Warning(s):
Explicit language
Violence
Drug abuse
Verbal abuse
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“I am going to kill you!” I shout, chasing Stevie and Slash over the hotel beds with Duff eventually tackling me when they lock themselves into the bathroom.
“You’re the one who ate the brownies, Viv! It’s common sense not to do that!” Steven tells me from the other side of the door.
“Your ass is grass and I’m going to mow it!” I yell back.
“No one’s mowing ass!” Duff tells me. “We’re just gonna wait for it to pass." He says in reference to my inevitable high.
“I’m gonna puke.” I insist, pushing him off of me.
“D-Do you feel sick?” He asks me, worried, and I open the door of the bathroom, Steven and Slash peeking their heads out of the shower from behind the curtain.
“No, I’m gonna make myself throw up so I don’t trip balls.” I explain.
“Ew.” Slash mumbles.
“Viv, no, it won’t be that bad.” Steven assures me as I kneel over the toilet, and Duff pulls me up.
“It’s not like it’s gonna kill you, Viv, alright, just stay in the room and let it run its course. Don’t do that to yourself.” He tells me, motioning to the toilet and I raise my brows.
“Just go lay down and relax.” Slash adds.
“Fine.” I state, stepping out of the bathroom.
"So, you've got this handled." Stevie starts to Duff.
"Yeah?"
"We're going back down to the bar." Steven declares, pulling Slash to the door with him.
"Dude, what? They were your brownies." Duff tells him.
"That she ate without asking." Steven points out.
"I was hungry!"
"Then you go to McDonalds! You don't eat brownies you find in our room!" Steven replies.
"Alright, okay, you two go. I got this." Duff sighs.
"Thank you. Bye." He replies and they leave us, Duff shutting the door behind them as I lay down, getting under the covers and turning the TV on, Looney Tunes playing as Duff steps to the bed.
"You can go back downstairs, I'm sure I'll be fine. I don't even feel anything." I mumble and he looks at me, pointedly.
"No, I'm staying." He states, taking his jacket and boots off, getting in to bed with me, sitting up against the headboard as I lay my head in his lap.
A few minutes later, I'm getting out from under the covers because it's rubbing against my skin too hard.
"You okay?" Duff asks me when I go to pull my shirt over my head.
"My freaking skin hurts." I reply and he raises his brows.
"It's the brownies."
"It's not the brownies." I reply, suddenly freezing when I make eye contact with Daffy Duck, catching him staring at me through the TV, and feel feathers against my fingers.
"What're you doing?" Duff asks me and I realize I'm rubbing my finger tips together on both hands, and when I look at him, another realization comes to mind.
"If you combine 'Daffy' and 'Duck' you get 'Duffy'." I tell him and he raises a brow.
"Y-Yeah?"
"Or 'Dack'. I feel like this is a perfect time for you to tell me my favorite joke." I tell him and he raises his brows. "'Paint my house'." I mock his voice, giggles consuming me once I'm done and he laughs with me.
"Viv--"
"--I'm kinda hungry."
"You ate five brownies, babe." He reminds me.
"Pot brownies don't count as food." I state, reaching for the phone. "I'm getting room service."
"No, no," he stops me, chuckling, grabbing the phone from me. "You do not want to get food while you're high and hungry. You'll order stuff you've never even heard of and we'll be murdered for running up the bill."
"We can just get Doc to pay for it." I shrug, going for the phone in his hand.
"Which is why it's not a good idea." He explains.
"If he gets his panties in a wad over room service he can just eat a brownie and he'll feel fine." I snatch the phone from him and dart for the bathroom.
"Vivian, baby!" He calls, opening the bathroom door before I can close it but it's too late, I'm dialing the number for room service, swatting Duff's hand away, though the movement seems as if it's delayed--at least my vision is delayed, or my mind, I don't know.
"Hello?" The man on the other line picks up and I furrow my brows, the fear that he knows I'm high infiltrating my mind. "Hello?" He repeats and I hang up and drop the phone.
"What if he tells my parents?" I ask myself, trying to stay calm as anxiety rises.
"W-What?" Duff asks me, confused.
"Dad will kill me. Mom--oh, God, mom will never let me live it down." I push past him to pace in the room and he furrows his brows.
"Viv--"
"--How do I even begin to explain to my parents I'm on drugs. Does pot even count as a drug? It's natural--so is fucking arsenic but do you see anybody putting that shit in brownies?" I ask myself. "I'm going to hell." I conclude, tears coming to my eyes. "I'm going to hell." I repeat, my voice cracking.
"Viv, you ate them on accident, you're not going to hell for accidentally getting high."
"I want Nikki." I say next, my heart beat beginning to hammer.
"If he finds out you're like this, we could get in trouble, Viv." Duff tells me.
"I want Nikki." I repeat, my breathing getting more frantic.
I stare at Fred, Doc, and Rich Fischer...and Bob Timmons, rolling my jaw as they look at me pointedly, waiting for me to say something in response. Anything.
“Are you gonna say anything?” Doc finally asks me and I lick my lips.
“What the hell am I supposed to say, Doc?” I ask him, furrowing my brows a little. “I-I’ve tried to talk to him about it a million times the past three years and he refuses to acknowledge he has an issue.” I state.
“Because he feels like he’s got nothing to lose.” Doc informs me. “I know you two aren’t on good terms, anyway, but, Vivian, we can’t have one of our guys nearly falling out on stage on smack. That’s not good press.”
“Since when the hell do we care about good or bad press?” I laugh humorlessly.
“Since I don’t want Nikki to fucking die on this tour.” Doc snaps.
“Can’t make money off tickets if the bassist dies and there’s no band to tour, anymore, right?” I ask him, poking my lip out sarcastically for a moment and he glares at me.
“I’m not in it for money.” Fred cuts in, seriously, a genuine look of worry on his face. “He’s like a brother to me. I’m not fucking in it for the money. I just don’t wanna see him dead.”
“We’re already getting a divorce so what the hell is it gonna do to threaten divorce if he doesn’t stop shooting up?” I ask them, raising my brows.
“I promise, it’ll get his attention.” Fred assures me.
“Do you know something that I don’t?” I cut my eyes at him. “Because all I’ve heard is how ready he is to get away from me and be free.”
“Just talk to him.” Fred ignores my question, which confirms that whatever shit Nikki feeds me about wanting to leave me as soon as possible is all bark with no bite behind it.
“What’s in it for me?” I ask them.
“The gratification of knowing you’re doing what Jesus would do.” Doc sarcastically replies.
“Jesus would exorcise him.” I bite back.
“I promise we haven’t ruled that option out yet.” He sighs out.
That was the first of many “what’re we going to do about Nikki?” meetings on that tour. Nikki had gone on high as hell--thinking no one noticed--and nearly passed out after flipping down the stage and taking way too long to get back up, and when he did get up, he nearly fell off the stage and could barely keep his eyes open. They had to remedy his stupor with a few bumps of coke during Tommy’s drum solo.
He got up in arms if anyone tried to confront him about it, brushing it off like he was just really tired that night, so they called me up to bat.
I guess they forgot I couldn’t talk to him about anything without it turning into a fight--especially not about his heroin addiction.
"So, even though we're separated and he's your client, you're leaving it up to me to convince him to get sober?" I clarify.
"He's not doing himself any favors, Vivian, you know that. This isn't just affecting your marriage." Doc tells me.
"Um, yeah, I've been trying to tell you that for years now but the second it turns into him risking the loss of money going in to your pockets you're all about getting him some fucking help." I snap, standing up. "Thank you for confirming you're the piece of shit I was afraid you were."
"Vivian, wai--"
"--Go fuck yourself, Doc. You're lucky I don't fucking fire you."
I leave the meeting with Fred at my heels.
"Viv, wait." He grasps at my wrist and turns me to face him, making me flare my nostrils with frustration.
"I'm not talking to him, Fred."
"Vivian, he's more likely to listen to you than any of us."
"Are you kidding me?! He'll laugh in my face!" I give up and raise my voice, hoping it'll get my point across since they seem to not understand english when it's spoken calmly and quietly.
"Viv, just try it. Just once. Please." He begs.
"Fine."
I already felt like it was my job to fix him, and having that responsibility of being the only one capable of getting Nikki to slow down only added to that burden that I knew right away I'd be unable to bear but tried to do so anyway.
"Yes, I'm sorry, I was locked out of mine and my husband's room. I accidentally left the key in there before I left and he doesn't have his with him, either." I tell the receptionist at the front desk of the hotel.
"Do you have any ID?" She asks me and I pull out my license, smiling.
"Here you go." I show her. "Vivian and Nikki Sixx, but the room name is probably under Doc McGhee." I add and she flips through bookings for a moment before she nods.
"Got it." She tells me, opening a drawer and pulling a spare out.
"Thank you." I tell her politely, taking the key and heading to the elevator.
"Enjoy your night." She replies.
"Thanks, you too." I grin to myself mischievously, ready to piss on Nikki's parade.
I get up to his room and unlock the door, smelling sweaty clothes, vomit, possibly urine, definite shit, semen, smoke, heroin, and coke.
"Ew." I mumble, seeing that he is nowhere to be found.
I immediately start shuffling through his things, every pant pocket, every compartment in his suitcase, under the bed, in the drawers, under the mattress, in the pillow cases, in the bathroom, the closet, under the dresser, under the TV stand, the night stand, behind the bed, behind wall paintings, everywhere, and find absolutely nothing.
"You've got to be kidding me." I say to myself, looking at the disheveled room. "If I were Nikki Sixx where would I hide my stash?" I say next…an idea popping into my mind. "The last thing I'd think anyone would suspect I would even touch." I answer myself, going back to the nightstand drawer, opening it back up to see a bible.
I open it and find the jackpot.
I don't know where he found the time to hollow it out and put a baggie of china white and a small bindle of coke inside but I don't have time to think about it.
"Really should have taken the expensive stuff with you, baby." I state, taking the china white out and pouring the powder into the toilet before throwing the baggie away, doing the same with the coke.
I go to fix everything the way I found it but I'm stopped by the sound of the door knob being unlocked.
I dodge into the closet, shutting the door as best as I can, hearing the room door swing open, and the sound of Nikki stumbling in, laughing while another woman giggles, making my heart hammer in my chest.
"What's wrong?" I hear her giggling come to an abrupt stop.
"I don't feel good, take a rain check." He brushes her off, and I hear him walk around the room, probably noticing it looks like a tornado hit it, worse than how he left it.
"I thought we were gonna have some fun, though." I hear the pout in her voice.
"I'm sure Vinnie would take you up on that. He's across the hall." He sounds even more disinterested by the second, aggravation in his tone, but I don't believe it's because her.
"Fucking rockstars." She complains, stomping out and slamming the door.
"I can smell your perfume from here, Viv." He says, and I hear him kick some stuff out of his way before the sound of him sitting on the bed.
I roll my eyes and step out of the closet, smiling at him innocently.
"What the fuck are you doing in here? How'd you even fucking get it?"
"I got a key." I inform him.
"What are you doing here?" He asks again and I go to speak but can't, not knowing what lie to come up with.
I hesitate for too long, giving him too much time to think about it.
"Oh, you didn't." He sneers, before quickly walking to the nightstand, opening the drawer and grabbing the bible before he opens it to see it's empty. "God damnit, Vivian!"
By this time I'm already almost at the door, within arms reach, but he's rushing to me and grabbing my hair, pulling me back, causing me to cry out before he's shoving me to the bed.
"Where did you put it?!" He demands and I take deep breaths, staring at him.
"I flushed it." I admit honestly and his face turns red, his fist balling up at his sides.
"You did what?" He shakily asks again and I sit up.
"I. Flushed. It." I repeat.
"Do you realize how much money that shit costs?!" He outbursts and I move to get off the bed, but he grabs my arm roughly so I can't get away.
"Let go of me." I warn him, trying to get out of his grasp.
"Answer me!" He barks at me.
I don't say another thing, my foot jutting out to kick him off of me, hard.
"Trust me, I know how much money that shit costs because you've been prioritizing it over our other finances for the past five years!" I argue back.
"You fucking bitch!" He screams as I go for the door again.
"You strung out junkie!" I yell back.
The lamp shatters against the door when he throws it, the only light in the room is now coming from the bathroom and I turn to face him, anger growing in me at the fact he threw a lamp at me over something so stupid.
I'm taking my heel off and throwing it at him next before turning back around to leave, but when the blade of his switchblade lands a foot away from me, in the carpet, I get fed up.
I lunge at him, the two of us hitting the hotel floor with a heavy thud, my nails clawing at his bare chest before he shoves me off of him and grabs my wrists, the two of us in a stare off, catching our breath.
"I'm only here because I'm worried about you, asshole!" I outburst at him."Your health is going to shit and--"
"--Oh, for fucks sake, Viv, when I die everything's going to you so don't act like you're not foaming at the mouth for me to finally croak." He snaps at me, pulling himself onto the bed, laying on his back.
"If I were eagerly awaiting your death I wouldn't be flushing anything to keep you away from it."
"As if I won't call up a dealer the second you get the fuck out. Speaking of which: get the fuck out." He motions to the door and I stand over him.
"I'm not done talking."
"I am."
"Good, then you won't argue when I say that you need to slow down because Doc's getting uneasy due to that stunt you pulled last night."
"I was tired."
"You were high."
"They don't know that."
"They sure do know that, they just haven't confronted you themselves because they don't need you going at them like a rabid dog."
"Bullshit."
"There was a meeting. They even brought in Bob Timmons, Nikki." I reply and he closes his eyes and lets out a sharp breath before he sits up. "They were hoping maybe us talking about it might encourage you to put your health as a priority." I add, leaving out "get sober or get divorced," deciding that's the last thing he needs to hear, and he nods. "I know it probably won't do much, but, Nikki, we're really worried--I'm really worried."
"We've had this conversation how many fucking times, Vivian?" He scoffs out, looking up at me.
"I'm not an idiot, Nikki, you're not okay. You don't look good, you don't smell good, you didn't sound good--"
"--Are you done?" His voice gravels out, unamused, and in denial.
"Nikki."
"I don't look good because I'm tired, I don't smell good because I haven't showered yet, and you don't know shit about music so who the fuck are you to tell me if I sounded good or not?"
"You realize I'm not that naive little pipsqueak that just wanted to keep the peace and went along with whatever you said years ago, right?"
"At least you knew how to keep your fucking mouth shut unless I wanted it open for reasons that had nothing to do with talking." He grumbles.
I glare at him a moment longer and exhale.
"Tell your dealer I said 'hello'." I yield, grabbing my other shoe, leaving in defeat, holding back the tears leaking to my eyes.
"The fuck's going on?" Izzy asks us as Steven, Slash and Duff look like deer caught in headlights, interrupted as they try to coax me back into the room.
"I'm too high." I state, panicking, and Izzy furrows his brows.
"You're what?" He asks me, looking at the guys. "She's what?"
"Too high." I repeat.
"Who is?" Axl asks, approaching us with a beer in hand, obviously not prepared for what he's about to find out.
"I am." I say at the same time, Steven says, "nobody."
Everybody's at a stand still for a moment, all of us staring at each other before Axl starts in.
"She's what?!" He demands while Slash and Steven scramble to explain.
"Well, she, like...ate something and now--"
"--Don't tell me she ate those fucking brownies you two have been smuggling." He tells them and Slash slowly puts his sunglasses on to avoid direct eye contact as Stevie stutters out:
"Uh-Um, w-well...she had like five and it was a complete accident."
"Five?!" He shouts next and I slowly back away as they become further occupied, darting down the hall and turning the corner, hearing Duff say, "wait, Viv!", making my feet go faster.
The next morning is spent on the phone with Sharise while she goes over last minute wedding details for the date set for the one day the band has off next week.
"She told me she wants bright pink bridesmaids dresses." I tell Vince, raising a brow.
"Yeah, I helped her pick them out." He smugly replies, knowing I was dreading the idea of looking like a cupcake.
"I hate you."
"I love you." He sarcastically states, leaning back in his chair at the breakfast table in the hotel's cafeteria.
"Where the hell is everybody else, we're outta here in 20 minutes." Fred tells us and I raise my brows.
"Being that Tansy and Sparkie and Nikki were all up doing God knows what last night, I'm assuming they aren't even aware what year it is, currently." I reply to him, drinking a sip of orange juice.
"And what about Guns?" He asks next.
"Heck if I know." I tell him and he groans, rubbing his forehead. "Okay, fine, I'll go get everybody rounded up. K?" I offer, standing.
"Thank you." He says to me as I walk to the elevator.
Once I get to our floor, I start at Tommy's room, banging on the door until I hear, "What?!" from the other side.
"Get up, we leave in 20 minutes!" I say back, going to Tansy and Sparkie's room, knocking at the door.
It opens within seconds, Sparkie, completely naked, standing at the door with his brows raised.
I gag at the sight of him wearing nothing.
"We're leaving in 20 minutes." I tell him neutrally.
"I'll wake Tans up." He replies, smirking at me and I go to turn away but he's grabbing my arm. "You thought about what I said?" He asks me and I roll my jaw.
"Mmm, still thinking on it." I don't even hide my sarcasm and he licks his lips.
"Think a little harder, baby, because I almost let it out when we were hanging out last night." He informs me and my blood runs cold. "The longer you wait the easier it's gonna start wanting to just slip out without a second thought." He adds, shutting the door in my face and I let out a defeated breath, squeezing my eyes closed for a second and rubbing my forehead.
When I turn to walk down to Steven's room, he and Slash are coming out, leaning on each other, both of them wearing sunglasses to shield their hangovers, dragging their luggage along behind them.
"Is Axl, Izzy and Duff up?" I ask them as I pass by.
"I don't even think Axl slept. Izzy's trying to shoo away some girl and Duff's trying to finish packing." Steven replies flatly, obviously tired, and I go to Duff's room, knocking a few times before he opens the door.
He opens it and his eyes light up.
"There you are." He says, stepping back to his suitcase that's on the bed as he starts tossing his belongings in.
"Yeah, I got up earlier for breakfast." I reply, grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste out of the bathroom.
"I figured." He states, running a hand through his hair before rubbing his eye. "Um, Izzy and Axl just left, I think, and I'll be down in a second, so." He informs me and I nod.
"Okay, I'm gonna go grab my stuff from my room."
"K." He replies as I leave, going across the hall to unlock my door and gather my stuff.
The door, that I left crack, is soon opening again and I think it's Fred or Doc or one of the guys, but when I look up from my suitcase to see Sparkie, I feel sick.
"You do realize sexual coercion is rape, right?" I blatantly ask, wanting him to know good and well what he's doing.
"Not if it's consensual." He shrugs and I roll my jaw and zip up my bag.
"It's not consensual if you're having to blackmail me into doing it." I bite back, shoving past me to get out of the room, and I run smack dab into Fred, and pray he didn't hear our exchange.
He opens his mouth to speak, quickly halting when Sparkie comes out behind me, smirking.
"Morning." He says to Fred. "Vivian." He more so sneers, heading to the elevator.
"The fuck is that about?" Fred asks, referring to Sparkie being in the room with me.
"Um, he was helping me pack." I lie, knowing if I tell him the truth he'll be arrested for murder.
"Right." He looks at me with unsure eyes before brushing it off. "We're loading up."
Fred was a damn good actor.
The only thing keeping him from beating the shit out of Sparkie, was knowing when he told Nikki later on that night, Nikki would do a worse number on the bastard than he would.
"Wow, I can actually run a brush through it." I comment to Duff, combing out his hair before he picks up a can of hair spray to tease it a little.
"Extra conditioner. Who'da thought." He adds, grinning at me like a little kid.
"Viv, can you do this?" Stevie asks next, a slight whine to his voice.
"What is it?" I ask, stepping to him in the dressing room.
When I see what he means, I look at him, unamused.
"Steven Adler. You know how to lace your pants up."
"No, these are hard to do because the string is almost too big for the little holes they go through." He pleads his case, raising his brows. "You have tinier fingers, plus you're not fighting off an everlasting hangover and coke jitters."
I look down at his pants, seeing very well he's not wearing underwear, and take a deep breath.
"I'll keep my hands to myself, alright? I promise." He assures me, tucking his hands behind his back.
"It's not your hands I'm worried about." I mumble, rolling my eyes.
I end up having to crouch to get eye level with the laces, and when the door opens up to reveal Axl, and I'm on my knees with my hands on the strings keeping Steven's penis separated from my face, it looks assbackwards--well, blowjobbackwards.
"Can you stop blowing my band?!" Axl's meltdown tone on full effect and I look at him, wide eyed.
"I'm not blowing anybody!" I snap.
"Except Duff." Slash mumbles with a little chuckle and Izzy finds humor in it as well.
"Axl, dude, she's just helping me with my pants." Stevie defends me, raising his brows. "Besides if she was blowing me that'd be our fucking business."
"What did you just say to me?" Axl hones in on Steven, his eyes sharply narrowing, his jaw tightening.
"I said, if she was sucking my fucking cock it would be mine and her's business--ya know, since we're both fucking grown-ass adults and you can't tell us what the fuck to do?"
"You're in my fucking band, Steven, so yeah, actually, I believe I can tell you--"
"--Guys, don't fight." I say, standing up and crossing my arms.
"--You can't tell me shit!" Steven outbursts. "Just like you can't tell Duff shit! He's a big boy and Viv's a big girl--what goes on between them doesn't concern any of us, especially not you." Steven pushes me out ot the way so he can stand nearly chest with chest with Axl.
"Axl, Stevie, c'mon, now." Duff says, gently pulling me behind him as he steps to the guys, slowly urging them apart.
"It does concern me because it's affecting Guns N' Roses." Axl hisses.
"You act like she's fucking everything up, Axl! Just because he was late for one fucking rehearsal--"
"--A studio session, soundcheck, and, one fucking rehearsal." The red head snaps and I look at Duff, confused.
I didn't know he missed a studio session and soundcheck for me at one point...the look on Duff's face says that Axl was supposed to keep quiet about the studio session mishap and soundcheck.
He looks pissed.
"And I said it wouldn't happen again." Duff cuts in.
"Why can't you just back off?" I ask next without another thought.
"Because you spreading your legs is fucking up my band, Yoko!" Axl doesn't hesitate, and Steven's shoving at his shoulders, sending him shuffling back, catching himself on the closed door.
Just as Axl goes to get back at Steven, Duff intervenes, holding at Axl while I get in front of Steven and face him, keeping him from taking advantage of Axl being held still.
There's a loud knock at the door and Doc peeks his head in.
"You're on." He tells the guys, shutting the door back.
Axl shoves Duff off of him and storms out while Steven ties his pants since I fixed the laces, and huffs out a breath.
"Izzy, either straighten your fucking buddy out or I will. I've about had his shit." Stevie threatens.
Axl and Steven butted heads more than anybody in the band did at that time. Steven couldn't stand Axl's uptight arrogance, and Axl couldn't understand Steven's nonchalance.
I think that's why it was so easy for Axl to give up on Steven when his drug abuse got so bad--he was tired of trying to understand Steven when he was decently sober, trying to understand him putting drugs before the band would have exhausted him to the point of no return.
They just couldn't ever get in tune with one another.
"When are you gonna quit starting fights?" Fred asks me as I leave Guns' dressing room once they get out on stage.
"I'm not talking about this with you." I cut the possible conversation here.
"You're lucky none of the guys heard it, Viv." He says next.
"I said I'm not--"
"--First Sparkie, now Axl, how many of 'em are you gonna go at before the tour's over?"
I freeze.
"How did you know about that?" I ask Fred, my eyes wide, my heart feeling like it's stopped beating momentarily.
The sudden cracking of glass shattering and girls squealing echoes down the hall as someone yells:
"If you ever fucking touch her again I'll fucking kill you!"
But it isn't just someone. It's Nikki.
I don't ask anymore questions before Fred and I run down the hall, going to the hospitality room to see Nikki on top of Sparkie, punching at his face.
"You hear me?!" Nikki screams at him as Fred pulls him off.
"Nikki," Fred starts calmly, getting Nikki off of Sparkie, but Sparkie's face is still in kicking distance, and Nikki takes the opportunity to get three good kicks to the teeth in, completely oblivious to Fred's efforts to calm him down as he adds:
"Fucking touch her again and see what fucking happens you piece of shit!"
"Nikki!" Fred shouts over him, yanking him away from Sparkie.
"He's not fucking her up like he did Tansy!" Nikki argues, shoving at Fred's shoulders to get free.
Sparkie's garbled laughter sputters out through his blood soaked mouth.
"I've seen your guys' tapes, something tells me the easy bitch likes it anyway she can get it as long as something's in her--anywhere." He grins out, wincing in pain.
"Go to hell!" I bark as I go for the bastard next, my knuckles getting splattered with his blood as I pick up where Nikki left off before Fred's yanking me off of him, which is a mistake because with Fred sidetracked with me, Nikki's got his knife out, about to stab Sparkie, making more of the groupies scatter before they become witnesses to a murder, but now Doc's in here and snatches him back and Sparkie cowers to the corner, as far away as possible.
"What the fuck is going on?!" Doc's hollering at us, rage in his eyes as Tansy, Tommy, Vince, and Mick all make their way in.
"Sparkie?" Tansy asks, stepping to him, crouching down, her hands holding his blugended face, slight panic rising in her voice as she looks at Doc and says, "can we get him to a hospital?"
"Fuck no! Put him on a plane and send him the fuck home!" Nikki demands.
"Nikki." She argues, tears in her eyes.
"I don't give a fuck if he gets seen about or not but I'm telling you now, Tansy, if I see that motherfucker on this tour again, I'm fucking killing him!"
"I'm gonna report you for threatening my life." Sparkie groans out, trying to sit up.
"It's a fucking promise!" Nikki snaps at him.
"Okay, okay!" Doc shouts over Nikki, the vein in his forehead popping back out. "Tansy, I'll go to the hospital with you two, Nikki, Vivian, when the show's over you go to the hotel and you fucking stay there." He points his finger at us before looking at Fred. "You make sure they fucking stay there until I get back. I've fucking had enough of this shit."
Doc helps Tansy get Sparkie to a cab, and Nikki refuses to talk to any of the guys about what just happened, he just goes to the bathroom, and I follow after him--assuming he's going to shoot up, but he's just cleaning the blood off his face and hands from where it gushed out of Sparkie and onto him.
"Fred told you." I state when I get inside and he looks at me for half a second in the mirror above the sink before continuing to get the blood off his hands.
"He told me the sick fuck was practically pinning your arm behind your back to get you to fuck him." He tells me and I sigh in relief that Fred didn't tell him exactly what Sparkie was using against me.
"Thank you for taking up for me." I say to him and he splashes his face with water and turns the sink off.
"Did you expect me not to?" He asks and I raise a brow.
"I just expected you not to give a shit, honestly." I reply. "I thought you'd be too--" I stop myself from finishing that sentence and he lets out a breath.
"--Thought I'd be too high to give a shit." He finishes it for me and I nod a little, frowning slightly.
"He put Tansy in the hospital and probably fucked up the chance of her ever having kids. Whether you and me like each other right now or not is completely fucking bullshit when it comes to keeping that gross cuntface asshole away from you. High or not, I'm not standing around and letting him back you into a corner, I just wish you would've told me about it sooner, Vivian."
"Can you blame me for not wanting to? I feel like anytime I open my mouth around you, you flip your shit."
"I flip my shit? If anything I can't even walk into the same room you're in without you starting a fight with me." He throws at me.
"Because you deserve it."
"Right because I lied to you, cheated on you, chose drugs over you, made a mockery of your beliefs, humiliated you, shot you, and the list goes on." He repeats what I said to Tommy two weeks ago and I roll my jaw. "I get it, Vivian, I'm the piece of shit that should rot in hell forever...and I'm perfectly fine with that." He chuckles, rubbing his lips together. "Hang in there. Only a handful of months left and we can sign papers and pretend this whole thing never fucking happened." He adds, stepping to the door and I grab his wrist stopping him.
He looks down at me, his unshaven face tired from lack of sleep, his hazel eyes starting to regain consciousness after being dimmed from heroin.
He takes a step to me and I walk back until my lower back is hitting at the sink and he's making me bite my tongue when he lifts me up onto the sink, getting between my legs, his bruised hands grasping at my hair, making me look at him as I take heavy breaths.
I look from his eyes to his lips and he smirks, leaning down, his lips brushing against mine before he says:
"For someone who can't stand me, you really know how to give those 'fuck me' eyes." He tells me. "Too bad they don't work on me,
anymore." He adds, his eyes staring mine down, before he's dropping his hands from my hair and turning on his heel, leaving me.
He claimed he was immune to me at that point, but yet he slept with groupies and pretended they were me, so I'm not sure how that lie was.
"The hell happened with Sparkie?" Izzy asks me, finally able to come down from the stage high, thirty minutes into Mötley's set.
I'm assuming the rumor of the carbuncle was getting around back stage like the plague and I look at him and Duff, Stevie, and Slash, who are all in the background, sitting down and cooling off.
I go with a half-truth.
"He was disrespectful towards me and Nikki had enough." I explain.
"He made a pass at you?" Izzy raises his brows, his tone getting slightly defensive.
"Yeah, but it's handl--"
"--What'd he do, he touch you?" He cuts me short.
"No." I lie, a little taken back by Izzy's defensiveness.
"Did he try anything?" Stevie asks next.
"Guys, no, it's handled anyway." I give them a small smile, though it falters when my eyes catch on Duff, who's smoking a cigarette, avoiding making direct eye contact with me.
If I would've told them the truth, Sparkie wouldn't have lived to die two years later.
I change into a t-shirt and pajama shorts, brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed as Duff gets out of the shower and starts getting ready to go out with Steven, Slash, Nikki and Tommy, standing behind me at the bathroom counter.
"So, like, Nikki and Doc wanted to talk to you about Sparkie?" He asks me about what I told him earlier about Doc wanting to speak to me and Nikki about the Sparkie incident.
"Uh, yeah." I try not to wince at how unsure I sound.
"Oh." He replies. "...What was so bad that Nikki put Sparkie in the emergency room over it?"
I take a moment to think about it, rubbing my lips together, shaking my head a little.
"I told you, baby, he just got outta line and Nikki handled it."
"What's 'outta line'?" He keeps on and I exhale.
"Duff--"
"--Is it being a verbal creep or getting his hands on you or both or what?" He questions.
"It doesn't matter, alright? It's handled."
"Yeah, I keep hearing that but you're still not being honest with me about it, Viv." He insists, his tone keeping steady and calm as I leave the bathroom. "What did he do?"
"I told you that it's taken care of, Duff, alright? Just drop it."
"If it's handled, why're you meeting up with Doc and Nikki to talk about it?" He asks me next and I turn to look at him where he's leaning against the bathroom door.
"Because Doc wanted to talk to us." I tell him, but he doesn't look completely convinced. "What?"
"Nothing." He sighs out, defeated, going back to the bathroom.
I exhale sharply and go to the door, about to open it but I stop and go to the bathroom, wrapping my arms around Duff's bare waist, resting my cheek against his back.
"I'm sorry for being rude or coming across as secretive. I appreciate you trying to be here for me and watch out for me but I'm not completely helpless, alright?" I ask him and he lets out a small breath and nods a little.
I kiss the skin of his back before saying, "I'll be right back," slipping out of the room door.
He thought I was going to hook up with Nikki, using "Doc needs to talk to me and Nikki" as an excuse...not that his worry lasted long after Nikki fessed up to what happened with the Sparkie ordeal when they went out that night.
As soon as I shut the door and turn around, I run smack dab into Fred, my heart stopping for a moment until I realize it's him and let out a sigh of relief.
He huffs out a breath and keeps walking.
"Is there any point in paying for a separate room for you if you're just gonna shack up with--"
"--Shh!" I scold him, yanking on his wrist to slow him down.
"Oh, I'm sorry." He mumbles. "Not that your moaning isn't a dead giveaway or anything."
"Very funny." I cut my eyes at him.
"It is being that I had to convince Nikki you were masterbating the other night." He replies.
"Who's to say I wasn't?" I ask smartly.
"There's a difference in 'I'm being fucked into oblivion' moans, and 'wow, I really am better by myself' moans." He shrugs.
Before I can argue, he's unlocking Doc's room and ushering me inside, where Nikki is waiting, an impatient look on his face, sunglasses covering his eyes.
"Where the fuck is Doc?" He groans out.
"Still at the E.R. because you put him there?" Fred tells him as if it's common sense.
"Wouldn't have happened if he would just back the fuck off." Nikki smacks his gun.
"You better hope he doesn't press charges." Fred points at him.
"If he does, Vivian won't have anything left when she drains me during divorce." Nikki pokes his lip out and I roll my jaw.
"Again, I don't want any of your money, Nikki."
"You're saying that now, but I bet $500.00 this time next year you'll be pleading spousal support or some other gold-digging bullshit."
"You don't have $500.00 to back up a bet--Mr. '$35,000 a week in heroin'."
"My belt is about to be going nothing to 35,000 on your ass if you don't shut the fuck up."
"Screw you!" I argue.
"That is if you can even get my prick hard--your fucking attitude's got me questioning if pussy's even fucking worth it anymore!"
"Hey!" Fred intercepts, plugging his ears to block our yelling.
"And now you've got Fred upset!" He motions to Fred.
"You have our entire team upset with your recklessness!" I accuse him.
"Oh, my recklessness?! You wanna talk about my recklessness?!" He barks out. "You're the one getting into fist fights with the opening band!"
"And you're the one fucking up Mötley Crüe!" I get it off my chest finally, and I can see the damage it's doing to Nikki's mind, despite his eyes being hidden, tension building in his jaw. "You know what, I'm not even gonna sit in here and wait for Doc." I tell Fred.
"Vivian, he needed to talk to you guys." Fred tells me.
"Thank Fuck." Nikki ignores him, stepping to the door.
"Nikki." Fred tries his luck with him.
"If this cunt wants to think I'm a piece of shit, she just needs to keep that mentality up because I'm tired of her 'I wanna get along but then turn on you like a fucking piranha' bullshit."
"I'm a piranha-cunt now? Thought I was an ugly gold digger." I sarcastically let out.
"And I thought marrying you was gonna be a good idea." He mercilessly hisses, looking at me directly. "Obviously shooting up for the first time was a better decision than ever letting you be more than the goodie-goodie church bitch I turned out purely out of boredom."
"Out!" Fred shoves at us, getting us to the door, tired of hearing it.
I'm the first out, hearing him pull Nikki back, scolding him for saying that to me, but I don't care.
Despite the tears in my eyes, his words don't bother me like they should...I hope my words didn't bother him too badly, either.
Once I get back to Duff's room, he's gone, and I'm left to crawl into bed and hope he doesn't stay angry at me for long, and pray Nikki doesn't either.
I said really messed up things to Nikki the months leading up to his overdose, things that I still apologize for to this day.
He was an asshole, he was abusive, he cheated, lied, made me feel crazy...but he was sick.
So, so sick--and I was, too, for tolerating it for so long.
Nonetheless, I knew he was down, and I just kicked his teeth in every chance I got.
A few days later, I step in to see Axl and Duff, sitting on the bed, talking but they abruptly stop when I lean against the door frame, making my presence known.
Duff clears his throat, blowing smoke from his cigarette past his lips.
"What're we talking about?" I ask them, raising my brows.
Neither of them reply, Axl standing up, sighing.
"Well, I'm gonna go see what the guys are gonna do after the show tonight, kinda in a going out mood." He grabs his sunglasses and heads for the door.
"What was that about?" I say to Duff once we're alone, sitting on the foot of the bed beside him, and he shakes his head a little, taking another drag of his cigarette.
He just stares down at the floor, thinking, and when he goes to take another inhale of his cigarette, I pluck it from his hand.
"What, are you breaking up with me already?" I ask him, nudging at his shoulder because he's been kind of distant the past few days, ever since he found out I didn't tell him about Sparkie.
"No." He mumbles, rubbing his forehead. "Nikki told me about Sparkie." He informs me and I let out a breath and lick my lips nervously.
"I get that you're not happy with me, Duff, but to be fair, I didn't tell anybody. The only reason Nikki knew about it is because Fred told him after he'd overheard it."
"And that's why I'm upset, Viv. Because you didn't tell anybody--you weren't gonna say anything until Fred said something for you."
"Because I didn't know what to say, Duff."
"'Sparkie's being inappropriate towards me', 'Sparkie's trying to get me to sleep with him and I'm uncomfortable' would have sufficed. I get you not telling everybody else because fear of them not believing you or not caring but I wouldn't have blown you off and I sure as hell would've believed you, Vivian." He states and my throat gets dry. "And maybe that's my fault because I fucked up somewhere along the line and gave you the impression that you couldn't trust me to believe you or give a shit about stuff like that or somethi--"
"--Duff, I've never thought that. I wanted to tell you."
"Then why didn't you?" He asks me, raising his brows and I exhale.
"He was telling me that he was gonna tell Nikki about us if I didn't 'give him a turn.' I got freaked out because I thought if I told anyone he'd really tell Nikki the truth and you guys would be off the tour, which is exactly what you guys are trying to avoid happening."
"If it came down to you being in trouble, and Guns staying on this tour and staying in everybody's good graces, then fuck Guns N' Roses." He tells me, sternly, and I let out another heavy breath. "And any of the guys would agree, alright? Even Axl. Us staying wouldn't be worth you sleeping with a piece of shit--sorry, being raped, because that's what it'd be." He corrects himself and I smile sadly, feeling bad for not talking to him about it. "Just talk to me, Vivian. Alright? You used to talk my ear off and tell me everything and now it's like you just don't tell me things."
"I know." I admit, handing him his cigarette back, and he discards it to the carpet, squashing the lit end with his boot to put it out before he pulls me to his lap, kissing my cheek before pressing his lips to mine, sweetly.
"I'm sorry for not being open with you." I tell him when we pull away.
"Sorry for being a dick and not trying to talk to you about it sooner." He replies and I brush blonde strands from his face.
"I'd rather you take a few days to collect your thoughts instead of screaming at me the moment it happens." I inform him. "Thank you for being so kind, and patient." I add. "I really appreciate it."
His lips tightly upward in a slight grin, before he kisses me again, wrapping me tightly in his arms, before he kisses my hair and holds me.
"I love you." He tells me.
"I love you, too." I say back, honestly, closing my eyes and savoring being so close to him, peace flooding throughout me, although short lived.
There's a bang at the door within a couple minutes, Duff and I getting up, and he steps to the door.
When he opens it, Fred barges in.
"Where the hell is your walkie?!" He's practically screaming at me and I furrow my brows.
"What?" I ask him, confused.
"Your fucking walkie, Vivian, you don't know how to fucking answer it?!" He narrows his eyes, furious, and I remember I accidentally left it in my room before going to Duff's.
"What's going on, what's up?" Duff asks him, slightly frantic and just as confused as I am.
"It's Nikki." Fred says to us, grabbing at my hand, tugging me out.
"What happened?" I ask him, feeling sick, my nerves bunching in my stomach.
We get to Nikki's room, the door cracked open, and when he pushes the door open I see Mick and Doc outside of Nikki's closet as Nikki screams incoherently as Doc tries to reason with him, and I furrow my brows, stepping behind Doc, looking in the direction he's looking in, seeing Nikki on the closet shelf with the light off, scrunched up, pale, sweating, shaking, wide-eyed, and I realize he's saying, "I want Viv."