Book 2: Nothing Seems to Please Me (Duff McKagan FanFic)

Ch. 4: Lush

It was raining lightly as I walked home from yet another party. The weather was very suitable of my situation, seeing as I felt completely shitty. To be honest, the party had sucked, but I'd needed the money.

"I should've just become a fucking stripper," I whined, glaring down at my wad of cash begrudgingly. Sure, it was a lot, but it wasn't as much as I usually make. Was I losing my touch?

"Where the hell have you been?" My dad slurred as soon as I stepped in the door.

"Good morning to you too, pop," I mumbled, ignoring him and walking towards my bedroom.

"Where are you going?" He demanded.

"Dad, you're drunk again," I said over my shoulder as I kept walking.

I heard him laugh uproariously. "I am, aren't I?"

I was so glad when I finally got to my room and could close my door. I leaned myself against the rickety, wooden mass and closed my eyes.

The truth is, I had lied to the guys. My dad didn't deliver shit except a punch to my face every now and then if he got in one of his moods while intoxicated. He was just a stupid drunk who always ended up needing to be dragged out of bars by my mother. When she died, that job got handed down to me.

Sometimes, when he would hit me, I seriously considered kicking his sorry ass, but he is still my dad, and he hadn't always been this way. It was hard to hit someone who was obviously so much weaker than I. I pitied him.

I just wish you were here, I thought, hoping my mother would get my telepathic message.

She had been the one who paid all of the bills and for the alcohol to appease my father's expensive habit. When she died, everything kind of just went to shit. We lost our old house and were forced to move into this dingy ass apartment, my dad's drinking peaked to an all time high, and I had to start hustling to get us through the months.

Being friends with the patrons of the bars helped tremendously. They would offer me free beers all night so that I could collect them all up at the end of the evening and bring them home to my dad, meaning I only had to worry about paying rent now that my dad's addiction was being catered to. I think the bar owners just enjoyed the fact that I no longer had to pry my dad from their counters and drag his ass home. He mostly drank alone in the house now.

I locked my door and went over to my stereo and popped in some Mötley Crüe, blasting the music up to its highest volume. As the opening track tore through the space around me, I tugged off all of the leather I was wearing and pulled on an oversized Van Halen t-shirt as a nightie.

"Good night," I waved to the posters on my wall. The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, Johnny Cash, Led Zeppelin...they all smiled down at me. I blew Ringo a kiss, like I'd done since elementary school when I'd found out it was kind of an ongoing joke that nobody gave Ringo very much love.

I fell onto my bed and closed my eyes. I tried to ignore the excitement that was making my heart flutter and kept me from falling right to sleep. I knew that when I woke up, it would only be a matter of hours until I'd see Guns N Roses again, and I honestly couldn't wait. For some reason, I thought of a pair of striking brown eyes and a shock of blond hair. The vision relaxed me so much that I began to finally drift off to sleep.