Released {Izzy Stradlin}

Easy Peasy, 'Lemon' Squeezy...

"Thank you! Goodnight!" Mike shouts into the microphone, making the crowd even louder than before. My guitar rings out in the background. I hush the strings before handing my pick to a guy in the crowd below me. The huge smile on his face gave me one myself. After unplugging my guitar, I swung it onto my back and followed Mike backstage.

This show was quite possibly my favorite. There were no tech issues and no crazy-ass, stage-invading fans. Instead, the sound was smooth and clean. The stadium's shell sent the sound all the way to the back and further. The deep tremble of Jack's drums and Link's bass shook the ground we stood on. The melodies of Mike and I's guitars and his outstanding voice were almost stuck in my head. Not to mention we had the most wonderful crowd cheering us on, and an even more wonderful sunset to welcome us into our first night in Arizona.

I backed the vocals alongside Link for some of the songs, my voice wasn't shot or anything, but it was a bit hoarse. The singing and the added heavy breathing had a large hand in that. Arizona was hot, to say the least.

"Man, it feels like it's getting easier!" Jack panted, raising a Jim Dean to his lips and chugging. The condensation on the bottle matched his sweat-covered body. He was shirtless, typically, and his drum sticks stuck out of the side of his jeans. Link sits beside him at a foldable table and lights a cigarette.

"That's because it is," Link tells him. A cloud of smoke leaves his lips as he speaks. He too was sweaty, but not as drenched as Jack. Link wore a sleeveless, grey top along with some ripped jeans. He crossed one leg over the other, showing off his dirty converse.

I look around, mind wondering where Izzy could be.

"Excuse me," A friendly voice spoke from behind me. I turned around and saw a crew member standing there with a smile on his face. "Could I take that from ya?" He asks, gesturing at my guitar.

"Oh, yeah," I say, quickly taking the guitar off my body and handing it to him. The crew members at this stadium were definitely business people. They took everything twice as serious as the last venue we gigged at

"Thanks," He nods and heads and walks back in the direction he came from.

"Lane!" A voice deeper calls me. I turn around again to see Mike heading straight for me with two red solo cups in his hands. "Here, it's your favorite."

Mike hands me a cold drink, presumably liquor, judging from the color. I brought the cup to my lips and took a sip, instantly recognizing the taste.

"Glenlivet. You know me so well," I beamed up at him. He smiles and takes a drink. I join him, enjoying the ice-cold liquor. There was air conditioning back here, thankfully. But even in the cool air with a cool drink in my hand, I was still breathing heavy and burning with heat from the show.

"Mike, Elaine," Duff slides in, pulling his sunglasses up. His smirking face meets my gaze as he speaks. He steps closer, so close that I had to look way up to meet his face. He was much, much taller than Mike. "That was a great show,"

"Thanks man," Mike says, tipping his solo cup at him.

"Yeah, thanks. You guys rocked too," I spoke, taking a step back timidly.

"Hey, thanks. You really know how to play that guitar of yours. Where'd ya learn?" Duff asks me while he pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

"My Dad-" I cut my sentence short, remembering how he never got to finish teaching me. "Uh, h-he taught me, at first. I just kinda picked the rest up."

"Oh, well he taught you well," Duff smiles before putting the cigarette between his lips and lighting it.

"Yeah," My voice trails. I jump when I feel an arm snake its way around my waist.