Karma's Happenstance

M.I.A.

M.I.A.

Izzy's POV

If you’d asked me what would be the worst thing that possibly could happen to me, not even a week ago I would’ve told you it was either losing my only guitar or going through withdrawal. Being a junkie, these two things were the only things that were anywhere near important to me. The music and the dope was all I had had for so long. 

Now, things have changed. I think I have changed. I didn’t know it could be possible but I care more about my church girl than I care about myself. So, even with the symptoms of withdrawals showing, I can only think about my girl. It's not eving really pissing me off that I didn't score. Fuck it. I had to get back to my girl.

I can’t help sharing a thought about that karma thing, too. What I’ve learned about karma is that it just fucks you in the ass sometimes. The moment you’re actually happy, fucking karma makes sure you won’t be happy too long. And it makes sure you never fucking see it coming either. Like they say, Karma really is a fucking bitch.

So, I’m fucking sure that’s why I find myself kneeling on the floor of Sixx’s bedroom, holding that empty pizza box in my shaking hands. I can only stare blankly as it feels like an elephant steps on my chest. “THEY FOUND ME,” is written on top of it, right beneath the lyrics of the song I wrote for my church girl. 

She’s gone. She’s fucking gone! I’m close to panicking. How in fucking hell could I’ve been that blind? So fucking ignorant to think that her family might not be looking for her? I try to swallow the bile that’s rising in my throat, but I fail. Rushing to the bathroom I empty my stomach into the toilet. Not that there was much in there anyway. I feel like shit. 

My girl got kidnapped by her crazy ass family to be married to some old perv and I have nothing better to do than try to get high. That thought lets me dry heave again. You’re a fucking loser Isbell. This is all on you! If you wouldn't have been out trying to fucking score ou could have protected her you fucking idiot! Fuck! I need help. 

"Izz?" I hear Axl's voice in the room. "Izz..." he pokes his head in the bathroom where I'm still hovering over the toilet. I hear him sighing. "Look...I'm sorry Izz...I should have stayed here with her instead of going out."

What's this? An apology from Axl Rose? I swallow and look up at him. "I've gotta fucking find her."

"And how, pray tell, do you plan to do that?" Axl asks.

"Go to fucking New Mexico and get her," I shrug.

Axl crosses his arms. "Ok, in theory, lets say that's a great idea...but how the fuck are you going to get to fucking New Mexico?"

"A fucking bus, a car, I don't fucking know!" I snap and flush the toilet.

"Ah ha, and how does your plan work with no money?"

My eyes snap up at him. Fuck, he's right. "Where the fuck is Crue tonight?" I quickly ask.

"How the fuck should I know," he shrugs.

I growl and pace the room. Think Isbell. Nikki fucking told you where he would be for the next five shows...where the fuck were they?

"San Jose," I hear a voice from the door. It's Slash. "I talked to Nikki yesterday."

I love Slash so much right now I could kiss him. "Where are they playing?" I ask him.

"I'll do you one better man, I've got the number to his hotel room." 

He walks over to the phone and picks it up and starts to dial. He hands me the reciever and I pull it to my ear to hear it ringing. It seems as if there is an eternity between the rings. It keeps ringing with no answer. Fuck Sixx, answer the goddamn phone! Please!

"What?" Nikki picks up the phone with a snap.

"Sixx?" I say and hear a rumbling sound on the other end of the line. 

"Fuck you, motherfucker! Go the fuck away! I have a gun, you hear me?" I hear Nikki yell to someone. 

What the hell is going on there? Is he in trouble or fucking around with Tommy? And why does that crazy fucker have a gun? Who the fuck would give Nikki a goddamn gun? 

"Sixx?' I try again. No reply comes from the other side. "NIKKI?" I yell into the phone. Rumbling again, then I hear panting. 

"Stradlin?" Nikki finally answers and I let out a small sigh.

"Yeah… listen, I…"

"I don’t have time for your shit, Stradlin. They’ve found me, man." Nikki cuts me off, whispering like there’s some weird conspiracy going on. What the fuck? Is he stoned or something? 

"What? Who found you, dude?" I ask, wondering if those crazy church freaks also tried to break into the hotel in San Jose.

"The Mexicans… they found me, man!" Nikki whispers again.

I roll my eyes. It’s official, that motherfucker is crazy. I don’t have fucking time for this shit, I need help to find my girl. "What are you even talking about, dude? Fuck your paranoid shit, I’ve got some real problems here, Nikki!" I yell at him furiously.

"Problems?" Nikki asks and for a second I think he might be getting me eventually. 

"I fucked up Sixx. They’ve got my girl." I gasp on the verge of tears.

"Who? The fucking Mexicans?" Nikki whispers.

Ok. Stop being the freaked out boyfriend and think like a junkie Isbell. Sixx sounds like he's been shooting up coke, or frying on acid. I'm gonna go with coke. "Yes," I quickly say, "The Wetback mothefuckers came and got her and carried her to New Mexico!"

"What the fuck..." I hear Nikki hiss. Then I'm pretty sure I hear him cocking the gun he apparently really does have.

"Nikki you gotta hurry! We have to go get her before they take her down to Mexico! You have to steal the Motley Jet man! You gotta come get me and we gotta go get her!"

"Man they have me surrounded," I hear him whispering in a pant, "I can't get the fuck out."

"You have a gun...blast your way..." Before I can get the words out I hear him firing the goddamn gun. I freeze and all is silent for a moment.

"I think I got him!" I hear Nikki excitedly saying. Then he laugh like a mad man.

"Come get me! Fucking hurry!" I blurt out.

"I'm on it," I hear him say and then the phone goes dead. Now I just have to wait around and see I guess. God I hope some of that registered in his brain. I also hope the drug levels remain the same. I'd hate him to be halfway here, come down, realize he's fucking cray and go back to fucking San Jose. Come on Sixx.