Little angelfuck
It's a shame that luck isn't better, babe
Did you like the fun
Did you like the times that I promised you
[oc x kirk hammett]
[smut, profanity, drug use, rock n roll]
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"It's so fucking early." Don complained with a yawn as we pulled up to the Studio. The sun was just beginning to peak through the horizon, and we saw the bus that'd we'd be calling home for the next 2 months. Metallica parked shortly after our arrival. Kirk waved at me from the passenger seat, and I returned the gesture with a warm smile. Nothing happened after we watched those horror movies, much to Charlie's disappointment. Don and Charlie nagged me over the coming week about getting with Kirk, though I assured him none of us felt that way about each other and nothing would happen. Either way, I made a big deal about keeping things professional and I don't often break promises. My mind was constantly replaying our lips centimeters apart, so close to kissing, though I'd try everything to keep it off my mind. We hung around each other's places a lot and jammed together during rehearsals, planning to do something special together for the tour.
As we got out, we unlocked the trunk for the crew to unload our instruments into the storage compartment at the bottom of the bus. I had my acoustic case in hand, planning to jam away the hours on the road ahead of us. It would take us around 12 hours, minus the stops and traffic, to get to Arizona. Our first stop.
As soon as everyone was ready to go, we got onto the bus. It wasn't that shitty, infact pretty decent. With 4 bunks that were just big enough to lie down in that we'd definitely fight over, a t.v, cassette player, couch, small kitchen (emphasis on the small, it was just one counter with a mini fridge built into it and a microwave and cabinet) stocked to the brims with booze, it wasn't that bad. I took a seat in the middle, laying my case under the seat. James hopped onto the bus, zipping up his fly. "Lemme tell ya, there's nothing better than pissing into the sunrise."
"Fucking hell," I laughed out in disgust. "Please tell me you washed your hands."
"Argh!" He attacked me, grabbing my face and arms with his hands who've been god knows where.
He sat behind me, and I slapped him playfully for the disgusting experience. Kirk sat in the seat from the left to me, on the other side of the bus. Don immediately went to the top right bunk, his walkman in to drown us out, as he lay and prepared to pass out to make up for the loss of sleep from the groupie he was with last night. Thin walls and groupies do. not. mix. Me and Charlie had to tell them to shut up and used earplugs we'd usually wear at big gigs to get to sleep.
Cliff, Charlie and Lars watched the t.v. at the front, along with David and Jonny, and roadies were travelling in a van behind us with the drums. The sun peaked over the horizon of the california countryside as we were driving down the highway. I smiled with the perfect idea, pulling out my guitar case and whipping out my acoustic, resting it on my thigh as I made sure it was tuned. After fiddling around to remember the chords, I played the song my parents always sang during our road trips in the 70s; Ventura Highway by America.
Charlie turned his head back to look at me, a smug look on his face. Kirk was also watching, intrigued by my skills at acoustic. After figuring out where I was in the song, Charlie caught up and sang along.
"Some people say this town don't look good in snow. You don't care, I know."
I laughed, trying not to mess up the riff into the chorus as he continued singing.
"Ventura highway in the sunshine. Where the days are longer, the nights are stronger than moonshine. You're gonna go, I know."
"I'm tryna sleep, god!" Don yelled from the bunks.
"'Cause the free wind is blowing through your hair, and the days surround your daylight there. Seasons crying no despair, alligator lizards in the air. In the air..." James, Cliff, Kirk and I joined in on the singing, all loving the idea of bothering Don some more. Lars watched with a smile, not knowing the song but loving the idea of pissing off our beloved drummer.
"Ah fuck off, all of you! Don't make me come up there."
"Ah, you fucking party pooper." James jested, leaning over to grab a beer from the minifridge.
"Don't worry, once Don falls asleep he stays asleep." I snickered, though it was true. Once he slept through our fire alarm going off when I tried cooking, or rather burning, a chicken. After that Charlie insisted on taking over in the cooking department. How was I supposed to tell him I was on morphine and passed out on the couch? So I just let him take over, his food was better anyways.
After fingerpicking some soft improvisations, I put my guitar away and rested my head against the cool window. The sky was filled with soft pink and orange, painting the sky in colours. The bus was filled with music, laughter, chatter, and uncomprehensional sounds from the small T.V. set propped on the shelf by the door. I smiled as my eyes blinked shut, sleeping easy.
"Wakey, wakey!" James' rough voice filled my ears as he shook my arm. I groaned and pushed his hands off me. "We're bored." He complained, whining like a toddler.
I opened my eyes and turned to look at him, seeing that Kirk, Lars, Don and Cliff were also all looking at me. "Oh my god can't you guys just fuck yourselves or something?"
"C'mon Astra you've been asleep for 2 hours." Don whined, as if he wasn't just asleep himself. I looked out the window, at the sunny desert that was oh so peaceful and free, and then back at the guys.
"What are we doing then?" I gave in, stretching in the seat.
"What about poker?" Cliff recommended.
"Strip poker!" Lars shouted.
"Fuck yeah!" James happily agreed, along with the others.
"Hold on, buddy. This seems a little unfair." I protested.
"What d'ya mean, Astra?"
"I'm the only chick here."
"So?" James said, pretending to be oblivious.
I laughed to myself, crossing my arms around my chest. "You're gonna have to get me drunk as fuck if you want me to play that." James turned over to the cabinet, pulling out a Smirnoff vodka and throwing it to me.
