last few days into a determined electricity. How his stage presence (and gorgeous ass) sent both the guys and the women crazy at the gig. How – and I could have been imagining this – he seemed to be looking at me with a fondness that was different to the half pained/ half-playful way he looked at Johnny. I drifted off to sleep thinking about that ass, the hand on my cock too tired to finish what it had started.
The next day I checked my phone every hour or so like some gonko emo teen, but apart from about a dozen messages from Regina about cars and gigs and shit – God that woman never leaves me alone - there was nothing. I did a couple of bits for the Padre, fixed up the bike, passed out for a few hours, came round had a shower and an early night.
“Christ V, why the mundane, trivial, domestic shit?”
“Y’know what, you’re right.” (backspace)
Kerry calls again “Hey V,..”
Whatever it is I’m already gonna be there
He goes off for a bit about this ‘US Cracks’ girly group from Japan ripping him off, says he wants a bit more intimidation work from me. Nothin’ easier, I tell him I’m in.
We meet that night outside Riot, he’s trying to be inconspicuous in shades and a baseball cap – standard rockerboy in disguise look, fooling nobody. I klep a couple of tickets from some fanboys outside and we sweep in, blag our way backstage and confront the girls....
“I don’t get why he didn’t just say, ”I’m Kerry Eurodyne, let me the fuck in.”
“Dunno, maybe he would’ve if we couldn’t’ve figured another way in.”
...and confront the girls. Kerry was really pissed, waving his gun around so erratically I was scared he’d blow his foot off or some shit. The girls were pretty scared, but mostly confused. I kinda felt for them. It turns out that the label had lied to them as well as screwing Kerry over, so I couldn’t in all conscience fuck them over too. Fortunately Kerry calmed down enough to agree, and the girls won him over with their enthusiasm for his music (or something). I was once more dismissed from his life, this time to make room for his adoring public, a first hint that Kerry may well be just as egotistical as J....
“Don’t go there V!”
“What?....”
.....Johnny told me he was.
“Oh, ok. Look, this diary biz is boring as shit. I’m checking out.”
“kay, night Johnny.”
So, yesterday morning, Kerry rang on the holo. He sounded different, happy, excited, playful. There was a real spark about him, he was glowing...and beautiful. His eyes crinkled as he grinned and told me to meet him at Dark Matter later in the evening.
I spent the day sorting Regina’s psycho problems in Pacifica and biked it home along a coastal path, thinking about how good it would be to have Kerry on the back, hands around my waist, up my shirt, head on my shoulder, whispering in my ear, it’s a miracle I made it back in one piece.
I wasn’t sure exactly what it was that I’d been invited to, what to dress for. Dark Matter is kinda nearer the top end than the bottom, so I put a bit of effort into choosing a shirt and pants before heading over to Japantown. The surly bouncer looked surprised but stepped aside when I said I was a friend of Kerry’s, in the lift I reflected on how surprised I was to be able to say it. The venue was packed, hundreds of people waiting expectantly for what was about to happen, what did happen was unexpected to say the least.
First some gonk film comes on with a pop/rock fusion soundtrack and Kerry and the US Cracks girls as cartoon characters. Then the curtain lifted and there they were – Kerry Eurodyne and US Cracks, who’d’ve thunk it? I watched Kerry in his rockerboy mode, answering questions from the media, talking to fans, posing with the girls. Is this what I’d been invited to, if so I was pleased that Kerry thought me a close enough friend to share this moment with, but as the flashes and screaming went on I could see him scanning the crowd, looking for something, or someone.
“V!” he shouts up to the upper floor, indicating that I should join him. My heart leaps into my chest, I think I stand a moment in disbelief, like a searchlight had suddenly been aimed at me, but then waste no time in making my way through the crowds to the man at the front of the stage.
As I make my way down, a fan shouts to him, “You’re awesome.”, “No you’re awesome.” he replies to much screaming and applause. Sweet.
I reach the front and Kerry’s arm drapes around my neck and he pulls me to him. He smells amazing, patchouli and sweat. He looks even better, being a rock god clearly agrees with him, his golden skin glows in the lights and his ink seems to move and writhe with the tight muscles and sinews beneath. I’m asked questions and burble incoherent answers, just hoping not to show myself – or Kerry - up. He leads me away from the lights, possibly seeing that I’m uncomfortable there, introduces me to some guy and sweeps me into the lift.
Everything from this moment on is a bit hazy, good hazy though, not terrorist rockerboy taking over your brain type hazy. I know he takes his shades off at some point and the rockerboy is gone, replaced with a vulnerable, complex man confessing thoughts and feelings that you would only tell to a trusted friend. I know that something about what he did and said last night made me feel special, worthy of being the friend of rock God superstar Kerry Eurodyne. I know that we kissed, that he wanted it to last forever, that I’m falling for him too fast and too heavy....
“......V.......”
“Yeah?”
“Who says I’ve got a flat ass?”