Hold On To Love || Kirk Hammett

Part 29- Peppermint Morning

It's been two fucking hours, and all I can hear is nonstop bitching and bickering. I've been on edge with the whole accident, I had myriads of questions, and like always, my answers have been rum and coke- not the Coca-Cola kind. Kirk still hasn't called me for any updates on their situation, and nobody's been fucking answering my goddamn calls. I faxed them, wrote letters, called every person that would come in contact with them- nothing.

My worries have been stacking up each day, and our band issues have only worsened the weight on my shoulders.

Amid all that chaos came the talk. We held auditions, yet we still couldn't find anyone to fill Trevors' shoes. And were behaving like fucking four-year-olds. 'No, I don't like him' 'fuck you, there's nothing wrong with him,' blah-blah-blah-blah-blah.

God's sake, one hard slap and they'd come right.

"Coolega, calm down. I have a solution." Ron interjected.

"Please, tell us. Impart your wisdom unto our souls." Duncan drawled. As much as I loved him, he was the shit-stirrer.

"Well, seeing as you're a wiseass Faure. Since you're singing, why don't you play rhythm?"

"I could do that. But I wanna play something easier, maybe bass." Haha, Ron giving up bass? not over our dead bodies.

"And if you're playing bass, what am I playing?" Ron countered. Ooh thing's about to get interesting...

"Easy rhythm."

"Please, I'm not that pathetic. I play lead-"

"Excuse me! Last time I checked, I played lead, and I'm not giving up the guitar, thank you very much." Playing guitar was my lifeline, and I certainly wouldn't allow Ron, of all people, to be the lead.

"I know how to play rhythm...but whose going to play drums?" Neil piped up from the corner of the room.

Everyone immediately whipped their heads around to look at me. 

Oh come on. 

I was the only other drummer in the band. I never considered actually pursuing drumming. I always liked to beat the drums mercilessly, but basing my career on it? Well, I definitely needed to polish up my skills, but was I really hanging up on the position of Rabbitt's guitarist?

"Why the fuck not." They all cheered around me, raising their glasses in the air.

"Wait, wait, wait." Duncan said, "So I'm on bass, Ron is lead, Neil is rhythm, and Savannah's on drums? And you guys are one hundred percent sure we're not high?"

"Babe, are we ever really sober?"

The prospect seemed scary but exciting. Plus, this way, we wouldn't have to let someone into our circle. I don't know what possessed us, but it seemed like something out of a stunt we pulled at our shows- just for laughs. But doing this as a permanent thing sent chills up my spine.

"What could possibly go wrong?" That was practically our mantra before we did the dumbest shit possible.

As much as I knew otherwise, I didn't see why we shouldn't do it. But I still couldn't help but feel something in my gut churning at the mere thought of being a drummer instead of a guitarist- how else was I supposed to flirt with all the girls?

Hey, if Kirk could do it, so could I.

I heard the faint sound of someone knocking on the door, "Open." We all shouted, sounding like a choir.

We were all lazy ass shits and had no patience to get up, open the door, greet the person, and walk back to the couch. It seemed illogical.

I craned my head to see who it was. My heart stops. Beats, Stops again. He stood in the middle of the passage with his bags- Kirk.