Hell On High Heels | Mötley Crüe

Chapter 7: Revenge

It turns out that jail is freezing. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised, after all, it's the not like the authorities are really concerned about inmates being uncomfortable. And maybe that was their business, but I sure as hell didn't appreciate it. The cold bit into my skin like the regret that pulsed through me. I glanced over at the two people sitting next to me. One clearly did not give a damn that we were sitting in jail and the other ones head was resting on my shoulder as he took a nap. As if this was the appropriate time for that. I looked around at my unconcerned partners in crime and sighed. At least I wasn't alone.

7 Hours Earlier:

We don't always get to choose our families, or in my case, choose what they think of you. My father, for instance, is a perfect example. To put it lightly, he didn't approve of many of my more interesting decisions back then. But this didn't stop us from being a family at the end of the day.

Until it did.

I cringed as the memory of the fight came back, the words I had said with such cruelty. The disappoint in his eyes.

Maybe it was these past few sudden (and let's be real here, irrational) life changes had made me long for simpler times that made me reach out. Or maybe it was because I just missed him. I was pacing before I even finished dialing the number.

Each ring earned another pace around the side of the bed. Finally, the sound of the call connecting sound through the plastic phone I held in my hands.

"Dad?" I spoke, my voice betraying the unease that surged through me. It had been 2 years since I had spoken to my family. And while I had always convinced myself that that wasn't that bad, those years now felt like a void. I allowed my mind to stray. Had my father gotten more grey hairs speckled throughout his sandy blonde ones? Had my sister grown another inch? 2 even?

"Hello?" Spoke the other end of the phone. Even though it may have been years of silence, just one word of his familiar gruff voice sent me back to my childhood in an instant. The scent of freshly cut watermelon wafting through the kitchen. The feeling of warm sheets after being tucked in and the low rumble of Elvis's voice playing softly in the background. The sudden blast of nostalgia hit me like a tidal wave.

"It's me." I spoke, my voice just barely above a whisper. I was met with silence from the other end of the phone.

I started nervously playing the the cord to the phone, wrapping and unwrapping the spiral cord around my fingers. I was standing, well no-scratch that-more like pacing in the large white hotel room Tommy and I shared. It's abundance of pearly white decor was almost blinding in the midday sun that shone brightly through the tall windows. Deciding that even I was annoyed by my pacing, I sat down on the ruffled ivory sheets of the hotels bed.

Finally, a voice spoke from the other end of the phone in a sigh. "Rebecca, I was wondering when you were going to call." The corner of my mouth lifted along with the anxieties that had plagued me for so long.

"And what makes you so sure I was going to?"

"Oh sweetie," He laughed his hearty chuckle I had missed so much. "You wouldn't be you if you didn't."

We talked for almost an hour and I was surprised to find out how eager I was to learn about everything I had missed. We also made plans for me to visit at some point.

I had just set the phone down when the sounds of keys turning in locks came tough the door and Tommy appeared in front of me. His breathing was rugged from running and his eyes looked wild.

"I can't believe fuckin' him! Sixx just told me what happened last night! I'm going to kill him for kicking you out! You-you could have gotten hurt, or lost, or anything!" He yelled. His booming voice echoing in the same white hotel room.