Date: Thu, 4 Nov 1999 07:14:19 -0500 From: Tim Phillips Subject: Fang (1 of 3) To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu This story is copyright by myself, but I freely give the right to archive/provide to viewers this story on any website or FTP server that is collecting Forever Knight fan fiction. Printing a copy to give to friends without access to the Internet is also OK by me. The Forever Knight characters/storyline are owned by other folks and their copyright also needs to be respected so their hard work is preserved. comment to timp@dec.anr.state.vt.us Fang (or We Love the Boys From The Band!) Part 1 of 3 Natalie Lambert had made a determined effort to blast the back window out of her car with "Blood Fever". As a result, she was still vibrating down to bone-marrow as she shouldered through the door to the women officers' locker room in the precinct house. She went around the privacy wall and back into the busy space. It was shift-change and the locker room was a tangle of female officers gearing up to hit the streets, or gearing down to go home. The air was moist and warm from the showers and smelled definitely better than Natalie understood the men's locker room to smell. Finding Tracy was easy. She was the one with "Princes of KnightMare" playing just low enough that no one tried to smash her tapedeck to plastic pieces. Natalie turned the corner and found that the music had cleared Tracy's aisle. Her friend was peering into the mirror on the inside of her locker, applying a deep wine lipstick with a steady hand. Tracy was humming deep in her throat in time to the pounding bass, lost in the music and her preperations. Tracy had shown Natalie the dress she planned to wear, but the reality of it was more extreme. Tight black leather with no shoulders. The front cut so deep it was almost indecent with absolutely no back. The skirt was two black leather panels front and back with slits up either thigh that reached almost to the hip. "What is holding that top on?" Natalie asked in greeting. Tracy turned to her friend and flashed a wicked smile. "Static electricity and prayer!" She pressed her lips together to spread her lipstick. "Let me see your dress!" Tracy asked. Natalie unbelted her greatcoat and swept it open, feeling a delicious sense of intimacy as she modeled for her friend. Tracy was impressed. Natalie's dress was a splendor in fairy-tale white. A floor-length skirt. Finely embroidered flowers that were in the same color as the dress so they were really visible as texture across the stomach and rising to the bosom. The dress swept up over Natalie's chest to an neckline on her collar bone. Down the center of her chest, the dress was cut with a vertical slit that was kept closed by a series of small white ribbons that Natalie had tied decently if loosely. "Looking very bad, Miss Lambert!" Tracy said. "At least I can sneeze without losing my top, Tracy," Natalie said, closing her coat. "Ready to go?" "Always ready!" Tracy reached in and shut off the tapedeck. "Thank you!" someone called from over the wall of lockers. "Heathen!" Tracy called back, shrugging into a greatcoat of her own and slamming the locker door. "Come on, Nat. Time is wasting. And the boys of the band won't wait." They were walking quickly through the locker room. "You have the tickets?" Natalie confirmed. Tracy nodded and patted the side of her jacket. "Plus the backstage passes to Fang's one and only Toronto gig." Natalie checked her watch. "We're not going to make it." Tracy flicked her blonde locks. "Got it covered." "Covered? How?" Tracy refused to answer. They walked very quickly out of the precinct house into the parking lot. Natalie spotted Tracy's car and pointed it out since they were heading in the wrong direction. "You parked over there." "I know. That isn't what we are taking to the Raven." Tracy was making a bee-line for a murderous looking piece of rolling iron. It hunched low over wide wheels. Deep gloss black that gleamed under the parking lot lights like liquid glass. Sidepipes in chrome that glittered and gleamed. Four headlights that peered ahead darkly like the eyes of some sleeping animal. "Wow!," Natalie managed when she realized that this was the car Tracy intended to take. "Like it," Tracy was positively giddy with the success of her surprise. "Yes. What is it? And whose is it?" Tracy opened the driver side door. "It is a 1969 Mach1 Mustang CobraJet. About the most powerful street car Ford sold that year. 428 cubic inch engine. 9" Detroit locker rear with 3.89 gears. 4-speed close-ratio transmission." Natalie opened her door. "Tracy, do you know what any of that means?" "That this is one screaming fast ride," Tracy stripped off her greatcoat and climbed into the car, slamming her door. "And no one is arriving at this concert in more style than you and me." Natalie slid into the car's deep bucket seat. She noticed that the door and windshield were framed in padded steel piping - crash-protection - as Tracy fumbled for keys. Tracy slipped a key into the ignition and twisted it over one click. The dashboard light up in brilliant electric blue. Tracy flicked two toggle switches on the dashboard. Ahead of them, deep in the car's nose, something started thrummming. ` "Tracy, you didn't answer my question. Where did you get this car?" Tracy was watching something intently in the dash. "Let's just say I owe someone a serious favor now," Tracy said. She flashed Nat a confident smile. Tracy looked back at the dash and nodded. She worked the stick shift to see that the car was in neutral and turned the key over. The motor lit with a heavy boom through the chrome pipes that emptied right behind the bucket seats. Natalie reached for her seatbelt. The big 428 CobraJet mill dropped back to a throaty idle as Tracy turned on a police band radio in the dash and dropped the driver side window. Natalie found that the vibration of the Mustang's powerful engine tuned to the residual vibrations of "Blood Fever" still echoing in her head. She cranked down her own window so she could hear the sidepipe behind her more clearly. Tracy put the Mustang in gear and let out the clutch. Easily, still burbling at idle, the Mustang pulled out of its parking spot and rolled to the exit to the parking lot. Tracy looked both directions. "Seatbelt?" Natalie reminded. "Not tonight." Tracy reached forward and tossed another toggle. Police lights started flashing from inside the Mustang's grille. Tracy rolled her foot down and popped the clutch. The Mustang howled forward into the street, lining the asphalt with rubber as the stiff rear- gears scrubbed a few thousand miles of wear from the back tires. Steel-tube headers singing a demonic sonic, Tracy fed the car more power and cut the wheel over. She drifted the Mustang around with power oversteer; pointed it toward the Raven and put the loud pedal to the floor. Natalie got completely into the spirit of things when Tracy pulled a red-line powershift into 2nd gear, breaking traction with the rear tires and leaving twenty feet of scalded rubber on the street as they charged toward 100MPH behind the wonderful pull of the big CobraJet mill. Donald Schanke was sipping a cup of coffee and mentally adding up his overtime hours for this job when he spotted the flashing lights coming toward him down the street. When he heard the heavy roar reverberating off the buildings, he walked to the traffic cone that was holding open a parking spot in the chaos directly in front of the Raven. The CobraJet charged up to the Raven and hunched forward on the suspension as Tracy geared-down abruptly, making the 428 big block roar through the chrome side-pipes as it worked against the stiff gears and high-speed. Schanke smiled. His partner was a totally different woman since she'd gotten addicted to this new band. There was a feral wildness to her that Schanke found enormously alluring. Schanke wasn't deeply introspective and hadn't yet connected why he and Myra were acting like they were on their honeymoon again. He was just enjoying it. The heavy scream of the Mustang made everyone look. Schanke lifted the cone and stepped back. When Tracy punched down into 2nd the Mustang howled again and the rear-end stepped out momentarily until Tracy caught it and recovered. The pulsing lights in the Mach 1's grille cleared any bystanders out of its way. Tracy pulled off the road into the parking spot Schanke had reserved for his partner. The hot exhaust from the car's sidepipe washed against Schanke's legs through his pants. Schanke leaned down. "You know how to make a entrance, Vetter," he said above the pounding beat of the car's motor. The gleam in Tracy's eyes made Schanke wonder if any traffic law in Toronto had survived the drive over from the precinct house. "Stop looking down the front of my dress, Donny, or I'll tell Myra on you," was her spirited reply. Schanke laughed. "Sorry," he said, and opened the door for Tracy. Tracy shut the Mustang down and patted the steering wheel. Natalie popped out of her door and Schanke caught the look on her face. He'd been in a few hot pursuits in his years and recognized the adrenaline rush that accompanied charging down the city streets at high speed. The good Doctor looked like she'd really enjoyed the experience. "Are they here yet?" Natalie asked Schanke, looking around the milling crowd with anxious eyes. Schanke shook his head. "The motorcade called ahead a minute ago. About five minutes out. Thanks to LeadFoot here, you've got time." Schanke appreciated the thigh Tracy flashed as she swung out of the Mustang and stood up. "Where do you put your keys in that outfit?" Schanke wanted to know. Tracy held the shiny chrome key in front of Schanke's face and then dropped it into her open cleavage. She actually got Schanke to gulp. "I had to ask," he mused. Tracy giggled and pounded her partner on the arm. She was in very high spirits. "See you tomorrow, Donny!" she said. Schanke shook his head. "Is your name and a phone number written in your underwear so you can call for help from wherever you end up tomorrow morning?" Schanke asked heavily. Natalie leaned in close. "She isn't wearing any underwear, Schanke," Natalie noted. Before Schanke could recover, the two women were laughing and disappeared into the milling crowd. Tracy and Nat ignored the front door to the Raven. They went to the side ally and their backstage passes got them an escort from a very large bouncer down the alley to the back door. Janette was waiting just inside the door, standing in the middle of a swirl of last-minute activity as everyone prepared for the show. The background roar of the waiting crowd was noticeable as Janette spotted Tracy and Nat and waved them inside. "They are about to arrive," Janette said. "I'm pleased you both could join us." "Thank YOU for the tickets," Natalie said. Janette flicked a hand casually. "I remember those who've shown me kindnesses. When Tracy told me you were both such FangFans, I couldn't resist." "Tracy says they are old friends?" Natalie couldn't help asking. The band's lack of history was a subject of constant inquiry and public speculation. No one seemed able to discover where they had come from. They had just suddenly appeared. Natalie had a professional investigator's sense of curiousity that her personal obsession just magnified. "Very old friends," Janette confirmed. "Who regard their privacy highly." Janette sipped from a goblet of wine. "Tracy told you that there was a party afterwards that you are both invited to?" Janette asked Natalie. "Yes," Natalie replied, not offended at Janette's polite brush-off of Natalie's question. Janette flicked a finger and part of the wall detached itself and walked over to stand with them. "Fred," Janette addressed the huge bouncer. "This is Tracy and Natalie. They are guests of the house tonight. I want you to personally see that they are comfortable and get anywhere in the club that they wish. Make sure that they have front-row seats and that no one bothers them." Fred moved his massive head in a nod. "Yes, ma'am." His voice was a deep gravel growl from his socks. He waited a moment for further instructions and then stepped back out of the way but at arm's reach if needed by any of the women. A frantic looking fellow wearing headphones came scurrying up to the door. "They're almost here," he announced to the world at large. Janette gestured and the three women went outside, Fred trailing behind. Tim Phillips timp@dec.anr.state.vt.us See part 1 for all disclaimers + copywrite notices Fang (or We Love The Boys From the Band!) Part 2 of 3 Three sets of head-lights turned in off a sidestreet and started toward the Raven. Natalie felt her breath quicken as the vehicles became recognizable and passed through a poice barricade. Three 1962 Cadillacs. Painted black. Deep tinted windows. Hunkered down low to the ground in true gangster fashion. There was a distant thrum of bass guitar. It was coming from the second Cadillac and Tracy found herself playing air-guitar with her hand against her bare thigh. Matching the chords. The Cadillacs pulled up and stopped nose-to- tail. The doors opened and two men stepped down from each car. Tracy recognized the professionalism of the bodyguards as they confirmed the safety of the immediate area. Simultaneously, the trunks on all three Cadillacs opened. And the members of Fang emerged into the night air from the vehicles' baggage compartments. Their faces would be immediately recognizable to the hordes of screaming young women that were the core of FangFans. Lucien LaCroix. Tall with the aura of restrained menace and culture. Head cropped with a close buzz-cut and the ghostly white face and hands that contrasted so sharply with his coal-black attire. Lucien possessed an elementary power that had been analyzed to be similar to a very handsome and seductive older uncle. Someone who could be safely lusted after due to the moral restraints that would keep that lust from flowering into actuality. On stage, his hands were held to be an artistic blur as he worked the drumkit with a throbbing skill. Javier Vachon. Sharply chiseled face with the flowing mane of hair and bedroom eyes that left women weak in the knees. He carried his AXE in his hands. He was held to be the "common man" of the band. Every fan knew about the Detroit show that had started twenty minutes late because Vachon had stepped outside the stadium without his pass and been denied entry by an oblivious security guard. The man looked more like a roadie then a muscian. However, he was the power-chord bass-player whose crushing beat Tracy had been miming as the trademark Cadillacs arrived. Nicholas Knight. Blonde hair. Blue eyed. The quintessential pretty-boy front man, but possessed of a strong voice and a truely magical touch on a synthesizer board. Many of his fans called him "The Poetic Prince" for both his lyrics and his somewhat angst and old-fashion personality. Fang. The hottest heavy metal band currently playing anywhere in North America. Arrived for a one-night-only gig in a small club in Toronto. It can be safely stated that Natalie and Tracy were star-struck. It took Janette's hands tugging to get them to walk forward to meet their idols. "Boys!" Janette called with glee. "So glad you could come and play!" Lucien smiled distantly. "You are a very old and dear friend, Janette. The least we could do is play for you. Besides, you are missed." Janette was swepted into a joyful hug by Javier and Nicholas. She extended a free hand from that embrace and Lucien took it for a momentary squeeze of rejoining. After some moments, Janette extracted herself from her friends. "Lucien, Javier, Nick. These are two of your biggest fans in Toronto. Tracy Vetter and Natalie Lambert." LaCroix nodded his greetings silently. Vachon shifted his guitar and shook hands with Natalie while Knight stayed true to his stage persona and gently kissed the back of Tracy's hand. Vachon then reached his hand to Tracy. She looked into his eyes and threw herself at him. Vachon staggered backwards absorbing her rush, wrapping his free arm around her back to hold her while they kissed. Tracy broke the kiss first, leaning back from him with a hand entwined in his long hair. "Love your music," she said breathlessly. Vachon licked his lips to get more of the taste of her tongue. "Obviously," he said with a glitter in his eyes. Nicholas shook his head. "While if that is the spirit of the evening." He kissed Natalie gently on the mouth. "You are simply beautiful beyond words, my Princess," he said while Natalie reached to her shocked lips with a hand. The bustling little man who'd annouced the band's arrival was pacing nervously by the backdoor. Lucien gestured. "We will have plenty of time for this later, everyone. Right now, we have a show to perform." Tracy reluctantly let go of Vachon. Everyone went into the Raven. Janette pulled Natalie and Tracy aside. "The boys need to get set to perform. Fred, get them good places to watch." The big bouncer nodded and lead the women away, Tracy glancing wistfully over her shoulder and being happy that Vachon was looking her way as he walked with his bandmates down another hall. The main room of the Raven was packed. Natalie could understand now while Janette had chosen Fred. It took a man his size to make any headway in this excited, dense crowd. An array of bouncers was protecting the small stage from being rushed by overanxious fans. Fred made space in the very front row by the expedient method of pushing some people aside so that Tracy and Natalie could fit in. No one objected to the bouncer's actions once they realized that he was the size of a refridgerator. The wait was excruciating, broken only by the fun of playing with a cascade of balloons that were bouncing from hand to hand above the crowd until they were popped by an overenthusastic swat. Completely without warning, the lights went out throughout the club. Wrapped up in the excitement of the crowd, Tracy and Natalie both joined in the enthusiastic screams of the assembled fans. Ten seconds passed. A single spotlight snapped on. Pointed down at the small stage from above. Illuminating the still figure of Lucien LaCroix, who was pensively studying the floor. LaCroix stood amidst the screaming voices of the fans: waiting. Tens of seconds passed. Still LaCroix waited without signs of recognizing that he wasn't alone. Eventually, the excited screams died back and back until, finally, there was silence. The silence hung while LaCroix decided to speak. At last, he looked up and out into the darkness that concealed the crowd. His voice was unamplified, but of such power and clarity of speech that it carried clearly to the back walls of the Raven. "We walk amidst you." "Unsee." "Unnoticed." "Tonight." "We WILL be seen" "And Heard." LaCroix lifted his hands in benediction and his eyes went shiny gold and his razored fangs dropped. He rose vertically upwards out of the spotlight into the darkness above. The crowd went wild with their recognition of Fang's ritualistic opening. The spotlight that had illuminated LaCroix snapped off. The Raven was plunged into darkness. Into that darkness came the first heavy power cords of "Creatures of Damnation". Vachon's hands guided the guitar in a punishing solo that built rapidly to a crescendo in that complete and utter night. A stagelight snapped on, showing Javier, long mane tossing rhymically as he kept time to his own bass. At the crescendo, the stage light-show came alive revealing Nicholas at his keyboard and LaCroix at his drumkit as they joined the audio assault of Javier's heavy bass. Nicholas started to sing and the place went completely nuts. Natalie found herself screaming at the top of her lungs, swept up in the emotion of being here with her idols. Nicholas Knight was less than twenty feet away. And He'd KISSED her!!! Most of the other women in the club were also screaming and despite the best amplifiers that money could buy, Fang all but disappeared into the wash of noise that their adoring fans made. The song wound down to a close. Javier and LaCroix established a backing rythmn and Nick came out from behind his keyboard to the edge of the small stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, thank you, everybody," his fangs and gold eyes flashed in the stage lighting. "We are very glad to be here in Toronto to play for you this evening." Nick spoke using a microphone and the crowd did quiet to hear him speak. Into this momentary lapse in the pandemonium, Natalie screamed out "I love you, Nicky!!!" The lead singer's head snapped around as if he had been shot and his eyes locked hotly with Natalie's. He rose three feet off the stage and flew forward while staring into her eyes with his golden gaze. The microphone grated a moment against his fangs. "I love you too, my beautiful princess." Natalie felt her knees weaken beneath his gaze and Tracy shook her shoulder enthuasistically. A scream went up from the crowd as other women completed for Nicholas's attention. But, The Poetic Prince was not so easily swayed as to be immediately unfaithful. He returned to the stage without acknowledging the anxious calls - or even the couple of pairs of panties that came flying through the air toward him. Nicholas returned to his keyboard. Immediately, LaCroix changed tempo and Javier started crushing notes as they lead the way into "Sins of the Night". Nicholas joined his bandmates in the song. This time, Vachon sung lead vocals. The bassist had a powerful voice that he claimed was "seasoned by a lot of good drinking". As he sang about the temptations and weaknesses, Tracy felt a warm heat rise through her body. The hard bass notes vibrating from Javier's guitar reached out through the powerful amplifiers and she could actually feel the sound caress her. It was as if he was touching her by touching the guitar. And she knew that he could see her despite the stage lighting in his face. That his gold eyes were in fact locking with her and not just staring aimlessly out into the dark crowd. "Sins Of the Night" wound down and Fang ramped immediately into "Blood Fever". Nicholas had the lead vocals on this one with backing from LaCroix. When he reached the lyrics about "flying hot through the forever night", Nicholas took to the air, sweeping over the heads of the crowd so low they ducked to avoid being hit as the singer swept by with a black Dracula cape flapping in the breeze. Fang was renowned for the professional skill of its stage-magic during a show. "Ancient Friends and Lovers" "Princes of KnightMare" "The Lady Of Darkness" "Hunger" Hit followed hit as Fang played its catalogue of power ballards and signature songs. The crowd never left its feet. Tracy yelled so much she started to get hoarse. Natalie was completely swept away. Somehow, in that pandemonium of people, Nicholas Knight's eyes kept return to lock and smolder with her's as he sang songs of love and passion and hunger. He reached out with his voice and she fell into his golden eyes. "What Town? What Century?" "Red Rain" "By The Light Of The Moon" "Thrill Kill Lover" The enthusiastic screams were seldom sustained now. People had worn their voices out completing with Fang's amplifiers. As the evening drew to a close, people listened and watched their heros in action. And the golden eyes of the boys from the band swept across the crowd and their mesmerizing voices whispered into ears. Many souls were claimed. Tim Phillips timp@dec.anr.state.vt.us See part 1 for all disclaimers + copywrite notices Fang (or We Love The Boys From the Band!) Part 3 of 3 It was closing on midnight when Nicholas left his synthesizer board again and came to the front of the stage to speak. "This is it, folks, one last song before we call it a show." There were good-natured boos and calls for an encore. Nicholas waited with a patient grin. "Thank you, it does mean a lot to us that you want us to continue to play. But, the Night is all we have and we've played most of our best material for you already. We'd like to leave you on a high-note. With our favorite song and some of our friends." Janette stepped out of the shadows of the stage and walked to stand just behind LaCroix at his drumkit. She put a cool white hand on his shoulder and LaCroix covered it with his own palm without looking back. Nicholas lifted into the air, slid forward and dropped to the floor just in front of Tracy and Natalie. He gestured to two of the burly bouncers holding the crowd back and slipped through them to Natalie and Tracy. "Ladies, care to join the band on stage?" Nick asked with the easy tones of a man who knows the answer. "Yes!!!" Tracy said before Natalie could possibly object. Nick didn't give Nat a chance to object either. He wrapped an arm around each woman's waist and lifted into the air. Graceful with his double-burden, Nick piroutted to the stage and set down on it. Tracy immediately went to stand with Javier. Natalie stood almost stunned beside Nick, the focus now of the entire enthusiastic crowd as they roared out their love of Fang and the band's proclaimed friends. The adrenaline surge was incredible. Nick took Natalie by the hand and lead her back to his synthesizer. His playing bench was wide enough for two if they were willing to snuggle and Natalie didn't object to the closeness as the band began its final piece: "For We Are Forever" Natalie sat with hip and shoulder touching Nick. Watching the concentration with which he played. Watching Tracy watch Javier. Looked back to Janette so relaxed beside LaCroix. And somewhere in there, before the set had ended, she lost herself in the moment. The line of vehicles was stopped on the highway. Dawn was cracking faintly above the distant hills. Nicholas Knight offered Natalie a hand out of the Cadillac's trunk. She needed it. She was physically spent if emotionally forefilled. The custom Cadillacs had more than just the trunks available for traveling space for the band members. Nick's Cadillac sported a waterbed behind the partition that provided privacy from the driver and bodyguard. Natalie didn't honestly know who had claimed more "victories at sea", herself or Nicholas. She was pleased to call it a draw. Natalie stood and stretched her tired back and limbs. Too much physical exercise too fast. She wasn't in the right shape for a night (or was that Knight? she wondered) like this. Tracy was standing beside the 2nd Cadillac. Whether Vachon was helping or hindering her efforts to get the top of her dress back in place, Natalie couldn't determine. LaCroix and Janette were lounging against the lead Cadillac, drinking from a bottle with fine crystal glasses and chatting closely with great animation on Janette's part. The bodyguards and drivers were all at a discrete distance. The Mach 1 Mustang Tracy had borrowed sat at the trail-end of the little convoy; big 428 CobraJet beating a deep powerful bass-beat as it waited. "It has to be like this?" Natalie asked again. The side of her neck ached for some reason, but she ignored it along with the other stiffnesses. Nicholas's eyes shaded gold. "Yes. It is too dangerous for you to travel with us. There are those who consider us a threat. Plus, you have a life you should continue to live out that is not with this band." Natalie's eyes misted. "I don't want to go." Over Natalie's shoulder, Janette gestured up at the sky and Lucien leaned down to be kissed. Nicholas nodded. "I don't want you to go. But, you must. I will be back. Or, I will arrange to have you meet us later. For right now, the sun is rising and we must be on our seperate ways." Janette rose into the sky, waving down at Lucien and then Nick before she started back down the highway toward distant Toronoto. In moments, she was a dot on the horizon, then gone. Nicholas brushed tears from Natalie's eyes. "Heh, remember that the Night was always ours. We will be together again." "You promise?" Natalie demanded. "On a stack of flaming Bibles," Nicholas said. "OK, give me one more kiss." It was a request Nicholas couldn't refuse her. Natalie ran her hands through his hair one last time and then steeled herself and turned away. Tracy finally had her top back in place. Her blonde locks were pulled back and tied with what Natalie realized was the deepest bass-string from Vachon's guitar. Vachon and Tracy touched fingers for a moment, then parted. Tracy fell in on Natalie's shoulder and they walked back to the Mustang. They turned at the car and looked forward. All three of the Cadillacs had the trunks closed and there was no sign of LaCroix, Nicholas or Vachon. The brilliant light of Dawn was across the road. Tracy opened her door and got into the warmed car. After a moment, so did Natalie. "Do you think we'll see them again? Or was it just the Night?" Natalie said. In the light of the day, she feared a terrible mistake on her part in indulging the moment. Tracy adjusted the mirror and checked the digital gauges. "We will see them again," she said with sureness. "And they are here with us now," she patted the Mach 1's stero system, threw a switch and Fang's Boys of the Night album started up with its haunted power. The bodyguards and drivers were drifting back to the Cadillacs. Tracy toggled the Mustang's police lights on again. She ramped the engine to 3000 rpm and let the clutch out quick. The CobraJet's massive torque smoked the back- tires instantly. Tracy clawed the Mustang around 180 degrees in a wail of heated rubber and let off the gas. The car grumbled and eased forward at idle. Tracy looked into the rear-views at the Cadillacs behind them. She shook her head and focused on the road ahead of her. Her ankle rolled and her foot came down. The CobraJet awoke with a bellow. At 5500 RPM indicated, Tracy powershifted up into 2nd, barking the tires hard and abusing the clutch. Natalie - listening to the roar of the engine as it built upwards again - shifted her eyes from the road to her friend. "You're going to have to wear turtle-necks for quite a while, Trace." "Why is that," Tracy asked, watching the tachometer climb furiously, hand on shifter: waiting. "Because you have got what I'd call the world's worst hicky." Tracy waited until she'd changed up into 3rd. The tachometer was sweeping through the digits toward red-line. They had another gear before they reached absolute maximum speed. Tracy looked across the car at her best female friend and smiled. "I think you need to look into a mirror first to make that judgement, Natalie." AUTHOR'S NOTE I would like to sincerely thank Susan E. Nix for providing the inspiration to this story. I loved her 1999 Snixco Christmas Catalogue posting of a few days ago. The Vachon's memoirs as a Bon Jovi roadie resonated in my head. Last night, walking under the stars, I realized that Vachon wasn't a roadie. He was the bass player for the vampiric band FANG, with Nicholas and LaCroix as the other members. And I realized that any good rock band has to have its groupies. The story cascaded outwards from that. Tim Phillips timp@dec.anr.state.vt.us