FicWad

Piece of Your Action

The Starwood, Hollywood
April 24, 1981

Tonight would be our first show. Mick was pretty nervous since we never bothered running through an entire set in rehearsal. Tommy was antsy just 'cause he's T-bone. As for Vinnie, the bitch was unfazed, too busy preening and posing in front of a full-length mirror, turning and checking out his nice ass. Yeah, that ass. I never saw a guy possess that sorta ass before: tight, taut, firm, round, plush - man, no words could describe Vin's cheeks. One just had to check out the goods first-hand to finally understand how hot this ass was.

And right there, about ten minutes before show time, the lyrics came at full force. I want you. I need you. I want you to be mine tonight. You need me. You tease me. Use you up, throw you away. I mentally scribbled out the last three words. Only a complete moron would throw Vin away. Hell, even a moron wouldn't be so stupid. Make that: only the dead wouldn't want a second helping of this blonde bitch, and that's because the whore would probably give the poor sucker a heart attack, and when one is dead, he's dead. Nothing more to be said.

Wait a minute. Maybe the three last lines were appropriate? After all, Vin would be singing the lyrics and it was only natural this way-too-confident, platinum whore would have the gall to tell chicks they needed him and he'd gladly toss 'em out like yesterday's trash after dicking their pussies.

I didn't bother searching out a pen and paper. Who the hell in their right mind would up and leave when Vin was letting his hand slide down to his tight groin, giving his 'set' a quick adjustment so his dick rested on the left side. A stroke, followed by another. Christ, I was waiting for this dude to start beating off.

Fuck, those white-leather pants were like a second skin, leaving sweet fuck all to the imagination. I took another drag on the cigarette, enjoying the free show while Vin gave his blonde locks another fluff. I liked his carefully torn t-shirt that exposed his biceps and midriff. Could even catch a nice peek of 'naval' since the waist to the sexy pants sat rather low. Shit, he even had a teasing, sorta coy belly-button going on, for fuck sakes.

Finally, the little peacock managed to tear his brown eyes off the vision of loveliness that reflected in the mirror. About damn time. He took notice he had an audience.

"Rule number one: dress for success. The chicks dig it when a guy's dressed with flash," he said with a smirk. "Why'd ya think David Lee Roth gets so much pussy? No broad is gonna let a dude who looks like he just crawled outta the gutter bang her." Then he turned back to the mirror, still admiring his hot looks while also taking the time to avert his eyes to my reflection.

"That why you were in Rockandi?" I asked.

Vince slowly pivoted. "Uh huh. It's why I started singing in the first place."

Yeah, ego. I should have known. And of course Vin would wanna be the frontman. It wasn't about the music. The bleached bitch wanted what his idol possessed: women, cash, endless parties and nothing but admiration. He liked to get onstage so the broads could fawn over him and have the guys slap his back, stating over and over how cool he happened to be. Actually, this self-centered, stuck-up whore probably hoped guys would copy his look.

Normally, someone with this kind of ego would irritate the hell outta me, and that's why I thought of Diamond Dave as a complete loser. But, David Lee Roth wasn't Vin. Whereas that moron was only ego, there was a bitchily sweet vibe I was getting from the peroxide whore. I knew there was a certain tenderness hiding underneath all Vin's charisma, charm and flash. But, I didn't think anyone had what it took to get him to let down his wall. Actually, I doubted the blonde bitch even knew about the doe-like quality he possessed. He was too busy being "Mr. All That" to take notice of who he really was.

Yeah, we all have facades and it's what I do best: cut through someone's bullshit to unearth what really makes 'em tick. Fuck, I said it once already: I'm a streetwise motherfucker. Being wise to the vibe kept me alive for twenty-three years.

"Look, man, do you know what we're gonna play or what?" Mick piped up.

I stopped eating up Vince with my eyes and gazed at my guitarist. The dude was tripping. It wasn't often Mick spoke. "Lemme get some paper and I'll tape a set list on the stage."

With that, I got out of the chair and left the dressing room.

***
We launched into Take Me To The Top. And everyone was booing us, many flipping the bird and some telling us to get the fuck off the stage. But, I didn't care. Vin was unfazed, too. Just Mick and Tommy seemed a bit nervous.

Then all hell broke loose. Some stupid butt-head wearing an AC/DC t-shirt hocked a booger on Vince. The green slime splattered all over the blonde bitch's white pants. The singing immediately ceased. I could see the anger rising up in Vin's brown eyes. Down went his mike as he jumped straight in the crowd and began wailing on the booger-tosser.

Was I in shock? Hell yeah. But it sure wasn't because a fight was breaking out. I played in London and put up with many fights with the crowd. It was the fact Vin was fighting. Why that upset me, I'm not sure. I just didn't like anyone touching him. This demon suddenly rose up in me and the devil took over; I was off the stage in a flash, jumping into the crowd as I swung my bass, literally launched it over Mr. Booger's shoulder.

Vince had his arm drawn back, ready to slam his fist into the dude's face when he glanced back at me. For a split second his brown gems narrowed. Then he seemed to shrug it off as he drew back his leg and kicked the Booger Boy square in the gut. And much to my delight, we finished the show and won over the crowd.

***
"Ya, well, I ain't no goddamn chick. I don't mind a buddy jumping in like T-bone did when he was wailing on another dude, watching my back, but I don't like it when someone thinks they gotta step in and fight my fights. I'm from Compton, bro, and I learned how to slug it out with the best of 'em," Vince coolly informed me while he set down his hair brush.

Okay, I just about had enough of this guy's 'tude. I mean, this prick had fed me nothing but his bitchy ego since day one. I cut this fucker more slack than I ever allowed anyone. Ever! And I only did so 'cause he was a bitchin' blonde hottie. But enough was enough.

"So you can fight with the best of 'em, eh?" I coldly asked. "You're that tough, huh? Okay, let's see if you are the shit. Gimme your best shot."

Vince gave a snort and turned back to the mirror. "Settle down. I'm just trying to make a fucking point. I sure didn't see you covering T-bone's ass. But ya sure jumped in rather fast when I was wailing on that booger hooger."

"Right here, ya blonde bitch," I snarled, pointing at my jaw. "Let's see how tough and fast you are."

Just then the dressing room door opened and Tommy sauntered in.

"Get the fuck outta here," I spat out. "I'm settling something with this blonde bitch."

"What the fuck?" Vince hissed as he turned from the mirror once again. "Where you get off callin' me a blonde bitch? I ain't no goddamn chick. Don't you ever fucking call me a bitch!"

Tommy quickly turned on his heel and left. He knew better not to bother me when I was in this sort of mood.

I once again pointed at my chin. "Right here, BITCH. You gonna finally tear yourself away from that mirror? Whenever I'm around ya, you do nothing but stare at your fucking reflection. C'mon, bitch. Let's see if you'll wanna look in the mirror after you try and take a crack at me."

I must have finally hit a nerve 'cause Vinnie turned from his most prized possession, his fist wound up, and when the punch came at me full force, I ducked and then grabbed his skinny arm, spinning him around as I slammed his pretty face roughly on the dressing counter. Just gave his pathetic arm a good twist. I laid over him, my lips up against his ear.

"Compton, huh? Seems more like you were raised in Beverly Hills, ya soft bitch. If this is your best, you must have been sucking some serious cock in Compton to keep the brothers from beating your ass."

Vince struggled, his entire body winding with tension. His brown eyes flashed with hate. "Get the fuck off me!"

"No."

"Man, what the fuck is your problem?" he snapped, once again squirming. "Fucking insane bastard. That's all ya do, man: just stare at me like you're trying to find out some big secret. Well, there is no fucking big secret about me. Ya don't like me. Fine. Fucking fire me!"

"Oh, I'm not gonna fire you. Not a chance. Thanks to you and me, we're gonna make it big, make shitloads of money since that's what you want. Nope, there won't be a firing. But I can tell ya there will be a fucking."

Oh ho! I wanted to burst into a fit of laughter since that pushed his button.

All I heard was his sharp intake of breath as he once again struggled. "What the fuck? You get the hell off of me right now, ya fucking faggot!"

Again, I gave a malicious snicker, very amused. The little bitch was at my mercy and he knew it. "Nope. I ain't no faggot. Faggots get fucked. And you know what that means: it's your ass gonna be getting some cock. Welp, looks like you truly are a bitch. My bitch."