The Token - A Guns N' Roses FanFic

Chapter 8: The Wrath of Betsie Tate

My mind had created two lists of almost equal importance.

The first list contained the following names:
Walter
Macy
Betsie
Derek
Kendal
Izzy

Six people, only six people knew that Duff was actually Michelle the former bassist of Pixie. It could be worse since I had been doing this for a little over a month now, but it could also be a hell of a lot better. I was careful to never get too tipsy. I made sure to watch what I said and even how I sat, but there is still a sinking feeling that resides in the bottom of my stomach. The feeling that one day everyone would find out, and everything I've worked for would be gone.
No more Duff.
No more Guns N' Roses.
No more music.

Maybe if this didn't work out I could move to New York and become a secretary or some boring shit ass job like that. I wasn't sure what I was more afraid of, losing Guns N' Roses or giving up on my dream. Bottom line, both of them terrified me.

The second list was much shorter. It only had two names on it, Macy and Izzy. This list, which barely even qualified as a list by the fact that there were only two names on it, was the list of people I trusted with my secret.

Walter had been rather blunt with his disliking of me performing as Duff. I quickly learned that the entire intervention was all Walter's idea from Macy this morning when she profusely apologized. She swore up and down that he forced her to help him. I wasn't sure what to believe, but I trusted her none the less. I really didn't have any other options. A list of one name was defiantly not a list.

Ever since Betsie stood by as Pixie kicked me out and dragged my name through the dirt, I don't trust her. I used to though. I used to trust her with my life, but now I couldn't trust her to poor me a glass of vodka. Her comments on how I'm betraying females everywhere also don't help the unpleasant taste in my mouth.

Derek is and forever will be a wildcard, and he is probably mad that I didn't tell him.

Kendal. Kendal. Kendal. Kendal was the reason I showed up to work this morning two hours early. I was hoping, no praying, that I could talk to her and try to explain myself. It was the least she deserved after yesterday.

I felt the nerves multiply in my stomach the second I opened the shop early. I tried to distract myself by singing along with the songs that came over the radio that echoed through the coffee shop, but as I prepped the shop my mind still focused on one thing...Kendal.

Last night, I chased after her the moment the gig had ended. I knew where to find her, there wasn't a doubt in my mind to where she was. The coffee shop on Minlter Street, the shop I worked at, the shop where she spent her child hood, the shop she would one day inherit. I shoved my keys into the door and unlocked it full force. Instead of a Kendal sitting at her favorite table sipping on her cup of favorite coffee, I was met with nothing. I fought back tears as I stood in the middle of the hauntingly quiet coffee shop. F*c k.
I could already feel it unraveling.

I watched as the clock struck 6 AM and I flipped the small sign to open. I eyed the door all morning waiting for her to walk in as I worked. Bottom line, we needed to talk. 10 minutes turned into 5 hours later as I watched the clock strike 11 AM. Where the hell was Kendal? Usually she would get to the coffee shop by 9 AM at the latest when she was in town, but today was obviously not one of those days. I peeled up as I heard the bells that hung on the door chime. A customer, or hopefully Kendal had just walked in.

To my surprise Izzy walked in holding a small stack of papers in his hands. It was clear that he had just woken up from his hair that stuck out almost every which way from under his hat. The hat he must have tried to use to control that chaos that was growing on his head.