Trigger warning: suicide
And though she loved to hate Nikki and his convoluted ideas, Christine had to hand it to the man. He certainly had a gift.
Whether it was the gift of irascibility and painful irritation, vexation and annoyance, or just being exceptionally musically talented, Nikki Sixx had a fucking gift that she could hardly ignore.
He'd managed to pull it out of the metaphorical bag and quash the negative notions that whirred through the brains of Beth and herself. Though, Beth had always been a little bit too negative...and rightfully so, actually.
With a husband like Vince, Beth Lynn certainly had a plethora of reasons to think of the absolute worse case scenario.
"Good morning."
"Afternoon." Nikki corrected Christine's greeting, slipping into the kitchen. "It's afternoon."
"Oh, okay." She muttered, flicking through a few pages of the newest issue of PlayBoy to get back to her favorite segment that centered around Christie Brinkley.
She loved her.
"You're back early, aren't you?"
Tommy grumbled, hurling himself into Mick's usual beaten up armchair. "Yep. Beth went batshit on Vince at the studio. Kicked us all out."
She scoffed, putting the magazine atop her lap. "What for this time?"
"You got two guesses."
Slowly, she closed her eyes and heaved out a deep, exhausted breath.
Had she been more of a domineering force, Christine would have known how to control Beth and her ridiculously prurient impulses whenever it came to a certain Vince Neil.
For the longest time, she had struggled. To pull her away from him, to inspire semi-decent ideas within their ridiculous relationship, and to at least try to encourage her best friend's abstinence from the blonde imbecile she chose to involve herself with.
"Was it a blonde?"
"Nope." Nikki snickered, cracking his beer open against the kitchen doorframe. "A redhead. And Beth is not happy."
His complete nonchalance and just general carelessness made her want to wrap her hands around his neck and fucking squeeze the life out of him.
"Well, duh. Of course she isn't happy. She just found out that her husband was balls deep in some ginger slut—"
"She was hot as fuck though, Chris."
"I don't give a fuck, I'm gonna be honest. I don't care if she was the hottest chick on planet earth—Vince is a married man and should not be pounding into cheap pussy."
"Free pussy." Nikki corrected again, lauding the thrill of pushing her buttons.
"I wouldn't call risking my marriage for a quickie with some random cunt free pussy."
"I would—"
"Alright, man." Tommy interjected, raising his hands. "Let's just forget about this shit, and move on with the rest of our day."
Christine rubbed her lips together. "Okay, sounds good."
The drummer smiled.
"What are you guys gonna get up to today then, huh?" She asked, about to go back to her 'reading'.
Until both Tommy and Nikki burst into laughter.
Her brows furrowed as she flicked her eyes upward. "What?"
"You forgot, didn't you?"
"What're you talking about?" She turned her attention to Nikki before he pointed to the tattoo on his arm with a sly grin, and she let out a sigh. "Shit. Yes, I forgot."
At the beginning of the academic year, Tommy had forced Christine to make a deal with him that'd literally decide her fate. Or, at least, her newest ink.
To her, the so called agreement didn't make even a morsel of sense, because it wholly rode on the unlikely possibility that she failed her finals.
Tommy had decided that if she aced them, she would have to get a tattoo—to which Nikki also refuted as it made more sense for Tommy to get a tattoo of her choice—and if she failed them, he would have to get one.
It was a plan wreathed with flaws, but his insane logic made Christine agree to it.
And even though she had passed her finals and the deal clearly stated that it was her turn, Tommy promptly chose to get a tattoo, too...
Nikki rolled his jaw as she skimmed and scanned through a few pictures in some torn-up tattoo catalog that sat on the coffee table of the studio.
"Decide what you're gonna get yet?"
"Nope." She popped the p, though her eyes had started to widen at the sudden sight of a cluster of red roses.
Sexy.
"Kinda like those," she pointed to them, holding the catalog up to Nikki while he nodded and seemingly approved.
"Why roses?"
"Because they're cute." Christine told him, letting her line of sight meet his as he watched her chew her gum. "And they're hot too."
He hummed, nodding.
"I guess. But it really depends where you get the tattoo." Nikki shifted a little bit so that he had started to lean into her side.
The hairs on the back of her neck pricked up.
"If you get it here." A strong, stifling hand landed against her shoulder. "Then I don't think it's hot."
"Right." Christine nodded along, striving to suppress a moan because she was, to put it lightly, starting to get hot and fucking bothered.
And when she thought she couldn't possibly get any more aroused—or, at least, stimulated—Nikki began to lift the hem of her shirt and lower the waistline of her shorts. His calloused, thick fingertips began to prod at the skin on her hipbone.
"I'd like it here. I think it'd be real sexy here." He said, tracing his fingers over the soft, tan skin. "But, then again, it doesn't matter what I'd like, does it?"
"No, it doesn't." She swallowed thickly, though her eyes refused to leave his. "But, I wonder."
"You wonder what?"
"Is it sexier in color, or no color?"
"Definitely color,." He retorted instantly, eyes wandering to her face and studying her beautifully dulcet features.
She flushed red.
Christine wanted to kick herself for the way that she was getting lost in his eyes, the soft green hues that always seemed to hold nothing but pure anger when looking at her—but not in that instance.
She also noticed how small specks of hazel and a somewhat golden tint laced through his irises, and how his pupils always seemed to dilate that little bit whenever they managed to make eye contact.
Shit.
"Alright Chris, it's your turn."
"Great." She blurted and got up before she felt Nikki's hand tug on hers, making her turn around to face him.
"Color." He winked, his thumb softly grazing the palm of her hand as heat washed over her. Chris smiled, flustered, and patted Tommy on the back as she walked past him.
She sighed as she walked away.
Christine knew that there was an obvious physical attraction to Nikki, and she knew that the feeling was reciprocated just by the way he began to treat her after that one night on the ledge.
Nikki told her things that she could just guarantee he'd not told anybody else, and she did the same...
And no matter how hard she had tried to fight that feeling, or suppress it, the idea of Nikki knowing a part of her that not even she wanted to come to terms with, instantly made him a big part of her life.
Christine couldn't be mad about him knowing her deepest, darkest secrets. Especially not when he gave her the comfort she so desperately needed when she faced her biggest challenge that very night...
"Thanks."
She winced in pain as she pulled up her shorts, careful not to shift the cellophane that was wrapped around her waist to mask the tattoo.
It hurt like a bitch, especially on her hip bone—but she would be fucking damned if she ever showed that she was in pain. Especially to some self-righteous douchebag
that thought making sexist jokes about women not being able to handle the pain of a tattoo—even though she was pretty sure that she heard Tommy whimper—was even remotely 'funny.'
The top petal poked through the plastic a little bit, letting her get a better look at the tattoo she had just put on her body forever just for some measly 'deal.' But it was extremely hot, and was helping her with the whole accidental rebrand of herself.
Tommy's head perked up a little when she got back into the waiting room. "What did you get, Chris?"
"That's for me to know, and you to find out." She winked, sitting back down next to him. "The fuck is he?"
He used his leg to point to the other closed room, her brows furrowing, "he's getting one too--" the door creaked open as he wandered out, cellophane around his right arm and a smirk plastered on his face.
"Didn't think you were getting one too, Sixx?"
"I wasn't," he grabbed his leather jacket from the space next to Chris, "but I'm impulsive. And if I want something, I'll get it."
"Sixx, you're such a brat." She let out a giggle as Nikki sent Tommy a scowl, his fist colliding with the drummer's arm. "DUDE! I just got a tattoo!"
"My bad. Let's go, I'm starving."
"What's gotten into him?" Christine threw her head back, irritated that Nikki's mood just changed like the flip of a coin.
Typical.
"Beats me. I don't care, man."
Of course, Tommy didn't care, he was too busy riding the natural high that one usually gets whenever they receive their first tattoo. Anything involving Nikki's mood was usually met with an 'I don't care' from the guys, and that pissed Christine off for three fucking reasons.
1. They did care, they were just too lazy to understand or even bother to ask why Nikki was feeling shitty—and that definitely had a role to play in his gritty downward spiral.
2. If they didn't bother to find out what his issue was, then Christine had to... and she hated that because they'd always end up asking her what was wrong.
3. They made him feel like shit. He'd never had that sufficient, stable support from his parents and he needed it from his bandmates more than anything. Nobody ever asked him how he was or if he was okay, and that was horrible of them.
Chris know that she definitely cared a lot more about him than what she would ever let on...
Perhaps, she wasn't brilliant at hiding it.
After what felt like hours, the trio had gotten to some diner about two blocks from the apartment, ordered their dinner, and sat in the most awkward silence imaginable for all of five minutes before Tommy announced that he had to 'take a piss.'
"What's the matter, Nikki?" She twisted the straw that was planted in her milkshake, between red polished fingers as he played with the carton of cigarettes on the table.
Refusing to make any eye contact.
"Nothing. Just hungry." He looked around the diner. "They're taking for-fuckin'-ever."
She nodded and kept her mouth shut, even when Tommy bounced back with a smile bigger than anything she had ever seen, and the announcement of hot chicks on the table by the restroom.
Not even that made Nikki crack a smile.
He nudged her, sliding over his banana milkshake and urging Chris to take a sip as she slid hers over to him to do the same.
"You're like fucking kids," Nikki grinned, shaking his head.
"We are kids."
"You're nineteen, Chris," Nikki eyed her up and down. "You're legal, so that means you're an adult."
"Only technically," she retorted with a smug smirk before pointing to the left side of her chest, "but I'm a kid at heart."
Nikki and Christine were on two very opposite sides of the 'traumatic childhood' spectrum.
He was at the end where all he wanted to do was grow up, make it on his own, and lead his own life the way he wanted it—and would stop at absolutely nothing to make his dreams a reality.
Christine, however, was on the other end. The end where all that she wanted to do was have fun and make up for lost time.
They both met somewhere in the middle with their work ethic, and incessant need to get their own way at all times. Aside from that, though, they were so fucking different.
And it was blatantly obvious.
"So, have you decided what you're doing with your life little miss 'I passed my finals but I'm still dropping out of college'?"
"No." She stuffed a forkful of food into her mouth, looking straight past the both of them and staring out of the window, letting out a deep breath.
"I think you should work at a strip club or something, man!" Christine almost choked on her fries when Tommy came out with that absolute gem.
As if.
"Totally," Nikki winked at her, his foot softly kicking hers underneath the table as she scrunched up her nose.
"You're only saying that because you both want to see me strip down to my panties—"
"Nothing we haven't seen before Chrissie."
"You're a pig, Sixx." She rolled her eyes, pushing her plate away and sighing out, "stripping sounds fun, but I've got a little more self-respect than that."
Nikki raised a brow, laughing to himself while Tommy nudged him in the ribs, "what?"
"Nothing. Just thought that was funny is all."
And, with that, Christine had promptly had enough of Nikki's fucking shit.
She hadn't managed to say another work to to either of them until Tommy had to take her to her parents' house. Which was absolutely the very last place that she wanted to be, but she had already promised her mother that she would call over and collect her 'shit that she abandoned' when she moved out.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
"Holy shit." Nikki laughed as he leaned forward, looking out the window, "these houses are fucking huge."
"I know, man! Chris is rich rich."
"Would you two shut the fuck up?" She slumped back in the seat, her eyes widening at the sight of bright flashing lights at the end of the street. "Tommy, pull over."
"What—"
"Listen to me." She said as her chest began to heave. "Tommy, pull the fuck over."
Frantically, she served into the curbside as his tyres screeched along the gravel.
"Chris—"
"Shut up!" She barked, swinging the door open and hurling herself onto the sidewalk.
Christine made a beeline for the epicenter, hurtling toward the closed off culdesac as her heart palpitated and chest heaved.
Her stomach twisted and churned, and she felt as if she'd throw up on the fucking spot.
"What the hell is going on?" Nikki grabbed her arm as he caught up.
"It doesn't—"
"Christine!" He yelled, yanking her backward and spinning her around.
Her chest collided with his own sternum, hitting her unbelievably hard.
"That's my parents house." She choked out, somehow. "Whatever the hell is happening, is happening in my fucking parents' house."
If I could turn back the hands of time and apologize to my mother for all the shit I'd put her through, all the times I argued with her over my father and his cruel ways...I would. Because I never thought that the last words I'd say to her were "I'll swing by tomorrow, and then you won't ever see me again."
"What happened?!" Christine screamed as she ran toward to the front of the small crowd that had gathered from the street.
The sight of her father standing with her sisters—close and comfortable— made her sick. And the fervent churn of her stomach, the gut-wrenching cries from the three women before her, didn't particularly help with the nausea.
"Christine—" her father tried to pull her into him but she backed away, pointing at him while fresh tears were threatening to spill.
"Do not fucking touch me." Christine shook as she pointed at him.
Tommy stood behind her with a hand on her shoulder, and Nikki next remained stationary next to her probably ready to go full guard dog mode had anything happened.
"I said, what happened?!"
"Not outside, Christine." Her eldest sister, Liane, sent her a pathetic smile and held her hand out for her. She led Christine toward the house, hoping to get her alone and away from the two random men she had just brought back with her.
"Chris!?" Nikki yelled after her, raising his arms in the air.
"I'll be back. Just wait in the car, Nikki. Please."
Seeing her sister so upset, when she was always the strongest one in the family, broke her heart.
Christine hated crying, it was a habit that she had learned to break when she was a kid and her father would use his infamous scare tactics on his daughters.
"Lia, you're scaring me." She tugged her hand as they passed police officers coming in and out of the house. "What happened? Is mom okay? Where is—"
"Christine—Chris, honey—just read this." She produced a piece of paper from her back pocket, wiping her tears away, completely unable to produce any more than what she already had.
"Okay."
She shook as she unfolded the paper.
Christine wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what she was being presented with.
Liane, Helen, Christine, Lauren.
I'm sorry for everything that your father put you through. None of you deserved to suffer because I was too selfish, scared, and downright blind to his actions, to put a stop to anything.
I guess that's where most of my guilt will forever reside...the four of you deserved better than that, better than me.
I cannot speak for your father in saying this, but I wish I could've made things right.
I wish I reported him to the police because it wasn't just you he hurt--but you felt the brunt of it.
And now I'm struggling to see a way out of this, what with the guilt and not being able to escape this relationship.
I'm coming to the end, slowly but surely.
So this is just my goodbye to you all, because I don't know when my day will come, and we won't have time to say our last words to one another.
And Christine, I'm sorry for making you choose between your new life and college...please, just do whatever you want to. Life is much too short.
I will forever adore you my little love bugs.
Mom.
"No." The mascara surged down her face as she bawled.
Christine couldn't fucking breathe.
"No! This isn't happening, please tell me this is some sick fucking joke and she's alive--"
"Chrissie, she's gone." Lia held onto her shoulders as she tried to get her to look into her eyes.
Her empty, completely vacant, eyes.
After that, I was just a pathetic shell of the woman I once was.
And I don't think anything was ever the same again.
Christine had told them both what had happened, while Nikki sat next to her the entire car ride with his arm around her shoulder as she sobbed into his chest.
Neither of them asked questions, they didn't talk, they just let her grieve. And she was grateful for that.
Because she needed it. She needed that so fucking badly.
She might've hated what her mother did to me, or what she didn't do, but nothing ever prepared her for what happened that night.
Christine was broken.
Despite Lilian being a horrible soul, she would never wish the death of a parent on her worst enemy. Especially when they died thinking that their beloved child hated the very bones of them.
The woman who brought her into this world, left it thinking that she hated her with every bone in her little body.
And that couldn't have been further from the truth.