Book 2: She's Out To Please (Duff McKagan FanFic)

Ch. 1: Fucking Bullshit

Disclaimer: I don't own GNR or any of their songs.

"I'll trade you a Coke for some fries."

"Nah, man. I've been saving this for weeks!"

"Quit being so stingy, Steven!"

"Back off, Slash. I never told you to share your McDouble!"

"That was a good McDouble..."

"And these are gonna' be damn good fries! My damn good fries."

"Would you guys just shut the fuck up?" I grumble, pulling up the collar on my leather jacket in a sad attempt to shield my ears from the conversation going on around me.

"Geez, Duff...what crawled up your ass and died?" I recognized the deep voice immediately as Axl. He was the one who had been whining all night, shamelessly begging Steven to trade his McDonald's fry coupon for the Coke coupon he'd been saving.

Originally, Axl had told us all that he was saving the large Coke coupon for an occasion when he'd need a mixer. I guessed that, just like the rest of us, hunger was eating away at Axl's insides and he was finally willing to part with his soda. Steven, on the other hand, had been smart. He hoarded his food coupon for the longest time, and was not going to give it up now, and definitely not for something as lame as a large Coke. 

"I'm hungry. Just like you. Just like Steven. Let him enjoy his fries and shut the fuck up so I can sleep and dream about all of the food that I can't afford."

There was a long pause in which I could feel the tension in the room growing. Even with my eyes closed, I was easily able to envision the scene around me: Steven, a smug grin on his face and his fry coupon wrapped firmly in a triumphant fist, Axl's face scrunched up in a mixture of defeat and frustration, Slash was smoking on the floor, seated Indian style with a guitar cradled in his arms, and Izzy...well, he was out pushing drugs at the moment.

"I don't mind sharing with you, Ax," Steven's voice was soft, and the kindness in his offer was like a knife cutting through the strained atmosphere. But even stronger was Axl's aura of fury, which did nothing to ease the pressure in the room.

"I don't need your pity fries," Axl shot back, a slight growl in his voice.

More silence, followed by the sounds of foot steps and a nearby door opening and closing.

"I hope he chokes on 'em," Axl grumbled. I guessed he was referring to Steven, who must have been the one who had left only moments before.

"Come on, Axl. It's not his problem that you didn't use your coupons wisely," Slash chimed in, the sounds of his fingers lightly strumming the guitar soon followed.

Axl let out an exasperated sigh and I heard him shuffle around a bit.

"It's not just him. It's this fucker too."

I was nearly knocked off of the couch by a sudden boot to the ass. The flaps of my jacket fell from my face when I scrambled to keep myself from dropping to the floor. The light from the ceiling fan hit me almost as hard as Axl's foot, and I blinked furiously against it to regain my sight.

"What the fuck, man?" I demanded. My fingernails dug into the scratchy fabric of the dilapidated couch, catching me midair and saving my face from smashing into the floor.

I glared up at Axl through the blonde waves of hair that had fallen into my eyes. The redhead was looming over me menacingly, he had that all-too familiar look on his face. The one that told everybody that he was in a shit mood and to stay out of his way, something he had always seemed to carry around in his back pocket for as long as I'd known him.

"Don't 'what the fuck, man' me," Axl growled, mocking my voice as he spoke. It sounded kind of hoarse and strangled. God, did I really sound like that? More importantly, did I really care? "You're one of the few fucks in this joint who hasn't been pitching in. It's getting on my last goddamn nerve."

I was taken aback by Axl's sudden outburst, and even more so by my own attitude. Out of the five of us, it was usually Izzy and I who avoided conflict, who brought the others down from temper tantrums and booze-fueled rampages. But not tonight.

Tonight, I was pissed. I just wanted some sleep and some food. Maybe even some booze, if at all possible. But I was flat broke and out of options at the moment, and I had been on edge all day ever since my withdrawals had began to set in. My patience was wearing thin.

"So is your singing, but I still suffer through that during every rehearsal."

I knew I'd made a horrible mistake when Slash abruptly stood, guitar in hand, and headed for the door.

"I'm gonna' go make sure Steven gets to McDonald's okay," he said as though he was in a hurry to not only get the words out quick enough, but also to leave the vicinity as soon as possible.

As the door clicked behind him, I was ripped up from the sofa by the collar of my jacket and was brought face to face with the monster that was Axl Rose. His features had gone as red as his hair and his breath reeked of cigarettes and alcohol.

"If you wanna' be in this band, you have got to start pulling your own weight around here," Axl spat, shaking me lightly as he spoke.

"What're you talking about, man? I book venues for us all the fucking time."

Axl snorted. "And yet we've only actually played at one of them. How do you expect us to play at clubs when we can't even pay the entry fee?"

He had me there. Even at The Whiskey, where we were fairly well known, it still took $25 to get the whole band in. That was a fortune to us these days. We barely even had  $5 to scrape together half of the time, which would be enough for one of us to get in, but was money we usually spent for each of us to get hammered on a bottle of Night Train. So why was he singling me out as the main reason we were all broke? Last I checked, he was chugging Night Train with the rest of us.

"Izzy doesn't have a job..." I whined, knowing full well that I sounded like a child. I was running out of excuses, and we both knew how this argument was going to end.

"Not a real job, but he is out making money tonight and it's going to score us enough money to pay for the rental space."

Izzy, the most responsible-and most capable-of our group, was responsible for scrounging up enough money for the 12'x12' rental space we had below the loft. We used the rented area for band rehearsals and had built a loft on top out of lumber as an area for sleeping and sex.

Basically, since we'd moved into this place, we had been struggling for money, food, and drugs. Most of the time, we would manage to save enough or scavenge enough to meet our needs. But there were always rare nights like tonight, when the alcohol ran dry, the girls were gone, and we were all feeling a little on edge without knowing when our next fix was. And these were the nights when being young and stupid wasn't so fun.

We would fight, sometimes even getting physical-especially if the fight was between Axl and Steven-and if we didn't fight, we would just laze around like zombies. Those nights were almost worse than the nights where we fought, at least, to me they were. Silence was worse than anything. At least when you fight with someone, you know where you stand with them.

"So, get a job...or get out," he ordered, dropping me back onto the sofa.

I could feel my mouth hanging open, showing just how startled I was by Axl's demand. I forced myself to close it, not wanting to lose face in front of this arrogant asshole.

"Where the hell am I supposed to work?" I yelled, throwing my arms up into the air in exasperation.

"Not my fucking problem."

With that, he turned and stormed out the door, lighting a cigarette as he went.

"Bullshit," I hissed under my breath. "Fucking bullshit."