ೃ⁀➷ ❝ You're in the [ 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝 ], I'm in the [ 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 ]. Nobody's [ 𝐬𝐨𝐧 ], nobody's [ 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 ]. ❞ - Lana Del Rey
Sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll. Violet Vienna and Nikki Sixx, two broken halves, who fit perfectly. Although they claime...
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"𝗦𝗜𝗫𝗫, 𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗗𝗢𝗢𝗥." I slammed my fist on the door, as I heard scrambling, objects being knocked over until the door was finally opened. I get that Nikki and Violet's friendship was...complicated...but did he have a right to cuss her out for no reason over the phone?
No.
And was I going to let that slide?
No.
"What?" He spat, thrusting open the door as he rubbed his eyes. He looked tired, definitely hung over.
"You gonna explain why the fuck you called Violet last night?" I raised my eyebrows, crossing my arms as he groaned.
"That's none of your business, Tommy." He shook his head, ready to slam the door on me, but that's when I wedged my foot in between the door and the frame.
"She's my best friend, Nikki. It's my business whether you like it or not." I forced the door open, causing him to roll his eyes, leaving the door open, heading back into his house. I followed him, shutting the door behind me.
"It doesn't matter." He shook his head, nudging Vanity over—who was sprawled on the couch, snoring softly with an empty beer bottle in her hand.
"Why?" I asked him again, sitting across from him on an empty chair, crossing my arms across my chest.
"You haven't seen the magazines, have you?" Nikki grumbled, eyeing me.
"What magazines?" I tilted my head in confusion, that's when he stood up, angrily stomping over to the kitchen, grabbing something off the table, chucking it at me. It landed in my lap, a magazine with Violet and a long haired man on the cover, holding hands, sticking their middle fingers up at the paparazzi's.
I'd never seen him before, but he looked like the stereotypical rockstar.
"What about it?" I shrugged, holding up the magazine.
"What about it?! He gawked, aggressively sitting down onto the couch.
"Nikki, you know they make up this shit all the time. Why does it matter?" I chided him, glancing down at the magazine before looking back at him.
"It doesn't." He sighed, burying his face in his hands.
"It obviously does." I stated, slamming the magazine down on the table.
