So Close (a James Hetfield story)

Chapter 1

June 1982

Despite the blaring of car horns, the squeal of brakes, and the occasional shout of laughter or angry expletive, the sound of music was distinctive, rumbling low over the city's streets. A drum kit was being pounded within an inch of its life, matched by the driving force of distorted guitars pushing the rhythm into a frenzied primal groove. A guttural voice cut through the urban night noise.

"Hit the lights...yeah!"

My stomach tightened reflexively. "Shit! They've already started."

Ignoring my friend Kelly's protests to slow down, I grabbed her hand and pulled her along as we ran the last few feet to the ticket booth.

"Leila, I'm wearin' heels." she whined.

Looking down at my friend's unfortunate choice of shoes, I consciously bit my tongue before saying something I'd regret. I had advised her against wearing pumps. This wasn't a dance club, and no one in there was going to appreciate how her lime green heels matched the tank top she'd layered under a grey off the shoulder tee. This was the kind of club where sneakers and jeans were expected, and anything fancier would be seen as trying too hard. I had warned her. But still, this wasn't her usual scene and she had agreed to come without too much convincing. Kelly had become a good friend over the last year, and despite her penchant for fashion over practicality, I was excited to have her with me. And I needed the support.

Shaking my head in amusement, I turned back to the ticket window, digging my hand into the pocket of my jeans for money. The guy in the booth finally sensed my presence and looked up from the book that he'd been engrossed in. His eyes widened slightly as he saw Kelly and I standing there waiting to pay our entrance fee, and he sat up a little taller and automatically puffed his chest out.

"Can I help you ladies?"

He tried to come off suave, but ended up with distinctly pervy instead.

Hearing the band begin to wind down their first song, I was impatient to get inside. "Yeah, two tickets for the show please."

"You want tickets to this show? Tonight?"

He seemed completely confused by the expectations of his job as a ticket booth operator. I tried again. "Yes, two tickets...one for me...one for my friend here. For the show. Metallica."

"Are ya sure you ladies wanna go in there? It's not really a place for two good-looking—"

"Yes we wanna go in there and we'll be fine," I interrupted. "We're friends of the band. They're expecting us."

I regretted my choice of words as soon as they came out of my mouth, knowing how it sounded.

Sure enough, the guy gave a shrewd smile as he leered at me through the glass. "Friends of the band are ya? Very special friends I'd wager. Can't believe those metal freaks in there could bag a couple of hotties like you two, but whatever rings your bell babe."

I was mortified that this douche thought Kelly and I were groupies, and I was tempted to chew his ass out for being presumptuous, but I didn't want to waste my time and the band was starting their next song.

"Whatever," I mumbled as I threw a $20 down on the counter.

"Ladies are free on metal nights." He smirked as he caught site of my Metallica t-shirt. Then his eyes fixated on the full breasts underneath, not as well hidden as I'd have liked in the loose shirt, and he licked his lips in way that made me feel unclean. "Damn...you are fine," he muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, ok," I murmured uncomfortably as I took back my money and maneuvered Kelly quickly towards the front door.

I could feel the guy's eyes on us still and hurried inside.