Book 4: My Hands Are Tied (Axl Rose FanFic)

Ch. 1: Tiger Woman

"Here's the thing about Axl. He demands emotion. 'Love me, hate me, but don't you fucking ignore me'. He will not tolerate a vacuum. " -Steven

"Been hidin' out
And layin' low.
It's nothing new to me.
Well you can always find a place to go
If you can keep your sanity!"

We were all piss and vinegar tonight, determined to impress Tom Zutaut, a rep from Geffen Records who was supposed to be scouting around for the next big band somewhere in the vicinity. I felt that it was the perfect chance to play our new song "Out Ta' Get Me" for the first time live, as it perfectly showcased our attitude and style: always pushing the envelope, always reckless.

The rest of the band had gotten hopped up on liquid (and powder) courage before the show, so we were truly at our very best. I had no doubt in my mind that if you were just another drunk bastard in the crowd, you wouldn't know that tonight was this song's debut! The brick-walled stage of the Troubadour had become like a second home to us over the last few months-not that we really had much of a real home to begin with-and it finally felt like we were beginning to come into our own.

Tonight was the night and, judging from the electricity in the air, I think we all could feel it. Like a storm gaining strength, charging up for something fierce, and my voice was the siren that was warning every one of the impending bedlam.

"They break down the doors
And they rape my rights but:
They won't touch me!
They scream and yell
And fight all night!
You can't tell me!
I lose my head,
I close my eyes.
They won't touch me!
'Cause I got somethin'
I been buildin' up inside
For so fuckin' loooong!"

The people were loving it. They were crammed into the wood-paneled showroom like sardines, yet still, drunk on booze and tunes, they managed to sway lazily along to the music. Whether they actually were listening or not, I couldn't always be sure. But they definitely fuckin' heard us. We always made damn sure of that.

"They're out ta get me!
They won't catch me!
I'm fucking innocent!
They won't break me!"

Slash, our guitarist, was to my left chugging away at his Warlock. He had a black fishnet shirt on and leather pants that he'd borrowed (more like stolen) from one of us. They might've been mine at one point, but then I likely stole them from Izzy, and Izzy probably swiped them from one of his girlfriends, who probably stole them from a store or from one of her friends, and so on and so forth. Did it even matter anymore? Duff-the bassist-was a towering, blond pillar on my right. He had on some strange red and black cloak type of thing that made him look like he was going to open it up at any moment and start selling everyone in the audience knock-off watches, and maybe suck their blood too. I couldn't talk though. I didn't have any sort of top on, save for a blue tie loosely wrapped around my neck: business in the front, party everywhere else. Izzy, on rhythm guitar, and Steven behind the drums were the only ones looking fairly normal tonight, clad in black from head to toe.

"Sometimes it's easy to forget where you're goin',
Sometimes it's harder to leave.
And every time you think you know just what you're doin',
That's when your troubles exceed!"

Together, our ragtag group of guys made up Guns N'Roses. As a whole, we were relatively new to the scene, but in our separate bits and pieces, we'd all already tried our luck in various other bands before finding each other. The last few months had been brutal as we tried to find our footing. If we weren't nearly dying in car accidents, we were waiting in soup kitchen lines to fend off starvation, or stealing from groupies to make enough cash to get a decent meal from Denny's. Sometimes we (mostly me) were even starting literal fist fights within the group over some dumb shit that had happened that day. I couldn't help it that I ran a tight ship. But hey, somehow, we were still kickin'...and punchin'.