Dear Diary, Something Finally Happened Today (Nikki Sixx)

Dear Diary, Today Was Pretty Great

Becky's POV:

I find it in my heart to forgive Nikki for what he'd said to me last night. I know he's like that after all, all angst and anger and middle fingers to the sky. I have a free moment alone though, so I write something in my diary.

Dear Diary, 
Someone tried to attack me last night. Yikes.
Nikki came to my rescue, but he got hurt.
When I tried to help him, he lashed out at me.
He hit me so hard there's a bruise there now.
The fangirl in me is honored and never wants
it to heal. The human inside of me says I should
run away from him.  I don't care though. It's 
alright. Note to self: Never wear revealing 
clothing in 1983.
Sincerely,
Becky
P.S. I think that date's supposed to happen today.
Wonder if Nikki'll call it off because of hurting me
or being mad at me or some bullshit excuse
like that.

I close the diary and put my pen back inside of it. "Nasty bruise you've got there," Mick says, pointing out the purple and yellow mark on my arm. "Where'd you get it?"

"Someone tried to grope me last night. When I tried to fight him off, he hit me back," I lie. 

"So then what Tommy's told me is a lie? Nikki didn't hit you?" He raises and eyebrow. He proceeds to sit down, which looks like a particularly painful process for him. When I don't respond, Mick nods knowingly. "I know him better than you do. What'd you say to piss him off so bad?"

"I guess I just....spoke for him."

"That's where you went wrong. Never tell him that you know who he is."

"How'd Tommy know?"

"Nikki tells that kid everything." A small smile appears on Mick's face. "They're the terror twins."

"I should've known," I laugh dryly. 

"If it's of any consolation, Vince probably doesn't know. I'm sure he'll buy your story and go beat up that guy for you."

"Oh, the story's kind of true," I confess.

"I know. Your knight in glistening leather is Sixx." He snorts. "I can't think of a less appropriate title for our bass player." 

"He told you that, too?" 

"Oh, Nikki told everyone. I think he just wanted to brag..." His voice fades off. Something about wishing he could've saved someone and be their knight in shining leather. I feel bad for Mick in that moment. 

"You'll find someone," I assure him. 

"I wish I had your optimism." He closes his eyes. 

"How could you DO THAT?!" Vince demands. "Why would you do that to her?!" He's storming around, Nikki hot on his heels. The singer grabs my arm and takes a close look at the bruise. "That's horrible! It's must've hurt so bad!"

"She's fine," Nikki answers for me. "She could've had so much worse done to her if I wasn't there..." He grumbles the last part, but I can still hear it just fine. 

"But you hurt her anyways!" Vince is livid, I can tell. 

"It's not bad," I reply, trying to ease the tensions. After all, my father had done a lot worse to my mother when he was blackout... "It barely even- ow ow ow! Stop touching it you bastard!" I cry, pulling away from Vince. 

Mick tries to help me, too. "Just get away from him," He tells Vince. He begins to steer Vince away from Nikki, telling him something that I just can't quite make out. 

"Is it really that bad?" Nikki asks, going to look at the bruise himself. 

"I've seen worse," I reply under my breath. 

"Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"You should be."

"I can't be."

"Why not?"

"The same reason I can't hate my father, Nikki. I just can't be mad at you."

"What reason is that?" He crosses his arms. 

"I can't say for sure because I don't know the answer. But I can say it could just be that there's something wrong with my brain. It's attracted to evil and repulsed by good." 

"Never would've guessed," He laughs. "So if you're not mad at me, then you still wanna go through with that date I promised you?"

"Yes."

"Do you like motorcycles?"

"I rode one once. It wasn't so bad. Why?" A smile appears on his face while he takes my hand, not answering. 

In presentation, Nikki spreads his arms while he shows me his Harley. The more he tells me about it, the more excited he gets. His happiness is contagious, so I can't help but smile as he explains the workings of a vehicle in words I can't understand. When he finally stops, he sits on the bike and gets the engine going. The roar is so loud it's got to be illegal. I cover my ears, screaming something about helmets. Nikki laughs, somehow able to hear me. He grabs my forearm and pulls me towards him. Eventually, I figure out that there will never be any safety precautions with any members of Mötley Crüe, and sit down behind him. When the bike begins to move, accelerating underneath of me, I cling onto Nikki for dear life, burying my face into the back of his shirt. (I'll admit it, I'm terrified.)

The bike stops at a red light somewhere, and I let myself look up for a moment, still not loosening my grip on Nikki. It takes me a while to remember that we're in Hollywood. And he took me to the Sunset Strip. The light turns green and Nikki flies off, cutting off cars and driving down the center of the road, nearly burning me on the sides of moving vehicles on either side of us. Though still terrifying, it's a little thrilling. I allow myself to relax a little bit, allowing for Nikki to breathe. He heads for a curb, aiming to parallel park. He does a shitty job, but doesn't try to fix it at all. "Welcome to the Rainbow," He tells me, voice louder than usual. I'd imagined that, like me, he'd been a little deafened by the motorcycle. 

"I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO GO HERE," I reply, shouting. 

"You don't have to shout," He says. "I can hear you just fine."

"WHAT?  I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" 

Nikki covers his mouth, trying desperately not to guffaw. Then he points to his ear and gives a thumbs up. 

"Oh, you can hear me," I say, interpreting his actions. 

"I'm glad you like it, to be honest I'm not good with dates," He says approaching the building, even holding the door for me. I'm impressed by his gentleman-ly behavior. 

I'm taken aback by the inside of the Rainbow. I've never been here in my time, but to be here now, when everything's happening, it's like heaven. Nikki lets me stand there, taking it all in, for a moment longer before leading me to a table. We sit there talking about nothing and everything, as though we'd been together forever, until someone comes to the table and asks us what we'd like to have. Nikki orders Jack and Coke, while I order a Shirley Temple. After the person leaves, he turns on me. "You can drink," He encourages. "I'm driving, after all."

"As great as it sounds," I cringe, "that makes me wanna drink even less."

"Buzzed isn't wasted." He drums his fingers on the table. "But do whatever you want."

I never got to thank him for that day.