Not In This Lifetime

ain't it fun ~ guns n' roses

      "So you're not related to Duff McKagan?" Sebastian Bach asks me for the sixth time, his brown eyes wide and panicked.

      "Nope." I answer, also for the sixth time.

      "I swear you look just like him!

      "I'm definitely not. My mom hates his guts. Well, not his in particular, but any rock musician."

      "So she would hate me?"

      "Uh, yeah. She in particular hates Skid Row, Guns N'Roses, and lately she hates Mötley Crüe too. Oh, and AC/DC."

      "Well damn. She doesn't sound like much fun. I'm gonna assume she doesn't know you're here."

      "She doesn't. She's at home, prolly looking for contraband cigarettes."

      "You smoke?" Sebastian raises an eyebrow.

      "Yeah."

      "You smell like alcohol too. How old are you?"

      "22." I lie.

      "No you aren't."

      "How do you know?" I scrunch up my nose.

      "I was just like you when I was young."

      "Then you got no room to be criticizing me."

      "You're right, with all the shit I've gotten myself into..."

      "I'm 16, if you really wanna know."

      "Hudson...weird question but...what's your mom's name?"

      "What the fuck?"

      "You just really look like two people I know-used to know-and they had sex once...and if my memory serves me, it's been about 16 years ago."

      "My mom's name is Ally, my dad's not around."

      "Oh." Sebastian frowns. "You're sure her name's not Frankie?"

      "Yes."

      "And you're very sure you're not related to Duff McKagan."

      "Yes! My dad died, okay? I don't remember it, but Mom says he was a druggie and an alcoholic."

      "Oh."

      "You ask a lot of questions." I mutter. Sebastian Bach is exactly the way I imagined him to be: a literal five year old child.

      "I'm sorry, I try not to but I'm curious!"

      "It's all good." I smile. "I never knew him anyway. And my mom's a bitch, to be honest."

      "You're gonna get in trouble for being here, aren't you?"

      "Yeah. What the fuck ever."

      "That attitude is gonna get you in trouble one day." Sebastian warns me.

      "It already does." I sigh. "I don't even care anymore."

      "Hey." Sebastian frowns. "Are you good? Like, are you okay?"

      "Actually? No."

      "Why?"

      "I dunno. I'm just, y'know, not okay."

      "I understand. Do trust me?"

      "Oddly enough, yeah. Which is surprising since I have trust issues and I've only known you for half an hour."

      "Here's my number, call me if you need a father figure or an adult that you trust."

      "Wow. Okay. Thanks."

      "Anytime, kid." Sebastian slaps me on the back and I stand up to leave.

      "Wait. How'd you know I don't trust my mom?"

      "I could just tell. Now get going, maybe you can make it home before your mom figures out where you've been."

      "Thanks, Sebastian!" I walk out of the backstage room, finding Willow outside on the floor, headphones in. She opted not to come inside, due to a sudden bout of nerves.

      "Let's go." She stands up and we walk out of the bar. She gets in her car, I get in mine, and we go our separate ways, with promises to call and hang out soon. I floor it to my house, hoping mom doesn't interrogate me as soon as I walk in the door.

      I make it three steps inside before she comes at me.

      "Where have you been? Have you realized how late it is? Why do you smell like smoke and alcohol? What's on your shirt? Why couldn't I track your phone? What is going on with your hair? Why are you wearing eyeliner? Why is there duct tape on your shoe? IS THAT A GUNS N' ROSES SHIRT??"

      "Whoa, Mom, slow down. Lemme take these one at a time. I was out, I know it's late, I don't smell like alcohol, but my friend's older brother smokes, I think that might be marinara sauce on my shirt, my phone isn't working because I don't have any storage left, my hair looks exactly like it always does, I'm wearing eyeliner because I want to, my shoes are worn out and I fixed them, and yes, this is very much a Guns N' Roses shirt."

      "You're grounded."

      "Why?"

      "One, you broke the curfew. Two, you definitely smell like alcohol. Three, eyeliner. We had a conversation last week about eyeliner. And four, I've told you a million times that Guns N'Roses is banned in this house."

      "Mom! That's not fair!"

      "Life's not fair."

      "Fuck you!" I shout, and stomp up the stairs. I slam the door, dig my contraband copy of Alice Cooper's Trash out from under the mattress, and stick it in the CD player. I lock my door and crank Why Trust You as loud as it will go. Too loud to hear mom yelling at me, too loud for my angry thoughts, too loud for anything. Alice is one of my favorites lately, and one of my mom's least favorites. At this point, I think she just tries to hate anything I like.

      Mom is banging on my door.

      "Go away!"

      "Turn it down!"

      "Make me!"

      "Hudson, please!"

      "No!"

      "I need to talk to you!"

      "Shoulda thought about that before you pointed out everything that was wrong about me!"

      She leaves, eventually, and I pull out my phone and put Sebastian's number in my contacts. Who knew? I go out to buy a tape and end up meeting Sebastian fucking Bach. Wow. Fuckin' nuts.

      "Hudson?" I hear Mom say, "I'm going over to Ms. Tierhune's house, she asked me to feed her cats and water the plants while she's on vacation. Please try not to get in trouble."

       "Okay!" I scramble down the stairs as soon as I hear her car leave. I gotta find my missing CDs. I bet she put them in her closet, that's where she usually hides stuff.

      The light is burnt out, so I use my phone flashlight to dig around. I find Skid Row first, shoved under a pile of shirts. Then, I search further for Appetite. I can't seem to find it.

      "Maybe it's in this shoebox." I mutter, opening the lid.

      "The fuck..?"

I'm sorry, y'all, I took forever and that chapter was all over the place. It sucked all the way around. Phat oof. Ugh.