June 6th, 1985
My white Converse sprint across the stained concrete sidewalk along the bustling streets of West Hollywood, trying my best to make it to the venue in time. Panting, I run down the back alley of the The Troubadour, flinging open the metal door the bartenders use to take out the trash. The music blares throughout the building, the sounds of shredding guitars and pounding drums vibrating the floors.
"Sorry I'm late," I grumble, squeezing past the bar patrons. "Landlord was givin' me a problem," my boss, Andrea, rolls her eyes, simply pulling a beer from the tap before handing it to the customer.
"You gotta stop being late, Brian is starting to catch on that I've been lying on your time stamps," she whispers in my ear as she pulls a couple more beers.
"I know, and I'm sorry," I drop the topic of conversation, turning to the customer in front of me. "What can I get for ya?" I ask the balding man as he glares at me.
"I've been waiting for a drink for two hours!" He screams, although I'm not sure if he's screaming to be louder than the music or to blame me for his alcohol withdrawal.
"Well," I scoff, shaking my head at the middle aged man before me. "You can wait a bit longer, because I'm not serving you." Andrea laughs from where she's serving her customers and I smirk, knowing I won't be getting any backlash from the events.
The man calls me a bitch before reluctantly moving away from the bar, heading back to his table. "Funny how they think they can order the people with the power around," Andrea chuckles, holding up a bottle of Jack Daniels.
"Who are they?" It's a five piece band, their redheaded singer having one of the best vocal ranges I've ever heard. "They're pretty good, great actually." The guitarist has curls hiding most of his face, a cigarette hanging from his mouth as his fast paced fingers move along the frets.
Andrea pulls a flyer off the cork board behind the bar, handing it to me. "Up and coming band, this is their first gig with their new line up," she exclaims, pouring another drink for a customer. "Dammit!" The glass shatters in the ice bin beneath the counter.
"You're in the jungle baby, you're gonna die!" The lead singer sings into the microphone, causing the crowd of people to go wild.
At a lightening fast pace, I pour hot water in the ice bin in order to be able to drain the ice out. A series of groans come from the bar patrons as they learn that they'll have to wait for their drinks. "Cinnamon shots!" I scream out, filling twenty shot glasses with fireball.
Selling shots left and right, Andrea is able to drain out the ice before grabbing two large bags from the ice chest and filling it again. "Back in business!" She says.
I grab the flyer again, reading it off. "Guns N' Roses, live at the Troubadour. June 6, 1985. W. Axl Rose on vocals, Slash on lead guitar, Izzy Stradlin on rhythm guitar, Duff McKagan On Bass, Steven Adler on drums. A Rock N Roll Bash Where Everyone's Smashed," I snort, finding the rhyme hilarious.
"Wait," I raise my eyebrow, confused at one section of the band's flyer. "Guns N' Roses, isn't that the band made up of members of L.A Guns and Hollywood Rose?" I ask the redhead bartender. "I thought Tracii Guns was in this band."
"He was," the alcohol rush has died down, causing Andrea to begin wiping down our glasses with a rag. "Didn't show up to practice so they kicked him out, which you would know if you came here on time to talk to the band."
The lead singer, W. Axl Rose, begins singing the next song, a slower song which I could tell has a lot of meaning.
"Talk to me softly, there's something in your eyes
Don't hang your head in sorrow
And please don't cry
I know how you feel inside I've
I've been there before
Somethings changing inside you
And don't you know
Don't you cry tonight
I still love you baby
Don't you cry tonight
Don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you baby
And don't you cry tonight
Give me a whisper
And give me a sigh
Give me a kiss before you
Tell me goodbye
Don't you take it so hard now
And please don't take it so bad
I'll be thinking of you
And the times we had... baby
And don't you cry tonight
Don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you baby
And don't you cry tonight
And please remember
That I never lied
And please remember
How I felt inside now honey
You gotta make it your own way
But you'll be alright now sugar
You'll feel better tomorrow
Come the morning light now baby
And don't you cry tonight
And don't you cry tonight
And don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you baby
And don't you cry
Don't you ever cry
Don't you cry tonight
Baby maybe someday
Don't you cry
Don't you ever cry
Don't you cry, tonight."
"Wow," I say, my jaw practically dropping to the floor. "That song was so well written."
"You still writing songs?" Andrea asks as a pour a man some bottom shelf liquor. "Maybe you could teach the lead singer a thing or two."
I shake my head, smiling at Andrea's words. "My songs are nowhere near as good as that was."
Their set ends a few hours later, Axl ending with a cover of Elvis Presley's 'Heartbreak Hotel'. "Okay, we're going to Seattle in a few days, but I expect to see you fuckers when we get back!" He shouts into the microphone, sweat dripping from his long red locks.
"Here," I stare at Andrea confused as she places five glasses of various drinks onto a tray. "The band drinks free, they're regulars, you would know if you ever showed up to work."
I shrug, picking up the tray and avoiding the crowd of people dancing to Ted Nugent's 'Cat Scratch Fever' blasting through the juke box. I make my way up the few steps leading to the backstage area, pushing past the curtain.
In the center of the room is one leather couch, with a wooden chair placed next to it. There's a few vanity mirrors, but other than that, nothing too special to make this room stand out better than others.
"Drinks, anyone?" I ask, causing the band to let out some cheers. "Y'all did amazing out there, I really liked that last song."
"You new here?" A blonde man asks, jerking his chin in my direction. "I've never seen you here before, I think I would remember a face like yours."
I laugh, shaking my head at the man's efforts. "I'm not new, I just don't have a great work ethic," their faces are covered with sweat as they look up at me. Well, I think they're looking up at me, I can't exactly see where the guitarist's eyes are looking. "I'm Deanna Caine, Guns N' Roses newest fan."
"Duff McKagan," The guy smiles, setting the bass that was on his lap against the wall. The bass player, Duff, is wearing a Harley Davidson t-shirt with leather pants and combat boots, his hair teased so high it adds an extra six inches onto his height. Freshly twenty-one, Duff has a rather fondness for Vodka.
They all introduce themselves, and I make a mental note to grab the band flyer from the bar so I don't forget their names, like I have a tendency of doing.
Slash, the curly haired guitarist who's locks cover half his face, always has a cigarette hanging from his lips. The man is a rock god, despite being only nineteen years old.
Steven Adler, who has told me to refer to him as Popcorn, puts his whole life into his drum pieces. I've been around Hollywood for awhile, and I've never seen a drummer put so much energy and passion in his work.
Izzy Stradlin, with his long black hair and a bandana, a quiet rhythm guitarist with song writing talent. He barely says a word, but a man like him uses silence to get his word across.
Last but not least, we have W. Axl Rose, or Axl as he's called. He's the charismatic, energetic, redhead lead singer of Guns N' Roses, got his name from being so dedicated to his band called AXL.
"So you liked the song we played?" Axl asks, striking a match on the bottom of his boot before lighting his cigarette with it. "What made you like it so much?"
"You're quite the inquisitor," I smirk, locking my eyes with his. As they introduced themselves, I handed out their assortment of drinks and even went to get us more. "Like is an understatement, more like love. Bands these days, their lyrics have no meaning other than sex, drugs, and rock n' roll. Don't get me wrong, I love sex, drugs, and rock n' roll as much as the next girl, but meaningful songs are what put me at a point."
"Deanna!" Andrea's voice echoes through backstage. "I need your help!"
"Guess that's my que, boys," I smile, waving to the five men and heading down the stairs.
"Wait!" I turn back around to see Duff scribbling on a rectangular piece of paper. "I got a few gigs hooked up for us opening for The Fastbacks in Seattle. Call us up when we're back?"
A/N
I know 'Don't Cry' was written about Monique Lewis but I altered things a bit, and I'm going with it was written about Axl's ex Gina Sailer since Deanna is gonna have an emotional connection to the song lol