FicWad

I filled all my days like before. And even if I stumbled, I was still going full force and besides, my family and Sheri were there to catch me. Beautiful Sheri. Wife to Rob Zombie, and mother to his four children, three girls and boy. Michelle, Star, Judith, and Rowan. She also had a son from a previous relationship with LA Guns lead guitarest, Tracii Guns, named Mark. Five beautiful children. It seemed everyone was doing wonderful since I split up with Axl. I planned to outrun Axl with his lazy outlook on life.
Sure, it was hectic, but what job wasn’t? I just happened to love mine. The make-up, the clothes, the photoshoots and movies and TV Shows. The parties with famous celebrities and musicians, and the ever-lasting tours and American, European and Japanese fashion shows.
But time went on before I knew it . . .
I was thirty, and Duff was thirty-five.
“Let’s get married!”
The snow was falling in Manhattan as me and James stood in Central Park in the freezing weather. Why he called me out here, I had no idea. I gazed at him, stunned and he rephrased his question in embarrassment.
“I mean, will you marry me?” I beamed at him as I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. Tears appeared in my eyes and I nodded.
“Yes!” I told him and he beamed as he swept me up in his arms and kissed me lovingly.
“CUT!!!!”
Me and famous actor, James McCalister, broke apart as the director walked over to us. James smacked his forehead, his hand still holding mine.
“Oh dammit, I made a mistake! I’m sorry!” he apologized and I gazed down at him in shock.
“What? You weren’t just ad-libbing?” I joked and he shot me a playful look.
“That was nice you two! It looked so natural, bravo!” the director clapped, but we ignored him.
“Are you serious?” he asked him and I nodded, pointing to my eyes.
“But it was really good! I had real tears . . . see, they won’t stop!” James gaze down at me, one of his blonde eyebrows cocked as he held the script.
“It’s a soap opera right?” I laughed.
My work hit a plateau, and working overseas became a pipedream. I grew old for a model, and got less work. During those ten years, I went to a lot of different places and seen a lot of different things. But nothing compared to the Grunge Era of Rock n’ Roll that I would soon witness, through three different eyes. Two of those people ended up dead, one, almost died. Those experiences, are my assets now.
I heard laughter come from the stage next door and one man’s laughter seemed infinitely more familiar to me. I excused myself from James and opened the door to the outside. I walked across the road and opened the door to the next stage. On the stage was a band. A Grunge Band. Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t have even went near them, but the tall guy with short black hair was what drew me to the band that I would become intimate with its lead singer.
I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion as I hesitantly walked towards them. My eyes dawned in recognition. “Dave!? Dave Grohl?!” The tall man with black hair turned around and his eyebrows too furrowed in confusion as I walked towards them.
“Do I know you?” I laughed and rolled my eyes.
“Dave, its me, Vanessa! You know! Slash’s little sister!” It took Dave a few seconds, but then his eyes caught a new light, and he swept her in his arms, lifting her off the floor. They laughed as he hugged her to him tightly.
“Oh Vanessa! You’ve grown so beautiful since I saw you last!” his voice came out muffled and I laughed gaily as he set me down.
“Dave, it must have been well over fifteen years. The last time you saw me, was when I was fourteen, and you were seventeen!” he grinned and nodded.
“Yeah, your right, but hey, what brings you here?” I smiled.
“I’m a model, actress and rock star wife.” he looked at her with approval.
“And who is the lucky man?” she grinned.
“Duff McKagan of Velvet Revolver, and ex. Bassist of Guns N’ Roses.” his eyebrows widened in surprise.
“You’re the woman married to Duff? Man, he talks about you all the time. Brandon and Aura too.” she smiled and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.
“Yeah, I’m pretty happy.” he smiled and held open his hands.
“This is my rag-tag band, Nirvana. You might have heard of us. We’ve created quite a name for ourselves. We’re finally on the radio now.” she nodded.
“Yes I am. Actually, I was talking about you this very morning.” he smiled.
“I hope it was good. We’re still kind of struggling.” he led her to the two other members of the band and stopped. “Hey guys, I want to introduce you to someone.” The two members turned to gaze at her as Dave introduced them.
“Kurt, Krist, this is my friend, Vanessa. Vanessa, this is Kurt, the lead singer,” he gestured to a man with short blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes, “And Krist,” A tall man with kinky black hair and a black mustache and small beard. Krist smiled and waved, but Kurt merely nodded, his face expressionless.
He was quite handsome, but then again, handsome wasn’t quite the right word. Perhaps he would eventually gain the handsome looks that would quite obviously promised to him, but right now, he was simply cute, with his shoulder-length blonde hair and beautiful crystal blue eyes. He was of average height for a man, and seemed the quiet type.
Dave turned to her. “Your welcome to hang out if you want, hear a couple of songs, then . . . spread our name around.” he laughed a little and she smiled and nodded.
“Of course I will Dave.” he grinned as she stepped to stand a few meters from the band. Kurt plugged in his guitar and stepped up to the mike. They immediately jumped into Smells Like Teen Spirit, and Vanessa was surprised to see how . . . vocal Kurt became when he sang. He seemed to take on a new personality when he sang. His cuteness disappeared, and in its place, was the handsomeness that she knew he possessed.
The song ended, and the band cut for a break and Vanessa wandered over to the refreshment table to get herself a coffee. She was in her own little dreamworld when a voice cut through her thoughts,
“What’d you think?”
She turned around, expecting to see Dave or Krist, but instead, saw Kurt. His guitar, a beautiful example of a perfect Fender Stratocaster; was hanging around his neck. He leaned across from her to grab a cup, where he filled it with water. He glanced at her.
“Well?” she shook her head to clear her thoughts and then answered him. When she did, she sputtered, to her abject horror,
“I-I . . . it-it was good. Very good actually. You’ll make quite a name for yourself I think.” Kurt smiled a small smile and she smiled back. He was even more cute when he smiled. His eyes would crinkle up and he looked like he was actually having a good time.
“I thought I would never see the day that one of the world’s Top Supermodels would be stuttering in my presence. I’m honored.” she blushed and he grinned. “Make that a beautiful Supermodel.” Her blush slightly deepened and he grinned a little as he refilled his cup after he downed it.
He threw the cup in the trash, the same look of depression quickly shrouding his face. “I’m sorry, you have a husband, I shouldn’t be hitting on you.” he apologized quietly and she smiled. Kurt seemed so sensitive, she couldn’t help but just want to take care of him.
“No, no that’s fine. I don’t mind getting hit on by you Kurt.” his grin reappeared, and widened as Dave looked over at them.
“Hey Kurt, lets get back to rehearsal!” he called and Kurt nodded, holding up his hand that he understood. He turned back to Vanessa, where he gently took her hand. He took out a pen from his pocket and scribbled a couple of numbers on her hand. His hands were well shaped, his fingers long and graceful. He wrote something on her hand and he clicked the pen closed and smiled at her.
“Call me sometimes. I like you.” he grinned and walked back to the band, leaving a stunned Vanessa in his wake.
And it was then that she realized that she had been holding her breath the entire time.
*
He watched her walk from the building, heading back to her own and sighed, where he looked down at the stage he was standing on. Vanessa was probably the only woman that Kurt showed even remotely a glint of interest in since highschool. She looked Romanian and possibly even Russian or Spanish. The strange combination of bloodlines in her, made for possibly, the most beautiful, dark-haired, dark-skinned, sloe-eyed woman he had ever seen in his life!
She was short for a model, around five nine. Her hair was long, thick and a dark black. All he wanted was to do, the entire time he was talking to her at the refreshment table, was to tangle his long fingers in her hair and kiss her as deeply as he dared to. He even allowed his mind to wander, and he began to wonder about the rest of her body. Her breasts, when he ever had the chance to study them, were beautifully shaped and proportioned to her voluptuous body, and he imagined that the nipples would be a dark color, to match her dusky skin; quite different from his wife’s own Nordic looks.
Oh yeah, he could get into her . . .
Quite literally.