Categories > Celebrities > Metallica > Ripe

Part 2

by Cerilla 0 reviews

Category: Metallica - Rating: PG - Genres:  - Published: 2012-11-18 - Updated: 2012-11-19 - 1606 words - Complete

It was Friday afternoon when I decided to call Kirk. Please, be at home, be free and happy to hear me. I prayed. Pathetic, I know, but what can I say. Someone picked up, and I was sure I had already heard the voice that answered before, but I couldn’t clearly recognize it.
“Uh, hello, this is April, can I talk to Kirk?”
“April? I don’t know any April.” Whoever it was, he sounded drunk.
I rolled my eyes, “No, you don’t know me, but Kirk does. May I speak to him?”
The unknown voice shouted, “Hey Hammett, there’s an April here for you!”
“April, hi, sorry for James, too much Jägermeister.”
“That was James Hetfield?” That’s why he sounded familiar.
“Yeah, we’re all here getting… nothing done.”
“Not true, Cliff got as high as a kite!” shouted James.
“I meant nothing productive, fuckface!”
“Err, is this a bad time? I can…”
“No, it’s ok. You know, the other guys have listened to Saint Vitus too. They think it’s ok.”
“Man, will we ever raise above mediocrity?” I sighed dramatically.
“It’s just that we like our metal fast and hard, honey.” said James, probably hovering over Kirk.
“Ok James, I understand. Nice to know you by the way.”
“Nice to know you too. Hey, why don’t you come over here? We’d like to meet Kirk’s new girlfriend!”
“Uh, what?” Girlfriend? I’m not even sure I can say that Kirk and I are dating. Wait, does this mean that he considers me his girlfriend? Potential girlfriend? Oh God!
“Yeah, he says you are the cutest girl he’s ever seen, and that you are funny and smart and special and…” I heard weird noises, some cursing, possibly a struggle for the possession of the phone, but I didn’t care. A demented smile appeared on my face: Kirk Hammett liked me more than I had imagined. “April! Sorry, uh, listen…” apparently, Kirk had won the fight, “James is really drunk and…”
“I cannot make it today.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Today it’s not possible, but if you give me your address, I’ll be happy to come to you tomorrow morning.” Was I pushing it too far? I didn’t know, but I wanted to give it a try.
“Sure, just don’t come before nine.”
After a few more words, I hung the phone and sat down on my bed. Now I have his address too. Next week I’ll be married and pregnant. I heard my housemate coming back at home and felt the need to rush to her and tell her everything, but I restrained myself. It all felt like a dream and I was scared that sharing it with people from my everyday life would burst the bubble. That night, I fell asleep smiling.

On Saturday, I was at Kirk’s at nine sharp, as nervous as I could be. I was wearing a black and red striped t-shirt, dark blue jeans, red Converse and a black zip-front sweatshirt. Not exactly a sexy outfit, but it made me feel comfortable. I rang the bell and made up the stairs. Kirk greeted me with a big smile and invited me in. God, he has such a lovely smile! I thought. The apartment was incredibly well kept, I had expected to find the typical bachelor mess. Kirk offered me a soda, and we plunged into an embarrassed silence. This is ridiculous. “So, can we say that we are dating?” Smooth, April, you have the grace of an elephant.
“Well, I like you, and I’d like to know you better and I find you attractive, so…” he mumbled. I thought I even saw him blush. He looked so cute in that moment, I couldn’t help but smile.
“Did you tell your friends that I am your girlfriend?” I teased him.
“No! I mean, Cliff mentioned you, so I told the guys about you and they ended up mocking me.” he said, rolling his eyes, “Obviously.”
“It’s ok,” I chuckled “I’d like to date you.”
“Great, does it mean we get to spend the day together? I’d like to woo you properly, you know, bring you to the cinema and to a nice restaurant.”
I laughed, “What a gentleman, but we’ll have to make it tomorrow, if it’s good for you, because this afternoon I rehearse with my band and this evening we have a gig.” “Really?”
“Yes, but nothing big. As I said, doom metal is a really small scene.”
“Would you mind if I came to see you with the guys?”
“No, not at all. Who knows, we may end up filling half the place. And I’d like to meet the rest of the band. Oh…”
“Metallica is coming to see me play with my band. I feel like I have finally arrived.”
“Shut up!” laughed Kirk, “But seriously, you haven’t even told me your band’s name.”
“We are called ‘Geryon’, it’s the name of a monster of Greek mythology that also appears in Dante’s Inferno.”

The rest of the morning was spent in delight. As we talked, I took notice of Kirk’s gestures and peculiarities; the man had a special sex appeal, very androgynous. We didn’t bring out very personal subjects, it was still a bit too soon. However, in the afternoon I set my mind on music only. I wanted the band to succeed, I wanted to publish a record, to tour around the world. It wasn’t simply an hobby for us, we already had a name for our album, a clear idea for the artwork. We wanted to reach as many people as possible. We were determined.
That evening, the place where we had to perform was unusually full. I couldn’t tell if it was because we shared the stage with two other bands or else, but I was pleased and excited nonetheless. I couldn’t spot Metallica anywhere, but I was sure that Kirk would keep his promise. We are the last band, I’ll meet them after the gig.
I noticed that, as the second band finished its performance, the audience had increased a bit; I felt my stomach twisting and tried to calm myself sipping some rum, paying attention not to get drunk. I didn’t want to perform poorly and make a fool out of myself.
It was our moment, and we didn’t miss it. As usual, I performed with my eyes closed most of the time, partly because the public intimidated me, partly because this way I felt more engrossed in the sound. That was why I loved that weird kind of music, that little corner in the chamber of metal obscured by a fog of pot and palpable depression: big, thick riffs, low tones and slow but powerful sounds that grab your guts and pull you down, enveloping you into a dark, dangerous atmosphere. That music doesn’t make you jump and dance and shake all over, it contracts your senses and your mind and overwhelms you. That was how I liked my metal: mean and evil.

At the end of our performance, I felt jaded as usual, but I realized that the public had loved us too. As we left the stage, I saw Kirk grinning at me with the other metalliguys, who complimented us. My band mates were shocked.
“You know Metallica? And you didn’t tell us?” asked Craig, our drummer.
“Because I knew you would have reacted like a bunch of overemotional schoolboys.” I - partially – lied. Lars and James eyed me up and down. They clearly had had a close encounter with the bar.
“Wow, Kirk and Cliff were right, you are pretty.” said Lars grinning.
“And you are pretty good as a bassist too.” added Cliff.
“Thank you.” I replied “But I don’t think we ever met before.” I replied to Lars and James.
“Yeah, well, but you already know who we are, right?”
“Sure, sure.” I laughed “Tell me about the concert. Did you like it?”
“I have to say that this kind of music is better heard live; you get much more engrossed this way.”
“Kirk has practically called all of our friends and forced them to attend the concert, you know?” said Cliff.
“Really?” I asked, grinning at Kirk.
“Yes, and you deserve it, your band is great.”
I smiled and threw my arms around his neck, he hugged me back and I rested my head on his shoulder; it felt so good to be between his arms. I felt him nuzzling my neck and sighed, but we got interrupted by Ben, my guitarist, who poked me on the shoulder. “I don’t want to spoil the atmosphere, but we are going for a drink. Will you two lovebirds join us?” We chuckled and followed the other guys. I met Teresa and Corinne, James and Cliff’s girlfriends, and other friends of them, but I spent most of the time with Kirk only. We detached ourselves from the rest of the group, not even minding about what was going on around us; we kept touching each other while talking: his hand on my knee, mine on his arm, our fingers interlaced. At a certain point, Lars proposed that we moved to his and James’s house “before we get kicked out of here”; once there, Kirk and I decided to grab a blanket and stay outside under the porch, but we fell asleep almost immediately.
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