Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > Jigsaw Puzzle
Slash narrowed his eyes a bit as Axl kept talking, only half listening. Fuck, he wanted to work with this guy. Yeah, he was a clueless hick, but his voice was enough to get them on the map. He just didn’t count on the Hoosier Code of Loyalty.
“...and Izzy and I think that...”
While he thought it fine for other bands, for other guys, the thought of working with a second guitarist, with a rhythm guitarist was less than ideal for him. He wasn’t used to working with others; he was all the bands he was in had ever needed, but this appeared to be a package deal...
He’d seen he guy around the circuit, on fliers for this band and that, and of course, always a step behind Axl. He’d mistaken him for the singer’s girlfriend once... Shit, easy enough with the same dark hair in layers...
Izzy didn’t say a word to him as Axl dumped Slash off in the apartment the two Indiana exports shared in order to procure some liquid refreshments. He just kept strumming quietly on his guitar, a battered Gibson acoustic number. After a few long minutes, Izzy looked up shyly, eyes a soft, dark amber-brown.
“He won’t be back for a while, man. Axl’s not the sort who’s into paying for shit, y’know? But he’s good, right? Scopes ‘em out a bit now.”
“Great...” The growl came from under the mop of curls that hid Slash’s expression. He wasn’t even aware he’d spoke aloud until he noticed Izzy still looking at him with a mix of offense and genuine hurt on his face. The slender guitarist then tossed his hair back over his shoulder and lowered his head again, going back to playing random chords from his perch on the sofa arm. Slash sat on the far opposite side and fought the urge to scream. He was about to snap something at the other young man, when Izzy spoke again, his voice ever soft, a vein of timidity normally drowned by alcohol and chasing the tiger running through it.
“So, uh... You, ah... You’re cool with all this, right? I mean...”
“Actually, I’m not so cool.” Slash sighed, “Look, you’re a cool guy and all, and Axl’s friend, but I just don’t dig working with another guitarist, okay?”
Slash watched Izzy carefully, waiting for the blowup. He just knew the guy wouldn’t take that well. It made him very nervous that Izzy remained quiet, looking at him with those color-shifting eyes, now hazel, now amber, now the darkest chocolate brown...
“Why?”
Slash almost fell of the sofa in surprise. The tone was entirely curious, complete with a cant of the head. There was no ego in the one-word question. Maybe a little hurt but... mostly curiosity. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. What the fuck was he supposed to say? Because? Because he didn’t need another one? Because he was all any band he’d been in up to until now had needed?
“Because I’m good, that’s why. Not saying you’re not, man, but... I’ve always been the sole player in the game.”
Izzy tilted his head a bit, frowning slightly “Don’t think rhythm is important at all?” He strummed a few notes from Factory Girl idly.
“Maybe to other bands, but when I play...”
“But when you play, you’re the man, right?”
“Uh... yeah...”
More notes filled the cigarette-stale air of the tiny apartment, followed by tentative vocals, rough, but relaxed.
“I can't believe you're saying. These things just can't be true. Our world could use this beauty. Just think what we might do. Listen to my music. And hear what it can do. There's something here as strong as life. I know that it will reach you.”
Slash gave Izzy a scrutinizing, almost quizzical, before he recalled...
“Rush, right?”
“2112” Izzy nodded slowly, tuning his low e string, “Ever read Anthem by Ayn Rand?”
“No, I—“
“You should. Fascinating book, man... It’s about... just read it, I can’t explain it.”
“Yeah... well...”
“Not a reader?”
“I read when I want to. I’m not fucking STUPID!”
He didn’t mean to snap. The sudden harshness off his comment actually made Izzy jump, his hand twisting too sharply on the knob. The e string broke and recoiled with a crack, snapping back up towards the head. Izzy’s hair made a dark halo around his head briefly as he jerked sharply, one thin hand quickly coming up to his jaw. The sable locks settled again, obscuring his face as he rested the back of his hand against his cheek, a brief hiss of pain escaping his lips. Slash winced. He’d had his strings snap and hit him before. High e could cut, do more damage, but low e hurt a hell of a lot more...
“...and Izzy and I think that...”
While he thought it fine for other bands, for other guys, the thought of working with a second guitarist, with a rhythm guitarist was less than ideal for him. He wasn’t used to working with others; he was all the bands he was in had ever needed, but this appeared to be a package deal...
He’d seen he guy around the circuit, on fliers for this band and that, and of course, always a step behind Axl. He’d mistaken him for the singer’s girlfriend once... Shit, easy enough with the same dark hair in layers...
Izzy didn’t say a word to him as Axl dumped Slash off in the apartment the two Indiana exports shared in order to procure some liquid refreshments. He just kept strumming quietly on his guitar, a battered Gibson acoustic number. After a few long minutes, Izzy looked up shyly, eyes a soft, dark amber-brown.
“He won’t be back for a while, man. Axl’s not the sort who’s into paying for shit, y’know? But he’s good, right? Scopes ‘em out a bit now.”
“Great...” The growl came from under the mop of curls that hid Slash’s expression. He wasn’t even aware he’d spoke aloud until he noticed Izzy still looking at him with a mix of offense and genuine hurt on his face. The slender guitarist then tossed his hair back over his shoulder and lowered his head again, going back to playing random chords from his perch on the sofa arm. Slash sat on the far opposite side and fought the urge to scream. He was about to snap something at the other young man, when Izzy spoke again, his voice ever soft, a vein of timidity normally drowned by alcohol and chasing the tiger running through it.
“So, uh... You, ah... You’re cool with all this, right? I mean...”
“Actually, I’m not so cool.” Slash sighed, “Look, you’re a cool guy and all, and Axl’s friend, but I just don’t dig working with another guitarist, okay?”
Slash watched Izzy carefully, waiting for the blowup. He just knew the guy wouldn’t take that well. It made him very nervous that Izzy remained quiet, looking at him with those color-shifting eyes, now hazel, now amber, now the darkest chocolate brown...
“Why?”
Slash almost fell of the sofa in surprise. The tone was entirely curious, complete with a cant of the head. There was no ego in the one-word question. Maybe a little hurt but... mostly curiosity. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. What the fuck was he supposed to say? Because? Because he didn’t need another one? Because he was all any band he’d been in up to until now had needed?
“Because I’m good, that’s why. Not saying you’re not, man, but... I’ve always been the sole player in the game.”
Izzy tilted his head a bit, frowning slightly “Don’t think rhythm is important at all?” He strummed a few notes from Factory Girl idly.
“Maybe to other bands, but when I play...”
“But when you play, you’re the man, right?”
“Uh... yeah...”
More notes filled the cigarette-stale air of the tiny apartment, followed by tentative vocals, rough, but relaxed.
“I can't believe you're saying. These things just can't be true. Our world could use this beauty. Just think what we might do. Listen to my music. And hear what it can do. There's something here as strong as life. I know that it will reach you.”
Slash gave Izzy a scrutinizing, almost quizzical, before he recalled...
“Rush, right?”
“2112” Izzy nodded slowly, tuning his low e string, “Ever read Anthem by Ayn Rand?”
“No, I—“
“You should. Fascinating book, man... It’s about... just read it, I can’t explain it.”
“Yeah... well...”
“Not a reader?”
“I read when I want to. I’m not fucking STUPID!”
He didn’t mean to snap. The sudden harshness off his comment actually made Izzy jump, his hand twisting too sharply on the knob. The e string broke and recoiled with a crack, snapping back up towards the head. Izzy’s hair made a dark halo around his head briefly as he jerked sharply, one thin hand quickly coming up to his jaw. The sable locks settled again, obscuring his face as he rested the back of his hand against his cheek, a brief hiss of pain escaping his lips. Slash winced. He’d had his strings snap and hit him before. High e could cut, do more damage, but low e hurt a hell of a lot more...
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