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

Chapter 5: Bad Obsession

"Don't try ta give me a line, but I can't stop thinkin' 'bout, seein' ya one more time..."

Los Angeles, California - August 1985

As it turns out, I wouldn't see Axl again until August. Cheer Camp ended at the beginning of August and I had three weeks to burn before school started again so I headed to L.A. to spend them with Slash. When I got there, Slash and I immediately headed down to the Sunset Strip to catch up with the guys who were drinking at The Troubadour, waiting for a band called Faster Pussycat to start. When we walked into the club, I spotted Steven playing pool with Duff, and Izzy and Axl sitting at a nearby booth surrounded by several voluminous women whom I was pretty confident were either strippers or prostitutes judging by their outfits. Axl sat in the middle, he wore a backwards baseball cap over top of a blue bandana which was tied around his head, his long rose gold hair fell past his shoulders. He sat with his arms crossed on the table in front of him and a stunning blond vixen had draped herself across his shoulders. A cold wave of insecurity washed over me. I felt small and childlike. Slash saw Vicky standing at the bar and headed over to get us drinks, I b-lined it for Steven and Duff, anything to avoid what was going on in that booth.

As I walked up, Steven threw his pool que down on the table. "Fuck this!" He exclaimed. "I'm done," he stormed off towards the bar.

"Who's wants to play the winner?" Duff called out.

"I'll play," I said, slipping of my leather bomber and tossing it on a nearby chair.

"You play?" Duff sounded surprised.

"My dad taught me, we have a table at home," I picked up Steven's discarded cue and chalked the end. Slash came back with our round, he had both Vicky and Steven in tow.

"Big mistake man," Slash warned Duff, "she's a shark."

"Ladies first." Duff gestured towards the racked balls. I aimed my cue and shattered the break, sinking two stripped balls as I did it. "Whoa!" Duff said, looking genuinely impressed. "Guess I'm going to have to step up my game," he set up his next shot. By now, Axl had taken notice and gotten up from the table of tramps to check on the action. I desperately tried to avoid eye contact with him, looking only at pool table. Competition destroys my naturally sweet disposition. I play to win. I blocked out everything except the feeling of my cue sliding through my fingers and the click of the balls as they fell into the pockets.

"Eight ball, corner pocket," I called out, looking at Duff. He looked defeated. He was defeated, he still had three balls left on the table. I sank the eight ball with minimal effort. The group cheered loudly. Duff held his hand out for "5", I slapped it and he returned the gesture.

"Impressive," he said. "Loser buys the next round."

Axl walked over and took Duff's cue.

"I'll play the winner," Axl suggested, looking at me. I gave him a cheeky smile and then passed my cue to the clingy blond who had followed him like a lost puppy.

"You can take this one," I said to her, "I'm going to the bar." I could feel Axl's eyes on me as I walked to the bar with Duff.

Faster Pussycat came on around 10 pm and were fucking awesome. They were an amalgamation of hard rock, punk, and glam metal who put on a dirty jacked up show that was teetering on chaos. I loved it. The guys got right into the thick of the crowd but Vicky and I hung back to steer clear of the craziness. Regardless of our efforts to avoid it, a slam-dance circle materialized in front of us. One guy started slamming his body into the person nearest to him, starting a chain reaction of bodies bouncing off of one another in perpetual motion like Newton's Cradle. Before I knew it, one of the bodies spun in my direction. The guy, who was extremely drunk, reached for me to break his fall and we both went down hard. I landed underneath him, barley able to breath under his weight. Then, just as suddenly, Axl appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed the guy off of me, pulled him up, and threw him hard up against the back wall of the club.

"WATCH WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE DOING, ASSHOLE!!" Axl screamed in the guy's face as he held him against the wall by his shirt collar. He had a look of psychotic rage on his face. He let the guy go and turned to me, sitting on the floor, stunned. "Are you okay?" he asked, helping me up. "Are you hurt?"

"No," I replied, "I'm okay, I just want to get some air." Axl put his arm around my shoulders and led me through the crowd and out the back door. The night air was warm as we stepped out into the alleyway. Axl sat me down at a little picnic table it appeared the staff used for cigarette breaks. I sat on the table top with my feet on the bench and he sat down next to me.

"That was scary," I said, "thank-you for your help."

"Some people are just fucking animals," he replied, shaking his head, "I'm glad you're okay." He reached up and pushed a loose strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. He cupped my cheek in his hand and gently grazed my bottom lip with his thumb. Apparently, Axl wasn't much for small talk. I knew what was coming. Like a raindrop that has fallen from a cloud, plunging furiously towards the earth, there was no going back now. We sat there, eyes locked in an intense stare, my mouth waiting like a question. He leaned in, nudging his nose against mine. I closed my eyes and let him kiss me. It was a soft, careful kiss that sent shock waves throughout my entire body. His hands ran gently through my hair and his lips were smooth against the bite of whiskey that lingered on this tongue. It was clear in that moment that every other kiss I've had in my life had been wrong. This, I learned, was the dichotomy of Axl Rose, the intense, in-your-face, brute force that protected me back in the bar, and this, gentle, sensitive, considerate, man who was making my world stand still with this kiss.

After that night, Axl and I were hot and heavy. Whenever Slash was out of sight, we were all over each other. Closets, alleyways, the backseat of someone's car; the secrecy of it all made it that much more exciting. Before Axl, I was a physical novice, never having been past 2nd base, but, the last few weeks of the summer of '85 were my sexual revolution. Every time we got the opportunity to be alone, we took things just a little bit further. With guys I had been with up to this point, I was cautious, prudish even, never wanting things to progress too quickly for fear of my reputation at school, but Axl evoked feelings in me that I didn't realize I was capable of having, one taste, and I realized I had been starving. It was a thrilling crazy ride and I couldn't wait to see where we took things next. But Slash wasn't blind. As much as we tried to keep our hookups discreet, the frequency with which we both left to use the restroom at the exact same time or disappeared together at parties was becoming apparent to everyone. Slash didn't say anything to me outright, he was too passive and avoided conflict like the plague, but I could tell by his searing glares that it was bothering him, a lot. I was conflicted. On one hand, I loved Slash more than anything and it absolutely killed me to think I was disappointing him, but on the other hand, I was falling for Axl, hard. My feelings for him were coming like a freight train and I didn't think I could put the brakes on if I wanted to. But none of it mattered, because, come September, I'd be back at home in Palo Alto for an entire year of high school.