Categories > Celebrities > Metallica > Epicene Part 2

Chapter 5

by Cerilla 0 reviews

It ain't no fun, waiting 'round to be a millionaire.

Category: Metallica - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Humor - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2018-07-02 - 2368 words

Christmas came and went, bringing along a bundle of nostalgia. David Mustaine spent the festivity with Rachel, Antonia and Faith, surrounded by the delicious food, the beautiful tree, the sparkly decorations, the warmth and happiness of the three women. Everything in the little home radiated a feeling of coziness and joy, yet, felt like a foreign object forcefully lodged into a place he didn’t belong to.

That wasn’t true, and he knew that on a rational level; the women were fond of him and he was of them, and they were happy to have him with them. But the only reason he was with them was because he couldn’t be with his own family; he even had half an idea to go to his mom’s house and find an excuse to talk to her, or even just stare at the place from the outside. Would his sisters be there too? he wondered. Hell, he felt like a sentimental fool. As people say, you only miss something once it’s gone, and he missed his family terribly.

For New Year’s Eve, he accepted Faith invitation to go party with her friends; she practically forced him into a tiger-print halter top and a pair of leather pants, but he categorically refused the high heeled boots and the makeup, and put up a fight when she tried to primp his hair, screaming that he wasn’t her fucking life-sized Barbie.

David didn’t give a crap about Faith’s friends or their lame party, but he looked forward to getting wasted at someone else’s expenses; he intended to get drunk way before midnight, vomit on the carpet ruining it, break some expensive stuff, maybe start a fight. Something that would chase away that stupid feeling of melancholy and put him back on tracks –his old tracks, at least.

The getting-drunk part was the easiest; he started inconspicuously, sipping a glass of wine (they only had some dumb sparkling wine, not even some good hard liquor), nibbling a tartlet here and there. Then he started drinking without eating, proceeded to gulping down glass after glass and, finally, hogged an entire bottle only for himself.

“There are too many sausages at this party. Too many sausages and not enough bagels.” David bawled, drunk, but not flat out so. The clock had already struck midnight, he was still awake, nothing had been set on fire and a herd of guys was surrounding him on the couch where he was sitting. It was all incredibly disappointing.
‘C’mon baby’, ‘c’mon honey’ and all the stupid chitter-chatter David wasn’t even listening to but that was nevertheless filling his ears, hammering his brain like a certain bass player’s practice routine used to do. Damn boring vultures circling around; he wished he had a gun so he could shoot ‘em down.

“I like pussy, you morons! Take a hint and go annoy someone else.” David shouted, taking another swig from his bottle. “Dicks, dicks, dicks, that’s all you got, and I don’t care about that.”
“You want some pussy, sweetheart? We can get you that.” One of the vultures laughed, followed by all the others.
Before David could say ‘get bent’, a girl was popped on his lap. Big hair, leather corset, drunken smile; she slammed her lips on his and started a sloppy kiss. But David wasn’t aroused. Nothing going on anywhere, absolutely nada. He could have had a slug crawling on his mouth as well, such was the effect. Why was that? He had had drunk sex before and this time he didn’t even need to worry about his cock failing to rise to the occasion.

Big Hair didn’t seem deterred by his lack of response, and moved to kiss his neck, while her hand slid under his top to squeeze his left boob. The vultures around were cheering and howling and whistling. David wanted to tell them to drop dead; instead, he opted for drinking more wine. Or he tried to, because Big Hair bumped her head on the bottle as he was bringing it to his lips, making him lose the grip.
“Fuck, shit!” Dave exclaimed. The bottle was on the floor, scattered in pieces, the precious liquid now undrinkable. “Look what you’ve done, you stupid bitch!”
“You hit me! You hurt my head, you dumb twat!” Big Hair must have been less drunk than him, because she was on Dave in one second, toppling him, aiming to the eyes with her claws.
Dave grabbed her wrists to stop her, but couldn’t manage to push her away. He had never hit a woman before; not since he had stepped out of childhood, at least, but hey, now he was a woman too. He was slower, he had that shitty upper-body strength, he wasn’t at an advantage anymore, right?

The vultures cheered even louder, excited by the catfight, punching the hair, clapping their hands, inciting the girls to really get into it.
Big Hair was sitting on David’s stomach, squirming to get her hands free. Adrenaline was sobering him up or, at least, stimulating his alertness, so that David could finally overpower her; he bent his knees and trapped her feet with his, then arched his hips and rolled her over, landing on top.
Big Hair shrieked and twisted, but David stood up and dragged her on her feet along with him, then shoved her away, hard; she landed in the arms of some bystander, who pushed her back to David.

Tired of the whole situation, David delivered a punch to Big Hair’s face; a sloppy one, but effective enough to put an end to the catfight. The girl fell down, clutching her nose, whimpering. David just stared at her dumbly, and even the vultures’ excitement deflated; the carcass didn’t prove as succulent as it had appeared before. Someone ran to Big Hair to help her and David staggered away, feeling groggy and disappointed; things had gone more or less as he had hoped, but he wasn’t satisfied, he was just tired.
Faith appeared in front of him, looking angry and disappointed. That was a look he was familiar with, though not from ‘bad-decisions-extraordinaire’.
“Viv, what the hell?!” she screeched.
Dave winced. “Where are the car keys? I need to sleep.”


“Oh god.” David Mustaine moaned, “Too much light.”
“Welcome back among the living, princess.” Faith huffed, rolling up the shutters.
David pushed himself up on his elbows and leaned on the bedpost. He was back in his apartment, but had no memories of coming home; the last thing he remembered was collapsing on the backseats of Faith’s car.
“Thanks for putting me to bed.”
“What else was I to do? I couldn’t let you pass out at the party. What were you even thinking?”
“Fuck, don’t shout.” Groaned David, “Why are you so pissed off? Don’t tell me I was the only drunk person at that party ‘cause I don’t believe it.”
“You were the only one who started up a fight.” She huffed. “Seriously, if you can’t handle your booze, stop before you get drunk.”
“I’m sorry, what?” David was completely awake at that point, staring at Faith disbelievingly. “I wasn’t the one who started the fight, Big Dumb Hair did!”
“She has a giant bruise on her face now. Thank god you didn’t break her nose. Seriously, you are supposed to be the responsible one.”
“Again, what?! The responsible one among whom?”
“Between us two!” Faith retorted. “You always take care of me, you’re not supposed to act like a dumb teenager.”

David massaged his nose bridge and exhaled in exasperation. This fucking dumb shit, I swear…
“Faith, I’m not your mother, you already have one and barely listen to her.”
“But you’re supposed to have my back, you know, like friends do.”
“No, no. Friends look after each other, and that’s not what you want or do. I know that adulthood is hard, but you’re too old to be hovered over like a toddler.”
“I don’t want to be treated like a child!”
“Oh, please! You go on your little adventures like a kid would, and when you get hurt, you run back to mommy, or to me, but you get all pissy if you have to return the favour.”
“I’m not…”
“Face it, Faith, you want a protective mama who doesn’t lecture you.”

Faith, abashed, didn’t reply; she rubbed her arms and left the bedroom, looking down.
Wow, I finally shut her gob; that must have hit home.
“I’m leaving now, there’s some fresh coffee in the pot, if you want it.” Faith stated flatly, “Happy New Year.”
The door slammed behind Faith’s back and David huffed; he rubbed his eyes and tried to get up and get the coffee. His stomach was upside down and a nasty headache was crunching his skull; better stay down for the moment.
“Happy New Fucking Year indeed.” He murmured, “When the kid comes back from Farmland, we’re gonna get down to business. No more dicking around.”


“Dee, take a bucket and a mop, there’s an emergency in the ladies’ restroom.” Sharon said, as she quickly passed him by with her tray full of empty glasses and bottles.
God fucking dammit. David cursed. Restroom emergencies were never, ever good; sometimes the bouncer had to be called, sometimes an ambulance, sometimes it was about unclogging a toilet.
That time, apparently, it was about mopping up something disgusting, so David armed himself and opened the restroom door. He instantly gagged and turned around, trying his hardest not to puke; he breathed deeply, steadied himself and went into the restroom.

Vomit. Vomit everywhere, as it had been sprayed by an hydrant, covering the common wash area of the restroom like a Pollock painting.
Sitting on the floor, propped against the wall, there was a wailing, sobbing, and very likely drunk girl; her clothes marred by puke stains indicated that she was the culprit of the disaster. Her face was twisted by all the crying and smeared with ruined makeup; paired with her fire-red hair, it made her appear like a grotesque clown.

Crouched next to Bozo’s daughter there was a young woman with blue hair, who was trying to comfort her friend to no avail.
“Hey, Smurfette!” David exclaimed, “Take Barfywise here and get the hell out!”
The blue-haired girl flinched at the harsh order, but did as she was told, helping her weeping friend on her feet –not without effort– and guiding her outside the restroom.
“God, this is gonna suck so hard.” David groaned. The first thing he did was open the window and breathe; the stink alone was enough to make him reconsider his life choices, quit his job, and go work as a kindergarten teacher forever.
No, wait, babies vomit too. He noted. Drunk people are only funny if you don’t have to fix their messes.


David emerged from the club with a loud sigh, put the beer bottle on the ground and searched his pockets for a cigarette. After he was done cleaning the restroom, he required –as in demanded– a break, the duration of which was at his discretion.
“Shit! C’mon, I was sure I still had a few.” David grumbled, patting his leather jacket in vain. He had his lighter, but no packet of cigarettes.
A hand appeared in front of him, holding a precious cancer stick. “Looking for a cig?” a feminine voice said.
David turned his head and saw the blue-haired girl from before, smiling at him, offering the smoke. He took it, murmured a ‘thanks’ and put it in his mouth; before he could take out his zippo, the same hand lit the cigarette for him.

“I want to apologize for before. My friend, you know, her boyfriend just broke up with her.”
“So you dragged her to a club to party hard, but the drinking only made her feel worse.”
“Right, and…”
“And I had to clean up her mess and you’re sorry for it.”
“Well, yes.” The girl blushed. “I’m really sorry. Another friend took her home, so no more puking in your toilets for tonight.”
“Good.” David grabbed his beer and took a sip. “Next time, rent some chick movies, eat a gallon of ice cream, and bash the boy, like you girls do.”
Blue girl frowned. “‘You girls’?”
Damn! Dave cursed inwardly for the slip. “I mean, you straight girls. We dykes know how to handle our booze.”
“Oh.” The girl chuckled. “What about us bi girls?”
“Bi what?”
“Bisexual.” She laughed, “We-who-swing-both-ways.”
“Ah. Well, feel free to experiment at home, before you go clubbing.”
“Duly noted. Anyway, I’m Tiffany.”
“David.” He replied. At the girl’s confused expression, he added, “Vivien David, I try to go by David but everybody calls me Dee at best.”
“I see. I’ll call you any way you want, David.” Tiffany replied. And… was that a flirtatious tone, or was he just imagining things?

David and Tiffany chatted a little in front of the club, in spite of the cold and of the fact that David was technically supposed to go back to work. Sharon, however, had no problems reminding the redhead that he wasn’t paid to slack off and called him to order.
“Gotta go. Need to earn that fat pay.” David said, greeting Tiffany.
“Wait.” The girl stopped him. “Can I see you again?”
David was somewhat taken aback by Tiffany’s request. She was cute, in a punkish way, and easy to talk to, as easy as it could be for someone who had to manufacture a new identity. Don’t run ahead, Dave, maybe she just wants to be friends.
“I think I like you. I’d like to be sure.” Or maybe not.
“Dee!” Sharon barked.
“Jeez, I’m coming!” David replied. “Here, tomorrow at eight p.m., I won’t be working.”
“Fine by me.” Tiffany winked and smiled.
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