"just call me angel of the morning,
just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby
just call me angel of the morning, (angel)
then slowly turn away
from me"•
thursday, june 8, 2017
It was the day of their first show lineup at the Troubadour, and the whole band, excluding Stevie and Izzy, were on their toes, trying to shake off their nerves.
They've done this before, yeah, but tonight was their own show.
"Duff, baby, breathe," Slash consoled his boyfriend, who was currently having a panic attack.
Duff nodded, letting Slash help him through his breathing. He calmed down enough, but he was still shaking.
"Here," Slash took the man's hands in his and pulled him up out of his seat. Duff smiled as Slash stood on his tiptoes to bring him into a loving kiss.
Izzy leaned against the wall, in the back room that the band was currently waiting in, smoking a cigarette and lightly strumming his guitar, tuning it to make sure he played correctly when it was time to go onstage.
Stevie was drinking whiskey and drumming on any surface possible: wall, table, floor, his leg, the dressing table, the mirror, Axl's arm, anywhere.
Axl, however, was quiet. He did some vocal warm-ups and hour or two ago, but he was really on the edge of his seat in anticipation.
He was scared, honestly.
Sure, he always stood out in a crowd -- pale skin, bright sea-green eyes, red hair, the big pointer — but this was something relatively new.
Their first show! They couldn't believe it!
Poison - which consisted of C.C. DeVille, Bret Michaels, Rikki Rockett, and Bobby Dall - were currently onstage and they were tearing it apart.
People loved them. They screamed and cheered and sang along to the songs they knew and screamed some more to the songs they didn't.
It'd only made Axl more anxious. Now, he didn't want the band to be like Poison, fuck no!
He wanted to be better! Wanted to sell out places like Madison Square Garden, Wembley Stadium, - or whatever was rebuilt in its place - their own concerts and tours, for God's sake!
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