FicWad

Axl

My band was a broken mess. They tried to go through the motions but slowly I noticed Izzy was disappearing with Slash and Steven into bathrooms a lot. I'm not stupid. I knew what was going on. But I never uttered a word about it. Not to Izzy, Not to Duff. My ranting was the last thing any of them needed to hear. And for now Izzy was sort of keeping them in line. He was both the doctor and the pharmacist after all. I'm surprised Duff hasn't noticed yet. He is after all an old pro when it came to heroin addicts. He probably just thinks Slash is drunk because you don't see him without a bottle in his hands these days. Duff either, for that fact.

Slowly we all just let rent slide on our places. We sunk our cash into studio time instead. For the most part the we were living at the rehearsal space. Sometimes Izzy and I would crash over at Erin and Angela's. Izzy had sweet talked Angela into dancing at our shows when we played. She made a nice accessory for the crowd to watch as she would dance in almost nothing on top of the amps and drum riser.

I guess the band was doing great. People were coming to us right and left wanting to sign us. Izzy and I weren't sure if it was because we were that good or because word had got out that Slash was a nice little piece of ass, or Duff, or Izzy and myself. We didn't even bother to meet with any of them. We fucking knew how they played their game. Right now none of us were up to any fucking games.

Nikki Sixx showed up one day and Slash must have spilled his guts about everything that was happening. He assured us he knew just the guy. Said he would take us on, drug habits and all because he knew talent when he saw it. He had given Crue their big break. I wanted to ask Nikki what they had to do in return, but I didn't. So within three days Nikki had set us up a meeting with Alan Nieven. I guess you could say it went well. No one was raped and we didn't have to suck dick. He told us David Geffen wanted to meet us. He was the president of a new company called Geffen Records. We agreed to the meeting but in the back of our minds we were all wondering which one of us was going to have to pay the dues to this guy.

I lay restless on the floor next to Izzy. Duff and Slash were up in the bunk bed and Steven was on the couch. They had all reached oblivion a long time ago from their respective drugs or drinks of choice. I sit up and light a cigarette. It wakes Izzy up.

"Can't sleep?" He mumbles and steals my lit cigarette.

"No," I sigh and light another one.

Izzy looks to his watch. "Think I'm gonna go work for a while. We need the fucking cash. Everyone is gonna wake up hungry."

"Izz it's almost two am." I didn't want him to go. I hated him all alone out there in the dark streets of LA among pimps, hookers, dealers, and junkies. I watch as he reaches for his gun and stuffs it in the front of his jeans. I knew Izzy could handle himself out there. He wasn't afraid to use that gun if he had to. But I still just worry. Where the fuck would any of us be if we fucking lost Izzy?

Since there is no bathroom at the storage space Izzy rises to his feet, "I gotta take a piss."

This is Izzy's translation code for I'm going to shoot up. Which bothered me too. Smack delayed his reaction time. That,s not a good thing on the streets of LA. There's always some junkie looking to rob you or some other dealer to get into some turf war with.

But Izzy was a goddamn genius when it came to being a drug dealer. He didn't sell from wherever he resided. You don't sleep where you shit, so to speak. He had this sixth sense for detecting junkies. I guess junkies can just know other junkies when they see them. Most of the time he sold to chicks down at the Cathouse. His other customers were mostly junkies he knew. It wasn't very often that he sold to someone he had never met.

Izzy out there on those streets was like a shadow in movement. He had the stealth of a fucking black cat. Guess he could sense cops too because he always managed to duck out of sight when one came rolling by. He moved around a lot. He never stayed in one place too long. That was just a calling card to the fucking cops. Plus it caused shit with other dealers. So he did it also to avoid turf wars.

But Izzy looked like a drug dealer. You could just take one look at Izzy and fucking know. Cops were always staring at Izzy. And Izzy was always moving. Any time he thought the cops were increasing their rotation past some place we were living Izyy would wake me up in the middle of the night and say 'Time to go'. And we would just fucking move. We moved a lot.

I watch as Izzy reaches for this small pouch that he taped to himself under his pants. His stash. He empties it's contents and starts to do his inventory. His brows furrow and he counts them again. He looks over at me with a curious expression.

"I'm missing a fold," he says, "You didn't..."

I roll my eyes. Izzy knows I gave up the habit and had no fucking desire to return to it. My head motions up to the kid. I wasn't fucking dumb, I knew Izzy was getting his hooked on that shit. Izzy adamantly shakes his head. He doesn't think the kid would do that.

"Maybe I did it," he nonchalantly shrugs as he tears a piece of duct tape off with his teeth. He unzips his pants and tapes the pouch to the same spot he loves for me to tease. And I want to tease it.

"Mmmm," I purr. The junkies will always wait for you."

"Not now Axe. We need the cash," He says and stands up. "Besides, this whole Geffen meeting has me all nervous. I just don't know how much more Duff and the kid can take ya know?"

I sigh and nod. I was worried about it too. "Be careful out there Izz," I say softly.

He slides on his hat and nods. "Dont worry darlin, You just go back to sleep. When you wake up I'll be all warm and cozy behind you with my arms around you." He stoops over and gives me a quick kiss before slipping out the door. I never know if one of those kisses will be the last.

I just lie there staring up at the ceiling for hours. All I can think about is what Geffen is going to want from us. I hope like hell it isn't the kids purty mouth or to hear him or Duff squeal like a fucking pig. They had done enough for this band. I would not ask them to do anything else. I would do it myself first. And I know Izzy would too. I just hope its over quick, whatever it is. I guess in three days we would all be finding out.

At some point Steven sits up on the couch. He looks around the room as he rubs his eyes. He see's my cigarette cherry glowing in the dark. He nods his head at me, "Going to piss."

I make no reply as I watch him stumble out the door. I just lay there smoking my cigarette and stressing over the meeting with Geffen. I get lost in my thoughts for some time. Thats not exactly a hard thing for me to do really. But then it dawns on me that Steven has been outside taking a piss for quite some time now. Hope he didn't pass out in the alley. I allow my thoughts to drift a while longer. Then I remember Izzy counting his folds and saying one was missing. He had shrugged it off as getting high and forgetting he did it. What if he didn't. My stomach drops and I sit up.

I strain my ears for any noises but it's dead silent except for Duff and Slash's breathing across the room. I get an uneasy feeling as I peel myself from the concrete floor. I glance out the open door but I don't see Steven. It's dead quiet except for the typical sounds of any LA night, helicopters and distant sirens. I round the corner to where the dumpsters are. I see a pair of legs sticking out from them.

"I hope you aren't sitting in your own piss," I call out to him and pray for a response, but there is none to be had. I'm scared. I already know in my gut what my eyes have yet to see. "Steven...man," I say with a lump in my throat as my feet draw me nearer.

And then I find him. Slumped against the brick wall with a bandanna on his arm and a needle dangling. His lips were blue and his skin as pale as a freshly bleached sheet. All I could do was imagine it being Izzy. For a moment I hesitate in panic. Then something just comes over me. I jerk the needle out and toss it in the dumpster. I waste no time with untying the bandanna. I drag him by his feet out into the open. He isn't breathing. I quickly rush back in.

I climb into the loft and start to shake Duff and Slash's legs. "Guys it's Stevie! He stole some of Izzy's shit and is OD'ing out in the alley. I don't know what to do!"

But I guess Duff does know what to do. He quickly jumps up and swings into action. "Slash get to the payphone call an ambulance!"

I follow Duff as he flies out into the alley. He puts his head to Steven's chest and listens. He swings down hard in the center of his chest with his fist.

He looks up at me with huge eyes, "There's no time for an ambulance! Go get my keys!"

I go get them and when I come back Slash is helping Duff get Steven into the back of the truck.

"Where the fuck is Izzy?" Duff quickly asks me.

"Working."

"Get in and drive!" Duff commands.

"I can't drive!" I shout back.

"Slash get behind the wheel," Duff says but Slash is a fucking wreck from seeing his best friend like this. "SLASH! FUCKING DRIVE!" Duff screams at him as he blows air into Steven's lungs.

Slash pulls it the fuck together and gets behind the wheel. I get up front to co pilot because I know he's still fucked up on something. But somehow we make it to the hospital. And none too soon. We almost lost Steven.

But he survived. He lay in a coma for two days and I stayed the entire time. Izzy blamed himself for not keeping closer tabs on his shit. He blamed himself for making the shit accessible. He blamed himself for doing the shit with him. He blamed himself for giving him enough of a habit that he would steal to supply it. Izzy took the shit pretty hard.

Slash took it hard too. Nikki Sixx sent him and Duff to stay at this beach house he had somewhere. They really needed some time alone to deal with everything that had happened to them. Izzy couldn't stomach it for very long at a time he felt too guilty. But he worked the streets double time.

Luckily Steven was released the day we were to meet with Geffen. It was a tense fucking day. Everyone was worried about Steven and pissed at the same time. And on top of all that we were stressing on what demands this David Geffen would have before offering us a record deal. A very tense fucking day. By the time of the meeting we were all loaded. Probably not the best business approach.