Just something quick and easy to shake of some of the cobwebs. No
spoilers, no money being made, no habla espanol <g>

Bent (1/1)

Cousin Mary (Jenkins)

May 1998

‘Bent’ was their name. They were a metal/grunge band who’s base line
was currently throbbing through the crowd of the Raven. The lead
singer had more tattooed than bare skin, the drummer more piercings
than anyone he’d ever seen and the guitarist and bassist were just
plain scary. That’s not to say Vachon wasn’t having a good time. Far
from it.

Though hardly being the club’s usual Friday night fare, ‘Bent’ was
really quite impressive. The lead singer was yelling out the lyric of
what might have been a love song, but on the other hand, it could have
been about arson…it was hard to tell. The club was nearly packed
despite the complete lack of promotion. Apparently ‘Bent’ had quite a
following among the Toronto underground, the Raven was their first
legit gig. Vachon was beginning to wonder, however, just who’d booked
them. Lacroix tended to try for a more, for lack of a better word,
sensual atmosphere. Scantily clad dancers pressing against each other
in the shadows, covet glances, the works. This was anything but. 

Though leather still abounded, tonight’s uniform featured it in its
studded form. Spiked hair and steel-toed boots completed most
ensembles and open hostility was the attitude du jour. Vachon’s lips
quirked as he watched the crowd from the bar. From the looks of the
mosh pit forming in front of the small stage, things were about to get
out of hand –real- quick. The place was going to be trashed by
morning, what had Lacroix been thinking?!

"What do you think?" Urs pushed up against him and yelled into his
ear.

"They’re good!" He yelled back, even with their heightened senses it
was hard to hear over the din. 

‘Bent’ was in the middle of the second song of their set. The crowd
was really starting to get into it too. It seemed most of the people
seemed to know each other, most of the Ravens regulars having
abandoned the club for the night instead of dealing with the new
comers. 

Vachon was just about to say yell something else when –she- entered.
Strange that over a thousand distractions and dozens of heart-beats he
would notice her arrival. But there she was…Tracy Vetter.

"What’s she doing here?" He mumbled. It’s not that he didn’t want to
see Tracy, it was just that this was hardly the type of place for her.
Was she here for some case, or to see him? Vachon was just about to
make his way over to her when someone else noticed her arrival.

The band suddenly stopped playing mid-song. With a shout of "Tracy!" a
new song was started. 

Vachon’s head spun around, ‘Bent’ started a whole new tune, one
apparently dedicated to Tracy. 

//Golden one, I’d die for you!// 

//Forget all reason, damn the price!//

//Tempt me Angel! Tempt me to die!//

// Angel of hell, Demon in disguise!//

He twisted around to see her reaction, only to witness his dignified
Tracy get yanked into the crowd. He sat there stunned for a moment.
What the hell?!

//Golden one, tempt me//

//Tempt me Angel! Tempt me to die!//

Finally Tracy managed to disengage herself from the mob who were
evidently overjoyed to see her. 

"Hi!" She grinned at him and hopped up on the stool next to him.

Vachon blinked.

Urs found her voice first. "You know them?" 

Tracy gave her a look that said ‘What do you think?’ But said, "Yeah.
I know them."

At the end of ‘Tracy’s Song,’ the lead singer stage dived into the
crowd and somehow was deposited right next to Tracy. 

"You’re late." The singer announced, then pulled her backwards for a
very deep, but apparently just playful, kiss. 

At first Vachon was too shocked to do more than blink. But then he
started to get a tad…annoyed. 

After what seemed like an eternity (at least to Vachon it did) Tracy
ended the kiss with a chuckle, "Down boy."

Just then, the rest of the band came bounding up behind them like so
many pierced puppies. The drummer made as if to grab Tracy too, but
Vachon quickly pulled her to his side (barely containing the growl
that threatened to escape.)

"Who’s this bloke?" The Bassist asked Tracy, indicating Vachon with a
jerk of his thumb.

Surprising Vachon, Tracy put a possessive hand on his shoulder than
plopped herself down in his lap. "He’s mine." She grinned.

The band exchanged a look, then shrugged as one. 

"So, can I buy ya a drink, Trace?" The Guitarist asked.

"Nah," Tracy shook her head, "I don’t drink anymore."

The Bassist gave a snort, "Since when?"

"Well, remember that party you threw for me when I got promoted to
detective?" She waited for the band members to nod, "Well I don’t."
She grinned, "You should have seen me the next day when I started: had
about…oh, 2 hours sleep, 3 pots of coffee in me, I was a complete
wreck!" She smiled wryly at the memory.

"Two hours sleep and three pots of coffee?" The drummer smiled, "Seems
about par for you Angel."

"Angel?" Vachon shot in. Strange, even though Tracy was –sitting- on
his lap, he still felt completely out of the conversation. 

"Um, yeah." Tracy blushed, "Another one of my nicknames, considering
your history I didn’t think I needed to bring it up."

Though Tracy looked slightly embarrassed, the band sure didn’t. "Yeah.
It was her stage name from when she still sang with us!" The lead
singer grinned, "Back when we were still called ‘Hell Bent.’" 

"You sang in a punk band?!" Vachon was shocked.

The Bassist answered for her, "She sure did! All tight leather and
spiked pink hair, a real looker!"

Tracy grinned down at him. "Way back in my wild high school and
college days."

"And last weekend." The Drummer grinned.

"Well –that- was a special occasion!" Tracy insisted with a frown, she
then looked back at Vachon, "I really don’t do that kind of thing
anymore."

"Tell him what the ‘special occasion’ was." The Guitarist insisted.

"That doesn’t matter." She effected a pout for her ex-band, "You’re
not really going to tell him are you?"

"On the condition that you sing a couple songs tonight." The Lead
Singer demanded with a smirk. A few of the fans in the background
(who’d been discreetly eaves-dropping) obviously liked that idea,
because they started chanting her name.

"Tra-cy! Tra-cy! Tra-cy!"

The blonde glared at them all, but finally agreed. As soon as she gave
a small nod, she was physically dragged off Vachon’s lap by the crowd
and carried to the stage, (the rest of the band had to walk.)

A very bemused Vachon sat back and watched. Tracy took off her short
black trench coat to reveal a very short, very tight vinyl dress. Dark
pink and shiny. Even though she’d protested, Vachon was getting the
impression that Tracy singing wasn’t –that- rare of an occurrence.
Though from how excited the crowd seemed, he’d say it wasn’t too
common either. Not sure what else he –could- do, Vachon stayed at the
bar and watched.

The opening chords were simple, though Vachon didn’t recognise the
song, the crowd certainly did. They went wild.

//Dark heart, I’m fallin’ for you, dyin’ in your arms,//

//A thousand candles burn behind your eyes,//

//A thousand stone walls crumble in your wake,//

//You tore down my walls and ripped me apart,//

//You left me bleedin’, burnin’, cryin’//

//And you made me love you all the more for it!//

//That night you made me forget all but you,//

//Gone for the moment was my whole world,//

//Only you remained! Only you remained!//

//You tore down my walls and ripped me apart//

//You left me bleedin’, burnin’, cryin’//

//And you made me love you all the more for it!//

Vachon sat there stunned as Tracy’s hypnotic and primal voice washed
over him. And the words…was this suppose to be to him? Was it possible
Tracy had written this after they’d met? He thought about that for a
moment. 

Tracy’s set was over all too soon. At least the fans apparently
thought so, because as soon as Tracy moved to get off the stage, all
hell broke loose.

Now it wasn’t entirely Tracy’s fault. The mini-riot had been building
all night and Tracy’s leaving just gave them the excuse they were
looking for.

Soon punches, chairs, and even a few of the smaller club-goers were
being thrown. Vachon watched in amazement as the entire crowd
(including the band) laughingly trashed the Raven and each other to
kingdom come. 

When someone discovered that if you pulled hard enough on the
decorative chains, they came off, Vachon decided it was time to
collect his mortal and get the hell out of there! Scooping her up and
tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, (which she
didn’t seem to like one bit) the former Conquistador practically ran
for the door. Behind him he could hear furniture breaking, bottles
crashing and expletives being yelled in at least 8 different
languages. 

‘Madre de dios!’ Vachon thought, ‘Lacroix is going to go on the
rampage when he sees what they did to his club!’

But back in the Raven…Lacroix watched from the shadows as the club-
goers indulged in a good old fashion bar fight. He’d let them go a bit
longer before he made any move to stop them. He didn’t mind what
happened to the club, he had the resources to fix whatever damage was
done. All this chaos was worth it…he’d had the chance to see Tracy
Vetter sing again.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

End. Comments welcome at anteros@juno.com