So Close (a James Hetfield story)

Chapter 19

1983
Apparently, all those years of wanting something you think you can't have, leads to some insanely pent-up desire. We couldn't get enough of each other. All he had to do was look at me with those gorgeous blue eyes, and I was dragging him off to the bedroom. Or an innocent smile thrown in his direction, and I'd suddenly find myself trapped underneath his body as his hands and lips took me over the edge. Not that either of us was complaining. We were always touching each other, even if it was just linking fingers or a hand laying casually on the other's thigh, we were never not touching. I'm sure it was nauseating to be around, but we didn't give a shit.

The best though was after a gig, whether it was mine or his. The energy from performing heightened the sexual dynamic between the two of us to a whole other level. Watching him perform would send me into such a state of arousal, sitting still was almost impossible. He'd get off the stage with his chest bare and sweaty, and the look in his eyes was almost enough to make me orgasm without even touching me. He'd come find me right away, toweling the sweat from his face as he'd pull me to him. Sometimes his kisses were tender and gentle, but more often they were raw and rough, as if our physical connection were an extension of the music.

James, Dave, and Lars eventually found a house to share just north of Berkeley in the town of El Cerrito. It was a short drive from my place, and we wore a permanent groove into the roads that led between our two homes. I was as comfortable at his place as he was at mine, though more often we slept at my place, since the guys were relentless in teasing us about our more intimate activities. Lars I didn't mind so much, but Dave would still undress me with his eyes, and I hated knowing that he was listening in on James and me when we had sex. It felt creepy. Still, the boys having their own place meant that they weren't all bunking at my place and making a mess, and they had plenty of room to practice.

Their first gig with Cliff took place in early March back at The Stone in San Francisco. It was a huge success, and it was clear that the change to the band's line-up was the right move. Even Kelly was in agreement as she'd joined me on the sidelines to watch the new bass player's debut. 

After watching Cliff decimate the stand alone bass solo that he'd written, Kel turned to me with eyes wide. "Wow, I never knew he was that good." She looked back at the band as they pounded out the next song, the crowd losing their shit as they thrashed along to the bullet speed of Whiplash. "If Ron saw this Lei, he'd agree this was the right move for Metallica, replacing him with Cliff. He may not admit it yet, but I think he's kinda relieved...now that some time has passed and he's had some time to think on it."

"I'm really happy to hear you say that Kel. Jamie misses him, I hope someday soon they'll be able to reconnect as friends."

"You never know." Kel shrugged, before bumping her shoulder into mine. "No matter what though, you and I are good. Their drama is totally not our drama. Right?"

"Hell yeah!"

We grinned at each other and went back to watching the show, keeping one eye on the band and one eye out for flying bodies.

No sooner had the boys made the Bay Area their permanent home, then they got an offer to come out to the East Coast to play a series of gigs that had been lined up for them by an owner of a New Jersey record store who'd heard their demo and was blown away. Jonny Zazula and his wife Marsha were so impressed with what they heard on the No Life 'til Leather demo the band had recorded the previous summer, they'd sent the boys money to rent a U-Haul and booked them into various clubs around the New York and New Jersey area. Of course the guys jumped at the chance to get their music heard outside of California, so they packed up their gear and prepared to drive across the country.