Riffed my way into your heart | James hetfield X Dave Mustaine

No second chances

Once upon a time, there was a thrash guitarist going by the name Dave Mustaine.

Oh boy.

Let me tell you about him.

Better yet, I'll tell you the story of how he found his one true love under unlikely circumstances, that'll best put into perspective what type of beautiful tale this man once lived. Who am I in this story? No matter that, let's not prolong the inevitable any longer. Ahem...

It was a dark stormy night. The leaves and branches were violently scratching at the side of the house. Rain hit the window sill and slammed against the window across from the unfolding scene. Flashes of light could be seen before sound followed in a loud growl.

James had finally had enough of Dave's violent, drunken outbursts. The rain slammed against the windowsill as the ginger-haired man begged for forgiveness.

"Come on, James, just give me one more chance. I'll get my shit together, I swear," Dave pleaded with the vocalist, his voice sounding more desperate than ever before.

Dave sounded as if he was on the brink of tears now.

Thunder struck in the distance, mirroring the disarray faced by the small-time thrash quadruple, soon the be trio.

Dave's constant drunkenness was one thing—everyone else in the band drank like fish anyhow—but he tended to get quite physical when he did have one too many.

"No second chances," James replied sternly, his arms folded across his chest, brows furrowed, Dave had never seen his friend so serious about anything before, it startled him quite a bit.

Before Dave could object, James and the rest of the band dropped him off at the Port Authority Bus Terminal and put him on a Greyhound bus bound for Los Angeles with his gear. Dave stared in disbelief, mouth agape, as he realized that this was it—he'd been kicked out once and for all.

He sighed and pushed his curly ginger hair back. Looking out the window, he saw his former bandmates driving away; amidst orange instant noodle curtains on each side. Lars was giving him the bird. Of course, Dave reciprocated the gesture twice-fold. He sighed heavily as he realized the gravity of his situation, this is it. He looked over at James, who had a glint in his eye that would scare a grizzly bear away. The bassist didn't seem too keen on joining to watch Dave be sent off.

The humming sound of tires driving over cement, and the laughing of the other passengers pissed him off like never before. All he wanted to do was to tell everyone and everything to shut up in this very moment. Instead, he took a deep breath and calmed himself down. Tears started to roll down his cheeks. He quickly wiped it away with his sleeve. He quietly sobbed as he stared out the window at the passing buildings. He put his hand in his pocket and realized he had an old handbill and a pen in another pocket. In an attempt to forget what just happened, or maybe to console himself somewhat; he scribbled on the back of the small paper. He wrote some lyrics for a song, little did he know, this song would bring him and his beloved together in the not so far future...

"Is this place taken?"

Dave got startled by the sudden voice; his internal thoughts on how to best take revenge on the ones that had wronged him a few minutes before broken by a disturbance coming from his right. He snapped his head toward the source of the sound.

Looking up at the blond male standing beside his row of seats, he furrowed his brows. He wasn't very fond of strangers—especially now—but he begrudgingly muttered.

"No..."

The stranger, upon hearing his answer, immediately sat down next to Dave.

Dave made sure not to even accidentally glance at the person beside himself, he knew his face was probably still red from earlier.

After a short while of silently sitting next to each other, the stranger spoke up:

"You play?"

Dave glanced at the person next to him who was nodding towards his guitar.

"Uh...yeah." He quickly replied, not really wanting to engage in further conversation.

Dave continued to scribble things on the scrap of paper he had.

"Are you in a band?" He asked.

"Was." he admitted, a deep hatred colored his tone.

Dave placed his face into his palm, propping his elbow on the window of the bus, looking out the window with a gaze that would indicate that he is deep in thought (never said he was)

The man nodded understandably, not wishing to probe the fellow passenger any further.

"You're not going to ask what happened?" Dave inquired, glancing at the long-haired blond.

He looked quite surprised by Dave's sudden question.

"I didn't think to, no." The man chuckled.

"Well, they fucking kicked me out, no warning, no second chances." Dave huffed as he folded his arms over his chest.

"And my boyfr-." Dave quickly realized what he was about to admit and turned away.

"Partner, didn't back me up." He corrected himself, glancing back at the man next to him.

The blond nodded, not too keen on questioning what he had just heard.

Dave would rather forget his little slip-up, so he decided to gaze out of the window instead, looking at the blurs of colors passing the bus.

After a while of sitting in silence, the stranger breaks it by getting up:

"Well, this is my stop; was nice talking to you...?" He said it as if he were asking a question.

Dave nodded.

"By the way, I'm Dave, Dave Mustaine, make sure you remember that, because I'll rise above that stupid fucking band in due time." He said it proudly, puffing out his chest.

"Right..." He rolled his eyes and smiled.

"I'm Jerry Cantread. It was nice meeting you, Dave." He chuckled lightly at Dave's bold display of sheer confidence.

Jerry waved him off and went to the exit.

Dave watched as he left, sinking into his seat and sighing deeply.

"He was quite sexy, not gonna lie"

The rest of Dave's trip was uneventful.