FicWad

Axl

Atlanta. Another sold out Motley crowd giving me evil looks and throwing shit at us. I don't fucking want to be here. I don't understand why the fuck we are even still here. What do we have to do to get the fuck away from that psycho Nikki Sixx? Who else has to get fucking raped? Does someone have to fucking die?! I wish Nikki would die. And I wish it was slow and fucking painful.

I stand in the center of the stage. Slash is playing the intro to Sweet Child. I try to snap from my daze so I don't miss my que. I bring the mic to my mouth and I start to sing. I look at the crowd and can see this one guy cheering and singing along. Wow. Who let in one of our fans? I thought it was all of psycho's people here. And as I think this I see some buffed up steroid freak security guy start shoving the guy around. My blood fucking boils. We have one fucking fan and they're gonna fucking push them around?!

I glance over at Izzy. His brows scrunch together for a moment, then he noticed what I'm seeing. He slightly shakes his fucking head at me. I know he's telling me not to do anything, but come the fuck on! It's the only guy here who is even remotely into us! I can't let them kick his ass for being a fan! Fuck Motley Crue! Fuck their fans! Fuck their management! Fuck their security! And fuck Nikki fucking Sixx!

"Hey motherfucker!" I shout out and point at the burly security fucker. I can hear the band stop playing instrument by instrument. Izzy's the last to stop. He plucks a few strings trying to get my attention but it's no good. "Hey fuck you motherfucker!" He fucking flips me off and I guess I just fucking lose it. I dive in on his fucking head and just start swinging. Other security tries to pull me off. Our bodyguards try to pull me off. But I'm not stopping. I can feel the fucking stitches in my leg pulling, being pressed on and hurting, but I just can't stop. I was fucking sick of this shit!

Then some guys are dragging me back onto the stage. My clothes are all fucking ripped. My head hurts from my hair being yanked. I glance down and notice blood on my thighs.ni probably busted open some stitches. But fuck it. All the guys are just frozen and staring at me. I see Doug rushing into the stage right beside fucking Atlanta PD. Fucking seriously?! They're gonna goddamn arrest me?! They should arrest that fucking security guy!

And sure enough, after a tussle of course, they get my arms around behind my back and slap the fucking cuffs on me. They drag me off the stage. M thighs stingvand more blood shows up on my leg. Fucking great.

"No! Wait!" I hear Izzy calling after me. "You can't fucking arrest him! He didn't do anything! He's bleeding, he needs a doctor!"

Doug turns and stops Izzy. I can see the panicked look on Izzy's face.

"Finish the show," I say to him.

"Finish the...how the fuck do we do that with no singer?! This is bullshit!!" He shouts and glares at the cops.

"Sing Izzy!" I grind my teeth together and slant my eyes trying to show him just how serious I am.

He nods. "I'll get you out, don't worry."

I have just enough time to nod back before they drag me away. Out of the stadium and into the back of a fucking cop car I go. I can't help but just laugh as cameras take pictures. Fucking unbelievable! They haven't even read me my fucking rights or told me what I'm being arrested for! All I did was take up for some poor guy. That security guy was three times his size. And beating him for liking us?! Nikki would probably make sure that the son of a bitch got a bonus or something!

So they get me downtown and book me. They charge me with disturbing the peace, disorderly conduct, and assault. Fucking really?! I just laugh. What the fuck? This has to be done sort of fucking dream. No way is this really fucking happening right now. I get arrested and get three charges cuz I hit a fucking asshole who was out of fucking line? And I can't even get any medical attention for my busted open stitches.

"Full name," someone asks me.

"Fuck you," is my answer and again I laugh, which of course pisses them the fuck off. I feel a hand go across my face. My cheek goes hit and throbs with a pins and needles feeling on the surface. Ouch.

Finally Doug shows up and gives them all the answers they want, along with my ID. By then they have me in fucking county orange cuz my clothes were all bloody. They brought in a nurse who used steri strips and realized my wounds. But of course I get no fucking painkillers n this shihole. Doug pays my bail but the fucking cops won't let me go yet. I know they're just trying to stick it to me cause I'm in a band. Yeah, well fuck them. Fuck them all!

Finally at dawn they let me the fuck out. I walk out to a limo at the curb. The driver opens the door for me. I get in and see Izzy sitting there. He looks at me with genuine concern. "You ok?" He asks me.

I nod and slump down in the seat. I reach for some liquor. I fumble with the seal and lid trying to get it off. It's being a complete ASSHOLE though and won't fucking break. "Goddamnit!" I hiss and hurl the bottle across the limo and break it.

Izzy, the cool motherfucker he is, gets another bottle and opens it for me with his switchblade. "Here, darlin," he says softly and extends the bottle out to me. I grab it and guzzle some down. "Fireball...you can't get away with that jumping offstage shit now," he reaches over and wipes away a trail of liquor down my chin with his thumb, "You're somebody now. That means cops just want to bust you that much more."

And I know he's right, but I'm still fucking pissed off. "Did you see what that jackass did?!" I fume.

"I saw," he says in his calm smooth monotone voice, "but did you have to put yourself in harm like that? These aren't our fans, remember? We aren't headlining. We're just the opening band. You could have been trampled to death darlin. You really fucking scared the shit out of me. Out of all of us. Look at you...are your legs ok? There's blood... did they hurt you?" He questions as he surveys the dried blood on my pants.

"I busted them open when I jumped off the stage, it's no big deal," I sigh with a shrug.

"That had to hurt," Izzy softly says. He's trying to radiate his calmness on me, but it's not fucking working.

"Nah, it got me off Izzy! Yes it hurt! It still fucking hurts!" I shout.

"You want me to give you something for that?" He barely asks me and trails his knuckles up the side of my arm.

No! I didn't want his fucking heroin! But it does fucking hurt. "Whatever," I frown and thrust my arm out at him. "I don't want it to knock me out."

"Ok," Izzy nods and pulls a needle from his boot. I glance at it and see that it's not as full as the last time I checked, maybe he was finally cutting back. He wraps his scarf around my arm and slaps it for a vein to rise. Then I feel the slightly dull needle poke into my skin. I draw in my breath. Izzy slowly pushes down on the plunger. I feel my body getting heavy.

Izzy's eyes meet with mine. "That good? Need more?" He asks me curiously.

"Mmmm, I'm good," I hear myself slurring.

Izzy returns the needle to his boot and puts his scarf back around his neck. He smiles at me and tugs me over onto his lap. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me so softly. I get lost for a moment. Lost is some long gone cornfield in my mind. But I'm lost with Izzy, so it's not so bad. I bury my face into his neck and just breathe in his scent. I had missed this so much.

"I love you Fireball." Izzy whispers and holds me close.

And I just sigh and try to relax. "I wanna go home Izzy, back to LA."

"Me too darlin. Just a few more weeks. We have some cash, we can get a condo in West Hollywood. One bedroom. Just you and me."

Now his soothing voice is getting to me, plus lack of sleep. I close my eyes and drift off in his arms. I could really use the sleep.