Message of Obsession (Duff McKagan)

1: Purgatory

How do I get myself into this shit? How do I end up crammed at the damn bar while Steph's probably getting fucked backstage?

I tapped my fingernails anxiously on the bar's surface, the smoke hanging low around my eyes. I looked around, praying to God she would come back soon, but I knew she wouldn't. The bartender came over to me, looking expectantly.

"Uh, yeah, just another beer, then close it out, please?" I asked, holding up a finger. He nodded, bringing me the bottle in exchange for $20. I tipped myself off the stool, bottle in hand, holding my thumb over the lip of it. Finally, I spotted Steph's long hair swishing around her waist, her pink lipstick grinning at me through the crowd. She was always the prettier of the two of us, hence why she was backstage. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Are you alright, Ivy? You look..."

I pushed the door open. "Frazzled? Correct." I lit a cigarette between my fingers, inhaling sharply.

She giggled. "You could have come back with me, I don't think anyone would have minded much." She paused. "If you had asked your sister to come with us, then maybe you wouldn't be so-"

"Yeah, not my scene, even with Jo. Plus, you probably had more fun alone than with me."

Steph opened the driver's side door of her car, keys swishing around her finger. Her heels tapped the concrete as she got in. "Oh, don't be like that, you fuckin' pisser. Such a party pooper, Ivy."
"Yeah, yeah, alright, stop heckling me. What did you even do back there? Do I wanna..." I looked over the console, her face turning crimson. "Okay, got it. Duff was good, though?"

"In what way?"

"Steph! The show, stupid!"

"Sorry!" She put her hands up in mock surrender, starting the car. The ride home was quiet except for the radio humming some shitty pop song, something I couldn't stand.

I unlocked the apartment door, Steph going inside first and hanging her jacket. I could already see the marks littered all over her neck, making me sick to my stomach. She looked back at me, seeing my head low as I kicked off my combats. "What the hell's with you, Ivette?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, yeah, fine, I'm fine."

"You're acting weird tonight." She eyed me suspiciously.

"No, you're acting weird tonight," I mocked back. She rolled her eyes, moving into the kitchen. The way her skirt hiked up as she leaned into the fridge revealed more marks. I almost couldn't look.

"Do you want anything to eat? You look drunk, you really should-" She asked.

"No. I'm showering. Just, uh, knock if you need anything." She responded as I left the room, but I couldn't hear her, too lost in thoughts. I stood in the shower, facing the water as it ran over me and washed off my makeup.

Every single day I thought about moving out of this goddamn place, but every day I told myself no. I couldn't do that to myself. I couldn't do that to her, either. And it was my name on the contract, anyways. It was my selfish fault I hated living in this purgatory.

I had been friends with Steph since high school, and Duff, who was Michael when we met, for a few years. I was always giving Duff advice on music shit and him the same way. Now Steph and I, that was different. Jo always commented on how much I loathed her, my jealousy, but I would always dismiss it. Now I knew what she meant. Steph was the girl next door, the preppy, pretty blonde girl who was the cheerleader and all that shit.

And that was why it baffled me that she landed him and I didn't.

Nothing about her seemed like it would remotely attract him when I introduced them a year ago, yet there she was, marks covering her porcelain skin after the show like they were nothing. And they bothered the shit out of me. She was fucking relentless when she was around him, always on his lap or just on him. It was fucking horrible, and then she acted like it was nothing when it was just us two. She knew. And the poor guy never even looked like he enjoyed it. Sure, he must to some extent, but he always looked like he was working when he was around her. I never saw the genuine Duff until we were talking about music or books or anything but her.

Well, there's nothing I can do about it. Quit it, Ivette, you're starting to sound selfish.

I felt the water begin to burn my face, steam rising and fogging the tiny room. I quickly finished washing my long brown hair, scrubbing it with a towel as I stepped out. A bang came on the bathroom door. "WHAT, STEPH?"

"Duff's staying the night!" I groaned loudly. "Dude, you can't be like this," she whined.

"This is my place, too!" I said, cracking the door open and poking my head out, holding up the towel to my body. "You might as well go move in with the guy."

"Just..." She looked behind her, presumably at Duff. "Please, just don't be an asshole. You're famous for being an asshole, Ivy."

"Ah, and so are you." I raised my eyebrows mockingly, closing the door in her face before she could say another word. I drew a harsh breath as she shuffled away from the door, leaving me to watch the smoke swirl up and out of the cracked window into the June air. I analyzed my hair in the foggy mirror, seeing the way it fell just below my shoulders.

I creaked the door open quietly, making sure the light was out before I opened it. I knew that Steph had work the next morning, and I was really trying not to aggravate her after the whole little scene I had caused.

I had to pass her room to get to mine, so I crept slowly, towel clung to my chest. I could hear their voices faintly in the room, an argument brewing inside.

"Why the fuck do you act like this? You're so distant, Michael!"

"You need to fucking relax, Stephanie."

I squeezed my eyes shut, continuing to creep down the hall. I made it into my room, still able to hear the faint shouts through the wall. Pushing myself into bed, I reached for the remote, flicking on MTV (the only channel I watched these days) and putting it at a low volume, but just above the shouting.

It became routine whenever he was over, I was always prepared with a distraction. It was just like I was home again, Mom and Dad arguing in the next room over. I was always curled up with Jo when this happened since she was a little older than me. She always just covered my ears and hummed, either that or put on a record loud enough to cover it.

Please, God, just let this get better.