Deanna • Duff McKagan

Chapter Nineteen • Becoming A Problem

July 26th, 1985

"Alright, wake up!" I exclaim, shoving Slash's feet off of the glass coffee table in my living room. The living room is filled with people, all passed out, the clock on the wall reading two in the afternoon.

Slash is laying on one side of the couch, his head leaning on the arm. There's a naked girl spread across the couch next to him, her feet slung across his lap. Steven is quite literally underneath the coffee table, how he got there unbeknownst to me. Axl is on the island separating the kitchen to the living room, a bottle of Nightrain clutched in his hand as he sleeps. Then there's four girls spread out at random places in the living room, all in seemingly uncomfortable positions.

I slide open the door to the balcony, revealing Izzy and Duff watching the street below. "Hey, you guys ready for the show at The Seance?"

"Surprised you can still keep our show dates together," Duff scoffs, taking a drag from his cigarette while avoiding eye contact with me.

I scoff, rolling my eyes at the blonde boy who has since stopped sharing my bed. "Yeah, and I'm surprised you don't have lung cancer," I snatch the cigarette from his lips, taking a drag before tossing it off the balcony. "I fucking hate Newport's," I explain. "Show is in an hour and Slash won't wake the fuck up. Deal with it."

Duff ignores my words, sliding open the glass door and entering my apartment, slamming the door behind him. "He's really worried about you, ya know," Izzy states, not moving his gaze from the city streets beneath him.

"Hypocrites, all of you," I shake my head. "It's not like any of you could pass a drug test either, Isbell, you're a goddamn dealer for Christ's sake."

"A dealer never samples his supply," a part of me really connected with the man known as Izzy Stradlin, while the other part of me really didn't know how to read him. He was definitely confusing, that's for sure. I don't know if I'll ever be able to understand him.

"Slash is up," I look over to the door revealing Steven, visibly high, leaning against the wall to keep from falling over.

"God dammit," I yell, catching the attention of the band and the various strangers lounging around my house. "You guys have a gig in an hour, sober the fuck up!"

•••

Needless to say, they did not sober the fuck up, and it definitely showed in tonight's gig at The Seance. Slash is practically falling over, a bit slow on hitting the chords, but somehow hitting them correctly. Now that's what I call a functioning alcoholic.

Maybe I'm on drugs, sure, but at least I take this band seriously, unlike the members that are in it. "What the fuck is your problem?" I exclaim to the five band members backstage, pacing in the dressing room. "You know how hard it's going to be to get you another gig after this?"

"Can you put the needle down long enough to do that?" My eyes snap up to Duff, and within seconds I pick up the vase of dead flowers from the scratched up coffee table, throwing the water into his face.

His eyes widen as he realizes what had just happened, quickly standing up from the leather couch of The Seance and storming over to me. Sure, he towers over me and could easily take me down, but unlike the other members of this band, Duff doesn't have the balls to do it.

"The fuck was that for," he grumbles, glaring down at me. The makeup he applied before the show runs down his face, his hair now damp and not as volumed from the Aquanet as it was before.

"You made me mad," he stares at me, not responding to my words. The other band members fall quiet, watching this scene unfold before them.

"Oh, would you two just fuck already!" Axl groans, throwing his back. He sits in a folding metal chair, leaning against the back wall of the dressing room. "We're all sick of this old married couple shit."

My eyes flicker before turning back to Duff. "I'm down if you're down," I shrug, a smirk apparent on my face. I know that I have Duff McKagan wrapped around my finger, I just have to give him initiative to do what I ask.

Duff glares at me for a split second before his lips are on mine, tossing me onto the empty couch on the other side of the room. So, he's going to fuck me right in front of his band mates? Kinky.

He pulls my shorts down my legs a bit, following with his own leather pants. "Get out," he groans as he pushes himself inside me.

"But come on, I want the free show," something about the smirk on Axl's face just pisses me off.

"Show ain't free," I scoff, pulling off Duff's t-shirt as the guys reluctantly file out of the dressing room. Once they're gone, Duff presses his lips against mine sloppily, in a heat of the moment kiss that has more passion than I have ever experienced with anybody.

It isn't long before the two of us are completely naked, the tall blonde thrusting into me like it's the only thing he lives for. Before this moment in time, Duff and I have only had sex once, and now I'm here questioning why exactly that was.

"Fuck," I groan out, digging my fingernails into the skin on his back, most definitely leaving a mark.

Duff leans down, pressing his lips to my neck gently before biting down on the skin hard. I guess we're both marking each other up today.

It isn't long before I could feel the familiar feeling coming up from deep inside of me, digging my nails in deeper with every second that passed. Maybe fucking Duff should be my newest addiction.