The City That Never Sleeps Read online



  The City That Never Sleeps

  Sherry Wood

  Copyright 2010 by Sherry Wood

 

  “Surrender, surrender, but don’t give yourself away.”

  -Cheap Trick

 

 

  Just Drive

 

  “You worried about what we did?”

 

  Part 1

  Mother, Lucifer, Everyone

  1 “He Does It For Them All”

  Josh Devin, lead singer of the punk band The Dead Joneses, was releasing his demons on stage at the new L.A. venue Third Rail. His hot-blooded stare was sharp under tonight’s Full Moon, and his vocals were top-notch as he gave it his all like this might be the last show, his last chance to leave an impression here on Earth.

  He was just wrapping up a song called “Mother, Lucifer, Everyone.”

  “Sometimes he feels like he’s the last person who cares…When the light goes off on the stairs…they all know he will take the descent, its where the hell everyone else went…He does it for them all…Mother, Lucifer, Everyone, Mother, Lucifer, Everyone…”

  Josh looked over at his guitarist to blast the song to smithereens before he sang out the last few lines of the Nine Inch Nails-influenced song.

  “Down there, there is nothing, Down there, there is a long lost pit, Down there, there is everyone And all their shit, and he takes the plunge, like everyone else has done…He does it for them all – Mother, Lucifer, Everyone…Mother, Lucifer, Everyone…”

  The song slowly merged into the hit they were best known for, the one that really packed a punch, When’d You Stop Lovin’ Me, Girl? The crowd fed on its energy, responding with various moshpits, crowd-surfing and underwear tossing. Pretty boy Birth served more as a clothing rack for bras than a bassist. He continued to look out at the crowd with a sexy snarl as girls pelted him with undergarments and, every so often, roses. He blinked a bit when a hook from a bra got him in the eye.

  Josh Devin looked like Darby Crash, only cuter, with curly black hair and those brown bedroom eyes every girl went nuts over. He had tiny, pearly white teeth that were a little crooked. He was as captivating and intense as any band could want their lead singer to be. There was something dangerous about Josh that kept the guy fans interested and the girl fans a little scared. On stage, he was reckless, while off-stage he was very private.

  He’d just cut himself open on stage and wore his own blood like war paint on his face (two blood red stripes under his eyes) and tight black leather pants that proved he was able to match any girl’s (and some boys) fantasy about how endowed he was. His Plasmatics Butcher Baby shirt was slashed and torn, giving glimpses of his flesh through the rips. Everyone in the packed club either wanted Josh Devin or wanted to be Josh Devin. Or both.

  “I have a better chance! Of being touched by the dead! Being groped by my dad!” Josh growled, “When'd you stop lovin' me girl?! I have a better chance! Of bein' kissed by a cop! Fucked by a dog! When'd you stop lovin' me GIRL!!!”

  The drums crashed when they should, and Lyle raped the song with his amazing guitar riffs. Everything came together in brilliant chaos. Josh stalked the stage, walking from one end to the other as he stared out intensely at all the girls looking up at him, their tits jiggling as they jumped up and down, their hair in their sweaty, pretty little faces. He started jumping up and down too, shaking his head so his black hair flew around. It was more like an epileptic fit than a performance.

  “SHE DON’T LOVE ME! SHE DON’T LOVE ME! SHE DON’T LOVE ME! SHE DON’T LOVE ME! SHE DON’T LOVE ME! SHE DON’T LOVE ME!” He screamed incessantly before taking his shirt off and handing it to a girl in the front row who ecstatically accepted. She had a sweet honey complexion, blonde hair, big tits and eyes that promised him a good time. All he gave her was a t-shirt but really – really he gave her the best moment of her life. That was power. His dick swelled a little from it. They stared intensely at each other as she took her shirt off. She wasn’t wearing a bra, maybe she threw it at Birth already. All Josh saw for a few seconds were her magnificent tits.

  “And I shouldn't care!” he continued to sing as he stared at her. “Cos I don't love ya either…I been here, been there…and I'm into neither!” The drums came back, the song had this great sound about it – magical and dark, like a castle collapsing into the sea.

  “Born to fuck death! I'll love the person who sucks out my last breath! Oh, when'd I stop lovin' you girl! Ahhhhhhhh! SHE DON’T LOVE ME SHE DON’T LOVE ME SHE DON’T LOVE ME SHE DON’T LOVE ME…”

  He ran over to the drums and faced Stokey for a bit as Stokey played like a machine, never showing any signs of tiring.

  Then Josh started screaming again, the type of scream that proved his worth.

  “WHEN'D YOU STOP!!! WHEN’D YOU STOP!!! OH…OH…” He held the microphone out to the crowd and they sang for him.

  “WHEN’D YOU STOP LOVIN ME GIRL!” They shouted in perfect unison. He looked back at the girl he’d given his shirt to and touched himself. Then he paused from the song and produced a sinister grin.

  “To all the girls out there, we fucking love you,” he said as he walked over to Lyle and leaned against him for a minute. “And to all the guys…” he smiled sinisterly. “We’ll be fucking your girlfriends later.” His shameless pride was pretty shocking, even vulgar. “And it doesn’t matter…” his smile sharpened. “You know why?” A glass bottle was thrown at him, missing his head by about an inch. Josh wasn’t fazed in the slightest. He broke out in another alarming fit. “BECAUSE THEY DON’T FUCKING LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!” He jumped up and down and lost it again, shaking his long hair around, taken by the song he created. The place became utter anarchy. People started throwing more things – beer bottles, chairs, people…and Josh just fed off the carnage, screaming fast and loud.

  “SHE DON’T LOVE YOU SHE DON’T LOVE ME I DON’T LOVE YOU I DON’T LOVE HER! SHE DON’T LOVE YOU SHE DON’T LOVE ME I DON’T LOVE YOU! I DON’T LOVE HER! ITS ALL HATE AND I LOVE THAT I LOVE IT I LOVE ME! ITS ALL HATE I HATE ME I HATE YOU I LOVE THAT! ITS ALL LOVE WHEN I HATE IT I LOVE IT LOVE TO HATE IT!” The song got faster and faster like a car going 100 miles per hour with nothing left to do but crash. He reached down and pulled the girl wearing his shirt out of the dangerous pit and they started kissing. It was everything she’d wanted, everything she’d dreamed of for so many nights. Their bodies pressed against one another, hands searching and groping in abusive fashion. Josh whispered something in her ear and she happily obliged, getting down on her knees and looking up at him with a worshipful gaze. She watched along with the rest of the crowd as he unzipped his jeans. A few seconds later he was peeing in her hair. It ran down her face to her neck. She had her mouth wide open…

  2 “I Want My Life To Change, This Trip Has To Change Everything”

  Jeremiah waited outside of Brooklyn diner Five-Seven-Nine where he was meeting friends for drinks before his gig at Galapagos. He lit up a smoke and wondered why Bushwick was so quiet for a Friday night. Usually there was at least a party somewhere, someone’s stereo system booming so loud he could feel the song in his heart, a fight outside Party Expo, or an ambulance siren crying somewhere, or all of those things at once. But tonight, Brooklyn sounded turned off.

  Well, in any case Jeremiah was still ready to leave for a while.

  He sat on a bench, head resting against the rustic brick building of the restaurant. Jeremiah was a cute boy. He was just starting to come into himself at twenty years of age. He was working out. His smile was brighter and he carried himself with more confidence. Jeremiah had a wide flat nose and intense brown eyes. He sported a 7-inch purple Mohawk. He had a tattoo of a half-me
rmaid half-vampire on his arm that his brother convinced him to get when he was twelve.

  He stood up and smiled when he saw Nathanial, his best friend, walking down the street. It took a lot of effort to stand out in New York, and Jeremiah and Nathanial did because they looked like gutter punks from the 1980s.

  “Yo,” Jeremiah caught Nathanial’s hand and a loud slap occurred. They shared a brotherly hug before stepping away and each lighting cigarettes.

  “How is it I’m the only black guy in this neighborhood now? Huh?” Jeremiah asked, blowing out a trail of thick smoke. Nathanial just started laughing.

  “How the fuck is that? What happened?”

  “I don’t know dude,” Nathanial had an innocent, childlike laugh no one expected from a guy with blue hair and tight leather pants. There was something endearing about him. He