Anything Goes

Finding Izzy

Days. It had been so many fucking days. Going from one person. To the next, asking the same questions, always hitting dead ends, but finally, this could be the one.

I looked up from the crumpled napkin in my hand. 201 W. Hanley St, Apartment 1. Huh. This was it, but it sure didn't look like much. Some of the white paint was peeling off the porch and the porch light had a huge crack in the glass. Not to mention the fact that this street was pretty much a tiny little alleyway. Fucking awesome. Well, here goes everything.

I knocked on the shabby door. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, like my ribs were going to explode into a million shards of bone and tissue. It had been so long since I'd seen him...what if he didn't recognize me? Or what if I couldn't think of anything to say? Shit...maybe this was a bad idea…

I heard some banging and thuds and someone laughed loudly inside. Jesus, it sounded like an elephant stamping in the damn house! Shit! But then came the clinking and fumbling of the door being unlocked…

There he was. Just as I remembered him. Dark, midnight hair, pale, clear skin and willowy. Holy God he hadn't changed a bit. He leaned easily on the doorframe. Impossibly cool. I couldn't hear anything over my racing heart. Did he recognize me?

“Hey, man. Can I help you?” Jeff said in his laid-back, effortless drawl. Unruffled, nothing ever bothered him. Ever. Meanwhile my heart is going to burst and my stomach is doing somersaults. I swore I could feel sweat in between my fingers. But I had come this far. No turning back now. I couldn't … I had nowhere to turn back to…

“Jeff. Jeff Isbell…” I tried not to stammer, but man it was hard. I just couldn't believe it was really him and not another dead end. Finally, finally after days of looking...weeks, even....I'd finally found him! He raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened slightly.

“Who are you? How did you know my name?” He demanded, slightly suspicious. I faltered. Wait...so he didn't recognize me at all? Not even a bit? I could feel myself sagging a little with disappointment. Wow…

“Jeff...it's me...don't you remember me? You don't recognize me at all?” I asked in a small voice that I didn't think I was capable of. I sounded like some downtrodden mouse. Real rockstar all right, Axl. He eyed me, but he had this glint in his eyes, like his brain was working and the gears were turning.

“Wait...you look familiar...have we met?” Jeff asked, sticking a hand in his pocket and looking me over. I didn't say anything. This trip couldn't be for nothing… he looked me over even harder. Rolling my eyes, I took off my rain-spotted aviators. Then he gasped, and I knew it hit him.

“Oh my God...Bill?!” Jeff breathed, his eyes like fucking dinner plates. He had his hand over his mouth like he couldn't believe what he was looking at. I stared. What, did he think I was a mirage or some shit? “Holy shit, Bill! What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

But he didn't sound happy at all. He sounded more like he was...alarmed. I would have loved to call ahead, except no one gave me your fucking phone number, you asshole. I came all this way from fucking Indiana just to find him, and this is the reaction I get?

“I got your address from some guy at a bar… he says he knew you. Blonde, short, ears pierced a thousand times?” I huffed, folding my arms. Some welcome, Jeff. “Can I come in, at least?” I gestured to my backpack. Plus to the fact that I was fucking soaked from the goddamn cloudburst we had just had 5 minutes ago. He hesitated and looked slightly uncomfortable.

“Uh...well…” He shifted his weight, trying to keep his cool, but clearly doing a shifty job.

“Izzy, is something wrong? The water's going to boil over, man.” I heard another voice in the background. But it wasn't one I recognized.

“Who the hell is that? And who’s Izzy?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. Jeff blushed a little. Wow. Never seen him do that before.

“Izzy is...me. I changed my name a while ago… I'm Izzy Stradlin now. And...he’s my roommate.” My thoughts stopped in their tracks with an unpleasant thud. But before I could open my mouth, someone else appeared in the doorway. He was tall, taller than Izzy, with some muscle clinging to his slender frame. He had a cross earring dangling from one ear, and half-spiked dirty-blonde hair that made him look like Mike Monroe. He had on a Led Zeppelin shirt and a pair of tight leather pants that clung to his legs like shiny black ink. His eyes were bright and clearly curious as they surveyed me. I shifted under his glance. I hated it when people looked at me…

“Oh, who’s this?” The Mike Monroe-clone said in interest from behind “Izzy”.

“Oh, this is...a friend of mine from Indiana. Bill, this is Spike, my roommate. Spike, this is...uh...Bill.” I tried not to shudder.

“Axl…” I murmured. “My name is Axl now…” It wasn't on paper, but I no longer considered Bill to be a part of who I was. You aren't the only one who's changed, Jeff. Or “Izzy” or whatever the hell you said your new name is.

“Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Spike, I'm Izzy’s friend and roommate.” Spike smiled, and damn he looked like he'd walked right off an album cover. He extended his hand under Izzy arm and offered it out to me. I didn't take it, my  arms were still folded.

“You know his real name is ‘Jeff’, right?” I said heatedly. Who the fuck was this guy to act like he knew everything about Jeff just because they met here and lived together?

But my remark didn't seem to bother this Spike guy at all. He just continued to stand there and smile like I hadn't opened my mouth. What a weirdo…

“Ah yeah, I recall him telling me that.” Spike nodded. He took a closer look at me. “Holy hell, you're soaked! I guess that was rain we were hearing earlier. Do you want to come in and dry off? My dryer is a piece of crap, but it does the job. And we have clean towels and everything.” Izzy looked petrified now. What the hell? Jesus I didn't realize me showing up here was that much of a problem, you dick! Maybe I shouldn't have shown up at all.

“No thanks. I don't need any help.” I spat, not caring about being polite anymore. Fuck that shit, and fuck you, Jeff. I made to turn around to go. Where I didn't know.

“But you're dripping wet, and it looks like it's going to rain again. It's really no big deal.” Spike said. Jeff stared at him, very shell-shocked.

“But what about dinner? And where would he sleep?” Jeff asked, almost like he was protesting it. That's it. Fuck this shit. Fuck you, Jeff. I thought you were my friend!

“He could take the pullout couch. Plus, I'm pretty sure we have enough spaghetti for three people, Izz.” Spike laughed almost affectionately. I didn't think anything was funny though, and obviously neither did Jeff.

“But what about--” Jeff made to protest again.

“No, you know what, no. Thanks but no thanks. I don't need your charity. Thanks for everything, Jeff. You're a really fucking great friend!” I stormed off, out into the pitch dark with my wet clothes and soggy backpack. I could hear both of them telling me to wait, but I drowned them out, and tried to ignore the hot, burning tears that were welling up from the corners of my eyes.