Book 4: My Hands Are Tied (Axl Rose FanFic)

Ch. 2: After Party

"Of all of us, Axl seemed to be the most straight-laced." -Steven

"Come on! Let's go get some drinks!" Duff was completely blasted, as per usual, and was really pushing to get the party going. His blonde and black wavy hair was still teased to the nines despite the hat he'd worn during the set, making him appear even taller than he already was.

His lanky frame had been swaying impatiently against the busted up door ever since we'd returned backstage, antsy to get all of the packing up done and over with so he could rush over to his favorite place: the bar.

"Can't. I've gotta' go get some shit done," I tried to keep it vague as I haphazardly fluffed up my hair in the mirror. I was the only one completely raw-dogging it tonight, everyone else had chosen to try to amp up their performance with drugs and booze, which made all of them a little more annoying for me to deal with than usual right now. The last thing I needed was for one of them to try to tag along with me while I searched for that hot chick from before. I didn't want them to cramp my style, or worse: try and snatch up my prize first.

Looking longer into the mirror, it occurred to me that I was slick with sweat absolutely everywhere. My entire body had a shine to it, like a freshly waxed floor, and my pale skin was still splotched red from the adrenaline of the show. Most women loved that, but this chick didn't seem like most women. I grimaced imagining her reaction if she could see me right now.

I should probably do something about all of that, I thought absentmindedly. Deodorant...?

Yeah right. We couldn't even afford food half the damn time. Deodorant was an exotic, far off luxury at this point, a foreign word that no one dared to utter.

I glanced around at my fellow bandmates and immediately lost all hope of help. Slash and I were probably the cleanest of the crew, and even that wasn't saying much. Izzy was hands down at the bottom of the list, holding a grudge against showers as if he was a cat who had drowned in a previous life.

I heaved a sigh, but decided I'd try my luck.

"Any of you got some cologne? Aftershave? Anything?" I demanded, wiping my face with a nearby hand towel. It smelled questionable, like it had already been used by someone else to clean their crotch many moons ago. I crinkled my nose as I discarded it onto the floor. The smell lingered in my nostrils, and I hoped I hadn't just made my situation worse.

"I've got hairspray!" Steven chimed in, trying-but failing-to be helpful.

"Won't that make me sticky?"

"You can rub some lemon on yourself," Slash offered, drunkenly rooting around in his cup trying to fish out the lemon wedge for me. "Or you could check for some Lysol in the bathroom...probably?"

I stared at them, unimpressed. My options were extremely limited. And stupid.

"Here."

Izzy suddenly materialized beside me-as he often did-and held out a hand. It took me a second to realize what it was that he was offering.

"Is that...a car air freshener?"

He didn't reply.

"What the fuck do I do with this?"

Izzy shrugged. "Rub it on your skin or somethin'."

That was way too specific to have been made up just now.

"Is this what you do instead of bathing?" I sneered.

Again, he didn't reply.

"Sometimes I deeply regret being friends with you," I said.