Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > Concrete Jungle Gym

Rocket Queen Part 1

by SADIS 5 reviews

“Cool!” Slash said then blushed slightly. “Uh I’ll give you my address you should totally come! Oh uh not co-uh you know come by and jam with us.”

Category: Guns n' Roses - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Humor,Romance - Published: 2013-03-30 - 2191 words

Duff lay on the bench defeated. The warm air grazed his skin tenderly, but did little to lift his spirits. An unlit cigarette barely held by his lazed lips, staring at nothing and everything all at once. He had been out scouring for a gig, band members; hell he’d even applied for another job. Somehow he managed to get a call back for another waiter position. Lucky me, Duff thought. I have the distinguished privilege of serving appetizers to distinguished patrons for minimum wage. Just what this fucking world needs more fucks to serve the already privileged fucks. Dream come fucking true. Shifting further back into the harsh wood, he exhaled around his cigarette.

He wanted to hear Axl sing. Not just the occasional notes he could hear from the shower, but a full belted out song. He could tell Axl had talent, but something seemed to be holding him back. Duff wasn’t sure what and he didn’t feel right prying into it. The red head had just gotten used to Duff’s need to hug him. Axl seemed to now love Duff’s hugs almost wanting one first thing every morning.

A random gust of wind rustled his Ramones t-shirt rippling through his spiky red hair. He liked the red as much as the blue. Shielding his eyes from the sparse bits of sand and dust blowing up from the heated pavement. The afternoon sun intertwined with the whirling winds as the gentle caress became more of a vivacious nudge.

Once the wind slowed Duff rose to his feet shaking the sand out of his hair. He sauntered over to the telephone pole to read the random flyers. Band after band had plastered their advertisements on top of the competition. Frustrated he started ripping the corners of the layers of the band posters, trying to find one that interested him. He watched as his homemade confetti drifted away.

“Ow!” He yelped, pulling his long leg up. A skateboard had slammed into his ankle. He glared at it watching the skateboard slowly rolling to a stop.

“Hey, stop my board!” A high-pitched voice yelled. Duff looked up to watch a small lithe blonde run past him diving on to the runaway board. “Thank god.” The blonde mumbled, clutching the board to his chest.

“You do know that stupid thing hit me.” Duff grumbled. The blonde turned eyes slightly wide. Duff bit his lip. He couldn’t tell if the kid was on drugs or genuinely sorry and starting to tear up.

“I’m sorry.” He turned to his skateboard. “Bad skateboard, bad.”

“Whatever.” Duff shrugged, flicking his cigarette to the ground. Stretching slightly he walked back to retrieve his things.

“Wow you’re really tall!” The bright blonde exclaimed, causing Duff to turn back around. The blonde’s grin was innocently happy if not partly adorable.

“Um, yeah.” Duff said, confused as he stooped to pick up his guitar case.

“You’re tall and you play guitar!” The blonde shrieked. Duff’s eyebrows flew up.

“Uh, yeah, but this is a bass.”

“Cool! Our band needs a bass player.” He pointed to the pole. Duff looked. “See there’s our. Fuck! Where’s our flyer?” He leapt to his feet running around the entire pole. “If it was those damn Pussycats or Poison assholes again, I’m going to beat the living shit out of them. Here it is! This one’s ours. You can see the corner of it.” Steven ripped the flyer off almost tarring it in two.

“They were really good posters too! See we got this art student to make these in exchange for some coke. Stupid art student couldn’t spell. Ended up writing bass instead of bass. I mean seriously who needs someone who can play a fish?”

“Uh, no, that’s how you spell bass.” Duff said, looking at the cheaply printed flyer. The paper was thinner than tissue paper and the type had faded with the numerous reprints. He smiled slightly as the tarnished off yellow colored paper reminded him of his Sex Pistols album cover.

Duff frowned softly at the other guy. The kid didn’t look like a punk; he probably wasn’t even out of high school. Though Duff was one to talk. The band had a somewhat cool name though. At least he thought they did as he squinted to try and make out the writing. Roadker?

“Why does your head look like a snow cone?”

“What?” Duff asked, blinking in confusion at the blonde.

“You’re hair’s red. It makes me think of a cherry snow cone.”

Duff laughed as he watched that happy-go-lucky-grin widen.

“Hey, fucker, where the hell did you go?” A curly haired kid on a bike pulled up to the pair. Catching Duff’s eye, he slammed on his brakes. Tires screeched, streaking the asphalt as a rush of smoke rose from the burnt rubber. His bike skidded onto its side underneath his legs. Stumbling slightly, he tried to free his shredded jeans from the horizontal bike. Trying to hide his embarrassment the dark skinned guy tugged harder at the bike chain causing it to rattle even more.

Duff immediately reached a hand out to steady him. The dark skinned boy never met his eye but his smile widened. Duff could almost detect a shy blush underneath the big mop of corkscrew curls. Man, this guy’s really shy, Duff thought. He let him go sensing an odd feeling running through the guy’s body.

“Hey!” The smaller blonde exclaimed before poking Duff’s shoulder. “This guy plays bass! The instrument not the fish like how that stupid art kid spelled it.”

“Steven, I told you it’s just spelled the same. People know the difference,” Slash muttered. He moved forward again but caught himself on the bike tire. Losing his balance, he fell forward. A strong chest and hands caught him. Slash froze his body rigid as he tucked his chin into his chest looking at the ground.

A strong hand titled his face up. Luscious honeyed hazel eyes met his with a long slightly pouted smile on sweet pink lips. Slash couldn’t breath. Duff smiled friendly.
“Hang on to me,” Duff said and guided Slash’s hands around his chest. Securing him, he gracefully lifted Slash from the confines of his bike. As Slash was nearing freedom his jeans leg caught in the chain causing him to fall into Duff’s svelte chest again.

“Uh, sorry.” Slash mumbled barely above a whisper.

“You okay there?” Duff asked worriedly. His hands clasped Slash’s shoulders firmly, eyes running all over Slash’s body for evidence of a cut or bruise. Slash blushed harder.

“Uh, I’m fine. Thanks.” Slash scratched his head, fingers catching in a knot of his hair. Duff nodded. “I’m um, Saul.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Duff.” He extended his hand as they parted. A soft whimper escaped Slash’s lips. “Nice to meet you.”
“Y-yeah, y-you too.” Slash hid another shy grin as he shook Duff’s hand. Duff noticed the slightest hesitance before Slash dropped his hand quickly.

“Hello! I said this guy should be in our band he plays bass!”

“Are you looking for a band?” Slash exclaimed quickly. Duff rocked back on his heels a little shocked at the smaller man’s forcefulness.

“Yeah I am. What kind of music do you play?”

“Rock mostly, you know anything with a lot of attitude,” Slash said quickly.

“Yeah, we’re fucking bad asses!” Steven added.

“I can go for that.” Duff nodded his head.

“Cool!” Slash said, quickly biting his lip. “Uh I’ll give you my address you should totally come! Oh uh not co-uh you know come by and jam with us.” He patted his pockets in search of a pen. Upon finding one, he started another search of his white t-shirt. “Um I don’t have a piece of paper. Steven, give me…Steven why did you let our flyer blow away?”

“Well we already have a bass player so why do we need it?” Steven asked, cocking his head slightly. Slash groaned as he watched a yellow paper airplane sail off into the distance.

“Here.” Duff extended his bare cream-colored forearm. Slash’s eyes widened slightly confused fighting the excited urge fluttering in his stomach. “I’ll loose the paper anyway. I don’t plan on losing my arm any time soon, you know.”

Slash grinned his white teeth shining behind his plush lips that sprang up into a happy smile. He clasped Duff’s wrist as hard as he dared which was barely above a feather light touch. The soft tip of the sharpie pen glided over the supple flesh. Slash shook his hair into his face trying desperately to hide his elation at marking someone he was crushing on.

“Cool, thanks man.” Duff grinned after studying his arm. “I’ll swing by tomorrow around three. Gotta work in the morning.”

“That’s good. I’m not awake until the afternoon anyway.” Steven piped up as Slash looked away. Duff stooped to pick up his guitar case. “Oh and if you know a guy who can sing we need one of those too!”

“Yeah, I might know someone.” Duff smiled. Turning he beamed at Slash who shook his head leaning it in every direction. “See ya then.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

Once Duff was out of ear shot Steven punched Slash’s arm. “Man, what’s up with all the blushing shit? I mean, yeah, you’re shy and all, but are you sober or something? You usually charm the pants off anything.”

“He can hear you!” Slash hot back, glancing worriedly toward Duff.

“No, he can’t. I’m Slash I get nervous around cute guys,” Steven said, impersonating Slash. “And since when do you introduce yourself by Saul?”

“I don’t know. It just sort of slipped out.”

“We’re going to have to tell that other guy not to come tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah,” Slash said remembering the guy he talked to on the phone about joining Road Crew. “You should call him, Stevie.”

Steven ignored him and stared after Duff, he cocked his head slightly. “Damn, he’s got a great ass though.”

“Shut up fucker.” Slash pushed the oblivious Steven onto his butt. He took off on his bike pulling his bike into a wheelie.

“Hey! I think he likes you!” Steven yelled as he scurried onto his skateboard trying to catch up with the curly haired speed demon soaring down the winding streets to the harden city.

The sun blazed as hot as the fresh coat of red dye that covered Duff’s spiked Mohawk. His black trench swirled around his combat boots as he strutted down the strip to his first audition of the day. He felt bad lying to the guys he meant but the ad he answered in The Recycler sounded more promising. The guy’s name was Slash, which excited Duff because he figured it meant the guy was a punk. He sucked a drag off his cigarette and exhaled without moving it away from his mouth as he turned the corner toward Cantor’s Deli.

He walked in to find two guys and two girls lounging on one side of a booth in the corner. Bottles of Cokes were on the tabletop. It was the booth Slash had told him they’d be sitting at. Slash wasn’t a punk. He looked more like a hippie with wild hair and frayed jeans. Actually, he looked just like Saul. That was Saul. And that was Steven from the other day.

“Saul?” Duff asked, nearly losing his cigarette from his mouth. He caught it, burning his finger. He ignored the pain to stare at the other guy who mirrored his shocked look.

“Duff? You’re early,” Slash said, mouth gaping.

“No. I was supposed to meet some guy named Slash and his band Road Crew.”

“Oh. That’s us. Sorry. Uh, I also go by Slash,” Saul explained. He smiled bashfully as he said, “You can call me Slash if you want.”

“Okay,” Duff said and took a seat on the opposite side of the booth.

The blonde girl leaned over the table and asked him, “Are you gay?”

“What?” Duff asked a bit shocked at her straightforwardness.

“Are you gay?” She repeated.

“Adrianna, don’t ask him that,” Steven interjected.

“Why not?” Adrianna asked, turning back to Steven. “I want to know if I need to find him a boyfriend or a girlfriend.”

“How do you know he doesn’t already have one?”

“I know these things and if you keep asking me these needless questions I’m going to go find a new one myself,” she retorted.

“Oh, no you won’t,” Steven said and kissed her before she could fire something back.

Slash and the other girl laughed, but Duff watched Slash closely. Secretly he wondered if that was a flicker of hopefulness in Slash’s eyes. Duff knew he was hopeful that Slash might be.
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