FicWad

“Oh, God.”
I put my hand to my head, my skull feeling like a rotting melon. “Fuck.” I hated alcohol sometimes, I really did. At least I had gotten my fix yesterday at the studio, or by now I’d really be ready to fling myself off the apartment building. I yawned gingerly, and noticed a weight around my middle when I tried to sit up. Jen. Looking down, I pushed a tangled wave of auburn hair out of her face and my thumb came away covered in the black eye makeup she’d never taken off. I couldn’t help it, and smiled down at her before wriggling free of her arms.
Jesus Christ, Isbell, you’re not living in a chick flick.
She stirred and sat up, her brown eyes opening blearily.
“Morning, Jenny.”
She groaned, burying her face under a pillow, but I saw a flash of a smile. “Did I ride on your lap on the bike last night or am I just making stuff up?”
“Nope, you did.” I flopped back on the pillows, my hair falling in my face. “It was a blast. But we’re all out of fucking coffee and if I don’t get some in my veins I’m going to kill myself, so it looks like I’m driving out in this pouring rain to get some.”
“We’re not all out, I got some just the other day. Check the left cabinet. Oh, don’t bother, I’ll get us both some,” she said as I started to move.
“Suit yourself.” I pulled the covers up to my chin, watching her walk to the kitchen. Without heels, she was pretty small. Couldn’t have been more than 5’5. But if there was one thing I knew, it was that there was a lot of power packed into those five feet and five inches. Last night was pure proof of that.
God, the sex was great.
She knew what she was doing, was abashedly unashamed of it, and did it well. I knew she’d been around the block a couple times, but I couldn’t help wondering where she’d had time to perfect all those tricks. Must have taken some practice.
“Thanks.” I reached eagerly for the cup of black coffee, taking a huge gulp. “So much fucking better.”
“Mhm.” She was sitting by the window, looking out at the thunderstorm. I sat back, not saying anything, just watching her. She wasn’t wearing anything except a red lace thong and my purple shirt, and her copious amounts of hair were tangled and mussed. The grayish sheet of rain outside the window made her seem to practically shine with warmth, all red and violet and brown. Beacon in the storm.
I shook my head, reaching for a cigarette. “Some downpour, eh?”
She turned, sat back down on the bed. “Yeah. I’m not thrilled that I have to go back into all that. Wish I could just stay in bed all day.”
“Well, why can’t you?” I asked, setting down the pack and pulling her down with me by the waist. She smiled from underneath me, putting her hands around my neck.
“I’m on day shift today at the Whisky. I’m dancing from ten to two.”
I frowned, burying my head in her shoulder. “That’s a bullshit reason. I want you to stay home.”
She laughed, ruffling up the back of my hair. “I wanna stay home too, Iz. But I need the money.” My voice was muffled from moving along her neck, burying my mouth in her hair. “What the hell do you need money for? Coke? I got some dough, I’ll buy it for you.”
“Silly boy.” She smiled, nevertheless, rolling me over so that she was on top. “I need it to pay you back for the groceries and the clothes that you floated me on this week. Oh, and the rent on the apartment, too.”
“Don’t be stupid, I wasn’t floating you. I was paying for it. And you’re not paying me back.”
“Oh, yes I am.”
“Oh, no you’re not.” I squeezed her to me, pulling her onto my lap and breathing in her scent. “Listen, don’t worry about the apartment, we’re sharing groceries, and trust me, I’m doing myself a favor by buying you g-strings.”
“But-”
“No buts. If you wanna stay in bed all day, stay in bed all day.”
She slumped playfully against my shoulder. “Alright, you got me, rockstar.”
“Thattagirl.” We sat side-by-side, drinking coffee and listening to the storm. It felt nice to have her beside me, have somebody else there. Being alone wasn’t the answer all the time. And I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think the coffee was what was causing the warm feeling inside of me.

Looking at her, I suddenly realized how little I knew about her. After six months, I knew barely anything. I knew she gave wicked good blowjobs and had a fantastic smile.
Fucking pathetic.
I set down my mug in favor of putting my arms around her. I could feel her stiffen up in brief surprise, but quickly relaxed, putting her head on my chest, her hand trailing circles on my chest.
“Jenny?”
“Hmm?”
“What’d you want to be when you grew up?”
“A rockette.”
I laughed. “No kidding?”
“Nope. Completely serious.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah. My family probably would have liked that better than stripper.”
“Why didn’t you? You probably could have, if you’d been real dedicated. I mean, you’re a good enough dancer.”
It was her turn to laugh. “I kind of had the opportunity to, actually. Just didn’t grab it at the time.”
“Why?” I asked, taken aback. “You lived in New York?”
“Briefly. Nine months, I think it was. I got a job waitressing and danced auditions during the day. Radio City put me in developmental, and ended up firing me five days later. I wasn’t exactly the most cooperative with the directors- I was eighteen, after all.”
I smiled into her hair. “Wild child.”
“Yeah, I guess I was. It turned out to be a huge mistake, though, because I was dancing on a table in my underwear a week after that.”
“Well done.”
“Thanks, baby.”
I grinned at the ceiling. What a girl.
“What did you want to be when you grew up, Iz?”
“What do you think?”
“Hm.” She looked up at me teasingly, ruffling my hair. “Couldn’t have been a rockstar, now, could it?”
“Yeah, I wanted to be a rockstar. Me and Bill- I mean Axl- both did.”
“Bill.” She said it slowly, testing it. “That’s his real name, then?”
“William, yeah. William Bailey, when I met him. But don’t call him that, or he’ll go off the rails. Not something he likes to remember, you know.”
“I can understand that. What did you guys do, growing up?”
“Oh, the regular. I played drums, he sang. We fucked around, smoked pot, skipped school. Tried to get girls to notice us.” I laughed. “He doesn’t seem to have any problems with that now.”
“You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Stradlin.”
“That’s not my real name, you know.”
“I figured the Stradlin part wasn’t. But isn’t Izzy a nickname for something?”
“Well, yeah, it is,” I amended. “It’s Izzy for Isbell, my last name. I’m Jeff. Jeffery Dean Isbell.” It sounded strange saying that, introducing myself that way. I hadn’t for ten years.
“Jeff, huh?” She picked up her head for a moment, studying me. “I can see it.”
“Good,” I exhaled, stroking her hair. “But I’ve always been Izzy, really.”
“You’ll always be Izzy to me, Jeff.”
I smiled. To my questionable memory, I’d never told any woman my birth name before. Especially not while lying in bed.
“Is Jen your real name? What about Kincaid? That’s Irish, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. That’s the reddish hair. But I don’t have too much of that blood in me, no freckles, obviously. I’m a quarter or maybe an eighth, I think, I can’t really remember.”
“What about Jen?”
“Jennifer. So yeah, Jen’s the real deal.”
“I know you are,” I said, kissing the top of her head. Warmth crept down my sides as she wrapped her arms around me tighter, running her hand up and down my ribs.
“You feel so good,” I mumbled comfortably, stroking her back, breathing her in.
“Are you tired?” she whispered, fingers splayed on my sides. “You can go to sleep. I’ll stay right here.”
“You had better,” I told her, closing my eyes. “But I’m not falling asleep. Not now.”
She sighed, quietly, contentedly. Then-
“What’s your greatest ambition?”
I chuckled. “Bringing out the big guns, eh?”
She shrugged against my chest. “Just making small talk.”
“Let’s see. My greatest ambition.” I drummed my fingers on her back. “I’ve got a few, I guess. What exactly do you mean?”
“You know, what’s your goal? What makes you tick?”
“Music,” I answer immediately. “Music’s what keeps me going, what gets me up in the morning.”
“Well, you’ve got the band. You’ve got the lifestyle. You’ve got the success, the crazy fame. So what’s next?”
“I don’t think I can tell you how much that hits home.”
It was true. We’d come so far. From writing songs in the basement to playing clubs to playing sold-out arenas. So much had changed. And yet, there was still so much we could do.
“We’re doing a bunch of new stuff on the next album. It’s completely different. So, I guess that’s what’s next.”
“Speaking of which, how is that coming for you guys?”
“Honestly? It’s been shitty.”
She laughed, but quickly stifled it by burying her face in my shirt. “Sorry. How come?”
“Nah it’s fine.” I smoothed her hair, rubbed her back. “It’s just that everybody’s on a different page. But it’ll come together, I hope.”
“Me too. Whatever everyone does, if you’re writing even a couple songs, it’ll be amazing.”
I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Thanks, honey.”
“Mmm,” she sighed. I could feel her smile against my chest.
“Hey, Jenny? Remember when I told you how I put some stuff down after our disagreement after the show? Well, the guys really liked it. It’s going on the album.”
“Well, I guess you’re just forever in my debt, then.”
“Undoubtedly.”
She just shook her head, and I could see the glee in her face. “That’s really good though, Izz. I’m glad you got something done.”
“Me too. It’s taking forever to get anything else nailed down.”
We were quiet for a minute, her face in the crook of my neck, my hand on her lower back. My ability to think seemed to be jammed, and all I really felt was warmth. And it felt so good, so impossibly good, to hold her like this. While the storm raged outside, I was perfectly content.
“So, Jen, what’s your ‘greatest ambition’?”
“Taking my clothes off.”
“Jen!” I was laughing again, shaking her in my arms. “I’m serious.”
“Me too,” she said somberly. “It’s serious business, fucking a pole.”
I just shook my head. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah, well, I know. Remember when you woke me up by rolling a joint on my ass? Go ahead and defend that.”
“Don’t think I can,” I told her. “You signed up for it, baby.”
“Nice to know,” she said, tugging my hair. I reached down and smacked her ass.
“Hey!”
“Like I said, you signed up for it.”
“Idiot.”
“Yes, darling?”
She half giggled and half groaned, flopping onto her back next to me. “You know, I never thought I’d end up here.”
“What do you mean? Staying home? Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I mean here. In L.A.”
“I always knew I would.”
“I know you did. You’ve always had just one thing to drive you. You’ve got your music. I’ve got what? A stage and a stack of singles? I never could see what I was gonna do. I always just fucked around. Failed classes I could have aced, skipped when I could have cared, you know? Cut off my options.”
Funnily enough, she didn’t sound too sorry about it. I thought for a second before answering.
“Well, when I was seventeen, I lived for getting out of Layfayette. Graduated high school with a D average. And now look.”
“Yeah, but your kind of story is one in a million. The same way I’ve seen scores of girls pourin’ into this city, wanting to make it as singers or actresses or something like that. I never wanted that, Izzy. I came here with a suitcase full of thongs and a repertoire of being a club dancer in New York. I knew I was gonna dance here, too. I never had any real ambition to do anything else.”
“Well, you ended up being a cage dancer for Guns N’ Roses, so I can’t say you did too badly.”
“True.” She was silent for a second. “You know, I used to have your posters on my wall in ’87.”
“Really? Was I your favorite even then?” I teased, poking her in the ribs.
“Oi!” She squirmed away, laughing. “But no, actually, I had this giant thing for Duff.”
She laughed again at the look on my face. “Kidding. You always interested me.”
“Oh really? And why would that be?”
“You were different,” she said simply, curling back up to my side.
“Even in the posters, huh?”
“Sure. So dark and silent, what girl wouldn’t be intrigued?”
“Funny, seems to me like I’m an open book,” I said, going back to stroking her hair.
“Right. You, Izzy Stradlin, an open book.”
“I’m serious. Feels like it sometimes. Axl likes to tell me that he knows what I’m feeling before I do.”
“Well, you’re most definitely not an open book, so quit furrowing your brow.”
“Okay.”
I wrapped my arms around her waist, turning on my side and fitting us together. She was like a heater, warmth spreading through my body at every point we touched.
“Hey Jen.”
“Yeah?”
“Want to demonstrate your greatest ambition for me?”
“Izzy!” She exclaimed, laughing, squirming away from my hand finding her panty strap.
“What?”
“Go to sleep, idiot.”
I kissed her temple, pulled her back to me. “Hey, I told you that you signed up for it.”