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Too Fast For Love

March 1982
Apt 6, 4859 Coldwater Canyon
Sherman Oaks, North Hollywood

So we were kicked outta the notorious "Motley" house, the very place I shared with Vin and Tommy. Yeah, we hosted many a party there and Stephen Pearcy, Robbin 'King' Crosby, Juan Croucier, Warren DeMartini and Bobby Blotzer from Ratt would always make the scene with us. We were very tight with those boys. Robbin even happened to be my best friend. He was Stephen's lover and they were supposed to be in a relationship, but it got a bit complicated. I was aware once Warren joined the band, Robbin easily put the moves on his lead guitarist and they were having a hush-hush, cozy affair. Robbin even professed to me that he wanted to dump Stephen so he could be with Warren. But since Ratt was on the verge of breaking-through, he didn't wanna piss off his lover and have Stephen do something stupid, like quit the band, seeing how the sexy vocalist happened to be their singer.

And as for Stephen, every time this guy was around me, he was begging for my dick. Of course I turned down all of his requests. I had Vin. Why the hell would I fuck the likes of Stephen Pearcy when the hottest blonde bitch who ever showed up on the Strip warmed my bed?

As for Mick? Eh, think he was living in Redondo with his girlfriend. As for the band, we were doing bang-on. Allan Coffman secured us an international distribution deal with Greenworld Records Ltd, which helped spread Too Fast For Love throughout the United States and UK; it even underwent a third pressing.

Enough boasting and back to the situation at hand. We were without a place. Tommy had already moved in with his girlfriend. But Vin and me were homeless and that's why we were strutting down the hall to check out this apartment. Okay, he thought I was checking out the place. He didn't realize yet we were gonna live together.

It's not like I was pushing the relationship. Okay, I was. I mean, when we shared the Motley House, the living situation allowed me to keep an eye on Vin. Hey, c'mon. Who wouldn't keep an eye on their slutty, whoring boyfriend? Only a fool would trust this blonde bitch.

So the super opened the door and we sauntered inside. As I talked to the dickhead, Vin chose to stroll around, taking in the kitchen, living room, small bathroom and bedroom. Sure, it wasn't all that big, but it would do. And it came furnished, seeing how we only had clothes and a few odds and ends.

"Looks pretty good, Nik," Vince called out from the balcony. "You should take it."

I gazed back to the super. "We'll take it."

Immediately, Vin stormed back into the living room. "What'd ya mean: we?"

I drew out a wad of cash for the deposit and scribbled my name on the rental agreement without a second look. "We: as in you and me."

"What the fuck? You didn't even ask me if I wanted to move in with ya," Vince snarled as he banged the sliding door shut. "Where the fuck do you get off telling me I'm living with you?" He glanced to the super. "I'm not fucking living with him, so my name better not be on that..." He paused since the super held out the lease agreement which contained the names: /Nikki Sixx and Vince Wharton/. "I'm not signing that."

"Sign the fucking paper," I ordered him.

"Not a chance."

"Sign it."

"No."

"I said fucking sign it."

The super looked a bit flustered. "As you see in paragraph six, under article seven, noise must be kept to a--"

"Fuck you!" Vince hollered, glaring at me. "You didn't even... Why the fuck you want me to move in with you? Huh?" Then his eyes narrowed. "Oh, I get it now. Yeah, I get it." A scowl. "This is all just so you can play the big boss. That's what this is all about. Ya think you're the leader of the fucking band and now ya think you can call the shots between us. Well, I got two fucking words for you: FUCK YOU!"

"Ahem, uh, gentleman, as I said, in paragraph--"

"Don't you be raising your voice to me," I warned him. "We got no fucking place to live. Where ya gonna go?"

"Well, before I met you, I always figured out a place to live," he fired back.

"Oh yeah, Tommy's van. And how can I forget Lovey? You crashed on her bedroom floor. Geez, those are some really nice places, ya dumb bitch."

He snorted. "You just don't get it, Nik. Let's start with the fact you didn't even ask me. And second, you never said why ya want us to shack up. And third, you're only doing this to keep an eye on me. Admit it. Bang fucking on, hey? Ya think only you can size someone up? Well, I had you pegged from the get-go."

"Okay, I see what you're really pissed about," I calmly informed him.

"Once again, err, ah, gentleman, in paragraph--"

"I love ya, you slutty bitch. There, is that good enough? Are you gonna finally shut your big, fat, mouthy trap now?"

Vin folded his arms, arching his brow. "I never asked for your love, and I sure don't wanna hear you say something you don't mean. Why? Lemme tell ya why: the band is just taking off. We finally have some sort of half-assed record deal and the Brits are digging on us. I'm only twenty. There isn't a chance in hell I'm making some kind of commitment when life's just finally grabbing my balls."

Grrrr, now that answer was a total slap in the face. I just told this blonde bitch how I felt, even wanted to make some kind of lame-ass commitment by shacking up, and this mouthy whore had the gall to throw everything in my face. "I see. Ya want the women and wine, do ya? After almost a year in my bed, you had enough. Is this what you're saying?"

There must have been some kind of satanic gleam in my eye because Vin stiffened, even looked slightly fearful. By now, and just like Tommy had quickly learned, Vince bitch knew better not to fuck with me when I got in this mood.

"This is happening way too fast. You're only twenty-three. We're gonna soon have the world by the balls. And you're standing here trying to tell me it's only my ass ya wanna fuck? C'mon, Nik, check into reality. The women still hound ya. You can't tell me ya haven't been tempted, cause I sure am.

"Look, we'll crash together, fuck around and have some fun, but man, a relationship? Uh uh, that's asking too much from either of us."

My blood was on fire. I was ready to kill this bitch, ready to wrap my fingers around his throat and choke the life out of him. And I didn't wanna murder this whore since I wasn't into fucking corpses. So I turned and left the apartment, slamming the door.

***
A guy like Vin only happens once in a man's lifetime. I'm talking an earth-shattering, mind-blowing, dick-throbbing, can't-get-enough-of-fucking-the-whore kinda feeling. Actually, a dude's lucky to even find such utopia. And now that I found my slice of paradise, the very person who could produce such a crazed, insane, "I can't get enough of you" emotion, there wasn't a chance in hell I was letting him go. I also refused to take his answer and like it. I wanted the bitch, but the whore wanted every hot chick and dude walking this earth. Even after I made the platinum slut grovel, beg, cry, plead, and scream between the dirty, soiled sheets, he still wanted to dick around.

I gave a turn on the handle, carelessly throwing open the door. Vince hurried from the bedroom as I set down the package. He looked a bit pissed.

"Where the hell did you go?" he asked. "I was worried, man."

A smirk as I cast him a taunting smile. Whore, I made you beg when you challenged me with sex, and I'll do it once again. You're gonna beg for my love. "Had something to do."

He leaned against the wall, gazing at me. "I didn't mean to piss you off, but this is happening way too fast - us and the band. Give it a year and we're gonna be fucking rock stars, Nik. Can you realistically see us still together?"

I opened the bag, having made a nice trip to a BSDM store. "This will do the trick," I casually informed him.

He curiously stared at me. So I held out the chains and cuffs. His eyes widened in disbelief as he took a step back.

"What the fuck are you doing with that shit? Have you lost your goddamn mind?"

"Nope. And I'm only giving you one warning." I grabbed the lock and the key. "If you dare dick me around, I'll cuff you to that bed for a week and you're gonna watch me screw the hell outta Stephen."

His eyes narrowed since he knew I was referring to his nemesis, the very shithead who forever gave him 'tude and of course he shoved it right back down Stephen's throat. It was nothing but ego since they both wanted to be "THE" frontman of the Sunset Strip. Their rivalry was known throughout the whole glam scene.

I folded my arms, grinning. And of course Vin came at me swinging. But the law was now laid at his feet. It was up to him whether or not I'd have to resort to such punishment.