Karma's Happenstance (Guns n Roses - Izzy Stradlin/OC/Nikki Sixx - Mötley Crüe)

The black heart

Nikki's POV

Holding Stradlin's little desert flower in my arms while he watches puts a smile on my face unmatched by any other. It reaches into my calloused soul and tugs at me. It really gets me off to watch that expression on his face. He's wanting to know if I've had her yet. I love watching him squirm. Love watching him dance around on broken glass.

He has no way of knowing if at night she's in my bed or not. No way to know how I touch her. Do I kiss her softly? Do my hands caress her in places he has only dreamed of? Do I make love to her until the dawn comes knocking? Do I whisper words of undying devotion into her ear? I can see him scanning her face for some sign that she has given herself to me. Though he can never seem to accept any answer he may or may not see. I love playing on his doubts and insecurities.

I can see the way he longs for her. When he sees her with me I watch a part of him die each time. And it's oh so simple to watch him die over and over with each new day. But I'm a good sport. Really, I am. I have turned the 'open' sign back on above the bar. I've seen to it that cocaine snows down once again. That heroin is made readily available and plentiful. All the spoils I could possibly offer to a love sick pawn of a guitarist. See I'm not completely without compassion.

The drunker Stradlin is the better. The higher the better. And that skinny fuck can hold some intoxicants in his system. The shot I spiked and gave him should have laid him out for hours, instead it only gave me a sporting head start. He could certainly hold his own. For now the dope keeps him out of my fucking way. Keeps him tied down in his little world of self pity. I swear I've never met anyone who was so down on themselves before. He's weak. That's why I told you he was my easiest target. Stradlin has more heart and soul than all his band combined. A heart and soul that is just so easily bruised and battered. They've made him a liability, a casualty. Mine.

Don't judge until you've walked a mile in my shoes. Existence for me isn't the same as it is for others. This life took and took from me for years. Then I had to get pissed off and mad. Then I finally decided to start taking shit back. I decided to make my own future and be the master to my own universe. The only problem is, succeeding. When you obtain all you've ever wanted this dry boredom sets in. I've seen it all. I've done it all. My every wish has been granted. I've gone everywhere I ever wanted to go. I've met everyone I ever wanted to meet. I have played out every fantasy you can imagine. There are no surprises left to me in this life. No excitement. Life is bland and flavorless. Each new day lacks a pizzazz that makes you want to get out of bed. Because you already know that nothing new or worthwhile awaits you. You've already fucking done it.

So what remains for the rock star who has it all? Intruding into others lives and leaving a mark is all that I have found to entertain my time. Stirring up shit was all there was left to do. Planting seeds to sprout roots and grow. Twisting emotions and sucking the will from peoples souls. And I do it effortlessly and without thought or reason. Am I evil? I don't know. Maybe. Do I have a soul?

Perhaps, not that I would ever show it to anyone. Do I have a heart? I used to. But where it once lay beating bright red in my chest, is now nothing more than a hollow black cold space. I'm empty.

It's as if all the life left me long ago. There is no reason to get out of bed anymore. Nothing to achieve. No mountains to climb. It has become a mundane existence. Frankly, I'm fucking bored.

So I treat people as my toys. Puppets if you will. They are all that's left to bring me what I think is satisfaction. I'm like a kid with a magnifying glass burning ants. But I just can't help myself. People are such fragile little creatures and so easily manipulated with words and actions. And believe me, I know all the right words and actions to bend someone's will to my liking. I have yet to meet anyone who could resist me or my power.

I seduce people like a vampire. I make them feel happy and safe. I intoxicate them with my essence. Then when they least expect it I gently tilt their heads, expose their necks, and sink my teeth in.
And they never even see it coming. It's so easy that even this too is starting to become boring.

But Stradlin gives me added entertainment. He is so in love with this girl its a shame. He's like some love sick teen. Like a lost dog doing it's best to find a home. It's repulsive really. Maybe I'm just jealous because Stradlin has something I don't. Love. Not that I even understand it or want it for myself. I really don't think it's real so much as it is some chemical impulse to accompany mating. I just hate to see anyone happier than me. I want to be the happiest motherfucker on the planet.

And to fucking hell with anyone who seems happier. That happiness must fucking die a thousand deaths.

I don't do love. Love is stupid. It's blind. It's vulnerable. It's flawed. It's fragile. It's too pure. Too happy. Too misleading. Love makes us a fool faster than anything else. It seduces you like heroin.
It's addictive too. Love has the ability control us completely, with or without our will. Love makes you susceptible to becoming a victim. Most importantly, it's breakable.
To answer that little question burning in your brain, no, I haven't fucked her yet. Though I do sleep next to her every night while Stradlin works himself into a drug daze. And I sleep pretty fucking restfully knowing it. I honestly can't remember the last time I slept in the same bed with a chick without fucking her. I just never do shit like this. Nor, for the life of me, can I tell you why I haven't fucked her.

Despite whether she is or isn't my type usually doesn't factor into my decisions. Truth is, I don't have a fucking type. Female is the only criteria needed to fit my type. I just destroy everything that comes into my path anyway. I'm like a merciless tornado that leaves behind a trail of destruction in every place it touches. I'm as uncaring as that swirling wind in it's vortex.

But, for some unknown reason, I can't bring myself to touch her. It's like I'm Superman and she's made out of kryptonite. It's like we're magnets of opposing poles. I've tried several times to just fuck her. But something always stops me. When I look at her she just looks at me with such honor and trust. She looks at me like she's grateful to me. I'm not used to that shit. Nor do I properly know how to process it.

You may be asking yourself why an asshole like me would even bother to process such. Why would Nikki Sixx keep his hands to himself when this girl slept just inches away? Why would he buy her shit and take her places and expect nothing in return? Why would he defend that fucker Stradlin to her? Yeah...well if you happen to stumble across those answers be sure to fucking let me know.

But the fun and games with Stradlin is drawing to an end. Tomorrow they go back to LA. The burning question in my own brain is, do I let him take her? Or do I keep her for myself? I know my money would allow me to give her the life Stradlin can only dream of. I could whisk her off to exotic places in a private jet. I could buy her cars and jewelry. Vacations to the tropics. Winters in Florida. Summers in the Hamptons. But even I know that whatever they have has nothing to do with fucking money.

This chick is completely head over heels for Stradlin. If I ever find out why I'll die a happy fucking man. I swear to fucking God I do not see what she could see in the fucking loser. I mean looks aside...he's useless. He hasn't got a contract. He hasn't got a decent place to live. He's a drug dealer. He's a junkie. And fuck he can't even play that great. What does he possibly have that I don't?

I mean, granted, I'm a junkie too, but I can at least supply my own habit. I'm crazy rich. I'm good looking. I live in a fucking mansion in Van Nuys. I have platinum records. World traveled. Famous. You know...what's not to fucking love? But she's all about him. Fucking love. Do you see how fucking blind and stupid it is now?