Gateway Drug | Volume I

Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-Seven

"What is it?" I ask him, self-consciously pulling the covers back around me to cover my chest.

"You're beautiful." He says lowly, his hand coming up to brush my red hair from my face.

"Don't be weird." I say in regards to whatever the hell is happening between us.

We've only messed around a handful of times and I've been trying not to get attached because there's no point. I don't need him bullshitting me just for the hell of it.

"I'm being honest, Viv. You are."

"So is every other girl you have fun with. We're already fooling around anytime either of us wants it, you can stop trying to tell me nice stuff so I'll let you between my legs, Nikki." I laugh it off, but the sting of the truth strikes through my body.

"The other girls are nice to look at, but are grade-A hangers-on. They could give less of a fuck as long they're getting boned by a rockstar, they don't care." He replies.

Apparently the look I give him is one of doubt.

"I'm always right." He states sarcastically with a toothy grin. "So if I say you--despite being a pain in the ass--are beautiful, then there's no arguing about it." He adds and I try not to make my overjoyed smile obvious, instead leaning down, pressing my lips to his.

1987

"Another vehicle, Nikki, are you kidding me?!" I scream as he simultaneously says, "don't fucking start, Viv!"

He can't be serious.

"Do you not remember that notice we got about the $5,000 a day in heroin being spent, Nikki, or did that just fly over your head? We have bills, we have have things that we need to prioritize and what do you do?! Buy another car!"
He just ignores me, grabbing a paper bag from the fridge.

I give up on fighting, tears of frustration rolling down my cheeks as I grab my car keys to just get the hell out of here.

He had gotten a brand new Mercedes Benz after I had asked him to wait until we got more money from the album and the tour. He decided we had enough money and went for it.

I angrily wrap packing tape around the cardboard box packed full of Steven's things, seeing him flinch each time the tape let out a squeak from me manhandling it.

"You good, Viv?" He asks me cautiously and I glare at him.

"I married a junkie who's mission is to damn near give me a heart attack anyway he possibly can whether it's with his drug abuse or simply spending money we don't necessarily have." I state. "So, no, Stevie. I could be better."

"Oh...I'm sorry." He mumbles.

"It's called D-I-V-O-R-C-E. They're perfect in situations such as your's and could really benefit you and him." Izzy sarcastically let's out, raising his brows and I slowly turn to look at him with a death glare. "Or suffer, that's a good option, too." He shrugs.

"We don't want that." I state as Duff comes in the living room from the kitchen.

"Not what I've heard." Izzy scoffs back. "Sixx talks when he's smacked out."

"And what exactly does 'Sixx' say?" I ask, raising my brows.

I can feel Steven making motions to Izzy from behind me, and I turn to look at him only to see him pretending to rub the bottom of his jaw with his knuckles.
It's obvious he was just running his hand against his neck in a "stop" motion to Izzy.

"Uh, n-nothing." Duff puts in as an unsettling tension settles in, like the three of them are on a level of understanding that I'm not aware of.

"Guys, seriously, what does he say?" I ask.