Oh man . . . I never got a headache, so I was totally mystified when I came to with a brutal headache and in a bed that felt foreign. Panic instantly sent my eyes flying open because definitely couldn't think of one normal scenario in which I would wake up in someone else's house.
Muffled voices came through the closed door to the room that was entirely bare except for the mattress I was sleeping on and a few discarded beer bottles. There were men's voices, and I tried to bite back the cry when I feared I had been kidnapped.
I tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack so I could hear what the voices were saying.
"Dude, she's gotta be yours."
"I was with a blond last night I swear."
"Whatever, Tommy, she's gotta go."
Despite being puzzled and slightly disgusted at what they were saying, I knew who the voices belonged to instantly, and I couldn't understand it.
Tommy Lee, Nikki Sixx, and Vince Neil were outside my door- well, apparently their door. So many thoughts entered my mind- on one side, a part of me felt faint because I was so in love with them, and on the other side, I was wondering if it could really be possible that I might tell them about their programming before it happened to them.
I quickly glanced down to check what I looked like after waking up in a strange place with a headache- was I dressed in pajamas? Did I look like something the cat dragged in? Nope, I looked slightly unkempt, but decent- I took a quavering breath before slowly opening the door. Standing sort of huddled together in the middle of a dinky little kitchen were all the members of Motley Crue, each one exactly as I had imagined a thousand times: Vince was leaning against the counter with legs crossed in shimmery leather pants, bright eyes locked on me in uncloseted fascination; Mick seemed tired and very unphased; Tommy hadn't even noticed I emerged because he was struggling to fix a cigarette he accidentally crushed; and Nikki had his arms crossed and sunglasses on so I couldn't determine what he was thinking.
"So, whose are you?" Nikki finally broke the silence by asking briskly, and I couldn't help snapping back, "I'm not anyone's! I-" Should I tell them? No, they would never believe me. I finally just settled on stating unashamedly, "I came here alone and I'm not a groupie."
The boys all looked at each other with a mix of doubt and confusion before Nikki asked hopefully, "Are you a record exec?"
I suppose they thought I could be because of the leatherbound briefcase I always lugged around with me in which I carry my special writing notebook, four pens each of different tips, a snack in case I got hungry, and a mug of warm soup. You can never be too prepared.
So that nobody else would ask me questions before I could collect my thoughts, I said quickly, "Nope. Say, does anyone want breakfast? Because I know I'm starving." I brushed past Nikki somewhat smugly because he was a real piece of work, noting the admiration in Tommy's eyes. I pulled open the fridge, and was surprised before I remembered who I was dealing with. There was just a carton of very old milk, about two dozen eggs - surprisingly- and about two dozen bottles of cheap beer.
I began to fix the eggs with the few kitchen supplies available, and assumed no one said anything further to me because if they were going to kick me out, they'd at least like to get a meal out of it.
As I absentmindedly watched over the eggs popping in the pan, the only sounds filling the otherwise silent room, it occurred to me with a pang of guilt that I shouldn't be fawning over them or treating them exactly like normal boys- my eyes flickered up to Tommy, who was sitting on the floor, watching a cockroach with the undue attention only a drug-addled mind would pay it. I thought of his dad being a Freemason and a military intelligence officer, and the horrors he had to grow up with- it made me want to help him, hug him, do something. But I knew that my only real choice was to get them to trust me, then help them remember so they could escape.
I set down all the plates on the counter with plastic forks they had saved from their many takeout orders, a little nervous as they all came back over to me.
"So, why are you here, girlie?" Vince finally piped up over a mouthful of eggs, and I took a deep breath to settle my nerves before answering more softly than I intended, "I'm from the future- the year 2021."
Mick snorted into his food as Vince and Tommy barely suppressed laughter, but Nikki glared at me through his sunglasses before saying, "Oh, where's your time travel machine? Did you leave it outside? Why are you hiding the real reason you're here?"
"I'm not hiding anything, I'm serious! I'm from the future- and I can prove it!" My voice rose defensively as I racked my brain for something- anything- I could remember that would prove it to them. "Tommy, I know that your dad is a Mason!" Tommy dropped his fork to his plate with a loud clatter, gazing at me in horror. For a moment I wondered if I should have revealed that; if maybe there was any way he could get punished for me knowing.
"Is that true?" Mick and Nikki gaped at Tommy, and then at me- Vince seemed oddly unsurprised.
"How did you know that?" Tommy just asked me slowly, staring wide-eyed.
"I told you. I'm from the future- Nikki, I know that your real name is Frank Feranna and . . . " I leaned forward to whisper the last piece of evidence into his ear because I didn't feel right about telling everyone, "I know your mom and dad abandoned you, and so you've been drowning yourself in drugs- soon to be in heroin- to make it all go away."
I stepped back self- consciously and awaited their reactions. Please, God, let them believe me. Nikki's face visibly darkened as he seemed frozen in place, and the others watched him in order to make up their minds about me.
Then all of a sudden Nikki muttered, "I don't know if she's from the future, but she sure does know some things," And he stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. They all seemed so excited with the possibility that I was truly a time traveller that they didn't seem to give Nikki's sudden exit a second thought, but I did and remained disappointed.
"Woah . . . so are there flying cars in the future?!" Tommy asked excitedly, noticeably more awake. I laughed in relief and amusement, "Unfortunately, no." His face fell, along with Vince's, so I added, "But there are electric cars you can charge and computers this big." I held out the palm of my hand to indicate the size of a smart phone and grinned at their expressions of disbelief- for the moment taken away by their acceptance and child-likeness. I felt like their older sister, and perhaps just a little special at no longer being just some fan.
"So how did you get here?"
"Honestly . . . I have no idea. I just woke up here. By the way- exactly what year is it?"
"1982." Tommy and Vince said in unison, and I winced. By this time, they'd already made their deal with the music industry, and wouldn't be living in a place like this much longer. Oddly enough, 1982 seemed to be the perfect time I could have come because they weren't totally surrounded and closed off yet by their fame.
"So . . . are we really popular, even in 2021? Because to be honest, aren't you a little young to be a fan?" Vince seemed hungry for the answer in a way that reminded me how narcissistic rockstars were.
"Well, sort of. You're more known for the songs you made, well, now." My eyes dropped to the floor as I bitterly thought about the implications of them being famous for so many years- of them being controlled by their handlers for so many years.
"Let's go!" Tommy and Vince cheered at my answer, high-fiving each other, predictably unaware of my dark and foreboding look.
Mick walked by me to grab two beers from the fridge and head for the door, only pausing long enough to call over his shoulder, "You kids have fun with your freak from the future! I've got to prepare for the show tonight!" He raised the beer as to indicate his method of preparation before disappearing behind the door. When it registered in my mind what he had said, I was practically jumping up and down in excitement, all doubts forgotten. "You've got a show tonight?! Can I come and maybe help out or something?"
They exchanged a glance before Vince said solemnly, "Only if you're drunk. We don't need any more straight-laced managers." My heart somersaulted in my chest as I actually considered whether or not I should get drunk just to make sure I could stay with them- it didn't take me long to realize I was crazy for even thinking about compromising myself. I couldn't let my guard down around their people even for a moment.
"No can do- but you should let me come anyway because I know all of the songs you're going to do in the future- which ideas are great, and which ones . . . aren't." I crossed my arms coyly, and Vince smirked at me for a moment before shrugging and making his way back to the room I had woken up in. "Suit yourself. I'm going to sleep. Wake me up at 5." It was currently 11 AM.