Chameleon

Chameleon Chapter 1

Billy always wore the strap of his bass guitar over one shoulder.

It was a good image.

The hard rocker shooting from the hip.

That wasn't why he did it though.

He did it so that he could throw the damn thing away if anything went wrong with the power.

When he was seven, Billy had stuck his fingers into a mains socket to see what would happen. Once he had found out, he had swapped inquisitiveness for extreme caution.

Molly laughed at him, but Billy didn't care. She didn't have to wear a potentially lethal weapon around her neck. In fact, Molly wore very little. Just a pair of red high heels, a G-string and a pair of tassels.

Billy watched the tassels rotate in different directions.

'And for this,' he mused, 'I gave up an audition with the London Philharmonic!'

Standing by the side of the stage, Mike Menagerie was sweating. He took a swig from the hip flask he always carried, and winced. Warm brown ale from a hip flask still tasted disgusting, but the malt whiskey days were still a long way off.

A sudden roar went up from the crowd. Mike blinked. At first he couldn't tell what had caused the outburst. Then he saw Molly stagger back from the front of the stage clutching her chest.

His first thought was that she'd been hurt, perhaps punched or stabbed. Then he saw the greaser in the front row waving something above his head. So, she'd only lost a tassel after all.

The band went into the middle eight for a second time. Molly made a break for the wings. The look in her eyes meant she was mad as hell. Above the sound of the band, a chant went up.

'Get 'em off, get 'em off!'

At this point Mike couldn't tell if they were referring to the band or the rest of Molly's scanty attire. Either one spelled disaster. The Hellfire Club was a bad place to bomb, and this evening was shaping up to be a regular Hiroshima.

Molly barged past, elbowing Mike out of the way as she did so. Mike grabbed her arm and spun her around.

'Where the fuck do you think you're going?' he demanded.

'Did you see what that animal did to me?' Molly shot back. 'Nearly pulled my bloody nipple off!'

'So what?'

'So it bloody hurt, that's so what!'

The chant from the crowd was growing louder. Mike glanced at the stage. Billy and Frank had retreated back to the drum kit and were casting nervous glances left and right, trying to figure out the quickest exit. Davy was playing drums from a half-standing position, ready to run.

The crowd pushed forward, like some mythical sea monster, complete with tentacles, ready to snare anyone foolish enough to stray within reach. The three remaining members of "Glam Slam" had no intention of getting anywhere near that close, but they were running out of room. It had all seemed so easy when they first started. The deal had been struck in the car park of The Two Anchors. In those days - it seemed so long ago but was really only a matter of weeks - they had been called "Skullduggery". Billy, Frank and Davy plus a singer called Ted. They played hard driving blues and rock covers, but the audience hadn't been impressed. They exited the stage to a chorus of boos and a hail of peanuts. The landlord had refused to pay them because they were: 'The biggest pile of shite' he'd ever heard. Mike caught up with them in the car park just in time to hear Ted say: