Louder Than Words ✨ Guns N' Roses

02.

I'd never felt more relieved, yet totally uncomfortable in my life. But I guess that was W. 

I'd spent so much of my life addicted to his aura of rebellion, his charming good looks and his quick tongue- I didn't quite know how to approach him now that we were both adults, under the lights of city so entirely different from our home. 

His eyes were twinkling with good humor (something that didn't come around so often with him, his moods were as deadly and unpredictable as a monsoon) as he wiggled into the booth beside me. 

"Izzy, get your lazy ass over here!"

"Fine," he moaned in response. 

"What the hell are you doing out in these parts, Ginger? Last I'd heard you were trying out for the fifth grade spelling bee."

He toussled my hair gently, just like old times. 

"Gag," Izzy rolled his eyes and sat down across from us. 

"I... I got an internship at Rolling Stone with Laurel McCormick. She does all the-"

"She's the queen of publicity," Izzy interrupted, suddenly interested in the conversation. "She interviewed the Crue in the raw part of the decade, and look at those fuckers now."

I tried to conceal my pride. "Well, yeah. I thought it might be a... a nice challenge to do some different kind of writing."

W slung his arm around my shoulder. "My Ginger, gonna be a famous journalist. Remember when you used to write in that shabby ass tree house behind the old flour mill and interview your dolls-"

"Alright, alright!" I scoffed, squinting my eyes at him. 

"Don't you give me that look," he teased. "It's lethal."

I couldn't help but stare at him. I could still see that angry little nine year old I met when I was barely more than a baby. He wanted to get out of Lafayette so bad I could taste it, and maybe that's where I got it from. 

We were at a party, thrown by our parents and for our parents. My house. Daddy threw it for all the One-Eyed Ravens, nothing but a reason to get wasted and terrorize the town on their bikes. I knew nothing of gang violence or motorcycle clubs, not yet. I was just a Daddy's girl. 

We were in the back room of my house, an old sagging Victorian thing with creaky wood floors and a dusty old attic- perfect for writing on rainy days. 

W's step dad was there- his real one was long gone by then- and forced him into the room with us babies to 'keep watch'. 

"Come on, you old fuck!" W demanded, pounding his fists against the wooden door of the back room. "Lemme out, just for a minute!"

"You stay put, you little bastard! This deviant behavior is not for children of the Lord!"

"'The Lord' my ass!" W screamed, pink in the face as he turned to us kids. We all looked at him strangely, he had the magnetic allure of a big kid. 

And then those eyes settled on me. "You," his lips curled up into a smile. "I think you could be of use to me, little girl."

Out of childlike fear, I clutched my Ragedy Ann doll and scooted away from him. 

"Pick her," I whispered, pointing at Sue O'Riley from across the room. Maybe that's why she always hated me. 

"Ginger? Who you callin' Ginger? You got red hair too!"

"No-" I whispered, but he never let me clarify. 

"Alright, Ginger, you're gonna help me out right now."