Hold On To Love || Kirk Hammett

Part 24- Betty Betty Bye Bye

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This made my day and no you are not going to be flashing anyone.

I thought I was going to have heart failure because it was beating faster than a thousand galloping horses. My leg bounced up and down under the table as we waited for his mother to arrive. A nice fancy restaurant with warm lighting, and feint jazz music playing in the background. I would have fallen asleep if it wasn't for the anxiety pulsing through my veins. My eyes darted around the room to find something to preoccupy my mind and my hand landed on the menu,  and my eyes immediately fell to the abundance of wines, ranging from red to white.

"You can't have any." Kirk grabbed the menu from me and stilled my leg with his hand.

"You can't either."

He took a sip of water, his tongue darting across his lips, "Of course not. It wouldn't be a glass of wine if you can't have, Dolcezza."

"I was joking Kirk, I don't mind." Maybe there was just a teeny tiny bit of me that was jealous of him. To be able to forget all your worries with each sip, to melt away from your problems with each puff of smoke. I wasn't addicted to drugs or alcohol, I was addicted to running away from my fears. That was the most real part of my pregnancy because unlike other problems I couldn't hide behind a bottle of whisky.

He took my hand, twisting the ring on my finger, "It won't be as fun if I'm drunk without you."

"My oh my. You really are a softie are you?" He chuckled in response. I lifted my head to meet his.

Just one kiss, just one- 

"Hey ma, how are you?" 

-kiss.

"Savannah, good to see you again." She smiled.

 His mother was everything you can imagine a mother would be and more- and she was certainly the opposite of mine. Kind-hearted, caring, funny- it was no wonder where Kirk got his sense of humor from, and she made the best chili in San Francisco. Although I must say besides humor, he definitely got his height from her, I'm willing to bet I was taller than her at 13.

Sometimes I wonder where I would be in my life if I grew up with a mother like Kirks. I'd be a completely different person. I would have been a contributing and respectable member of society with a boring husband with a 4-inch dick, three kids, a Labrador puppy, and every other mind-numbing thing you can imagine. 

Instead, here I am, a reckless woman that overdosed on heroin and hitched to a guitar-playing Rockstar who I married after knowing for 6 months. Pregnant at 20 years old and still drives a Harley like crazy, with a cat that sleeps on the counter while doing other crazy shit that you can imagine.

God, I love how I turned out.

I lost my train of thought when Kirk and his mom burst out laughing as he pulled me into his chest kissing me. I nuzzled my nose into him, smelling his cologne. Whisky and Spice. 

We ordered our food, Kirk and his mom engaging in conversation while I listened to them, chewing my food silently and occasionally nodding my head or smiling when they cracked a joke. All I could focus on was how she'd hate me after she found out about the baby. How her opinion of me would drop. She wouldn't think of me as the shy, sweet, innocent girl act I put on, she'd look at me as the girl her son got knocked up.

"Are you ok? You haven't said a word." his mom asked. I hadn't noticed I'd been shaking my legs again until Kirk put his hand on my thigh, giving me a reassuring squeeze sending chills up my spine.

"Mhm. Food's really good." I replied, nodding my head and taking a sip of my water.

The waiter came to collect our plates and we ordered dessert, my mouth watering at the sight of the chocolate brownies with ice cream on the side. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, giving Kirk a nod, my heart pounding as I waited in the hall.