The Second Coming || Guns N Roses, Bon Jovi, David Bowie

The Second Coming: Sixteen

My stomach quivered uncontrollably. My hands were jittering at my sides, my fingers were chronically restless.

"Why didn't you warn me about this?" I hissed to Axl for the umpteenth time, glaring at him, "I mean, how hard is it to casually mention to someone that they have to appear on television for a goddamned press conference?"

He stood beside me with an irritated expression. "I dunno, I figured it wouldn't be a big deal, given the fact that you told the entire world that Paul Stanley is God on national television last night."

My cheeks were red hot. "You saw that?"

"Lighten up Cal," Stevie chirped, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "It's no big deal, it's kinda fun actually, and real chill. And you're right, Paul Stanley is definitely God."

Duff rolled his eyes. "You only think it's chill because no one ever asks you any fuckin' questions."

Stevie squinted at him, nodding slightly. "If you were out to hurt my feelings, consider it done."

"You shouldn't even be here anyway," Slash muttered, lighting a cigarette. He was just as ornery as I'd expected him to be, if not more.

"Aw, poor little Saul. Do you need a fucking tampon?" Axl snapped, I could tell he wasn't in the mood for bullshit.

"Fuck off," Slash replied sourly, and turned in a different direction.

"Fucking prick." Axl frowned.

I sighed and looked at Stevie, who still had his arm around me. "See what I cause here?"

"Aw, don't take that personal, Callie. Slash is just a dick most times, unless he's drunk. He's got a bit of an outer shell, you know? He'll warm up to you eventually."

I knew that. We used to be friends.

"Time to go on," Axl yawned, running a hand through his unbrushed hair. He started toward the table that was set up in the corner of the room, they'd just begun to let fans in through a big set of double doors.

"But I don't wanna," I whined, and of course Axl didn't care.

"The show must go on," Stevie grinned and tugged on my arm. When I didn't follow he shrugged and went after Axl.

Slash brushed past me without a word.

Duff tucked his notebook away (that was a rare occurrence), staring back at me with a somewhat apologetic expression.

"Gotta get this over with, girlie."

"But I-"

"Come on." He clamped his long and skinny fingers around my wrist and pulled me toward the table, covered in MTV's logo. There were five places set, each with it's own chair, microphone, and complementary water bottle.

There was a wall of police officers between us and the fans, and in front of them were the cameras, perfectly positioned in front of the table. I could tell there was turmoil going on amongst the young adults who'd somehow scored admission to this event, there was a common theme. Where's Izzy?

By the time I reached the table the only spot left was beside Axl. He had to have done that on purpose.

My palms broke out into a cold sweat as I sank down into the seat, shielding my eyes from the lights. The fans suddenly fell dead quiet, nothing but the shuffling of feet and an occasional cough.

"God, those lights are bright," I complained, realizing with a jolt that all four of them were wearing sunglasses. I thought they wore them indoors all the time just to be cool, but in that moment I finally understood.