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“Relax your grip, you’ll kill him,” Hammer ground out, as his huge strong hand wrapped over Strings’. Caught in a stormy stare, I watched their silent, pointed exchange as a brief battle of wills passed between them. “Now,” Hammer barked again in an icy tone that matched the death glare he gave him. A cold shiver ran down my spine and I immediately regretted my decision to call them into my room for a meeting.
Strings’ volcanic reaction had been worse than anything we’d faced as a band before. It wasn’t unexpected since this had been a golden opportunity missed for him.
“He’d be better off dead. We’d be better off if we gave him a packet of blow and let him do himself in. This asshole has fucked up our future as a band. You think this isn’t going to get around?” Strings shot back with a growl, his teeth gritted, his jaw set in a grimace. His reddened face hovered so close to Wiggy’s they’d have breathed the same air had Wiggy’s airway not been occluded. The pressure of Hammer’s massive hand blanched Strings’ fingers, which were tightened like a vise around Wiggy’s neck.
Wiggy looked beyond help, his face a dark puce color, watering red-rimmed eyes bulged in fear and I knew I needed to act fast to stop him from going unconscious.
“Richard Maddison, do you really want to go to jail for this, because right now you are within a hair’s breadth of going down for murder!” I shouted in an even tone, which broke through the mayhem of the scene I’d been watching.
Everyone froze at my use of Strings’ proper name and the chilling statement I’d made, which had been precariously close to the truth. Strings immediately shoved Wiggy free from his grasp and Wiggy heaved violently as he took air into his lungs then coughed and spluttered when Hammer steered him onto a chair.
“I’m done. I’m out. DisKord, what a fucking name, couldn’t have chosen anything more apt for this shit. I’ll see you two around, as for this slimy fucker, I never want to set eyes on him ever again.” Without looking back, he opened my hotel room door, stepped out, and banged it closed behind him.
“He’ll be back,” Wiggy croaked still gasping for air and clutching his throat, too stupid to recognize the truth. And with those words I knew he was never going to change, so right then and there I shrugged and looked vacantly toward Hammer and knew we were both done too.
