Through The Eyes Of

Falling Apart

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.