Saving Motley Crue

Chapter Three- Hanging out with Tommy-freakin-Lee in '80s LA

"I'm not doing anything with you that you wouldn't do with Athena."

"Well, she's not from the future- and I want to see if you really are. Take me somewhere and predict something that happens today."

Dread settled in the pit of my stomach as my brain came up blank, but I shook my head with an amused grin nonetheless as I tried to push Tommy back into the kitchen. A strange feeling entered me as I became acutely aware of my hands on his back-the realization that they were just flesh and blood hit me again- it was mind bending when before today they existed only as a memory.

Oh, this wasn't good . . . I was getting even more attached to them.

Once inside, the pungent smell of alcohol and my high school brother's sweaty gym socks interrupted my thoughts. Crinkling my nose, I turned to Tommy. "Has it smelled like this the whole time?"

"What are you talking about? I don't smell anything."

"Of course you don't." I pushed ahead of him and jerked open the door to step out of the apartment and into the hallway. As I began to walk towards the staircase, an uneasiness washed over me that made me break into a cold sweat. Despite Motley's apartment being seriously run down and dingy, I hadn't felt unsafe because they were with me. At that thought, I practically laughed out loud at myself- I should have been afraid because they were with me. But now that I was in the eerily lit, apartment complex stairway that reeked of urine and only God knew what else, I realized that this was truly not a safe place for me to be. However, I kept overlooking the fact that the type of people who were making me feel unsafe here, drug dealers and hookers, were exactly the type of people Motley Crue hung around.

Footsteps from a few flights below echoed cavernously up the stairwell, and with breath hitching in my throat, I glimpsed a dishevelled man making his way up.

Without even thinking, only moving swiftly with the fear-based adrenaline suddenly pumping through my veins, I whirled around and ran back up the stairs until I returned to Tommy, who was only a few steps behind me, and tightly linked my arm in his.

"What's wrong? Are you scared or something?" Tommy noticed the man coming up the stairwell and smiled. "Why are girls always like this? Not everyone's a serial killer, y'know. Why aren't you scared of me, then?" The joking tone in his voice disappeared, and I could feel him stiffen as he muttered more to himself than me, "You don't know what I've done . . . "

I pressed my lips together into a thin, white line, memories surging through me of the horrific things people like him were forced to do to others- to children. "I think I do . . ." I murmured sorrowfully before stopping in my tracks to gaze up at Tommy soberly.

"Why'd you stop? I thought you wanted to get out of here." Tommy said, brushing off what he had mentioned before as if everything was normal. But I felt I had to say something, even if he didn't understand right away. "Tommy. You know you don't have to be defined by what you've done in the past . . . even if you've done things- very bad things- you can turn from them. You can start over."

I searched his eyes for any sign of understanding, but all I could tell was that he was really struggling with something. Tommy abruptly stepped away with a strange look. "I've got to make a call. Stay here, I'll be right back."

He sped off, and I was left halfway down the stairwell, bitterly disappointed and truly puzzled by his reaction.

Biting my lip, I sank into a sitting position where I had stopped on the stairs, resting my chin on my fist. This was going to be very hard. I mean, what did I have to do to reach them? Be a stripper or something? I just didn't know what to think . . .

Tommy appeared about a minute later, cheeks flushed from going up and down the stairs, and with a bright grin on his face. Immediately I frowned. Well this was definitely not the glowering, tormented Tommy who was ignoring me a minute ago.

"Who'd ya call?" I offered a very small smile so I didn't sound so much like his mother or someone trying to interrogate him. Tommy just beckoned for me to start walking towards the exit before saying innocently, "No one- say, you didn't predict anything yet."

I didn't answer, and just walked warily beside him. Then it dawned on me, and I almost cursed aloud. White Alice Programming, of course. "Instincts" drove him to call his handler as soon as he started hearing the voice from the other side. The sooner I could get him to cut ties with the music industry, the better.

"So, what did you come up with?"

"Huh?" I blinked, only now realizing that we were roaming the streets of LA. For a moment I was rendered speechless; it was like I was in a movie. Gleaming buildings peeked above each other in eerie succession the farther my gaze extended, ending finally in shrub-covered mountains. The cars slowly inching their way through traffic were truly authentic 70s and 80s cars, and I couldn't help marvelling at them as Tommy guided me confidently along the sidewalk. I had only been to LA once in the future, and I could say confidently that what I was seeing now was going to be stripped almost entirely of its native beauty and charm.

"Did you figure out what you were going to predict yet?"

"Oh, um . . . "I tore my gaze away from the surroundings and back to Tommy, who looked entirely too happy for me to feel comfortable with what he was planning for us. "Well, this is the best I can think of now- what's the name you're planning to use for your next album?"

Tommy shook his head resolutely. "Shouldn't you be telling me?"

"Alright, alright. It's Shout at the Devil." Surprise widened Tommy's eyes, but then he smirked victoriously, "Not quite, future freak. Nikki's naming it-" I cut him off when I remembered the full story, "Yeah, yeah, Shout with the devil- you just wait and see, Zutaut's gonna change it to Shout at the Devil."

Relief washed over Tommy's face as I said that. "Man, I'd hoped someone would changed Nikki's mind. What a crazy title!"