Skipper's POV
The first thing I smell is cheap perfume. How stereotypical.
I keep trying to reason with myself as I walk down the long, dark tunnel leading to the brothel. It's almost like stepping back three hundred years to when prostitution was such forbidden fruit, only with much better living standards for the girls. Hopefully.
At the end of the tunnel, there's a cracked door. Before I can even attempt to push it open, two beefy guys dressed in black stop me.
"State your name, and your business here." The taller of the two growls.
"Come on, what is it? 1750? I'm just here to see Jani. Trust me... my presense is definitely wanted."
"Fellas?" A rather sly voice from inside the door calls. My skin is already crawling. "Who's outside? Did one of the girls forget the password again? I fucking swear to god, a high school diploma should be a prerequisite in this place."
The tall beefy guy sighs and leads me into the room rather forcefully by the arm.
"Oh no Jani, you couldn't," I respond with faux enthusiasm. "You'd lose the prettiest ones."
The room is like something out of a 1970's porno, with dim, dusky light and incense burning on the small wooden tables about the room. The furniture is bright red, the carpet is too. Colorful curtains drape around the large bed in the center of the room, where Jani sits adorned by some of his... 'girls'.
Jani's crystal blue eyes shine with surprise and delight. "Yeah, but last time I checked the prettiest one I've ever seen had several medical degrees."
I fight the urge to roll my eyes with disgust and uncross my arms. "It's so good to see you Jani. I... hate to admit it, but I... really missed you."
I see the greed in him as he glides to the edge of the bed. "And I've missed you more. So... sorry to hear about your late husband." His eyes narrow, as observant as a hawk's. He's waiting for my reaction.
I swallow down my contempt and shrug. "We'd been growing apart. You know that."
Pleased, he stands and takes a two glasses of champagne from the nightstand. The scantily clad girls on the bed stir with discontent, glaring at me from behind his back.
"Who do I owe for your company? The label?"
I shake my head, forcing myself to stand my ground as he approaches and hands me one of the glasses. His tan chest shows through his open blazer, he towers over me in a waterfall of blonde hair and charm.
I force myself to look up at him. "No one. No one even knows that I came."
He sips his glass nonchalantly and eases closer. "Oh, really? Not Michael Jackson? Not your old pal Slash? Word on the street is that they're back and lookin' to get into the swing of things. Would you know anything about that?"
I swallow and shrug. "Well yeah... Slash doesn't know I'm here, but he did send me out on an impossible mission, it seems."
He peers at me over the rim of his glass. "Yes... how are you... and Slash?"
I scoff. "If you're asking if we're a couple, we're not. Slash doesn't really seem to be interested in that side of me anymore," I sigh, unable to control the feeling of sadness that comes with that statement.
"Oh come now," Jani says, tucking a finger under my chin to bring my gaze back to his crystal one. "He must be a fool, then."
I put a hand over his wrist. "Look Jani," I breathe, trying my hardest to seem vulnerable and smaller than he. As much as I hate to do it, being the leader of a whole damn underground organization, Jani likes to feel empowered. If that means I'll get his help, what the hell. "I need your help. I just... don't know who else to go to."
He fights a grin. "Of course, my little Cherry. What can I do?"
The girls on his bed fuss. "Jani, are you coming back to us?"
He turns sharply. "Did I speak to you, Tanya? No? Then keep your cock-sucking mouth shut now, won't you?"
I jolt a little. He smiles at me again. "What was it, now?"
I clear my throat a little, wishing he'd take his stupid fucking hand off my face.
"I just feel like I don't understand the music scene anymore. I've been up and down the strip tonight looking for a new singer for Slash, and I haven't found a single good bet."
He laughs as if I am a child, knowing nothing about the real world. "What clubs did you go to, sweetheart?"
"You know, all the typical spots. The Whisky A Go-Go, The Roxy, the Rainbow. Nothing at all."
He clucks his tongue and shakes his head, finally taking his hand away and pacing in the direction of a table in the corner. "That's your issue, Cherry. Things have changed since Axl imprisoned you. You can't wander into the public zoo and expect to find the fiercest tiger in the world can you?" He picks up a little black book.
"Um... no?"
"No is right," he chuckles authoritatively. "The fiercest tiger can't be captured. Only... examined, from the filthiest watering holes."
He turns on his heel and returns to me, book in hand.
"So you know where to find the good acts?"
He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Yes, of course I do." He holds up the book. "Not too long ago, I was scrounging amongst the fuckers. There are a lot of good guys, just waiting for a break. And I know exactly where you need to go, and when... to find them."
I give a rather sinister grin and grab for the book. "Well... thank you-"
"Ah, slow down Cherry," he whispers into my ear, holding the book above his head. "My help... it isn't free."
A cold pit forms in my stomach. My gaze averts to the girls on the bed.
"If you're suggesting I do... work for you, you can forget it."
"Oh no, of course not," he says, pulling me up against him by the wrist. "I don't want you selling yourself to any random Joe walking the Strip. I'd like... to spend some time with you."
I groan inwardly. Of course he does.
I look up at him, pretending to be coy. "Oh, Jani... I don't know. This whole... business you have scares me a little, if we're being honest."
"Please, you know this all stays under wraps. You don't know unless you know."
I just look at him.
"If I promise to keep you completely seperated? I'd just like to... accompany you when you see the bands play. It's too dangerous for a little thing like you to be wandering around at the watering hole."
"The watering hole?" What the fuck is with all these jungle references?
"Yes, that's the name of the first club I'm recommending." He retrieves a slip of paper and begins to scrawl on it. "There's a man by the name of Tracii Guns who gathers the best talent in all of LA. He basically runs the place. A good place to start."
He holds out the piece of paper and I reach for it, only for him to swipe it back again just in time.
"A little something for my efforts?"
I look down at my shoes.
"Come on Cherry. A kiss couldn't hurt."
I suck it up and give him a quick one, just long enough to snatch the piece if paper from his hand. If he thinks I'm letting him hold me hostage just for his help, he's got another thing coming. I've got the info, and I've got a name- that's all I need.
"Thanks Jani."
I rush to the door.
"No problem, Cherry. And one last thing?"
"Yeah?" I almost grin.
"Don't you try and go there without me."
My mouth is dry.
"You can't get in there without me. They don't quite... appreciate outsiders. They'd tear you to shreds, knowing you came from some big, polished rock band. Trust me."
Fuck.
"Alright, Jani."
"Give me a call tomorrow."
I leave the brothel feeling sticky and disgusting, and somehow really guilty.
***
It takes everything in me not to burst into tears, waiting outside the door during band practice.
They're in the grungy basement of the apartment building where no one dares to go (not even for storage), so they know they won't be bothered. They play all their old tunes, and as soon as they get to a part where Axl would've been singing they kinda slow down, almost stop altogether, until Slash says--
"Let's just go back to the solo."
I came home last night and Slash was fast asleep on the sofa, using one arm as a pillow with his hat carefully balanced on his chest. He got much more sleep than I did.
I walk down the stairs pretending to stretch and yawn- I don't want him to know I was out all night.
"Morning, guys."
Steven holds his drumsticks and everyone turns to look at me.
"Wow. Where have you been?" Slash says almost indifferently. "I told you to go to the Rainbow and come back."
"I know... but that wasn't satisfactory. I had to go see an old... friend. They helped me figure out where the real musicians are hiding."
Slash raises his eyebrows (I think, I can hardly see them through his curly mane) and stares at me. "What do you mean? We came up in clubs like the Rainbow and the Troubador, we'll have no problem finding more of us now."
I shake my head. "When's the last time you've been to a club on the Strip, Slash?"
He looks at me.
"Things have changed, but you don't have to worry about it. I have the solution." I wave the piece of paper a little and then attempt to tuck it into my pocket, but Slash swipes it away before I can.
"Who gave you this...?" he questions lowly, so the others don't hear. They're too busy chasing down a breakfast of hot pockets with Duff's vodka to notice us anyway.
"That's of no consequence," I tell him quickly.
He leans down and sniffs my hair. "Funny... I didn't think you were one for incense. Or is that drug store perfume?"
I step back a little and stare up at him. "I'm just doing the job you gave me to do, Slash."
"Great," he fires back. "Where are we going tonight?"
"We aren't going anywhere. I am going to a club tonight, and if anything comes of it I'll tell you when I get back."
He looks at me blankly for a long time. "Whatever."
"Yeah," Izzy pipes from across the room. "He'll be too busy trapping whatever whore comes into his line of vision today-"
"Shut your fucking mouth," Slash snaps at him, but it's too late.
What? The Virgin Mary himself? I mean, I didn't expect him to stay pure this entire time, but I thought he would've at least given it away to someoone who matters. Not someone he could potentially catch a disease from.
He avoids meeting my eyes now. That's just fine.
"I'm going to Canter's for some breakfast." I mutter bitterly.
"Ooh, I want breakfast too!" Steven giggles and follows me out the door.
Michael's POV
The sprawling white mansion is prison in it's finest.
The fact that I could just come rolling up here is more than worrying, but still. I wonder why she would remain in this place in which he trapped her for so long, but I'm here to take her home anyway so it doesn't quite matter much.
My limo pulls up to Axl's circle drive, which is empty. The rolling hills and trees are beautiful, but I don't let them fool me.
I barge into the mansion, and immediately notice that something smells... off. Not rotting, not bad at all really. The house just smells... unlived in. Anywhere Skipper goes, the scent of lavender and vanilla lingers- so I am immediately suspicious.
My driver follows me in. "I do have to warn you sir- this is considered trespassing."
"You know who I'm looking for. And she's not here," I growl bitterly, storming back for the car.
MICHAEL BETTER HURRY SHE IS ALWAYS DIGGING HERSELF DEEPER AND DEEPER HOLES
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... JANI LANE!
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