CHAPTER THIRTEEN

1987 / 1988

The Christmas of 1987 turned out to be a bit of a disaster. We had an album and a single sitting at the number one spot on both sides of the Atlantic, and in seven other countries around the world.

Maca and I celebrated all night on Christmas Eve, and I turned up at my mum’s in a taxi, ten minutes after dinner was served. I was high as a kite, stinking of booze and perfume, and my family were far from impressed.

Any attempts at talking to George were blown out the window when she heard me telling Bailey about mine and Maca’s exploits from the night before.

My parents had moved from the house we were raised in and were now living in a beautiful barn conversion. My dad had added a soundproofed room out to the side of the property and I’d headed in there with Bails for a sneaky joint after our almost silent dinner. He had recently split up with Deb, his long term bitch of a girlfriend, and was living back at home with Mum and Dad.

The conversation started off innocently enough, with me asking Bailey how he was handling living back at home with the ‘rents at twenty-six.’

“It’s actually not as bad as you think. You know mum; clothes are washed, ironed, and hanging in my wardrobe a day after I leave them on my bathroom floor. Cooked breakfast ready for when I get up and my dinner’s waiting on the table every night when I get home from work. I’ve put on about five pounds since I’ve been here.” He rubbed his belly as he talked.

I was lying with my back pushed into a bean bag on the floor, my legs stretched out in front of me, crossed at the ankles. My back was to the door as I faced Bailey, who was lying up on the old leather chesterfield that had been in our family forever.

“But what about when you bring a bird back? What’s the ol’ dear have to say about that?” I asked him.

“Yeah, not gone there yet. It’s either been back to their place, or a quickie in the car. Why did ya think I drive a Land Rover?” He asked with a wink.

“Fuck that. I ain’t had a shag in a car since I was about sixteen.”

“Well, we’ve not all been lucky enough to have tits and arse handed to us on a plate like you have, Mr. Rock God,” he said with a smile.

I shrug my shoulders and laugh as I think about last night.

“Yeah, it’s fucked sometimes, mate. I’ll tell ya, women just don’t give a shit when you’re famous. They’re up for anything.”

“Like what?” He asked, passing me back the joint.

“Fucking hell, where do I start? We went to a club last night and got to chatting with these girls. Bought them a few drinks and next thing I know, they’re dragging me and Maca off to the toilets. One had her skirt up and was bending over the sink with her arse in the air as soon as we got in there. I didn’t even bother to take her knickers off, just pulled them to one side and fucked her from behind.”

“Hope you wrapped it up first?”

“Always, man, always.” I reassured him.

“Anyway, this leaves Maca with three other girls all over him. One drops to her knees and starts sucking him off while he sticks his fingers inside the other two...” I trailed off as Bailey looked wide-eyed over my shoulder.

My skin prickled as I turned my head. I already knew what I’d find.

Georgia was standing with the door held ajar. Her eyes were wide, her moth opened and closed, as if she was going to say something.

“George...” I called to her but before I could say anymore, she was gone.

“Fuck, fuck!” I repeat to anyone that wants to listen.

“I don’t think she heard what you were saying.” Bails tried to reassure me.

“Then why the fuck did she run away?” I questioned.

“Coz that’s what she does, Marls. She’s got a screw loose. Trying to get a word out of her these days is fucking impossible. She’s changed so much from how she used to be. It’s fucking heartbreaking to watch, mate, I’ll tell ya.”

I stood up and paced, unsure of what to do.

“Leave her, mate. She won’t talk to you anyway. She barely talks to me and I’m not in her bad books.”

I heard the sound of a car start up and when I looked out the door, Georgia was heading up the drive in the little car Maca had bought for her.

I watched her go as Jimmie and Lennon walked across the gravel drive in my direction.

“She okay?” I asked them.

“Yeah, she just wanted to get home to her own little place. I think Ash is coming over tonight.” Jimmie said.

“Ash? She seeing someone?”

“Noooo.” Jimmie replied, sounding like I’d just asked the most ridiculous question ever.

“Ash, Ashley Morrison? We used to go to school with her.” Jimmie said this like I should remember her.

“Blonde hair, good looking girl?” She continued in a tone, suggesting that I should know who Ashley was.

“Well anyway, she went to school with me and George, then college with George, now she’s working at Posh Frocks for George. She’s like the manager or assistant manager, or something like that.”

“Well, that’s good then. If she’s got a mate coming over, that’s good.” My conscience eases somewhat.

“Yeah, she’s a good girl, Ash is. Comes from a rough family, but she’s got a heart of gold and always trying to get George to go out with her.” Jimmie tells me.

“She still not going out?”

Jimmie shakes her no. “We all try, Marls. I’m not really sure what more any of us can do. It’s just a case of waiting and letting her do things in her own time.” She shrugged her shoulders, probably feeling as helpless as we all did.

“Where did Maca end up going?” Len asked.

Once again, I had asked that Maca be allowed to come for dinner, but George had told Len to tell me that she still wasn’t ready to see him.

“He actually went to his dad’s.”

“Didn’t think he had a dad.” Bailey commented.

“Don’t be stupid, Bails. Everyone’s got a dad.” Jimmie tells him.

“They’ve just gotten back into contact with each other.” Len explained before I got a chance to.

“He’s actually an all right bloke. He’s been to our place a couple of times.” I told them.

“So now Maca’s made the big time and the money’s rolling in, his ol’ man has come crawling outta the wood work?” Bailey questions.

“No, Bails. Believe it or not, it wasn’t like that.” Jimmie chimed in. “His dad had no idea where his mum had fucked of to when Maca was a kid. As soon as she got wind he was close to tracking her down, she moved him on again. That’s why he went to so many different schools. In the end, she moved them from East London into Essex, and that’s how he ended up at our school.” Jimmie sat down on the sofa next to Bailey as she explained what Maca’s dad, Kenny, had told Lennon on the phone when he contacted the record label’s offices.

“Anyway, when his dad first realised Maca was his son, he was worried that Mac would just think he was after his money if he showed up unannounced. He left it a couple of months and then got in touch with the label and explained who he was. I spoke with him on the phone, then put him on to Len, who passed all of his details on to Sean and we left him to decide what he wanted to do.”  We were all silent for a few moments. My brothers and Jim probably doing the same as me, contemplating what they would’ve done in Maca’s shoes.

“What did Maca say?” Bailey asked.

“Pretty much what you did.” I told him. “Then they spoke on the phone a few times, met up at a West Ham game, and then went to see a band together. Things have just moved on from there.”

“His dad is where Maca gets his love of music from.” Lennon added.

“He plays guitar and piano, and apparently he’s not a bad singer either. He’s been in bands since he was a kid and still is now.” I said.

“Well, I’m glad things have worked out for him, but I still owe the little fucker a good hiding for breaking my sister’s heart.” Bailey stated.

“Honestly, Bails. He beats himself up daily for that fuck up. There’s no need for you to add to that boys pain.” Len informs him.

“So, apart from all the different birds he shags, is he seeing anyone?”

“Well, there’s Carla.” Jimmie’s head swung around to face me, her eyes widened and her nostrils flaring.

Fuck, that girl misses nothing, and yet she had no idea about this, until I opened my big fat gob.

Lennon shook his head as subtly as he could.

“Carla? The sound engineer bird?” Jimmie questioned.

“Yeah. I don’t know exactly what he’s got going on with her. I mean, he never talks about her and he’s never brought her back to our place, but I know he’s seen her a few times. At least, I think he has.” I stuttered and stumbled over my words.

“Wow. I’d never have picked her as his type. I actually thought she was into girls.” Jim said.

“Perhaps her being so different to George is the appeal.” Len added.

“Did you know?” Jim narrowed her eyes on Len.

“I thought the same thing.” I tried to deflect Jim’s question.

“Lennon, did you know?” She wasn’t giving up.

“I had my suspicions,” he states matter of factly. “I noticed there was a bit of flirting going on when the boys were recording the last album and warned him to stay away until the business side of things was done.” He shrugged his shoulders. “What they got up to once the album was finished, I have no idea. It’s got fuck all to do with me anyway.”

“So how many times has he seen her?” She was like a dog with a fucking bone and she wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

“I don’t know, Jim. He doesn’t discuss her and I don’t ask. I think it’s just a convenience thing for him. Ya know, sometimes going home with a complete stranger every night gets a bit old. Sometimes, it might be nice to wake up to a familiar face in your bed.” I explained to her, giving away more about how I was feeling than what Maca might be feeling.

“How the fuck would you know?” Len asked. “When was the last time you shagged a bird more than once?”

I had to think about that one for a few seconds.

“San Diego, last year. When Maca had his little meltdown.”

“There were five other women involved, that hardly counts,” Jimmie argues.

“Five other women?” Bailey almost shrieked from the sofa next to Jim. “You had a sixsome with five birds?”

“Nooo.” Now it’s my turn to use the ‘don’t be ridiculous’ tone. “Me and Maca shared them, so technically it was sevensome if you count me and him.”

“Fuck me. I’ve gotta get out of this car dealership and night club running game and become a rock star.” Bailey said with a huff.

“Believe me, dude, it’s really not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Despite Georgia not being there, I enjoyed my Christmas night with my family. It felt like years since I’d spent time with both of my brothers, just chilling and chatting shit. It just reinforced my determination to set things right with George, no matter how difficult she made it for me to get through to her.

Nineteen eighty-seven rolled into nineteen eighty-eight. We toured with the new album for a large part of the year. As with every tour we’d been on, there were parties and there were women, but Maca rarely got involved. He got up on stage, gave the crowds the Maca they expected, but as soon as the show was done, he headed back to his room and when we were touring England, some nights he had Milo drive him all the way back home.

There were a couple of nights when he would show his face at an after-party for five minutes, but generally, because Billy and Tom never hung around, I was there alone.

And it was getting old.

I felt like something was missing from my life, but I had no idea what it was. I had the job of my dreams, more money than I could spend in twelve lifetimes, a family that loved me, and women at my beck and call, but something was off and I hated how empty I felt inside.

A large part of what we do for a living is showmanship. The Carnage that fans see on stage or in front of the cameras is not who me, Maca, Billy, and Tom are as individuals, or even when we’re together out of the public eye. I was constantly putting on the persona of Marley Layton; womanising, hard drinking, drug taking lead guitarist of Carnage, was wearing me out, and beginning to depress the fuck out of me.

I craved normalcy. I appreciated more than ever my family, and the fact my mum would still bollock me for leaving my cup on the side. That my dad still questioned how I spent my money, and that my brothers were there giving me shit because I was the youngest out of the three of us and that just meant they could.

We had been living in the spotlight for around four years now and I was looking forward to next year, when we had been promised a break—no tours, no albums, just a few commercials to make and interviews to carry out.

We had Jimmie and Lens wedding to look forward to and time to spend with my family. I didn’t know how I was gonna do it, but I knew I had to fix things with Georgia. I know that I’ve said this repeatedly, but now with the wedding looming, I knew it had to be faced. I’m Marley Layton, Rock God for fuck’s sake. Georgia’s my skinny little sister, so what was the problem?

––––––––

The tour combined with television appearances, the filming of commercials and magazine shoots, meant that it was August before we were back in England with time on our hands.

Len and Jimmie had bought their first house earlier in the year, but because of our schedule, Maca and I had yet to see it, so a few days after arriving home we were at Len’s door with a couple of bottles of ‘Rare Breed’ and a bottle of Bollinger to celebrate their purchase.

They had decided to remain in the Brentwood area and were fairly close to my parent’s and just up the road from where my sister lived, above her shop.

“Jimmie not home?” I questioned as I put the bottles down on the open plan kitchens work top.

Len shot me a look I didn’t quite understand before saying, “No, she’s out with George, actually.”

Maca turns around from where he was standing and admiring the view of the grounds from the back patio doors.

“Georgia’s gone out?” I asked, “or d’ya mean that Jim’s just gone to G’s for a drink?”

“No, G’s actually going out with Jim and Ash, the girl that works at the shop for her.”

He looked from me to Maca, who I was already studying to try and gauge his reaction.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s been three and a half years. I can’t fucking stop her from going out.” Maca stated.

“Pour him a drink,” I told Len. “Your house is cool, by the way. I love it—well done.”

“Thanks. All Jimmie’s hard work.” He said with a smile. My brother had it so fucking bad for that girl. As much as I one day hoped to find what they had, I sometimes looked at Maca and thought, ‘No thank you, very fucking much.’ I didn’t ever want a woman to have the ability to leave me in the state my sister had left him in for the past three and a half years. I was sure when, or if it ever happened, it would be out of my control, but at that moment, I most certainly wasn’t looking for anything beyond a one night stand.

Len poured us each a bourbon and we went and sat outside to enjoy the sunny summer’s evening.

“What’s up, Len? You look like you’ve got something on your mind, mate?” Maca asked.

My skin prickled when I looked at Len. Maca could read his tells as well as I could. He’d been as close as a brother to the pair of us for almost ten years, and he’d gotten it spot on that night. Len definitely had something bothering him.

“The four-city tour you’re supposed to be doing in the States next year—” Len started.

“The one we asked you to get us out of.” I interrupted. I wasn’t asking him, just reminding him in case he’d forgotten that the label had promised us a year off from touring and recording.

“Yes, fuck face, I’m aware that you did. Just hold your horses and listen to what I’m about to say, would ya?” I flipped Len my middle finger as he spoke. “The plan by the label was to bill this as a double headlining tour, featuring you and Kombat Rock.”

“No way.”

“No fucking way,” Maca and I say over each other.

“Calm the fuck down, the pair of ya. Just listen to what I’m saying. It’s like dealing with four-year-olds sometimes with you two, I swear.”

Len got up and went back inside, leaving us sitting there.

“Shit! I thought he was gonna tell me G was getting married or having a baby or something. I thought I was gonna throw up there for a minute.” Maca said, raking his hand through his hair as he spoke.

I was shocked by what he’d just admitted to me, especially after being so closed off for this past year. All the colour had drained from his face and he had sweat beading on his newly shaved top lip.

“You really worry about shit like that?” I asked him.

“Only every fucking day. Sometimes all day.” I finished my drink, not really knowing what to say.

Len returned, carrying the bottle of Wild Turkey, a bottle of coke, and an ice bucket. He sat them all down on the table. “You might need refills by the time I finish telling you what Jim found out this week,” he said, topping up our drinks.

“Spit it out then, Len, you’re killing us here.” I nagged.

“Marley, just shut the fuck up and listen before I slap ya,” he snapped.

“Just you try it, motherfucker. I’m not twelve anymore.”

“Dudes, where’s the love? We’re all brothers here, so let’s play nice.” Maca interrupted. “Len, get the fuck on with it, will ya? And you, shut it.”

“Kombat Rock are done—washed up old junkies that nobody wants to listen to anymore. The label’s plan was to get them supporting you on this four-city tour of the US you’re supposed to be doing.” Len looked at me as he emphasised the word ‘supposed.’

“That would hopefully bring them the publicity that they need to relaunch their careers. Apparently, Rocco is fresh out of rehab and has been writing again. Anyway, the idea was put to him and he’s thrown a hissy fit, saying that he wants double headlining act for KR, alongside Carnage. Obviously, I’ve said no way is that happening, and used it as my excuse to pull you from the tour.” He looked at me again, driving his statement home.

“I’m gonna knock you the fuck out you keep on.” I told him.

“Please, little brother, we all know that’ll never happen.”

“Get on with it.” Maca jumped in, wanting to hear the rest.

“Anyway, Jim’s been on the phone with Alix from the KR’s management team all week and she’s telling Jim that no one likes Rocco, and she can’t believe the label would even consider putting them alongside Carnage after what he did to you two boys.”

Maca and I turned and looked at each other at the exact same moment. We shrugged and turned back to Len.

“He set you up, boys, the whole thing with Haley White. He deliberately gave you the gear to get you off your nuts, plotted with her to get you back to your room, and for her to cry rape. The fact that you allowed him in the room with a camera was just an added bonus for him.”

What the fuck?

My mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out as I looked at Maca.

“Well, we always knew it was his photos that ended up in the papers.” Maca said before draining his glass.

“But why the rape allegations? What was that all about?” I asked.

“He thought it’d get you kicked off the tour.” Len admitted.

“Fucker,” Maca said through gritted teeth.

Len tops up our glasses again.

“Is there no way we can use this to bring charges against the pair of them?” I was curious.

“No. No fucking way am I having all of that dragged through the courts.” Maca jumped in, guns blazing.

“What they did...” He took a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself. “That pair of cunts ruined mine and your sister’s lives. I’ll find a way to make them pay, but it won’t be done publicly. There’s no way I’m having all the details of what went on that day dragged through the courts and made public. G’s been through enough—I’ve been through enough. No more. No fucking more.”

I throw myself back in my chair like a sulky child, but frustration was my driving force, not sulkiness.

“I mean it, Marls. We’ll get that fucker, but not in a way that’s gonna hurt Georgia.” Maca reiterated to me.

“Yes, Mac, I fucking heard you the first time.”

“We’ll get him. Don’t you worry, boys. We’ll find a way and we’ll get him.” Len reassured us. “I’ll call in every favour that I can and he won’t see it coming.”

Not long after that, we left, leaving Len with a video of an advert we’d just filmed in Japan for an energy drink. We headed home, and I was feeling a little less pissed off, thanks to the bottle and half of bourbon we’d consumed.

Within the month, Kombat Rock had been dropped by our label. A plagiarism charge had been brought against them for some song they’d claimed to have written in the early eighties and Rocco Taylor’s Hollywood mansion had been raided, where an ‘undisclosed’ quantity of class A drugs had been discovered.

Did I mention that I loved my big brother Lennon?