Book 3: You Don't Want My Love (Slash FanFic)

Ch. 5: Matt

"Cheers!" Duff, Dizzy, Axl, and Matt lifted their glasses to meet my own, and the sound of glass and ice cubes could be heard as our hands collided in midair.

It was about nine in the morning on a beautifully bright Sunday here in LA, and the band was waiting in the airport bar as we prepared to board a plane headed for the first stop of our tour. Well, almost the entire band. Izzy had chosen instead to take a bus and, obviously, Steven wouldn't be coming at all. Instead, we had a new drummer named Matt Sorum here to take Stevie's place.

From what I could see, the record company had gone to great lengths to pick someone like Matt, someone who was so obviously a polished and perfected model of our old drummer. A 'Steven Adler 2.0', if you will. He had the same wild, blonde hair, bright smile, massive amounts of energy, and steady rhythm. Maybe they figured that no one would notice. Drummers were always in the back anyway and, besides, like Grant had said: they're a dime a dozen. All of them playful and energetic and care free. I'm sure to the fans, the differences between Matt and Steven were nearly nonexistent. But those differences remained glaringly obvious to the rest of us, those of us who had worked with Steven for so many years.

Despite getting along with Matt fairly well, I still caught myself obsessively studying him, judging him, and making silent comparisons in my head.

Steven's smile is much more genuine.

Steven has style.

Steven is Duff's personal metronome. They would have gotten it on the first take.

I don't know why I kept doing it. Matt was a great guy, and an amazing drummer. He certainly had the chops for playing in a band of this caliber. But the thoughts continued to cloud my mind. Steven just had more swing, he had the right style, and I obviously wasn't the only one thinking it.

I'd already caught Izzy on a few occasions, watching our 'new and improved' rhythm section with a disapproving scowl before shaking his head in what I could only assume to be disappointment. That should have been my first clue that maybe our time as a band was finally coming to an end, but perhaps I was too naïve to see it. That, or I was just in total denial.

"I'm so glad you're always up for the bar," I playfully nudged Duff with my elbow.

"Hey, it's 5 o'clock somewhere, right?" Duff winked and lifted his glass with a nod.

I loved Duff's enthusiasm when it came to drinking, and I was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. I wouldn't exactly call us alcoholics, but I also wouldn't deny that we drank like fish. I think drinking together really helped us to justify how much we drank and exactly just how often we drank it. If Duff drank as much as I, and vice versa, then it had to be fine. I mean, what were the odds that we were both alcoholics? Surely it couldn't be a bad idea if all of my friends were doing it too and they seemed healthy.

"So, how'd the recruitment go?"

"Recruitment?" I echoed as I sipped at my glass.

"For your snake-sitter, I mean," Duff clarified with a grin.

"Right."

I frowned and furrowed my eye brows as I slowly realized that I wasn't actually entirely sure how the hiring had gone. I hadn't spoken much to Grant since I'd ditched him to sulk at the bar, and when I had, I only really listened long enough to know that he had picked someone who he had felt would be in my snakes' best interest. That had been good enough for me and, after that, I'd usually hang up on him or start day dreaming.

"It went well," I lied. "Real well."

"Good."

We paused for a moment, at which point I peeked over at the rest of the band to ensure that they weren't listening before I leaned in closer to Duff.

"What about Matt over there? How'd that go?" My voice was low as I spoke. I still hadn't had much of a chance to get to know Matt, and I really didn't want one of his first impressions of me to be him overhearing me whispering about him.

Duff glanced over at Matt before turning back to me with a nod. "It went well, actually. He's really great. He's definitely got the talent for it, and he's a pretty chill guy."

His features darkened a bit as his eyes fell to his glass and he took a large gulp. That was when I knew that he was thinking the same thing as I was. The same thing as Izzy was.

But he's not Steven.

I stole a glance over his shoulder to where Matt and the other two were lost in their own conversation. For whatever reason, I found myself glaring at Axl. The strawberry blonde was grinning from ear to ear, seemingly the only one of us that wasn't bothered by the lack of our original fifth member.

A rage bubbled in the pit of my gut as I recalled just how often Axl used to pick on Steven, how he had threatened to destroy the band if we didn't quit using, and just how intense his anger could be. I couldn't help but wonder if this had been his plan all along. He just looked too gleeful, too carefree. He didn't miss Steven at all. I doubted if he even ever wanted him in the band.

Soon enough, we would be boarding the plane, but we would be going our separate ways and sitting apart. None of us could put up with one another for too long, namely Axl and his ornery disposition. I was thankful for that, especially for today, with the way that I was suddenly feeling the strong urge to storm over to Axl and smash his smirking jaw with a right hook.

But you're here too, a voice in the back of my mind chimed in. You're still going on tour with Matt, aren't you? You're still here...just like Axl. Just like Duff. Even Izzy....

But what else was I supposed to do? Quit the band? Drop everything that I had worked so hard to accomplish, all because my childhood friend couldn't keep his shit together long enough to get clean? Give up this lavish lifestyle all because little Steven Adler still couldn't get a grip on things in his own life? I couldn't keep making excuses for him, I couldn't keep sticking out my neck for him, and still, I found myself caught between three things: what was right, what was loyal, and what was selfish.