Here's a taster from Book 2 Tightening His Grip.
Our antihero Darren (Dan), is performing the final number with his other band members, Gerry and Oz. And guess what poor Leah has in store for her later.
From Chapter 25
I grab my cat pee-coloured wig from the holdall next to Oz’s drum kit and put it on before facing the audience. I raise my chin, pucker my lips and hold up my right hand, pressing the tips of my thumb and index finger together and straightening the other three to form 666 – the mark of the Beast. I stay silent for a moment, waiting till I hear Trump’s whiny, high-pitched, New York accent.
‘Let me extend a welcome to you all, even to the losers and haters.’
A cheer goes up before a tirade of boos and catcalls.
‘Call that a welcome? I don’t. You’re not very nice people. In fact you’re nasty people. I should have insisted the management build a wall between us. In fact, call this shit-hole a suitable venue for the President of the US of A? I certainly don’t.’
The booing has started again, so I straighten out my arm and fingers and show them my palm, saying, ‘Quieten down and listen to me, why don’t you?’
A couple of dickheads from my politics tutorial group are standing at the back. My blood starts pumping overtime at the thought of the heckling they gave me at the Oxford Union on Thursday. I point a finger directly at them. ‘Any more of that – and the management won’t ever let you back here. You’re just not special enough.’
I turn to Dan and Oz and indicate for them to start the intro. I go straight in, jabbing my finger at each member of the audience in turn.
‘I won’t stand for you minions
With your half-baked opinions.
Screw you with your views,
You think they’re all true?
Fake news is abuse.
You’d better think twice,
It’s not very nice,
And what’s this about
Calling me the Anti-Christ?’
I’m flying – gyrating my hips and waving my arms about randomly as the tongue-twisters slide out, faster and faster. Like when I played the Modern Major General in the Pirates of Penzance at school. People are whistling, clapping their hands in time to the beat. This attention – it’s addictive. I need it to go on forever.
All your shit about obstruction and collusion,
It was just an illusion, confusion, so up yours, you losers.
I’m no longer your mate,
The way you’re spreading the hate over SkyGate.
I don’t recall a leader who’s ever been cleaner,
Absolved from all crimes and misdemeanours.
I’m transparent, that’s more than apparent.
I’ve done nothing wrong! ‘It’s hardly a crime
Handling goods that aren’t mine,
To fondle your missus,
Steal a few kisses
Before grapping some pussy…’
The catcalls have started again and Leah has completely wrapped herself around her column. Is it supporting her, or will the roof cave in if she lets go? The way girls look at me – God do I need that. My mind’s wandering… Concentrate, will you! Last verse coming up.
You won’t be working for me
With your tosh about forming,
Storming, norming and performing.
It doesn’t happen that way,
You don’t get a say.
It’s your loss,
And I couldn’t give a toss because…
Who am I? You’ve got it.
I’m the Boss. I’m the Man,
And you don’t get a say.
Because I’m the Boss of The US of A.
It’s finished and the applause is like gunshot from an automatic. Gerry and Oz put a hand under my armpits and drag me away before relieving me of my wig. I give Leah a wink as I march offstage and out of the stage door. As I walk to the car, I text her with instructions as to where to meet. She’s with me in a couple of minutes – out of breath and pale as she climbs into the car.
I turn on the ignition and pull away from the curb. ‘So… What did you make of it?’
‘Wow!’ she says. ‘Just… wow!’ She’s staring at me in adulation, which is only to be expected after the accolade I got just now.