Book 1: She's A Little Runaway (Izzy Stradlin)

One

● Reyna ●

1986

The City Of Angels. The place where I belong. Everything about the concrete jungle excites me. How at any time of day you can go into a bar and it’s still raving with a party, the amazing bands you can find playing down at the Whiskey, the people rebelling against everything they were taught, the leather fashion, how the city never seems to sleep. This is my scene. 

However, I’m never up in the Hollywood part of Los Angeles, oh no. You can always find me on the Sunset Strip. My apartment is right down the street from the Whiskey. I have to admit that I made an excellent decision with that because I don’t have to worry about getting home when I’m stumbling drunk.

What I love most, though, is my job. I’m a bartender at the Whiskey. I got lucky with that job. Not many people would give such a job to a fifteen year old kid. I’m just glad that the bartender at the time, Rob, didn’t ask many questions when I arrived, demanding a job. He liked how spunky I was and how I knew what I wanted. He hired me that day. Sadly, he took a load of shit from the boss, but the boss eventually agreed. He found out how good a mixer I was, and still am.

Sometimes, though, I get sad. Something will remind me of my younger brother, the one I left behind. He was going through a real tough time before I had gone and I was so selfish that I didn’t even bring him with me. I knew that I couldn’t take care of a kid, even though he was twelve. I knew that I’d constantly have to be watching him and worrying about him. I couldn’t put that kind of stress on myself. It was stressful enough when I first got here, what with me living in the alley behind the Whiskey and not eating for a week at a time, another mouth to feed and another head to put shelter over just would’ve broken me. But, I still never made an effort to call him or write him. I’m sure he hates me, and that’s okay.

“Reyna!” Rob says loudly into my ear.

I jump and push him away from me, rubbing my ear. “What the fuck was that for, boss?” That’s right, Rob is now my boss. Good thing for me ‘cause he lets me get away with a lot of shit. He’s a father figure to me. He’s the one that found the apartment for me.

“Language, Rey,” He chuckles, picking up a glass. He takes a clean rag from under the bar, beginning to clean the glass.

I roll my eyes. “What’re you cleanin’ for? We don’t open for a few more hours.”

“Why are you here then? The Reyna I know is always fifteen minutes late,” He teases with a smile.

I flip my hair, pretending to be some obnoxious bitch. “I’m fashionably late.”

Rob rolls his eyes. “You’re something else, kid. But seriously, why are you here so early? Joel isn’t even here yet, and you know he’s always at least an hour early.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “That boy is too eager to work.”

“And you never are.” Rob sets the glass down onto the bar and throws the white towel on his shoulder. I cringe a little under his scrutinizing gaze as he looks back at me, his hand on his hip. “Now, tell your Uncle Rob what’s troublin’ ya.”

I smile, shyly. “It’s not really important. Just my past is all.”

“Now, I may be old but I know for damn sure that somethin’ ain’t right. I’ve known you for nine years now and I still have no idea where you came from or why. But not once in those nine years have you ever come in early,” Rob narrows his eyes. 

“You’re not that old. Only forty,” I say, hoping he’ll take the compliment and move on from this discussion. Rob, however, has a different idea. 

“Reyna,” He says in a warning tone. 

I can’t help but smile at how fatherly he sounds. He definitely looks like one with his graying, jet black hair and his moustache. He has wrinkles around his eyes, showing that he laughed a lot through the years. He just had this kind look about him.

I sigh as I think through the memory that resurfaced in my dreams. I was back in my hometown of Cleveland, Ohio. My mother was screaming at me for some stupid thing that I’d done, but the door to the room was closed and I was ignoring her. My focus was on the little blonde twelve year old that looked up at me with those big blue eyes of his. 

He was crying and kept asking me why I was leaving. 

That I couldn’t leave him. 

That he needed me.

I enveloped him in one last hug, tears threatening to fall down my cheeks. I picked up the duffle bag that was packed full of my things. I still choked back tears as I watched my little brother cry.

“I’m sorry,” I said to the small blonde. I walked over to the window. I pushed it open. The doors swung out and nearly hit the outside of the house. I sat down on the windowsill, looking for some footholes. I found one and turned myself around. I began to lower myself down, but a hand landed on mine. I looked up to see him still crying. Then I uttered the last words I’d ever say to him. 

“I love you, Stevie.”

I feel a few tears pricking at my eyes as I relived the memory.

“I hated leaving him,” I say without thinking. I take in a shuddering breath that wracks through my chest. “I wanted to bring him with me,” My voice is now a whisper. “But I just couldn’t take care of a kid.” With those last words, tears begin to fall down my cheeks. 

I let out a sob as I think of my little brother. The kid who looked up to me. The kid who did dumb shit to impress me. The kid who would take the fall when our mother would get on to me. The kid who loved me unconditionally. The kid who I let down.

I feel a pair of arms wrap around me. I gladly wrap my arms around Rob and sob into his shirt. Thank God no one was around to witness my moment of weakness. I can’t let anyone see me weak. 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned since coming to Los Angeles, it’s that you have to be as tough as nails. You can’t be weak, otherwise everyone will beat you down and walk over you.

It’s a fuckin’ jungle out here. I love every fucking moment of it.