Chapter 8 - Distance

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Tommy - 

I’m ready to get the hell out of this hotel. My room wasn’t that bad to pack up. I’ve been known for trashing hotel rooms, but I guess because I wasn’t in this one too much, it was spared from the hands of the Crue redecoration committee. Management will probably be pleased to not have an additional bill for damages for this hotel. Unless of course Vince threw some hissy fits, and destroyed stuff. It happens. We all fuck shit up sometimes, even Mick. When Nikki and I put on our Terror Twins persona, that’s usually when stuff gets broken. Too much fucking drama got in the way here though. I’ll be happy to leave this place behind, and funny enough, it might actually be the first hotel in the history of the Crue to invite us back… maybe. I mean, I’m sure someone has had to fuck up something to ruin it. The Crue always leaves some sort of mess in its wake. But, this time, it might just be fallout from personal drama. I don’t want to fucking come back here.

I waited until the final call to go downstairs. I heard there were some fans lingering around, and I wasn’t into the mood to mingle. Just feeling a little down I guess. My wife is not happy with me, and the dynamics between me and my best friend has changed. I’m not in the mood for his moodiness today. I get downstairs and head out to the limo. When I get there, I see that Nikki is already in the car, in the back seat, as he prefers. He seems pretty sedated, and gave me a quick ‘hey.’ I went towards the front of the limo where Mick was already. He’s going to be my nice, sane buddy for the day. Our tour manager, Rich, has replaced Doug in the limo, who flew out earlier today. We’re waiting for Vince. Fred usually trails behind us when loading up in case someone has to be bounced. Doc is squaring things up at the hotel desk. 

Vince comes rushing in, bitching about something. I guess he has a rough night. Poor Vince tends to find girls who take advantage of him. He’s just so into pussy chasing, that he doesn’t take much time to profile who he’s picking up. He’s been robbed multiple times by these chicks. And if it’s not that, he’ll find something else to complain about. Mick is ribbing him, and saying something sarcastic. Mick thinks all of our antics are stupid and foolish, and sometimes feels the need to call us out on them. Vince just tells him to ‘fuck off.’ I can tell this is going to be a great ride. I can’t fucking wait. Fred climbs in, and sits next to Nikki. Doc follows a minute later; congratulating us for sparing him from the embarrassment of being chewed out by the hotel management at check out; which is usually the norm. Sorry to say Doc, the good behavior won’t last. I know it won’t. I hope he enjoyed the reprieve. 

I hear Fred ask if Nikki feels OK. Nikki says that he’s fine, just tired, or maybe getting the flu. We all know, the band and management, that Nikki has a habit, but it’s rare that someone calls him out on it. Does he actually believe that we think he has the flu? If that were true, this would be about his 25th relapse this year alone. But, we always let his lame excuse go. It’s hard to call him out, when we’re all doing fucked up shit. He’ll throw that right back at us. We all know. We just don’t know how to help him, mainly because he’ll never admit that he needs help. Personally, it makes me sad. I worry a lot about him. But right now, I’m not buying into his pity party. I need a break from him.

Nikki - 

I loaded up on pills and Jack before heading downstairs. I feel like shit, and I’m not feeling optimistic about tonight’s show. Somehow, I always pull it together, but I’m a little worried right now. I pumped myself full of downers, hoping I can just put myself in my own little dream world during the ride. I’ll take the uppers for a pick-me-up when we arrive. I’m happy to learn that there is no pre-show meet and greet for this concert. The venue is a little smaller. Our stage set had to be scaled back a little bit too. But I’m fearful that this will also mean that we won’t have private dressing rooms. I’m not in the mood to share, and be around my bandmates. 

I’m bored, and I head out to the limo a little early. I take my favorite seat, and just pull out my journal until the others start filing in. A few minutes later, Mick gets in. He told me that I look like hell. I’m sure I do. No shower and shitty attitude. Tommy is next to get in. I muster up a ‘hey’, he reciprocates, and heads up towards Mick. I just go back to journaling. Soon, we’re loaded up, so I put my journal away in my bag. Fred notices my shitty appearance too. Don’t care. I turn my back towards him to try to sleep. 

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The ride to the arena was uneventful for me. I think I dozed off for a little while. Unfortunately, I was right about the shared dressing room. I guess it’s OK. I don’t really care right now, and wasn’t planning on anything tonight which would need privacy, I just mainly don’t feel like interacting with my bandmates. I do some lines with them, and we shoot the shit for a bit, but I really just feel like disappearing for awhile. These are the times that I really miss just being home, by myself. 

We’re all dressed for the stage. The support band is near the end of their set. Vince has left the dressing room. I’m assuming he’s on the hunt for a quick lay. Mick just left also. And I assume he’s going off to find his gold-digging back-up ho. It just leaves me and Tommy. Neither of us seem to be in the mood to interact, but he does ask if I’m OK, telling me that I look out of it. I lie as usual, and tell him that I think that I’m getting sick. I know it’s the drugs, the alcohol, lack of food and good sleep, boredom, and my shitty attitude that’s the real culprit. He knows too. He pats me on the back, and invites me to come with him to the side of the stage to watch the last song or 2. I really don’t feel like it. I’m not into this band’s music. It puts me to sleep, but I guess it’s a decent way to kind of square things with Tommy. As we’re walking out, he shakes my shoulders, and says, “C’mon Sixx. We’re going to kick ass tonight.” I know, buddy. Let’s go.

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