Book 2: She's Out To Please (Duff McKagan FanFic)

Ch. 23: Issues

After leaving the band in a huff, I had no idea where I was going or what I was doing. My head felt like my brain was forever swirling inside of my skull, and it was nearly impossible for me to walk without occasionally falling into the brick walls of the buildings I was passing.

"Stupid fucker," I hissed to no one in particular, my shoulder slamming into brick. I easily bounced back from the collision and continued on my way. Sure, it didn't hurt now, but I knew that I would more than likely find bruises later. But did I care? After all of the damage I had caused tonight, I guessed it would be nothing compared to whatever consequences I may face in the morning. "Who does he think he is? Calling me Sid Vicious and shit...I'll fucking...I'll show him!"

"Hey, baby. Who are you talking to?"

I noticed a couple of hookers as they sauntered up to me. Scarlet nails reached out to trail along the patch of my skin that wasn't covered in a leather jacket, and I soon felt a warm body pressing up against me.

"You okay, darlin'?" The second whore asked as she reached out and toyed with a lock of my hair. "You lookin' for some fun tonight?"

I was starting to think that maybe something was wrong with me. Maybe I was a queer or something. In the past, all me and the rest of the band would talk about was all of the women we would score with once we became famous. But now, now I wasn't so sure what I wanted anymore. With our band name slowly gaining popularity, it was becoming so easy for me to get whoever I wanted. So it was becoming pretty fucked up that all I could think about was Mary.

"Fuck off," I murmured, the frustration apparent in my gruff tone. Frustration that my body, my heart, and my mind were all demanding different things from me. Frustration that everyone I cared about-and even those I didn't care about-all wanted different things from me. Things I wasn't ready to handle, and things I never wanted to handle.

For those I cared about, my band and my girl, I was pushing them away. All they wanted was my time and dedication, and yet, here I was divvying up that precious energy until most of it went into my romps with Kaz and my drinking.

My family had been right. I was a fuck up, and my band was a failure.

The girls gasped in a mixture of repulsion and hurt as I shrugged them both from my body and continued my journey towards wherever the hell I was going. Head down, hands now stuffed into my pockets.

The longer I stumbled forward in the darkness of the night, the worse I felt about everything. In the cool, night breeze, my mind was beginning to sober itself up. Issues I'd thought I would eventually fight through come morning were now bubbling back to the surface, eager to unhinge me.

All of my past anxieties were now being buried under even more new ones: had I just missed my chances of being in Guns N'Roses? Would I be kicked out? Did everyone in the band think I was some fucked up alcoholic? Worse still, were they right?

I shook my head, my eye lids beginning to droop lazily as I struggled to stay awake and keep walking. If I stopped, my whole body would tremble and shake. My feet would begin to itch, begging me to start walking, or running. Anything to get away from these thoughts.

There was no way I was an alcoholic. I was fine. I had a job and a band. I had hobbies and band rehearsals. I could grade papers, teach classes, and play guitar. Alcoholics just sat around and drank all day, and that just wasn't me. I had a life and shit to do.

Now I was irritated that I'd let Axl get to me like this. Everything would be fine. Even if Axl didn't want me in the band anymore, no way would Izzy just let him immediately replace me. Nor would Steven or Slash. As shitty as I'd acted tonight, in the past, I'd always been a good friend and bandmate to the rest of them. I knew they would have my back, even Axl. After all, it was easy to forgive me, even for the bipolar singer. I got along with basically everybody, and I was damn good at what I did in the band.

So why was all of this bullshit suddenly tearing up my life and leaving me a mess? It just didn't make sense.

My feet came to an abrupt stop just at the bottom of a set of stone steps. My glazed eyes studied the building in front of me, one I instantly recognized as St. Augustine's Catholic School For Girls. My own, personal Hell.

Before I could really stop to think about what I was about to do, I lumbered up to the front doors and began jiggling one of the handles.

"Pfft." Nothing.

"C'mon, Buck!" I grumbled, slamming my fist against the wood in frustration. "Let me in, man! I promise, I just wanna' take a walk. I won't fuck up nothin', I swear."

I was doubtful, considering Buck's ghost sure as hell hadn't done much to help me in the past, but I hoped this time would prove to be different. Sucking in a quick breath, I grabbed at the second knob and tugged.

Click!

I honestly hadn't expected my prayer to be answered, and so I was surprised when the door swung open, revealing a very empty, very dark hallway.

Was it Buck? Or perhaps it was the ghost of Sid Vicious, having my back after I had stood up to Axl when the singer had been talking shit about the both of us. Whoever it was, I saluted them with a loud belch before lumbering through the main door and into the abyss.

Despite how dark it was in the building, I was easily able to maneuver myself through the halls in the proper direction. One of the few perks of being the school janitor for so long, I suppose, is that you quickly learn the lay out of the school. And, thanks to one mischievous little girl, there was one spot in particular that I knew exactly how to get to.

I tried not to be spooked as I ventured up the familiar steps through the abandoned wing. It took the remainder of my mental capacity to focus on not falling and dying as I stumbled up the rickety, wooden steps of the bell tower.

As I popped open the hatch and stuck my head through the opening, a blast of cool air caressed my face. The breeze was like a breath of fresh air, and I felt myself beginning to sober up as the wind trailed through my thick mane of hair.

And yet, just as the coastal breeze helped me to begin to feel much like my old self, the sight that awaited me only proved to make me giddy again.