SINNERS & SAINTS ⋆ nikki sixx

40. ✭ to wish impossible things

"Heather won't know about this for the simple fact that she is Heather, " he quizzically raised a brow, "she has been nothing but kind to me, Vince. Even after she found out about me and Tommy, she wasn't weary or standoffish with me like what I would've been with her if it was the other way around. And that's what makes this whole thing so much harder because, if it was anybody else, I wouldn't be feeling this awful about it. She is like a fucking sister to me, after everything that's happened in this last year that we've known one another, and I still fucked her over the night before her wedding."

Misery bled through her silk-clad frame, forcing her already unstable breathing to grow sporadic.

"Of course I hate myself for doing this to Nikki, especially because Tommy is his best friend, but it's not like he's been a goddamn saint throughout our whole marriage, or even our relationship."

"But Tommy?" He reclined in his seat, shaking his head, "Tommy is like his brother, Chris. It's like you wanted to intentionally hurt him. Did you want to hurt him?"

Suddenly, it was almost comical. He was acting as though he had never slept with one of his wife's best friends--not Chris, never Chris--and kept it from her for the entire span of their marriage, only admitting his wrongdoing when said best friend turned up at the airport when he had promised her that she could attend the tour the band was about to embark on.

Vince was simply in no position to judge or even attempt to take the moral high-ground.

"I didn't think it would hurt him because he cheated on me the night before I screwed T-bone," she uncrossed her legs and put a hand to her purse, "but the more time I've spent dwelling on it, the more I realize that Nikki will never be able to forgive me for this. And I can't live with myself any more."

Ringed fingers clamped to her hand as she rose from her space, forcing bloodshot eyes to burrow into glistening hues.

"What do you mean?"

"What I said," she told him sternly, trying to pull her hand away, "I cannot live with the idea of what I did. He deserves to know and to be able to decide where we go from here. If he wants a divorce then," she sucked in a shallow breath, her chest restricting, "then that's what will have to happen."

Despite putting on an excellent show of concealing her inebriation, he was still well aware that Christine was just as high as what her husband was--only she didn't know that Nikki was spending his morning with his back pressed up against the bathroom wall, heroin decorating his veins and Jack Daniels blanketing his tongue.

She isn't thinking straight, was what Vince continued to tell himself, noticing the way her pupils had suddenly come to be a lot less prominent.

"I'm gonna go and get these fucking rollers outta my hair," reassuringly, Chris squeezed his hand--noticing the way he had started to get lost in contemplation.

"Chris," she smiled in response, "don't do it."

"Don't do what?"

"Don't tell Nikki," he began to plead, Christine wondered why he was so nervous all of a sudden.

"What?" She queried in that same confused tone, taking a slight step back when he shot to his feet before her.

It was almost as if his conscience was leading his actions. He sighed out, "do not tell Nikki about what you did. I don't care how much you think you can't live with yourself, because you can--you have."

Her matte lips parted in awe.

"Don't look at me that way, I fuckin' mean it," he growled, "I'm telling you now, Christine. If you even think about telling Nikki, today of all days, then you're gonna get your ass handed to you by Heather because he's gonna explode and let every single person at this place know. Do you want that?"