Righteous Obsession Read online

  RIGHTEOUS OBSESSION

  By Rose Riker

  Text Copyright © 2013 by Rose Riker

  All Rights Reserved

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Many thanks go to the people who helped me with this book. Cindy Carnes, Beth Hotvedt, Sherry Junck, and Lu Lunning who read my manuscript, made suggestions, and encouraged me to publish it. Additional thanks to Beth for the thinking up the perfect title when I couldn’t and for checking my grammar and punctuation. A big shout out of thanks to Romy Banciu for the fantastic cover!

  Chapter 1

  Colin Matthews sat out on the deck of his Victorian Home in Sausalito, California with his feet propped up on the deck railing. Twenty-eight-years-old, Colin was 6’2 with a well-toned body, broad shoulders, slim hips and long legs. He had a thin face with high cheekbones, deep brown eyes with long, thick lashes, a sensual mouth and a slight cleft in his chin. His thick, wavy auburn hair hung below his waist and an earring dangled from his left ear. He stared out at the San Francisco skyline which tonight appeared hazy, the usually bright lights of the buildings muted. He thought about his band, Unforgiven’s first headlining tour that would start in two days and that led to his thinking about their interview with Metal Now tomorrow morning. It was not one of the band’s favorite rock magazines and he wasn’t looking forward to it. Their reviews of Unforgiven had been, so far, uniformly bad. Colin toyed with his earring as he wondered, not for the first time, why no reporter had as yet picked up on the mystery in his past. He had expected questions on it as the band became better known and speculated on what might happen when the information became public. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to find out.

  It was a warm spring night in the small, Midwestern city of Brunsville, a suburb of Minneapolis. For the students of Our Lady of Grace High School it was the perfect end to a perfect day. It was the day of the annual, all-school spring picnic held every year, two weeks before graduation. It started with a hayride followed by a cookout. Other student activities included softball, volleyball, horseback riding and hiking. The day ended with a dance, now in progress, in the Catholic Youth Center. Excruciatingly loud rock music drifted outside through the doors left open to circulate fresh air. The room’s simple, but attractive decorations consisted of red, yellow, blue, and green streamers and balloons. The students were dressed casually in jeans, T-shirts, sweaters and blouses.

  ‘Only one more hour of this insanity,’ Sister Thomas Mary thought as she glanced at her watch. Why did I ever agree to chaperone this dance? The noise is enough to render one completely deaf!’ The Sister was a tall, bony woman in her early fifties with thin lips, sharp features and pale, stern eyes. Her formidable appearance was enhanced by the fact she had chosen to retain the traditional garb of her Order, rather than wearing the modified version. The students referred to her as ‘the old crow’ behind her back. From her seat, as far away from the band as she could get, Sister Thomas Mary surveyed the crowd of students, gyrating around the dance floor. She could see Debbie Simpson wore indecently tight jeans and a sweater that clearly revealed to all she was not wearing a bra. Her best friend, Diana Conrad, was standing beside her. ‘Birds of a feather,’ Sister Thomas Mary sniffed.

  Standing in front of the girls was Father David Michaels who had been teaching at the high school barely five months. He’d replaced Father Casey whom the Bishop had transferred after he got involved in one too many protest marches. Father Michaels, though young and newly ordained, was very conservative in his beliefs. Unlike Father Casey, Father Michaels believed that if Catholics followed the Church’s teachings without question, everything else would fall into its rightful place. He taught the eleventh and twelfth grade religion classes and was, no doubt, an excellent influence on his students.

  Father Michaels, twenty-six, had an average height and build. He was handsome with a rather thin face and high cheekbones, big blue, thickly lashed eyes and a sensuous mouth with a full lower lip. His thick wavy hair was dark blond, cut conservatively and neatly combed. Many of the junior class girls thought he was hot, but agreed that he was creepy with his self-righteous attitude and his staunch beliefs. He conveyed the idea, whenever possible, that women were weak vessels and very much prone towards sin. Unlike the casually dressed students, Father Michaels wore his clerical garb and Roman collar. Several teenagers, laughing and chattering, surrounded him, but he riveted his attention on the conversation of the two young women standing behind him.

  “So, are you getting hot and horny thinking about seeing Unforgiven, Deb?”

  “Are you kidding, Din? I can’t wait! I have some very special after-concert plans for Colin Matthews.” Debbie Simpson, seventeen, was tall, voluptuous and looked older than her actual age. She had full, firm breasts, tightly toned thighs and an ass that looked really good in the tight designer jeans that so disgusted Sister Thomas Mary. Debbie was very pretty with long lashed green eyes and a milky white complexion set off by her thick red-gold hair. Most of the boys in the junior class were dying to fuck her, but Debbie rarely dated. The class gossip-vine reported that she preferred older men.

  “How do you know Colin’s going to be panting to fuck you?” Diana challenged her.

  “I’ve never had any man I wanted to fuck refuse me yet,” Debbie replied confidently.

  The girls moved off leaving Father Michaels in shock. He felt a need to be alone and went outside. Mentally, he flipped through the pictures he’d recently seen of Colin Matthews. His mouth curled in hatred. Colin already had too much! He wasn’t going to add Debbie to his collection – not if he could prevent it! There was a sudden burst of laughter from behind him and he turned to find Debbie and Diana.

  “Goodnight, Father.” Debbie said demurely as she passed him.

  The scent of her cologne drifted over to him and even in the dim light he could see the outline of her erect nipples through the thin material of her sweater. He watched as the girls got into Debbie’s car and continued to talk for several minutes more before Debbie drove away.

  “Talking about Colin Matthews, no doubt,” Father Michaels muttered angrily. He suddenly noticed that the music had stopped and the kids were starting to drift outside. He turned and walked quickly across the campus, crossed the street, and entered Aloysius Hall. Without speaking to anyone, he hurried upstairs to his room and closed the door behind him. His room was austere, containing only a bed, a desk and a chest of drawers.

  A crucifix was hanging on the wall over the bed. He knelt beside his bed and began to pray fervently. He was so deep in prayer he failed to notice the time passing. Suddenly he stumbled to his feet, an exhausted smile on his face, and the light of intense faith shining in his eyes. He knew what God wanted him to do! Father Michaels sat down at his desk and switched on the lamp. He unlocked the bottom drawer and took out a manila file folder. Several photos slid out of it and fell to the floor unnoticed. He riffled through its contents until he found what he needed then picked up the phone.

  In San Francisco the object of Debbie’s lust walked back and forth across his manager’s office, alternately brushing at his long hair and glancing at his watch.

  “Colin, will you please stand still. You’re making me nauseous,” Steve Crowley, who managed Colin’s band, Unforgiven, complained. “I don’t know why you’re so nervous anyway. It’s just an interview and you’ve done thousands of them.”

  “It’s Metal Now and they’ll slag us no matter how well the interview goes,” Colin replied, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His dress was casual, consisting of tight, faded black jeans and a bright green T-shirt.

  “What time is he or she supposed to be here?” Jackson or, as he preferred, Jake Rousselle, Unforgiven’s bass player, asked, glancing up from
the rock magazine he was reading.

  “He or she was supposed to be here a half-hour ago,” Steve answered and picked up the phone as his secretary, Devon, stuck her head in the door. “Steve, Dan Quinn and his photographer from ‘Metal Now’ are here.”

  “Send Quinn in,” Steve growled.

  “I guess they think we’re having a major orgasm over them deciding to interview us. They think they can treat us like shit and we won’t care,” Mace Saxon, Unforgiven’s drummer, remarked as he balanced a drumstick on the tip of his index finger.

  Colin watched as the door opened and Quinn strutted, and that was the only word to describe it, into the room.

  “Mr. Crowley, sorry I’m late, but I was in the middle of a phone interview with Madonna.”

  “Mr. Quinn.” Steve nodded as he rose from behind his desk. He was forty, tall, thin and balding. His face was thin with a long nose and dark, piercing eyes. He always reminded Colin of the descriptions he’d read of Sherlock Holmes except Holmes wasn’t going bald.

  “I’ll allow you to interview Unforgiven this time,” Steve began softly. His voice rose as he continued, “But if you or any of your colleagues ever pull a stunt like this again, you’ll be out in the street on your ass! I don’t give a goddamn if Elvis is on the phone – if you’re going to be late, call!”

  Quinn looked astonished and Colin had to duck his head to hide his grin. Obviously nobody had ever dared lay down the law to him before. People sometimes assumed they could walk all over Steve because he seemed so mild mannered. He did have a temper and more than one person in the industry had found that out fast! Quinn, short and slightly pudgy, sniffed, sat down, and pulled out his cassette recorder.

  “I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” Steve said. His management firm, located in a converted warehouse, was several miles from the Marina district. The ground floors contained a recording studio and rehearsal hall, the second floors contained the business offices and the third floors were Steve’s living quarters. Fortunately, it had escaped the ‘89 earthquake with only minor damages.

  “Tell me about Unforgiven for our readers who aren’t familiar with this band,” Quinn said.

  “I play guitar and sing lead, Jake plays bass and sings too. Mace is our drummer and Liam plays keyboards and right now, does some background vocals,” Colin explained.

  “Both you and Jake were kicked out of your former band, Body Snatchers as I recall.”

  “We had a difference of opinion about the kind of music we should play. Mark Damon wanted to do top forty drivel and we wanted to rock out,” Jake added.

  “We stole Mace from a Los Angeles band called Dungeons and Drag Ass and with Joey Jamieson, our original keyboard player, Unforgiven melded,” Colin continued.

  “Why did Joey leave the band?”

  “He decided he just wanted to work in the studio. We were on the road so much at first that it was playing havoc with his marriage so he quit at the end of the tour last year,” Jake answered. “Fortunately for us, Liam agreed to come on board.”

  Quinn looked at Mace. “Your name’s pretty unusual. How’d you come by it?”

  Mace smiled and shrugged. “It’s a nickname I’ve had since high school. I wrestled and I was undefeated – never pinned. The kids had this special cheer for me. They’d scream mace in your face during the matches and it just stuck.”

  “How long have you been playing drums?”

  “I’ve been playing drums since I was ten. I played drums in junior high and high school marching bands. I was always getting in trouble for doing these fancy drum rolls.”

  Quinn turned his attention to Unforgiven’s newest member, Liam Matthews. “Tell our readers about yourself, Liam.”

  “I’m nineteen. I play keyboards and I do some of the background vocals. I joined Unforgiven just before we started to record our new CD.”

  “He turned down a scholarship to Julliard to play with us and we all feel really lucky to have him,” Colin added.

  “This will be your first big tour then?”

  “I’ve played in the clubs around here, but I’ve never played in front of an audience of more than a couple of hundred so I’m pretty nervous.”

  “What about you, Jake? Tell our readers something about yourself.”

  “Well, I’ve been playing bass since I was a kid, too.” He laughed suddenly. “When I got my first bass, it was taller than I was!”

  “And he’s almost the same size now,” Colin snickered. He yelped suddenly as Jake slugged his arm.

  “I played in various garage bands and semi famous local bands until I joined Body Snatchers and met up with Colin. That’s when our dreams really took off!”

  “You didn’t know one another previous to that?”

  “We’d seen each other around, of course, but we’d never played in a band together until then.”

  “Tell me about your new CD.”

  “It’s called Too Strong for Fantasy and it’s our third CD. Paul Marshall, who did Body Snatchers’ ‘Things Happen’, produced it. All of us contributed the music and lyrics for it,” Colin answered.

  “Interesting title; what’s it mean?”

  Jake spoke up, “It means we’re a live band. We write, play, and sing our own songs. No phony shit here!”

  “My sources tell me you have an unusual concert tour planned. Can you give me any details?”

  “Sure,” Mace replied. “We’re going to be doing the smaller concert halls as well as the usual arena circuit.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, it’s always irritated me the way a lot of bands only do the major venues because that’s where the money is. They don’t seem to care that some of their fans live in smaller towns. They might have to go a hundred miles to a bigger city to see them; if they don’t have a way there – tough luck!” Colin explained.

  “Our stage is designed so it can be broken down for the smaller venues and expanded for the major arenas,” Jake added.

  “Is it true you’ve put a cap on your ticket prices?”

  “Yes,” Colin nodded. “We decided we’re only going to charge $35 dollars tops. It means we’ll be taking a cut, but hell, what’s the point of touring if none of your fans can afford to come and see you?”

  “I see. Who's going to be opening for you?”

  “Armageddon’s going to be opening for the first part of our tour,” Mace replied. “They’re from Arkansas and they’ve just released their first CD called ‘Hillbilly Heavy Metal’. I think we’re going to be a great package.”

  “Are you having difficulty finding bands to go out with you because of this new economic policy? Obviously they won’t be making as much money with you as they could if they went out with Metallica for instance.”

  “No. Steve has a list of bands whose managers have contacted him about their availability to go out with us should a spot come open. We may even consider adding a third band later in the tour,” Liam replied.

  “Colin, you’re very politically active. You’ve done public service announcements for Rock the Vote and Rock Against Drugs. You’ve also done PSA’s against censorship and to encourage kids to practice safe sex. You’ve participated in a concert to raise money for Bay area pro-choice groups and you appeared at the big Pro-Choice Rally in Washington D.C. recently.”

  “I try to encourage by example. I mean the problems this country has aren’t going to get solved if everybody just sits on their asses and does nothing.”

  “Our parents have always been politically active and they’ve taught us that everybody has to do their part to change things,” Liam explained.

  “We’ve invited Rock the Vote, Greenpeace, and an AIDS education group to tour with us and set up their booths at our shows.”

  “Will they be distributing condoms too?”

  “Yes. The kids need to know how to protect themselves. They need to know that these ultra-conservative groups don’t have the final say. They need to know that their votes are going to count and not voti
ng hurts everyone.”

  “Aren’t you guys worried that having these groups along will be a detriment in the more conservative regions of the country?”

  “There might be some problems, but I’m sure we can handle anything that comes along,” Mace replied confidently.

  “What about your love lives? Any of you guys have anybody special?”

  Mace, Jake and Liam all said no, but Colin smiled enigmatically and remained silent.

  Quinn saw it and pounced on him immediately. “Okay, Colin – spill!”

  Colin shook his head. “I’d rather not talk about her. She’s a private person and I want her to remain that way.”

  “Fair enough,” Quinn conceded and changed the subject. “One final question; what is Unforgiven hoping to achieve with this tour?”

  “Simple,” Colin replied. “We expect to have a great time and we hope everybody coming to see us will too.”

  Quinn turned off his recorder and stood. “I’ll need some pictures to go with this article. My photographer’s waiting in the outer office.”

  “Where do you want us?” Colin asked the photographer.

  “Outside would be good.”

  “Fine,” he replied.

  Colin’s red Jeep Patriot Sport® and Jake’s blue Pontiac Solstice® were in the lot outside. The photographer positioned them around the Jeep with Mace and Jake sitting on the fender while Colin and Liam leaned against it.

  “Sorry, I know I need to take this through the car wash,” Colin apologized to Mace and Jake for the grubby condition of his Jeep.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Mace replied. “He ain’t going to be taking a picture of my ass.”

  “Much to your regret,” Jake joked.

  “Look this way and smile,” the photographer called.

  “Will this be in the next issue?” Liam asked Quinn.

  “I don’t know,” Quinn replied, putting his bag over his shoulder prior to leaving. “It will depend on my editor.”

  “Translation,” Colin muttered as they walked back inside. “If any of their favorite alternative bands sneezes, we’re old copy!”