Deanna • Duff McKagan

Chapter Thirty: Psychotic Bitch

December 21st, 1985.

"Alright, turn to your right," the Los Angeles Police Department deputy says. I roll my eyes, but follow his orders anyway. The bright flash of a camera blinds me as the police take their final picture, ready to book me into Orange County Jail.

This is not how I expected to spend my Christmas holiday.

24 Hours Earlier.
December 20th, 1985.

"Are you guys set on performing Nightrain tonight at Music Machine?" I ask the band, scribbling notes into my notebook. I have a lot of plans for this band, and my number one goal is to get them signed, sooner rather than later.

"Yeah, why?" Axl scoffs, glaring at me from where he stands across Andrea's living room. We've been here almost exactly a month, and it doesn't look like we're getting out any time soon. Poor Andrea.

"Because I like to know what's going on, that's why Axl." I sketch a quick drawing of a train, soon adding flames onto it. "No need for the attitude."

"Rock is a man's world, Deanna, the sooner you realize that, the easier this will be. We need a real manager," the redhead doesn't move his gaze from me, probably hoping he got a rise out of me.

"Dude, stop," Duff says, standing up straight and staring down at Axl. "Deanna is the best manager we've ever had, and we're lucky we got her. I don't think we'd accomplish as much as we have without her."

Axl chugs from a bottle of Jack before moving his stare back to me. "You're only saying that because you're fucking her, come on man, the pussy can't be that good."

December 21st, 1985.
"Alright, here," the deputy gives me a quarter, gesturing to the pay phone on the wall of the holding cell. "You get one phone call, maybe somebody could bail you out."

Who could I even call? I don't think anybody would bail me out after what happened, and they certainly wouldn't want to come visit me, or put my own hard earned money on my books.

I sigh, making an attempt to swallow my pride as I press the numbers on the keypad. Soon, someone answers the diner's phone, and I pause for a second. "Can I speak to Haley?"

The waitress on the other line calls for Haley, who comes to the phone. "Hi, this is Haley, how may I help you?"

"Haley.." I sigh, silently praying that she won't hang up on me. "It's Deanna. I really need your help."

"Deanna, I left because I couldn't be caught in the middle anymore, but something gives me the feeling that I'm going to be completely stuck in the middle." I almost feel guilty, for dragging Haley into it after she made it clear she didn't want to be, but I didn't have anybody else to call.

"Haley, please, just hear me out," she stops talking, and I take the opportunity to explain the dilemma to her. "I, uh, I stabbed Axl in the shoulder with a steak knife."

She gasps, and I could only imagine what her face looks like on the other side of the phone. "You what?"

"Okay, so don't get me wrong, he did deserve it... but I'm locked up, and they have a show tonight. There's no way in hell they can play the show without some sort of management, they aren't that leveled."

"Where do I need to go, Deanna?"

20 Hours Earlier.
December 20th, 1985.

"So, Mr. Rose fell on a knife?" The nurse questions, her eyebrow raised in suspicion.

I nod quickly, not knowing what else to say to the man sitting beside me in the hospital waiting room. "That's what I said, isn't it?"

Axl glances over at me, a knife sticking up from his shoulder. "Yeah, I fell," he states, moving to stare blankly in front of him. "The knife was just on the floor where I fell."

"Okay, the doctor will be in shortly," quickly, she rushes from the room.

"I'm sorry," I say, not meeting Axl's gaze. If he has to miss the show tonight, it would be my fault. Why couldn't I wait to stab him until tomorrow, since they didn't have another show for about two weeks?

"You don't have to lie," he says through gritted teeth, still not looking over at me. "I'm not going to eat on you for being a psychotic bitch."

As soon as those words left his mouth, the door burst open, the nurse returning to the room with police. "You have the right to remain silent," a cop starts, ripping me from my seat and throwing me face down on the examination table. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you. Do you understand these rights as they've been read to you?"

"Yes," I can hardly get out the words as they escort me out of the doctor's office, handcuffs fastened tightly to my wrists.

Fucking A.

December 21st, 1985.
Soon, the cops release me to Haley, after she pays my two hundred dollar bail. "You stabbed Axl?" She questions as we descend the steps of the courthouse.

"He provoked me," I shrug, not bothering to go into detail about what was said between Axl and I, that led to the stabbing. "Let's just say, it was pretty bad."

"How bad?" Haley stops, causing me to stop as well and try and listen to what she's saying. "Because I can't think of anything anybody could say to me that would make me want to stab them."

"That's because you haven't ever been on Axl Rose's bad side," I shake my head, shrugging my shoulders. "I do everything for him yet I can never manage to get on his good side."

"I'm not necessarily on Axl Rose's good side, Deanna, nowhere even near close."