Gateway Drug | Volume II

GD: Volume II | Part One

"It's an early surprise for my birthday." He explains to me and I furrow my brows, looking at him.

"You're surprising me for your birthday that isn't for another, what, almost two weeks?" I ask him, and he licks his lips, nodding.

"Yeah."

"Sixx, if you bought me a car or a house or anything at all, other than dinner, I'm going to kick your ass." I promise, raising my brows.

"I don't have the money to do all of that right now." He chuckles as we head to town. "The only car you're getting from me is in your driveway." He adds, referring to my Corvette.

I've been hard at work looking for a new car that I can legally ride Monroe around in, having to use either Duff's or Mandy's car for the time being, though Nikki offered his Jeep up but I'm not comfortable driving it with Monroe in tow.

It doesn't feel sturdy enough to face a potential car accident.

He starts up again, and I look over at him, his straight hair that's just past his shoulders, now, so vividly black that I know he's recently, his skin has maintained it's healthy glow since sobriety, no longer a yuckish yellow hue to it or unnecessary claminess to accompany the track marks.

It's a little shocking how vastly different he looks now compared to a year ago, down to the way he offers me a warm smile when he looks at me now instead of a cold snarl followed by a slew of curses and topped off with addressing me as, "crazy bitch."

Though I'm not too prideful to admit I wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine either, at that time.

I'd provoke him for the hell of it sometimes, so those "crazy bitch"s I'd get were deserved...sometimes.

"...But after this album and this new tour, I'm buying you anything you want."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." He nods, smacking his gum.

"You know I don't care about that stuff, Nikki." I mumble, looking at my lap for a moment before pushing a strand of red hair behind my ear, and he looks at me for a second.

"I know that, Viv, but I do." He shrugs.

"I'm well aware." I scoff, rubbing my lips together. "Just, don't buy me a bunch of shit I don't ask for again and then call me ungrateful anytime we get into a fight."

"I'm not gonna do that, anymore, alright? But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna buy you nice things, either." He counters. "I wanna spoil you." He adds, smirking, "Starting with a nice dinner."

"How nice?" I nearly dread asking it, beginning to feel underdressed suddenly, despite the fact that I know I'm not.

All he does is look at me with a sly grin, one that made me question ripping his head off – and his clothes – simultaneously.

As suspected, his dinner was a trap.

We arrived at the posh restaurant only to be met by Gene Simmons and his girlfriend – Shannon.

I'd never been more tempted to try to impossibly shotgun a bottle of wine in my life than that night.

I take a prolonged drink of water, trying to listen as Mr. Simmons – who I refuse to call "Gene" to his face thanks to him practically undressing me with his eyes upon seeing me, exuberantly extending his hand and offered a cocky, "Call me Gene," before kissing the top of my hand – continues to hammer on about anything and everything me, Nikki, and his beautiful girlfriend will listen to.

Even Shannon, blonde hair falling over her shoulders, straightened, as wisps of a bangs framing her face, can't help but eventually roll her blue eyes and politely interrupt, "Genie, maybe let someone else speak."