Maybe I'll Get It Right Next Time...

Chapter 4: Welcome to the Jungle

"You can taste the bright lights but you won't get them for free..."

Los Angeles, California – May 1985

I had never been inside a night club before. Slash was right, we walked right in the back door without anyone saying a word. The sun hadn't quite set outside but it was dark as night inside The Whiskey. Slash ushered me though the greasy back kitchen area out to the dimly lit club. The place was already buzzing with people. The air was thick with the smell of cigarette smoke and bad decisions. The floor was sticky, I felt my Chuck Taylors pulling against the floor boards as we made our way across the dance floor and towards the main bar where I could see Steven Adler smiling and laughing with a small group of people. Steve was a long-time friend of Slash's who I've always adored.

"Steven!" I cried, pouncing on him.

"Allie girl!" he said back, picking me up in a big hug and spinning me around. Steven had always been cute. His wore his long fluffy blond hair feathered to his shoulders with curly bangs that hung in his eyes like a sheepdog. He had an open carefree soul and an enthusiasm that was contagious. Steven was a wicked drummer and when Guns N' Roses found themselves in need of a drummer, Slash suggested his old friend. Steven introduced me to a girl named Meghan, whom he was dating at the time, Vicky, the band's manager, and Joe, their roadie and guitar tech. Yvonne, Slash's on-again, off-again girlfriend also showed up and I was grateful to have some people to hang out and watch the show with. We ordered Jack & Cokes and took in the scene while we waited for the guys to start their set.

Around 10:00 pm the show finally started. One by one, the band filed onto the stage, and Slash's snarling guitar launched them into their first song, 'Out Ta Get Me'. They were only moments into their set but I was already mesmerized. The five of them together produced an amazing sense of reckless abandon and unbridled energy that fed the crowd, who were hungry for more. Their vicious brand of hard-rock wasn't metal, it wasn't glam, it wasn't punk; it was something unlike anything that was being played at the time. Their sound was a sawed off shotgun. The guys all sounded good but their high-pitched lead singer was really tearing the roof off! He ran feverishly up and down the stage, clutching a microphone; wearing a pair of skin tight leather pants, cowboy boots, and nothing else. His long copper hair crashed down around his shoulders, flickering like a flame as he screamed his fucking heart out. That voice drew me in immediately; it was so versatile, and, underneath his impossibly high-pitched shrieking, he had a natural bluesy rhythm that was riveting. As he sung, he writhed his lean glistening body around the stage in a sort-of slithering dance; waves of color mixed with waves of sound. It was gritty and raw and emanated sexuality. I had never seen anything like it. There wasn't a single person in that room able to take their eyes off of him even for a second, the performance was blistering.

After the set ended, I followed Vicky, Joe, and Yvonne to the backstage area which consisted of a rectangular room, painted completely black, with two long beige couches along opposite walls and a pair of round cocktail tables filled with half empty drinks. The five members of Guns N' Roses milled about the area, mixing drinks, still buzzing off their performance high. Slash, fresh out of the shower, stood shirtless with a bottle of Jack Daniel's, his constant companion, with his long black hair wrapped up in a towel.

"Slash..." I said, approaching him, "that was incredible."

Slash shot me a confident smile.

"Come meet the guys," he said as he led me over to the rest of the group. "Guys, this is my cousin Allie. Allie, these are the guys." Directly to my right was a tall, rail thin, platinum blond who introduced himself as Duff. He had an attractive face, long wavy hair, and kind brown eyes. Next to Duff, was a scruffy, British-rocker-looking type named Izzy. Izzy had short, straight, unkempt, black hair that covered most of his long face.

As I turned to my left, I locked eyes with the last member of Guns N' Roses.

"I'm Axl," he stated in a voice much deeper than I expected after hearing him sing.

"I'm Allie," I responded with a shy smile. His blue/grey eyes stared at me intensely as if they saw right through me, into every dark corner or who I was. His features were so defined; full lips and high cheekbones. He was beautiful almost in a feminine way.

Drinks flowed and the night rolled on. When the Whiskey closed down and kicked us out, we made our way back to the rehearsal space at Sunset and Gardner that Slash and Axl were calling home these days, a good sized entourage in tow. As we ambled along, we passed around a bottle of Night Train Express, an 18% red wine that tasted like Kool-Aid flavored bleach and could be bought for less than $2.00 a bottle. Inspired by events of the evening and fueled by the 18% wine, the guys began to improvise as we wandered up the street. One of the guys busted out the chorus: "I'm on the Nighttrain!" We all continued singing. Axl filled in the lines in between: "Bottom's up!" "Fill my cup!" and "Love that stuff!" It might have been the wine but I think I was witnessing the birth of a teenage anthem!

The area of town where the boy's rehearsal space was located was seedy at best. There were plenty of interesting characters milling about the neighborhood. But, since the area was mostly industrial, we could be as loud as we wanted without disturbing anyone. As the party rolled on, I climbed up into the little loft the guys had built over Steven's drum kit. From there I had a perfect view of everyone, including Axl, who was glaring in my direction. I had felt his eyes moving over me all night but we had hardly spoken two words to one another. As if he could hear my thoughts, Axl excused himself from the two girls he was talking to and started in my direction. My heart stopped. He climbed up in the loft and sat right next to me, his leg pressed against mine.

"So, you're the cousin," he said, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together, his feet hanging down below, swinging in unison with mine. I nodded, unable to find my words. "He talks about you a lot," he looked across the room to Slash who was now watching us vigilantly, "he's very protective."

"Yeah..." I replied, "He can be."

"What did you think of the show?"

"I thought it was incredible. You guys blew the roof off the place."

"Thanks. We've really been gelling as a group. We have a solid set of songs now. I feel like it's really coming together for us." Axl spoke about his band in meaningful tones. I could tell how much it meant to him. He was well spoken and intelligent. We sat in that loft drinking Night Train and talking for what felt like hours. He told me about his childhood, growing up in Indiana under the watchful eye of a very strict stepfather. He grew up playing the piano, and it's still his instrument of choice. He got his start singing in the church choir, which explained the amazingly soulful quality to his singing. He told me how he got kicked out of his parent's home for refusing to cut his hair, which led him to follow his childhood friend, Izzy, out to L.A. As he spoke about the complexities of his life, the simplicity of my own became painfully obvious to me. Only six years separated us by age but it felt like decades. The entire time we spoke, Slash monitored the situation.

As the sun began to creep through the corrugated aluminum roll-up door, Slash motioned to me that it was time to go. "I guess we're out of here," I said.

"You could always just stay here with me," he grinned, gesturing behind us to the makeshift bed in the loft. 

My face went instantly red.

"I doubt that would go over well," I replied, I nodded towards Slash who was standing impatiently in the doorway looking legitimately annoyed now.

Axl laughed.

"No, it definitely wouldn't." He reached around behind my waist and gently ran his hand up my back. I felt his touch in every inch of my body. His face was only inches from mine. Time appeared to stand still as he leaned in closer—

"Allie! Let's fucking go already!" Slash's voice shattered the moment like a crystal vase dropped from ten stories up.

"I gotta run..." I said to Axl. He winked at me and I slid out of the loft and ran to Slash who ushered me quickly out the door. I left the storage unit with a sense of wine in my head and the lingering feeling of Axl's touch on my back. All I could think of was: when would I see him again?