Buttered Popcorn

Chapter 23.5: June 24, 1987

Early into the hours of the morning, the band stumbled back into the apartment as they returned from their bar outing. Slash had gotten into a total of four fights between the three bar spots they went to, and Duff had gotten two separate strangers to cover his tab as the consequence of being beat in a drinking game. Some accused Duff of 'cheating' during these events due to his prior aptitude for getting absolutely wasted, but he found it completely fair and also as a great way to get free alcohol.

Slash was the first to see Jimmie passed out on the couch, one arm hanging limply on the floor where her loose fingers caressed the butt of a joint. The small patch of singed carpet beneath the tip suggested she had fallen asleep while smoking it.

Duff walked past his lead guitarist and went to Jimmie, beginning to haul her into his arms so he could place her in a bed. Axl joined in walking over so he could take Jimmie's spot. As the girl was picked up, the redhead frowned, "Jesus, she smells like liquor."

Izzy mumbled, "Take a look at yourself."

The band all dispersed through the apartment to find a comfortable corner to pass out in. After Duff placed Jimmie on a mattress, he left and Stevie entered. At this point, everyone assumed Steven and Jimmie slept together, no matter if they were actually 'sleeping together' or not. The blond took off his jeans and tucked himself under a thin blanket while wearing only boxers and a tank top.

The girl did smell like liquor, and her hair was even stale with smoke.

Steve almost felt a minuscule nausea in the deep of his stomach at this thought but excused it as his own drunkenness. He wrapped his arms around her warm figure, the cold tips of his fingers beginning to trace shapes on the flesh of her arm. He tried to allow himself to fall asleep, but found it difficult with the intoxicated smog surrounding Jimmie.

-

Half of the house had disappeared after she had woken up around 1 P.M.

Slash and Duff were the only ones accounted for- she saw them as she walked into the kitchen. Though her mouth was in desperate need of a glass of water, her migraine insinuated a cup of whiskey might do her some good to numb the headache and restart the cycle. She opted for the liquor again, but couldn't bring herself to pour the drink just yet. The smell would likely make her vomit if she did so soon.

"Morning, Sunshine." Slash mused while sipping on his own cup of whiskey mixed with a splash of black coffee.

Jimmie looked to him in acknowledgment but refrained from making any noise- the headache might have been getting worse.

"You alright?" As he asked the question, Duff reminded himself of her state last night. For some reason, when he sensed the stench of vodka on her, he couldn't seem to ignore it as he did when he himself smelled of the liquor.

Her voice allowed a small crack of a hum to escape as a response.

"Baby can't take her liquor." Slash mocked playfully, nudging her arm. "It's alright, Sport-O. A hangover is nothing a little alcohol can't fix." He began pouring a cup for the girl. As he finished and began to hand it to her, Duff intercepted it and brought it to his own lips instead. Really, he didn't even sip it, but he didn't want to encourage the inevitable disaster that was giving a hungover person more liquor. Hypocritical, sure, but something about Jimmie falling into their own bad habits made him feel queasy.

Jimmie also thought she might've been- was, probably- still high from how much of Izzy's weed she smoked last night, too. She vaguely planned to apologize for that, but he was nowhere to be found this morning. Oh, well.

Duff handed her another cup that was filled with tap water and she gulped down half of the cup within seconds.

"We're goin' out again tonight. Will you come this time?" Slash asked. Duff sort of wanted to hit his friend as a means of communicating 'dude, can't you see how fucked up she is?' The bassist's glare would prove to be insufficient, and the guitarist didn't get the hint, "We missed you last night."

"I dunno," Jimmie mumbled, "I'll think about it."

"Yeah, okay. I'm going for cigs." With that, Slash walked out of the house. Cup in hand, pants undone, and curls wild as ever, he walked out into the sunlight and out of sight.

"Jimmie, do you feel okay? You passed out last night."

She looked into the mundanity of the water in the plastic cup. "Yeah."

"Jimmie," He walked over and stood in front of her. She eventually looked to him, "Stay home tonight if you don't want to go. And don't let Slash suggest you any hangover tips anymore. Obviously he's not the best advisor."

She hardly chuckled (a win in itself, by Duff's hangover standards), but he was being entirely truthful. The boy had seen too many of his close friends fall to their knees during addiction, and he despised that possibility for Jimmie.

"I'm just tired."

She waited another moment before finally pulling her eyes away from the cup and yawned. "I think I might go sleep some more." Her hair was nearly messy as it fell down her back and across her frame. Duff thought it looked longer.

"Sure. Maybe I'll skip out tonight too." he said, now filling his own cup with water.

"Don't bother missing going out just 'cause I'm staying."

"Not sure I want to go anyway. Need some pizza and a movie every once in a while, y'know?"

Jimmie almost felt hungry at this mention, but it was quickly overrun with nausea. Within seconds, she was in the bathroom, hunched over an open toilet seat waiting for the sickness to pass. She couldn't recall the last time she had been so stricken from a night of drinking. Maybe in high school. With a vague memory of a similar feeling, she finally tossed up the sick into the toilet.

After rinsing her mouth and briefly contemplating falling asleep in the bathtub under a hot shower, she returned to the bed and fell into a sleep she had never known to be so comforting.