Book 2: Nothing Seems to Please Me (Duff McKagan FanFic)

Ch. 9: Stuck With Me

I ditched the guys about two blocks away from my apartment. I didn't want them having any chance to see my home or my dad. Of course, it had been a struggle what with Duff always trying to follow me around like a lost puppy and Steven wanting me to hang out and fuck around with everyone. But they eventually got the point and left me alone when I told them about the time I had to fight off a group of strange men with a metal pipe and, "Oh, look! There's the pipe over there!"

It was a mean trick, but it was better to do that than to deal with them poking around in my personal life or having them knowing where I lived and risk the chance of them coming over unannounced all of the time.

I knew Duff would have been the one to try that. He was always following me around, and he either acted like a protective boyfriend or a horny ass hole. The truth is, I didn't know what to think of Duff at this point. On one level-as much as I didn't want to admit it-Duff was extremely attractive and one hell of a bassist, however, he was way too arrogant when it came to girls, and the last thing I needed in my life was a boyfriend around to complicate things further.

Whatever. I'm used to being alone.

I dragged myself up the flight of stairs to my apartment. After the Whiskey, the band and I had headed back towards my side of town, collecting bottles of beer at every stop along the way until I had to bail on them. I figured I'd gotten enough to satisfy my dad.

"Hello?" I called into the apartment as I opened the door. There was no reply and I inched slowly into the living room. I tried the light switch, but nothing happened. "Dad?"

The room looked messier than usual. My heart just about stopped when I saw that bottles were scattered everywhere and the coffee table was knocked over. I felt my knees growing weak, but I forced myself to continue deeper into the darkness.

"Dad?" My voice was trembling worse than my hands and the beer bottles in my satchel were clinking together.

When I'd made it to the hallway, I could see some picture frames had fallen and shattered against the hardwood floor while others that had remained on the wall were lopsided. I inched around the shattered glass towards the end of the hallway where my dad's bedroom door was cracked open. There was a strangle light emanating from it.

"Dad!" I called out. I rushed into his room and gasped. There, on the floor was my dad with the lamp from his nightstand lying beside him in a pool of vomit. The light shade was missing, so the beams of light were aimed directly at the wall beside me, leaving the other side of the room in a strange, dim glow.

"Max?" His voice was weak. I dropped to my knees beside him. He was broken out in a sweat and his whole body seemed to be alive with tremors.

I easily recognized the symptoms and knew he was going through withdrawals. I had only seen him like this a few times, but each time was always worse than the last as his drinking progressed.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I'm here now," I patted his head gently. He slapped my hand away from him and he grabbed at my satchel, tearing it open and ripping out a bottle of beer. He twisted it open with some difficulty and began to chug.

I watched in silence, focusing on helping him get better, refusing to allow the tears to come to my eyes. I popped open another bottle and handed it to him.

"Where the fuck have you been?" He demanded, gulping down another bottle before throwing it against the wall. I tensed at the sound of the shattering glass and stiffly handed him another.

"You been out prostituting yourself? Fucking slut. How else would you get all of this money?" He snarled. "Then again...you're more of a man than I am. I'll bet you don't get many clients, am I right?"

I clenched my jaw, grinding my teeth together. I wouldn't let him win. I wouldn't lose control.

"But some guys are into the whole 'itty bitty titty committee' thing, so I'll bet you get at least a few clients. Helping guys run away from their gay thoughts, am I right? You're a fucking saint, Maxi. You really are."

I locked eyes with him and we glared at each other. I went to grab another bottle and he shot his hand out, gripping my arm and squeezing until I cried out in pain.

"Where were you?" He asked again.

I gritted my teeth. "Bite me."

He let out a furious roar and slapped me across the face. I fell to the floor with a loud thud. He got up and began kicking me while I was down, his boots connecting with my stomach multiple times as I grunted in agony.

"You need to learn a lesson, bitch," he snarled. "Like it or not, I am your father, and you're stuck with me."