FicWad

“Oh God,” I moaned. The sunlight was like a knife in the skull, and I weakly reached for whoever was opening the curtains with the sole intent of throttling him.
“Shit, man, what happened to you last night? You usually take it a lot better than this,” came Izzy’s voice somewhere from the left of the mattress. I groaned, covering my face with a pillow.
“C’mon, we’re heading over to Axl’s to jam. It’s noon, dude.”
“The last thing I wanna do is move, man.”
“Good thing I know your poison,” Izzy teased, tugging the pillow away. “C’mon, sit your pansy ass up and drink some.”
He shoved the mug into my hands. I sniffed it: it smelled like old socks.
“What the fuck did you put in there?”
“Extra strong coffee with a shot of vodka.”
Willing to try anything at this point, I bolted it down.
And instantly felt better.
Stumbling around the apartment, I pulled on a rumpled Led Zeppelin t-shirt and jeans, and stomped out the door after Izzy, stretching and yawning. Closing the door behind me, Izzy snorted.
“Dude, your hair is huge right now.”
I raked it down with my hands, and glanced at Izzy. He just laughed and shook his head. Climbing into his Mercury, I saw my guitar already in the back.
“Got plenty of amps in the trunk, too,” he told me, tearing out of the driveway like it was the last lap of the Indy 500.
Walking up the stairs at Axl’s place, we could already hear the bass beat coming from the apartment. Axl had a nice place, luxury complex, but it was nothing that the rest of us needed, not having girls and all. I got to the door first and swung it open, and was greeted by Steven’s face.
“You look like shit,” he told me cheerfully. I grunted, stepping over the threshold and flopping down on the couch. Duff was in the armchair, bent over his bass, thumping away at some Sex Pistols song.
“Where’s Axl?” I asked Steven, who as usual was drumming on some random object, this particular one being one of my boots.
“Probably in the bedroom,” he sniggered. “Man, his girl is one hot chick,” he whispered, no doubt worried that Axl would hear him and kick his face in.
“Yeah, well, I heard she’s a model, so that would be why,” I snapped. He gave me a weird look and stopped tapping on my foot. I sighed, running my hand through my hair again. “Sorry, man. I’ve got a killer hangover.” He nodded and started drumming again, seemingly absorbed.
The bass beat stopped as Axl and Erin emerged from one of the hallways. There was no doubt that she was pretty. I shook my head, feeling funny all of a sudden. Pretty? She had an amazing body, sure. Smoking hot, sure. Pretty? I glanced again. Yeah, definitely pretty.
Izzy barged through the door, his arms overflowing with cords and cables. He dumped them in front of me.
“Get busy,” he instructed me. I rolled my eyes, and Steven and I got down on the floor and started separating and plugging in. Duff gazed down at us amusedly.
“Fuckers,” he declared, tightening a string.
“Yeah, yeah,” Steven grumbled.
“What are we set to work on today?” I asked Axl, leaning back against the couch. He lit a cigarette before answering.
“I think Izzy came up with something last night. Wouldn’t stop talking about it over the phone.”
Making his last trip through the door, Izzy shut it behind him and handed me my acoustic. When I looked at him questioningly, he just grinned and said,
“It’s time we try something a little softer, don’t you think? It’ll be better on that headache of yours anyways.”
He handed me a scrap of paper with chords on it, and I glanced at it as he got his own guitar tuned up a bit. Sitting down on the other end of the couch, he gave me a cue, and we started strumming. The chords fit together well, and it did soothe my head. It was a simple song, but there seemed to me like there was something special about it. Axl leaned back and closed his eyes, and I could tell he liked it too. Erin dragged a stool from the kitchen over, and stared at us with her elbows on her knees and her hair falling all over her shoulders and waist. Axl leaned forward, and started whistling along. Izzy had been right, it was soft. Soft and pretty. There was something else soft and pretty in the room too, right across from me. I got the funny feeling again, but allowed my eyes to wander over to her as we strummed. Her eyes were wide and sparkling, and she seemed to like what we were playing. Her hair looked huge soft, falling down her back and all around her face. I was vaguely aware of Izzy’s voice coming from what seemed like another end of a tunnel.
Said, woman, take it slow,
It'll work itself out fine. . .
All we need is just a little patience. . .
She was tiny, such a little girl. It was incredible to me that somebody as delicate looking as Erin was with Axl, the ever-aggressive one.
Said, sugar, make it slow,
And we’ll come together fine. . .
The funny feeling came back again, but I didn’t stop looking.
All we need is just a little patience. . .
She met my eyes, and I quickly shifted my gaze back to my guitar. I watched my fingers picked the strings, liking the way it sounded, but knowing her eyes were on me. Soft and pretty, I told myself, feeling the metal of the strings on my fingertips. Just soft and pretty.