FicWad

It had been stupid, and I knew it. But I just couldn’t help it. I had turned the corner, looking for someone to pawn the last pack off to, and I’d seen all the regulars, the usual crop.
But then I’d seen the auburn hair, the red top, and a pair of incredible legs in light wash jeans.
Even from a distance, I could recognize Jen Kincaid on sight.
So I’d strolled down the street, hands in my pockets, and watched her. I had seen her stiffen up, felt her eyes on me. But I’d kept going, making sure my hat was covering my face, knowing that she’d either be looking for me or wondering where I was. She had eventually loosened back up, only when I got very close to her. It only took a second for me to see that she was drunk, and another second to make the decision to not stop and try to talk. Arguing with a sober Jen was bad enough- arguing with her when she was trashed was a death wish. So I’d slid by, but of course I’d just had to open my stupid mouth.
True to my own brilliant form, I’d given her a compliment on her shoes and practically ran for my life into the next alley.
I’d gone on, sold the last of my heroin, and gunned it back to the apartment around seven, anticipating a nice blistering confrontation about my absence. But instead, there was no one there. I had only remembered that she’d had a dancing gig when I was halfway through Slash’s answering machine recording at the Walnut House.
Which was why I was ripping out of my leather coat and stashing the syringes in the top drawer of my dresser, grabbing my keys again, and going right back into the heart of the Sunset Strip.
Pandora’s Box. That was where it was. The car spit gravel as I pulled out of the apartment, trying to remember anything else she might have said. I hadn’t bothered to ask what time, but it would’ve had to have been on the later side if she’d been out at six.
It didn’t take long for me to run into unholy amounts of traffic, now that the city had come alive. Pressing on the horn did no good- At the rate I was going, I was going to reach Pandora’s by eight, and that wouldn’t do.
So I pulled the goddamn Mercury over and parked in some shady alleyway. God knows somebody would probably put their fist through the window before the night was out, but a guy has to do what he has to do. On foot, I started making my way over to the west side of the Strip. Talk about Jungle animals: the streets were crawling with hookers, dealers, and sleazy characters. I put my head down, not wanting to be recognized and called out by any of them; I didn’t have anything to deal or a gun on me.
So I looked around. I’d passed the Roxy, passed the Whisky. There were girls whistling and hooting and I knew that they either recognized me or were looking for a date. I just watched the city silently. So many colors. So many women. What lights, what hair, what music. It’s funny, I thought, as I walked along the Strip. I didn’t think of colors and lights when I thought of Los Angeles. To me, it’s black and it’s gray and it’s pretty bleak. And I didn’t know why. I found where I belong here, I found people just like me. I knew for certain now, after all these years, that I belonged. I lived in the jungle.
So why did I feel so above everyone around me?
“Stradlin!”
I recognized the voice and stopped short, glancing around. Without realizing it, I’d drawn up by Pandora’s Box. And there was a familiar, tall, bleached blond figure outside, with a red solo in hand.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, wheeling around and striding over to join him.
“We all are,” Duff answered, taking a swallow of whatever was in the cup. “Slash recruited the lot of us, so we’re making a regular night of it.”
I felt a twitch of annoyance, but shoved it down impatiently. It had been my own decision to tell her I wasn’t coming, anyways.
“Is she here, then? What time is it?”
“Yeah, Jen’s inside. Some shit decided to put Poison on the jukebox, so I got the hell out pretty fast. I thought Slash was gonna have a conniption. I’ve been waiting for you to show up, man.”
“How’d you know I was coming?” I snagged his cup and took a gulp, the liquor burning my throat. Vodka, per usual.
Duff shrugged. “Slash said you would.”
I decided to brush off this particular piece of information. “So what kind of dancing is going on tonight?”
“Dude, you expect me to have noticed?” Duff laughed. “All I saw was almost-naked women. That’s good enough for me. Not Jen-” he amended hastily, catching sight of the look on my face.
I felt like laughing but repressed it, handing him back his red. “Fine, I’m headed inside then. You coming?”
He shrugged. “When the music changes.”
I nodded and stepped through the doorway, immediately picking out Axl and Slash’s red and curly heads, respectively. They were sitting in a corner, with some stripper up on their table dancing in a pink thong. Slash was entranced, as usual, but Axl seemed almost bored, playing with a dollar bill. The club was packed full of kids, with what looked like eighteen year olds all over the place, smoking cigarettes and making out on the couches. Wading through them, I made for my bandmates’ table. More than one of the girls there tried to intercept me, so I ducked and wove through the crowd, trying not to make eye contact. Goddamn, I hated crowds.
“My man!” Slash slurred, reaching over the second he saw me. “Come and sid’down, dude.”
He was drunk already, I could tell. That was definitely one way he and Axl were different- When Axl drank, he just got stony and quiet. Slash got properly hammered, messing around and giggling. True to form, he threw an arm around my shoulders and chortled the second I slid into the booth.
“We’re havin’ a fine time man, fine. Where ya been?”
“Around,” I answered evasively, glancing up at the dancer. “Nice quiet table you’ve got.”
She winked at me, kicking out with stiletto heels. Not much of a rack, but nice looking enough. As nice looking as you could be with bleached hair and too much eyeliner, I supposed.
“Yeah, well,” Slash laughed, tucking another bill into her garter. “A man’s gotta have some fun.”
I shrugged. “Where’s Jen?”
“Wondered how long that was gonna take. That’s just the million dollar question for you, isn’t it, Izzy?” he grinned wickedly, and I punched him in the shoulder halfheartedly. “She’s dancing over by the bar. I gave ‘er a ride since you decided to run out.”
He was suddenly stern, surveying me between the legs of the girl on the table just as her bra landed on his shoulder. It was a comical picture, so typical of Slash, and I couldn’t help laughing.
“Don’t laugh, fuckface! She’s your girl, go get a drink and find her.” And he waved his hand airily, as if dismissing me.
I obeyed, slipping out from the table and elbowing my way towards the doorway that music was oozing out of, along with blue and green pulsing strobe lights. It was even smokier in there, and the glam rock was louder. I made a face to myself, scanning over the head of the room. Now I really did need a drink.
There she was, over by the bar, sheathed in skin tight leopard print with a neckline cut down to almost to her bellybutton. Hair dangling down to her waist, heels on.
I made my way more slowly over to the bar, watching her out of the corner of my eye. She hadn’t seen me yet. I took the stool in the corner at the opposite end from where she was, motioning the bartender over; something strong sounded great just about now.
“Bourbon, two shots?”
He nodded, grabbing the glasses. I swiveled so that my back was against the wall, running my gaze along the club-goers. There were all the usuals, the young guns in black leather and girls with hair teased up to the ceiling. I morosely gulped down the first shooter that was set in front of me, watching the end of the bar.
She was doing her thing, head thrown back, legs wrapped around the pole. It was open- no cage tonight. Twirling in a circle, extending her long, tan stems. I gripped the second bourbon, feeling myself getting hard. This was not a good situation, but I couldn’t look away. She was on her feet, running her back up and down the rod. Tossing her long hair in time to the music. I closed my eyes and threw back the second shot glass just as the song ended. Thank fucking god, I couldn’t handle this.
“Hey, Izzy!” Steven came out of nowhere, hopping on the stool next to me. “I didn’t know you made it, man.”
I motioned for another round. “Well, I did.”
Steven didn’t seem fazed by my answer. “I see that. You been watchin’ your lady?” He winked at me, grabbing a beer from the bar. His pupils were pinpricks.
“Did you shoot up?” I asked bluntly.
“Yeah.” He grinned at me, taking a sip. “It feels fuckin’ great man, I haven’t been this high in a while.”
“Slash has been drinking it off,” I told him, accepting the new round of drinks.
“Yeah, well, Slash is where I got it. What about you?”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, shrugging.
“What the hell does that mean? You been levelin’ off, or what?” He inquired casually. I gritted my teeth. I fucking hated conversations like this.
“Who cares. You found any girls lately?”
It was an abrupt and obvious change of subject, but Steven seemed to be too smashed to care, and began chattering away about some blonde he’d picked up last week. I moodily tuned him out, setting my eyes on the pole again. The record flipped, and someone picked the Red Hot Chili Peppers, whose funky sound was infinitely preferable to hair metal. I motioned for the bartender to hit me again, settling in for an evening of waiting until Jen’s shift was over. We definitely had some stuff to talk about, and if I got trashed enough, maybe I could tell her what was really on my mind. But watching her was not going to work, I realized. Too dangerous downstairs: a first-class boner would be pretty distracting if you were trying to reason with your girl. So I was about to turn towards the wall again when I saw it happen.
As if it slow motion, I saw it.
A young guy in a brown leather jacket, with shaggy blonde hair.
Turning away from the jukebox.
Leaning up against the platform that she was dancing on.
Smiling at her.
Winking.
I was already off the barstool with boiling blood and halfway across the room when I saw it.
I saw him take his hand run it up and down one of her long legs, run it high on her thigh. Saw him squeeze her ass, smirk as he did it.
And then I saw red.

The next thing I knew, I was on top of him, trying to hurt the son of a bitch as much as I possibly could. Everything else was shut out, and I was only dimly aware of the screams and the crowd gathering around us. I clocked him a good one across the face, watching his nose smash with furious satisfaction, pummeling the sides of his head with my knuckles, rings first. Blood was pounding in my ears, and I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t think about anything but that picture of him touching her leg, his smirking face when he felt her. Fucking insolent little shit. I got to my feet and kicked him in his fucking ribs, the pointed toes of my boots making solid impact again and again. I wanted to feel his bones break, shatter, for laying his hands on her. Wanted to break every limb on his miserable goddamn body.
“Fucking hell!”
Hands were grabbing my shirt, pulling me off by the shoulders, and I fought it, snarling with fury. Why were they pulling me off, I wasn’t done, he was still moving, still conscious. I wanted to hurt him, knock him out-
“Izzy! Calm the fuck-”
I turned around and threw a punch at my restrainers, blind with rage. A dark, curly head ducked the swing. I knew that head, but I didn’t care, why were they holding me back, couldn’t they see what he’d done, couldn’t they see what I wanted to do?
I spit hair out of my mouth lividly, still clawing to get at the little fuck. I realized I was spewing a stream of cusswords and kicking at everyone around me, but I wanted my hands on that kid, wanted to stomp his guts out-
“Little piece of shit, fuckwad dick, goddamned pussy fucking bitch-”
Then something ice cold hit my face, and I spluttered for a moment as someone with a vice grip latched onto my arm.
“Shut up, goddammit, we’re gonna try to get you outta here, stop fighting-” Slash’s voice hissed angrily in my ear, pinning my arms behind me. I didn’t register that he had thrown his drink in my face until later, but I finally cooled down a small enough amount to realize what was going on.
At which point I saw the kid on the ground with a bloody face and a crowd of people staring at me like I was fucking mentally disturbed, which I probably looked.
And a couple of six foot fucking bouncers stamping across the club, making a beeline for me.
Suddenly, a blonde head appeared in front of me, striding over the kid’s feebly stirring form and crossing his arms.
I felt a rush of appreciation for having a six foot four guy in your band as Duff stared down the two burly security guards, his trademark smirk set firmly on his face. One of the bouncers sneered and opened his mouth to say something, but Axl stepped forward next to Duff. Axl sure as hell wasn’t as intimidating as Duff in terms of size, but he had a rep and a scowl that could have burned your eyes out.
“C’mon,” Slash whispered, tugging me by the arm. Busy staring at my two bandmates, I allowed myself to be dragged away from the scene.


“What the hell was that?” Slash spat, tugging me down the street.
“Didn’t you see?” I demanded furiously, yanking my arm out of his grip. “Didn’t you see what that motherfucker did?”
“No, I didn’t, and you probably broke three of his fucking ribs,” Slash said bitterly.
“He touched Jen,” I snapped. “He fucking grabbed her ass.”
To my surprise, he just rolled his eyes. “Izzy, she’s a fucking stripper. What do you expect?”
“What do YOU expect?” I retorted heatedly. “What, did you want me to just stand there and watch? He fucking touched her! And laughed about it!”
Slash just shrugged. “Good goddamn luck in court, Isbell.”
“He touched my girl!” I fumed. “He touched my motherfucking woman!”
A loud clacking sound issued from behind me, but I didn’t turn, not caring if it was going to be one of the blonde kid’s buddies, coming to kick my face in. I could have kicked anybody’s ass, the state I was in. So I kept walking, anticipating a fist on the side of the face, hoping for it, hoping for another way to vent.
Instead, when I glanced down at the hand that had taken ahold of my shoulder, it had red nails.
When she spun me around, those brown eyes said more than words ever could have.
And the hand traveled around to my neck and those legs wrapped around my waist.
And then she kissed me, hard.



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