Anything Goes

I Don't Care About You

“I can't FUCKING believe this!” I stormed into the room and threw myself in Chris’s desk chair. He looked up from the copy of Hit Parader he was reading.

“Ok, for the record, I have zero clue what you're talking about.” Chris sighed into the pages. “So, what's ruffling your feathers?”

“Axl!” I spat hotly. “Who else?”

“I might've guessed. Now what did he do?” said Chris, turning the page.

“Tracii fucking Guns, your FRIEND, just swooped in and stole him! Axl's singing for his band now!” Chris raised an eyebrow.  

“Huh. Didn't know that. Tracii needs to get better at telling me shit.” Chris said, tearing out an ad and putting it on his bed. I gaped at him.

“How are you so collected about this?” I demanded, pacing the room and puffing on a cigarette like it was my last one. Chris sighed and shut the magazine.

“Because,” Chris said, completely level-headed, “it isn't a big deal. This isn't the end of the damn world. So the guy's singing for another band now, so what? You quit and I got fired. There's no Hollywood Rose left, dude. If Axl wants to go sing for Tracii, then let him. Poor Tracii can find out how much of a headache he is.”

I flopped on his bed, steam coming out of my ears.

“Of course this is a big deal! How does he get to move on and work with Tracii Guns while you and I sit here on our asses? How fucking fair is that?” I said. Chris looked over, both eyebrows raised now.

“Ok, yes, it was shitty the way he did you and I. And I get what you're saying about him getting to move on so quickly. But please don't lump me in with that statement and say how it's unfair to “us". Change your words. Just admit it, Izzy. This isn't about you and I, it's about you. You're jealous.” Chris said lightly, sitting in his desk chair, legs crossed and eyeing me. I sat bolt upright.

“Chris, don't quit your day job. Comedy isn't your thing.” I said dismissively. Jealous? What's there to be jealous of?

“Ok then, smartass. If you're not jealous, prove it. Why am I not worried about this and you are? Why are you blaming Tracii for a choice that Axl made? Why are you sitting here in my room, spitting fire instead of changing your situation? Sounds like fucking jealousy to me, dude. Just saying.” Chris replied.

“I'm not fucking jealous! Not of Axl OR Tracii!” I said angrily. Chris threw his hands up in the air.

“Oh my good fucking God...yes you are, Izzy! Not having Axl with you making music WITH YOU is eating you alive like a goddamn parasite! You're bitter because not only did he move on, he just got a new songwriting and guitar-playing buddy and seemingly dropped you like a hot potato! This is exactly what I told you would happen!”

“We can replace him like he replaced us!”

“Izzy, he didn't replace us! He replaced YOU. And you can't stand that. Face it. You're jealous. Listen to yourself. You want him here with you, and that not what he chose. You can't control him, Izzy.” Chris protested. Fuck. He got me…

“I'll show him. I'll join another band, see how he likes it. I saw London was looking for a bassist.” I snapped. Chris blinked.

“Man, whatever floats your weird-ass boat. If you really think this is going to stick in Axl's craw, then do it if you want. But don't come crying to me when it doesn't work.” Chris sighed, paging back through the magazine again.

Fine. I will. Suck it, Axl!

I stepped out into a phone booth to make a call. On my hand was a flyer for open auditions today for London. They'd been around for many years on the strip, everybody knew the band. It was for a bass player. I don't normally play bass, but I could play. I'd do anything, anything to make Axl regret doing what he did. Fucking anything. London was a glam band, I fucking hate glam, but you know what, if I got the gig, just so Axl could see that I didn't fucking need him, I could live with it.