Deanna • Duff McKagan

Chapter Twenty Five • The Recovery

September 21st, 1985

Bruises. They cover my ribs as I lift up my shirt, giving myself a once in the full length mirror on the back of Haley's bedroom door.

"You okay?" Haley asks from where she lays across her bed, flipping through the latest issue of Cosmo. "It looks bad."

"Feels twice as bad," I grumble, pulling my shirt down over the bruises. "I could kill Duff for this."

"C'mon, you don't really mean that," I glare up at the skinny blonde rockstar leaning against the frame of the now open door. "Besides, you threw the first punch."

"I'm about to throw the first punch once again if you don't stop pissing me off," I scoff, pushing my way around him.

"Look, it's the scrapper," Izzy smirks, leaning against the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony.

"Oh, nice to know you're speaking to me again," I lightly punch him in the shoulder, running a hand through my hair. "I only had to get jumped for it to happen."

"Aw, good to know you were worried about whether or not we're on speaking terms," Izzy smirks as I glance around the room.

Surprisingly, there were only the people who live here in the apartment right now. For the first time in forever, none of the boys have brought home a random groupie that I'd end up fighting.

"No random bitches?" I question, raising my eyebrow curiously. "That's a first."

"Well," Axl scoffs, shaking just head. "None of them wanna come back here because they heard what happened last time Duff brought a bitch home."

"Good, they can stay the fuck away," Haley walks down the hallway, dropping herself onto Axl's lap. Instinctively, Axl wraps his arms around her waist, something I choose not to question. It's too early.

"Yo, Deanna," I turn back to look at Duff, who's eyes are gazing down at the carpet. "Wanna take a walk with me?"

Against my better judgement, I nod, walking away from the group of people and following him out the door. "What's this 'walk' for?" I ask as we head down the stairs of the apartment.

"I'm a dick," he shrugs, intertwining his fingers with mine. "I know it, you know it, everyone knows it. Should've never brought that whore home, because she's the reason you got jumped."

"You can't blame yourself," I look around the busy streets of West Hollywood, some familiar faces walking by. "I did snort her coke and steal her cash. But honestly, who just leaves their bag with that shit in it lying around? She's a dumbass."

"Yeah, she is pretty stupid," he chuckles as we walk past the Whiskey-A-Go-Go. "I cut things off with her after the fight."

"Good, if she ever comes in my house again, she'll be leaving in a body bag," I shrug, cars zooming past us as we travel down the sidewalks.

"Deanna," Duff comes to a stop, his fingers still intertwined with mine. "Tell me your story, I need to know your story."

"Tell me yours, Duff," I shrug, pulling my hand free from his. "I know nothing about you, other than you're from the Seattle area and you play the bass."

He shrugs, leaning against a concrete wall an artist called 'Morrissey' had drawn. I love graffiti, but this artist is more talented than anyone I've ever seen. Although, the identity of said artist is a well kept secret. "There's not much to tell, grew up in Seattle, youngest of eight kids. Always been called Duff, since I was a kid."

"How'd they come up with Duff?" I ask, taking a cigarette from my pack and lighting it up. "Pretty different nickname."

"I guess it's just an Irish thing," he bums a cigarette from me before continuing. "My parents got divorced, my mom starting working and my brother started teaching me how to play. I did pretty good in school, made honors and shit. But I dropped out, school didn't give me enough time to play music. After that, I got my GED while working until I finally made my way down here to LA."

"I'm positive there's a lot more to your story than that," I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Nobody's life is that simple."

"Mine is," he smirks, taking a drag of his cigarette. "It's your turn, Dee, what's your story?"

"You know it, McKagan," I lean my head back onto the concrete wall. "Daddy issues, mommy died, my dad remarried. Then my dad got that wife hooked on drugs. Step brother raped me-,"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Duff says immediately, staring at me with his eyes wide. "Stepbrother raped you? The fuck are you talking about?"

"Dylan, the one you met. Four years ago," every time I see Dylan, I feel like throwing up. Which is why I'm working twice as hard to be able to pay off my own bail, so I could step out from underneath Dylan's blackmail.

"And you just let us play a gig for him? What the fuck Deanna, we could've just come and kicked his ass." Duff shakes his head with the news of what had happened, and what I continue to have to deal with. "You know what, I am going to kick his ass!"

A/N: HEYYYYYYY GUYSSS. This is short, but I wanted to give y'all something. Since you last heard from me, I turned 21 and made the decision that I'm moving from a small New York farm town all the way to Pensacola, Florida in a little over a month 🤣 if any of you are from there let me know, because I could use some friends 😂