Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > Saving Me
Chapter 1: Erin
0 reviewsErin Everly has been in a relationship with the abusive Axl Rose for a year. But when she meets the rest of Guns for the first time, she is drawn to the wild-haired lead guitarist.
1Ambiance
L.A. May 1987
The raunchy rock music oozed out of the club, along with cigarette smoke and loud voices. I clicked up and reached out to open the door, but a man in black leather got there first and cocked an eyebrow at me. I threw him a look and sashayed on by, and got hit by the strong bass beat emanating from the back of the joint. Making my way to the back, my eyes skipped over all the rock and roll guys there, smoking, talking, and playing pool. Finding the stage, I finally saw the one I was looking for and smiled. His light red hair was unmistakable. I squeezed up through the crowd, and looked up at the stage from about ten feet back. I couldn’t help beaming. We were making our way together, me and him.
It ain’t easy, livin’ like a gypsy, tell ya honey how I feel. . .
I saw his eyes find me, and he gave a little half smile. He must be in a good mood tonight.
I’ve been dreamin’, floatin’ downstream and losin’ touch with all that’s real.
For the first time, I looked at the rest of the band. I couldn’t believe that I was only meeting the rest of them now. There were five other men onstage, but one of them had the wildest hair. . . Clamped down under a black top hat, it sprang out everywhere and covered his face. He and the other dark haired guitarist rocked back and forth together, grinning wildly, endangering the cigarettes hanging out of their mouths.
You’ve been fadin’, always out paradin’, keep in touch with Mama Kin.
He threw his hand around my waist, smiling, and asked me how he did. I beamed.
“You always sound amazing.”
It was true. There was no doubt that he was one of the best rock singers that I’d ever heard. It was part of the reason we had met, with me being the daughter Don Everly and all. He led me around backstage, where there were waves of musicians, technicians and the like. There were also, I knew, hot women that liked to spot out rockers at clubs like these. I threw him a quick look, but he didn’t even stop to glance at the stilettoed groupie that passed by. I smiled to myself. Maybe tonight would be a good one.
“Axl!” a wiry blonde that had been onstage walked over, with an entire bottle of JD in his hand. He smirked crookedly, but not unkindly, at the two of us.
“Going to introduce us?” he asked, gesturing to the rest of the band, who were sitting on amps and smoking joints. Axl gave a small jerk of the head.
“Boys, this is Erin, my girl.”
The rest of the men seemed to understand that he wasn’t really one for introductions, and presented themselves to me.
“You can call me Izzy,” the dark haired guitarist smiled, blowing a smoke ring.
“Steven,” the short drummer said, offering a little bow.
“I’m Duff,” the tall blonde grinned. “Bassist extraordinaire, at your service.”
There was only one man left, but he seemed to be unaware of the conversation going on around him, absorbed in his Les Paul. Izzy rolled his eyes and elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ow! Christ, man. What are we talking about?” the dark one said, finally raking his hair out of his face. I couldn’t help noticing how black his eyes were. Duff snorted.
“And that would be Slash.”
Steven chuckled, nabbing Slash’s top hat from the ground beside him and spinning it between his hands.
“Oy, don’t touch the hat, man!” Slash laughed, grabbing it back, and Izzy promptly stole the Les Paul off his lap, breaking into the bluesy groove of Uncle Salty, tapping his foot and grinning. Steven grabbed his drumsticks and started tapping out the rhythm on Slash’s hat, which was safely locked in his arms by that point. Axl sat down in a folding chair, with me on his knee, and I got my first glimpse of how this band functioned backstage. They were all grinning like little kids. Duff and Slash started chanting the words, poking at Izzy and Steven, laughing, and just messing around.
Uncle Salty told me stories of a lonely baby,
With a lonely kind of life to lead. . .
I glanced at Axl, who didn’t seem to mind that they were taking his job. He had had a good performance tonight.
My mammy was lusted, Daddy he was busted
They left her to be trusted till the orphan bleeds.
The raunchy rock music oozed out of the club, along with cigarette smoke and loud voices. I clicked up and reached out to open the door, but a man in black leather got there first and cocked an eyebrow at me. I threw him a look and sashayed on by, and got hit by the strong bass beat emanating from the back of the joint. Making my way to the back, my eyes skipped over all the rock and roll guys there, smoking, talking, and playing pool. Finding the stage, I finally saw the one I was looking for and smiled. His light red hair was unmistakable. I squeezed up through the crowd, and looked up at the stage from about ten feet back. I couldn’t help beaming. We were making our way together, me and him.
It ain’t easy, livin’ like a gypsy, tell ya honey how I feel. . .
I saw his eyes find me, and he gave a little half smile. He must be in a good mood tonight.
I’ve been dreamin’, floatin’ downstream and losin’ touch with all that’s real.
For the first time, I looked at the rest of the band. I couldn’t believe that I was only meeting the rest of them now. There were five other men onstage, but one of them had the wildest hair. . . Clamped down under a black top hat, it sprang out everywhere and covered his face. He and the other dark haired guitarist rocked back and forth together, grinning wildly, endangering the cigarettes hanging out of their mouths.
You’ve been fadin’, always out paradin’, keep in touch with Mama Kin.
He threw his hand around my waist, smiling, and asked me how he did. I beamed.
“You always sound amazing.”
It was true. There was no doubt that he was one of the best rock singers that I’d ever heard. It was part of the reason we had met, with me being the daughter Don Everly and all. He led me around backstage, where there were waves of musicians, technicians and the like. There were also, I knew, hot women that liked to spot out rockers at clubs like these. I threw him a quick look, but he didn’t even stop to glance at the stilettoed groupie that passed by. I smiled to myself. Maybe tonight would be a good one.
“Axl!” a wiry blonde that had been onstage walked over, with an entire bottle of JD in his hand. He smirked crookedly, but not unkindly, at the two of us.
“Going to introduce us?” he asked, gesturing to the rest of the band, who were sitting on amps and smoking joints. Axl gave a small jerk of the head.
“Boys, this is Erin, my girl.”
The rest of the men seemed to understand that he wasn’t really one for introductions, and presented themselves to me.
“You can call me Izzy,” the dark haired guitarist smiled, blowing a smoke ring.
“Steven,” the short drummer said, offering a little bow.
“I’m Duff,” the tall blonde grinned. “Bassist extraordinaire, at your service.”
There was only one man left, but he seemed to be unaware of the conversation going on around him, absorbed in his Les Paul. Izzy rolled his eyes and elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ow! Christ, man. What are we talking about?” the dark one said, finally raking his hair out of his face. I couldn’t help noticing how black his eyes were. Duff snorted.
“And that would be Slash.”
Steven chuckled, nabbing Slash’s top hat from the ground beside him and spinning it between his hands.
“Oy, don’t touch the hat, man!” Slash laughed, grabbing it back, and Izzy promptly stole the Les Paul off his lap, breaking into the bluesy groove of Uncle Salty, tapping his foot and grinning. Steven grabbed his drumsticks and started tapping out the rhythm on Slash’s hat, which was safely locked in his arms by that point. Axl sat down in a folding chair, with me on his knee, and I got my first glimpse of how this band functioned backstage. They were all grinning like little kids. Duff and Slash started chanting the words, poking at Izzy and Steven, laughing, and just messing around.
Uncle Salty told me stories of a lonely baby,
With a lonely kind of life to lead. . .
I glanced at Axl, who didn’t seem to mind that they were taking his job. He had had a good performance tonight.
My mammy was lusted, Daddy he was busted
They left her to be trusted till the orphan bleeds.
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