Jerry Haze

Jerry Haze had been privileged with an awe inspiring career. He fondly remembered his first 1989 UK hit: ‘Trample On My Dreams’ that sent him hurtling into stardom. Two more hits followed: ‘Born From A Space Storm’ and ‘Walk Away From The Light’ which sent him into the big league, and by 1992 he and his manager were sitting on a combined fortune of £120,000,000, give or take the odd Ferrari. His long suffering manager was David Croft.

David was a clever guy and was much more together than his flamboyant friend. The job had been awarded to him long before Jerry’s fame and fortune. Even at high school, his cool and calculating persona was a counter balance for Jerry’s over the top, and sometimes head in the clouds attitude to life.

After leaving school Jerry was still convinced that they were destined for greater things, and ironically they were. When Jerry got his first break with EMI, David just continued the task of veering him in the right direction. The only difference now, was that he had a job title.

There was, however, a third friend in the group of friends and her name was Bethany Swanson. She also met Jerry and David at high school and all three of them had been the best of friends from the word go, but there was always a friendly rivalry between the boys: both always competing for her affections.

She was very fond of both of them but in different ways. On the one hand she had David: Good looking, reliable, clever and astute. On the other she had Jerry: Un-reliable, flamboyant, charming and outrageously flirtatious.

As soon as Jerry discovered that his first single had shot straight to number one, he asked her to marry him. She made her choice on the spot, and said yes.

A number of years went by, and although Jerry’s career had tailed off quite a bit, it was far from finished: Number one songs at Christmas, and ‘Save The World Charity Yarns’. It did have the benefit of keeping him in the public eye, but he couldn’t seem to acquire the buzz that he had experienced at the height of his career.

He had also become aware that he could actually walk down the road, or go out to dinner and be left alone. No determined autograph hunters; no nut cases thinking that he was trying to contact them through the lyrics of his songs. He was starting to feel… normal, and this was one thing that Jerry Haze was struggling to face.

It was ten o’clock on Monday morning and Jerry was sitting down to his breakfast.

“I’m off to the gym sweetheart,” Bethany said, walking over to him to give him a peck on the cheek.

Jerry looked up at her while playing with his muesli.

“Do I really have to eat this crap? It’s like cardboard.”

“Oh come on Jerry, we’ve discussed this before. It’s good for you, and you can lay off that coffee as well. There’s juice in the fridge.”

Jerry looked back down at his bowl while balancing the spoon upright in the centre.

“See you later,” Bethany said shutting the front door.

“Jerry Haze doesn’t drink juice,” he thought, emptying his half eaten breakfast in the bin.

A few minutes later the first chords of ‘Trample On My Dreams’ buzzed around the house, causing Jerry to excitedly make his way to answer the front door.

“Alright Dave?” Jerry asked smiling, “How you doin bruv?”

Dave walked in while straitening his tie, following Jerry to the kitchen.

“Coffee?” Jerry gestured waving a cup around.

“Yes I will thanks. Oh, and no sugar; I’m trying to cut down. Now then, what’s all this about? and why did I have to wait for Bethany to go out before ringing the doorbell? What are you up to this time Jerry?”

Jerry held a stainless steel jug of milk, carefully rotating it as the milk frothed up, building in volume and eventually reaching the top.

“I want to get goin again Dave! I want it back but this time, I want more!”

“What do you mean? What do you want more of?”

Jerry carefully laid down two cups of coffee on the centre aisle, and pulled up a bar stool next to him.

“I want the fame back. The buzz.”

“But you already have all this?” Dave explained pointing around the room with a mystified look on his face.

Jerry sipped his coffee.

“You earn a good profit from the books and stuff, and let’s not forget your usual Christmas number one. Who’d have ever guessed that ‘I wish Santa was a girl’ would still be played all these years on, and bring in such a healthy income.”

“Oh come on Davy Boy,” exclaimed Jerry, “you know it’s not the same, and besides, this time I want more.”

Dave put his coffee down shaking his head.

“You’ve always been so bloody selfish Jerry. You just can’t see what you’ve got can you. What do you mean ‘more’ anyway? Let me guess, you want to be some sort of fucking icon I suppose!”

Jerry was now pacing around the kitchen.

“What about Bethany? How do you think she’s going to react? or doesn’t her opinion count? If it wasn’t for her you’d be laying in some drug filled gutter by now.”

“She’ll just have to deal with it!” Jerry replied, laying both hands down on the Italian marble work surface in front of him, “just tell me Mr Fix It… is it possible?”

Both men stared into each other’s eyes. The duration of silence felt more like an hour than a couple of seconds, until David finally took a loud deep breath and broke the gaze.

“Yes it’s possible.”

Jerry excitedly walked back over and sat back down.

“So, will you do it?”

David gave a submissive smile.

“When have I ever let you down Jerry? Of course I’ll give you what you want, but on one condition.”

“Anything,” Jerry declared, “name it.”

“We will only have one chance for this to work. We cannot let anyone know until the opportune moment, even Beth. Secrecy is paramount.”

Jerry got up again and starting pacing backwards and forwards.

“You will have to secretly put an album together,” David explained, “are you still up to it?”

“Am I still up to it?” Jerry laughed, “I’ve already fucking written it! What do you think I do every day?”

Jerry opened a draw and removed a tatty old pad, sliding it across the work top.

Dave took a pair of reading glasses from his top pocket.

“They’re very good,” Dave whispered as he flicked through the pages, “but they’re all a bit racy. I will need something a little different to start the ball rolling like a really sad ballad; depressing. How about basing it on the way you feel at the moment? I think it needs to be really self-indulgent.”

Jerry was dancing around the Kitchen banging the copper pots and pans that were hanging from the ceiling rack.

“Haha, you got it Davy Boy, I can knock that type of wishy washy crap out with my eyes shut!”

“Oh and remember,” Dave explained as he got up and started walking to the front door, “Beth isn’t stupid. If she sees you dancing around the house like an over excited child she’ll smell a rat straight away. Then it will be game over.”

“Don’t worry about a thing Mr D, I’ll be on my best behaviour. You just do what you gotta do, and I’ll see you here again tomorrow morning. I’ll have the soppiest saddest ballad ready. You’ll be crying in your coffee!”

The next morning after Bethany had left for the Gym, Dave came around as agreed.

“Well? Let’s see it then,” Dave asked.

Jerry went to the draw, took out the pad and smugly slid it over to Dave.

“See, I told you I could do it. What do you think?”

After Dave had put his reading glasses on, he carefully read every word of the song. Jerry followed Dave’s finger eagerly with his eyes as it glided along the page.

“Well, what do you think? Will it do the trick?”

Dave sighed and thought for a moment, chewing the arm of his glasses.

“It’s perfect Jerry; better than I could have hoped for.”

“Yahoo!” Dave yelped, jumping up from his chair, “so what’s next?”

“I’ll tell what’s next. You’re going to calm down, and I’m going to make us a drink; something a bit stronger than a coffee too don’t you think?”

Dave walked over to the drinks cabinet in the lounge and poured two glasses of scotch.

“Cheers,” Dave said passing a glass to his overzealous friend.

Both men toasted to their impending success.

“Ah, I needed that”, Jerry gasped, finishing the whole glass in one gulp, and then crashing down into his arm chair, “what’s the next stage of the plan?”

“Well Jerry, let me explain. Think about some of the most iconic figures in our history: James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley. This is just to name a few.”

Jerry sat listening intently.

“Apart from their obvious success,” Dave continued, “what did they all have in common?”

Jerry thought for a minute.

“No… sorry Mr D, you’ve lost me. What did they all have in common?”

David sat shaking his head.

“Goodness me Jerry, isn’t it obvious? The link that defines them all is that they all died in tragic circumstances.”

“What’s… happening… to… me?” Jerry pleaded, dropping his glass and holding his throat, “I feel… weird.”

“If you want to live for ever, you have to die first. I have to congratulate you on such a wonderful suicide note by the way. Who else but the great Jerry Haze would do it in verse?”

“You’re crazy… What… have… you…”

As Jerry slipped into un-consciousness, David carefully cleaned his glass, placing it back into the drinks cabinet. He then placed the torn out page from the pad next to the dying man along with a small bottle of tablets.

“Farewell Jerry. You finally made it into the hall of fame.”

It was a week later, and the black limo slowly drove into the cemetery, weaving its way through the crowd and television crews.

“I just don’t understand it Davy?” Bethany sobbed, “How could I have missed the signs?”

“Hey don’t you go blaming yourself! I won’t hear of it, besides, who ever really knew what was going in Jerry’s head.”

“I suppose you’re right. He was always so unpredictable. I just don’t think that I can cope on my own.”

“You don’t have to worry about a thing,” David said putting his arm around her, “I’m going to look after you from now on.”

“Thank you Davy, you are so sweet. I just don’t know what I would do without you.”