Free Metal Urge by E.D. Wilbourn Page A

the curb.  When the vehicle was safely out of sight she leaned against the window frame and began to cry, her heart shattering into an infinite number of agony-filled pieces which throbbed with every heartbeat.  “Why Nigel?” she sobbed.  “What did I do wrong?”  She staggered to the couch and lay down, wrapping a crocheted throw that her grandmother made for her when she was just a small child around her shivering body.  She would hate for Nigel to see her now; weak and fragile, almost willing herself to die because of his treachery.  She rubbed her slightly swollen belly, wondering when the nausea would subside.  It had plagued her for the last week or so, and she figured it must be some kind of stomach virus.  She had thrown up the last two mornings but it hadn’t really helped to relieve the nausea.  If she didn’t start feeling better soon she would be forced to see her doctor.  She didn’t want any more distractions to interfere with her summer school classes.  It was almost mid-July, but she still had weeks of book reports and tests before the summer classes came to an end.  She needed those classes to help keep her mind off of Nigel---not that they had done much good.
    She pushed herself off of the couch and went to the kitchen to make some toast, and a cup of tea.  When her stomach lurched in protest after the second slice, she ran to the tiny bathroom and retched over the toilet.  “Oh God,” she moaned, the nausea rolling over her in sickening waves, forcing her to lean into the toilet bowl while her stomach heaved and roiled.  When she was finally able to get to the phone, she called and made an appointment with her physician for the following morning.  She hoped there was something the doctor could do to help alleviate her symptoms because she had a really important test next week that she could not afford to fail.  Not only that, her supervisor at the hotel had asked her to work more hours as well.  Deanna lay down on the bed and started to cry again.  Her life was in shambles and try as she might, she could not hate the man who would soon be entertaining a multitude of nubile groupies groveling at his feet.  Nigel Guilford, the beautiful, arrogant vocalist decked out in leather and studs, still able to command her undying love and devotion as he looked down his fine English nose at her groveling right along with the other tramps.
    She might have laughed at the sheer absurdity of her situation if she didn’t love the egotistical bastard so much.  He had allowed her a glimpse of the real Nigel, but only a glimpse, and that was the man she loved so deeply, so completely that there was nothing left of her to give to another man, and God help her, there never would be.
     
    Chapter 11
     
    The photographer directed Metal Urge to turn this way and that, flash bulbs creating a powerful white glare that all but blinded the band.  The result of all of this ridiculous posing would grace the cover of their debut album, the aptly titled “Metal Urge,” designed to lure the growing number of fans of the hit song to purchase the soon to be released masterpiece.
    Trevor had spent a fortune on outfitting the band in expensive, over-the-top leather outfits, so completely covered in spiky studs, and clanking chains, the band members couldn’t sit down comfortably.  They moved about slowly and carefully, afraid they might put out someone’s eye with a simple gesture.  Nigel told Trevor that he refused to wear such outrageous gear onstage, and the other band members quickly backed him up with protests of their own.  He threw a fit but the band refused to give in so he flounced away in indignant rage with Maggi trailing close behind.  He was sick and tired of the bastards blocking him at every turn.  He was their manager, he knew what was best for them but still they remained obstinate with their lead singer earning Trevor’s all-consuming hatred.  Both men seemed to take extreme pleasure