veil | W. Axl Rose

Ⅶ

07.08.1985

Anastasiya trailed behind, feeling like an outsider as the entire band was flanked by their girls. With no one to talk to, all she could do was endure Slash and Lena's mind-numbing conversation.

-I've missed you, baby.

-I've missed you more.-Lena cooed as she nuzzled her head into guitarist's neck.

-Yeah?

-Uh-huh.

-Prove it.

That endless dialogue of mawkish nothings just about killed Anastasiya. Eventually, she exhaled in relief as they finally reached their destination. But just as they were about to enter the club, their excitement hit a snag—a massive line stretched from the entrance, winding across the street and disappearing into the night. The band exchanged bewildered glances. Surely, this wasn't what they had expected for a midweek night out.

-The fuck? It ain't the weekend yet.-Duff muttered, scanning the never-ending queue. Then, an idea struck him.

With a subtle tilt of his head, he signaled the others before casually slipping into the line, leaving them to follow suit.

-Hey! I was here first, bud!-a guy behind them protested, clearly irritated.

Duff barely acknowledged him.

-I'm not blind.

-But you're sure as hell deaf. I'm telling you there's a line, and you're cutting in.

Duff ignored him, but the guy wasn't letting it go. Stepping closer, he puffed up his chest.

-Clearly, you don't know who the fuck I am. The name's Cyrus. Cyrus! And I don't give a fuck who you are.

-You better relax there, sweaty macho redneck.-Duff turned, eyeing him with mock consideration.

-Why don't you go back to the faggot club you crawled out of, blondie?-the guy spat, his face reddening.-You're fucking lucky I'm on probation.

-Is that right? Shiver me fuckin' timbers.-Duff patted a guy on the shoulder.-Anyway, see ya.

The guy stood there, momentarily speechless, as Duff and the rest of the band continued to make their way past the queue.

Anastasiya's eyes swept over the dimly lit interior, bathed in a soft violet glow. As she took in the familiar surroundings, her gaze landed on the bartender who had been serving her lately. Funnily enough, he noticed her too and gave her a nod. She responded with a faint smile and a subtle wave. It was only then she kind of reckoned that maybe she should've broken the habit of going to underground gigs as an excuse to drink. Being a regular "regular" at this place probably wasn't a great sign.

Duff, catching the brief exchange, raised an eyebrow at her.

-You know him?

-I'm a habituée, let's just say.

Slash smirked.

-So, since we're apparently on good terms with the bartender's girlfriend, any chance we're getting a discount?

-Yeah. On the toilets.-Anastasiya quipped perversely.

Slash frowned, processing her words as the rest of the group burst into laughter.

-But... the toilets are free.-he pointed out, looking confused.

-That's the point.-she said.

NOFX set was just coming to an end. Punkers flung themselves around in the mosh pit—more and more metalheads, they were taking over the scene, even for ambitious bands like Suicidal Tendencies. Someone already had a bloody nose. The old floor groaned beneath theweight of the crowd. The black-painted woodwork and tinsel yearned for arson, and tiny, sweating waitresses in corsets and heels pushed their way through the mass, trays held high over their tall sculptured hair.