wild side || tommy lee / motley crue

29. very last tour

As Vince led me into the fancy bathroom, he immediately locked the door behind us.

That should've been a sign to back out.

But after all, who gives a shit? It's not like I'm in a relationship, right? Right?

"You're lookin' so pretty tonight." Vince spoke in an unsettlingly calm manner, one of his arms grasping for my waist.

He laid down a pile of coke on the counter, snorting almost half of it through his nose without forming any proper lines.

Now, that's what a rockstar would do.

I didn't hesitate for a second and lowered my head, inhaling sharply as the powder ran through my nostril into my bloodstream. Within a few anticipating minutes, I could feel it start to fuck with my head.

I felt relieved. And free.

"Valentina, can you do me one favor?" he asks, his speech slightly slurred.

"Yeah?"

And that's the way it went. I was done for if Tommy found out. I wouldn't have anyone by that point. A single hook up with Vince could spiral into something a lot more serious, causing problems between all members of the band.

I let the drugs take advantage of me, again.

"Vince," I started, hesitant at what I was about to say and if he was going to keep his word for it.

"Yeah, baby?"

"We keep this night to ourselves, okay?"

"Alright, sure" he seems to leave the comment behind him and I have to make sure he takes it seriously this time.

"No, I'm dead serious, Vince. This can not go back to anyone."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure of that." he sounded so sincere, as if he really meant it.

And for a split second, I thought so.

I put my clothes back on, zipping up the leather skirt I had picked out.

I fucked up. Big time.

"Hey, you want a glass?" Mick offered, standing by the bar of the kitchen.

I had left the bathroom looking like a hot mess. I made several panicked, anticipating attempts at fixing my hair and makeup but nothing could possibly be done. It was obvious I had been fucked. And that's where shit hit the fan.

I took the glass which was filled to the very top with clear liquid—plain vodka. I eyed the people around the large luxurious room, spotting Tommy semi making out with Heather on the couch. She was on top of him, their lips stuck to one another. Jealousy flared through me.

Looking away from them, I chugged down the entire glass, mentally wincing at the disgusting bitter taste of the beverage.

I didn't like alcohol. In fact, I hated it. I could ever only enjoy cocktails, but strong alcohol I only consumed to get wasted. It wasn't something that I would particularly indulge in.

Beside me stood Mick, who was pouring himself yet another full glass of vodka. The party was getting boring in the speed of light. Very fucking boring.

Maybe it was my fault that I found it all boring—just maybe everyone else was having fun and I was ruining it by standing awkwardly by the bar, obviously not enjoying one bit of it.

Mick guzzled the glass down in one go, taking a deep breath before speaking. "So, how have you been doing, Valentina?"

"Been fine." I lie, pouring myself another full glass of plain vodka.

My only intention was to get blackout drunk.

"You sure bout' that? I don't mean to be all up in your business, just concerned." he spoke in a calm, relaxed tone.

"Well," I let out a slight chuckle, pausing to think for a moment.

Nothing came to my mind. I could not think of a single response to that.

"Well?" he persuaded me to continue.

"Mick, I don't even fucking know, okay? I'm not sure how I've been because I can hardly ever feel shit anyway." i almost snapped, spilling out my feelings to the guitarist of the band.

His eyes slightly widened, brows furrowed—but not in an angry manner, more in a sincerely concerned manner.

I could tell he was worried and hell, if I happened to be him, I'd be too. The visible transformation from a sweet, clean—hardly ever drinks, lovely girl to a complete nutjob—drugs 24/7 with no break whatsoever, the only rest possible being blacking or
passing out, face all hallowed in, almost resembling a skeleton—ALL in the span of a year or two.. anyone, really, would start to worry.

"I'm sorry." i mumbled, not being able to look him in the eye.

The word sorry was not too frequent in my vocabulary. Truly rare if it ever came out of my mouth these days.

"It's alright, I really hope you find peace for yourself, kid." he told me in a disappointed, yet sad manner.

I was definitely not going to find peace anytime soon.

—time skip—

The third week of the tour had hit, time went fast. Too fast, even. I wasn't able to remember much, nor was I able to make any memories because of the lethal chemicals eating me from the inside out.

As to what has been going on between Tommy and I, he's back to his old self. He only ever spends his minimalistic free time with Heather, his so-called wife.

Does he still truly love her? No fucking clue.
Does he still love me? Also, no fucking clue.

Every time I happen to walk past him, a little piece of me dies. I don't know what it is with me that's causing these feelings—yet I'm even more confused how I'm able to feel those feelings along with my lifestyle.

Ten lines and who knows how many bottles down and the thought of him still lingers within the deep ends of my brain.

There's no escape. Will there ever be, I guess I'll have to find out.

At this very point, I had grown extremely exhausted from the lifestyle I was living and though it could be quite enjoyable at times, I was fucking done.

This tour was going to be the last time I was seeing them. Yes, I still love Vince very dearly and wouldn't want to leave him for the world but on the other hand, my absence has never truly affected anyone.

This would be the very last tour of my lifetime.

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A/N: i'm so sorry i haven't updated in a while tbh i haven't felt like writing a lot lately but i'm back at it again so if you happen to have any recommendations for the possible plot of this story let me know in the comments!

tysm for reading loves x