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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

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Gateway Drug | Part Sixty

Words: 4K

Warning(s): Explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of violence

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"...Viv?!" Nikki's voice echoes through the house and I continue turning over everything in our bedroom for the fourth time tonight.

"What, babe?!" I reply, glancing at the clock to see it's only 1:30am.

"Look who I found!" He calls back and I let out a sigh of frustration in myself for not being able to find it, and I stand from the floor and step into our living room. "Yeah?"

I stop in my tracks at the sight of crooked teeth grinning widely at me, overzealous clothing adorning one...

"Andy!" I pipe.

"Vivian!" He enthusiastically exclaims, his accent wrapping around every syllable of my name.

He's swallowing me in a tight hug, laughing, before pulling away to cup my face with his ring-heavy fingers.

"You look a little tired." He tells me.

I put my hands on his cheeks, holding his face like he is mine, not skipping a beat as I say:

"You look a little sober."

His teeth show with his genuine grin and he chuckles.

"Because I am." He confirms my suspicion and happiness floods me.

"That's great, Andy, oh, God, that's great." I smile, the two of us breaking away from each other as Nikki clears his throat.

"What're you doing in L.A.?" I ask, ignoring Nikki scowling at the two of us.

"I'm thinking about moving here--thinking." He emphasizes on "thinking."

"Why just 'thinking'?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"It's so fuckin' loud, Vivian, it's so loud." He groans a little, rubbing his forehead. "I only like my music loud."

"Well, ye--"

"--Andy, c'mere." Nikki cuts in from our bedroom.

I hadn't even noticed he went in there.

"Coming." He says to him, the two of us heading to Nikki.

Once we step foot into the bedroom, my heart tightens in my chest as Nikki's standing at the closet door with it wide open, smirking.

"I wanna show you something." He tells him, motioning into the closet, that's completely pitched dark, looking like a sadistic carnie inviting a freshly sober Andy into his heroin hell.

"Nikki." I warn, glaring at him.

"Fuck off, Viv." Nikki states as Andy walks to him, curiously.

"Nikki--"

"He's a big boy, Vivian." Nikki cuts me short.

Ah, yes. Another thing Nikki took up as a form of entertaining himself: trying to get people to shoot up with him.

Didn't matter if they'd never done it before, had been sober for a couple months, or a couple years...it was a challenge in his eyes and he enjoyed it.

I rub my lips together nervously as Nikki waves me off and I let out a sigh, going to the kitchen.

It doesn't take long at all before Andy's walking into the kitchen, his brows furrowed and his eyes wild with confusion.

"Psst, V!" He whisper yells as I open my Pepsi and I look at him.

He gets closer to me.

"He's got a habit." He tells me, referring to Nikki.

I want to burst out into laughter.

A habit? No shit, Sherlock.

Which I can't blame, Andy. He has no idea the utter hell Nikki has been in and projected onto everyone else the past year.

But taking one look at Nikki's disgusting, strung out, hellacious closet-- filled with used needles, plastic lemons, cotton, pipes, burnt carpet, spoons, empty bottles and bodily fluid stains--is what made this man realize he's got a "habit"? Ray fucking Charles can see that Nikki's got a habit.

All anybody has to do is take one look at him at the end of the night...or just smell him.

Apparently I'm smiling because Andy's scolding me.

"That's not fucking funny, Vivian, what the hell are you laughing about?" He questions me.

"Me, and everybody else around him, is aware he's got a problem, Andy. Trust me." I assure him and he rolls his jaw.

"Then why aren't you doing a thing about it?"

"You know it doesn't work like that." I tell him, shaking my head.

"I wish it did." He admits, looking back at the kitchen door to make sure Nikki isn't there. "Look, I told him he has an issue and needs help, but I know the bastard won't listen. So I'm telling you." He points at me. "He's this close," he holds his thumb and pointer finger apart by barely the width of a single hair, "to being out."

"I know. Okay? I know. But I can't do anything. He won't listen, he won't listen to me, or Doc, or Bob Timmons, or his friends or--"

"--Why would he listen to his friends telling him to get help when they're all on the same bloody thing?" He asks me.

I raise a brow, realizing he's got a point. "Childhood, and friends, influence who we are." He states wisely. "I won't be back around here until he's laid his mess to rest." He adds.

"I understand." I assure him, the gears in my mind starting to turn as he heads to our front door and I follow him.

He turns to face me, kissing my cheek.

"Keep your head clear." He orders me, once again.

Oh, I was.

A week later, I'm still trying to figure out a way to talk to Nikki about sobering up before the tour, but I know he's one step ahead of me.

Dealers have been coming to the house less and less.

I grab my overnight bag from the passenger seat after coming back from staying the night with Sharise and Skylar, before stepping to the front door.

I turn my key in the lock and open it, immediately hit with the smell of a shitshow.

People are passed out from the foyer to the living room, spreading into the kitchen and more than likely the hallways.

Empty cups, glasses, bottles, syringes, bindles, baggies, cigarette packages, abandoned condom wrappers and full condoms, all litter my fucking house.

Broken dishes, stains on the carpet, cigarette burns on our furniture, broken picture frames that were accidentally knocked off the walls, and inevitably more damage to be determined, all greet me as I make my way through the house, trying to keep from panicking as vomit and exposed genitalia is nearly everywhere I step.

I open our bedroom to see naked strangers in our bed, and I step to the closet to see Nikki, passed out, a nearly naked Tansy beside him.

There weren't many times where Tansy wasn't nearly naked at that point.

I let out a breath, realizing I've spoken too soon on the state of Nikki's attempt to get off drugs.

I cross my arms and kick at Nikki's side with my boot until he's groaning awake.

"Is there any chance you found my ring last night?" I ask him, furrowing my brows, because his exact words before I left were "I'll look for your ring tonight, baby."

He let's out another incoherent grumble before his eyes are closing slowly.

"Okay." I reach my hand past him and grab his shotgun, making sure it's loaded as I go to the back door, opening it, standing out from under the shade area by the door, before firing into the air.

The racket tears through the house, startling people awake as I fire off three shots, and I come back into the house to see wide eyes and confused expressions.

"Get out!" I pipe, clapping my hands together repeatedly, kicking gently at people to herd them up and get them to the door.

Within fifteen minutes they're all scattered on the curb of the street outside our gate, and I'm locking my house and getting a good look at the hellhole.

Slash's girlfriend is stumbling out of our guest bedroom before rubbing her sleepy face and looking at me.

"He's messed the bed." She tells me, sleepy frustration in her voice.

"What?"

"Slash, he's messed the bed."

I don't know what she means by that, but when I walk in and see the puddle underneath him, I groan.

He wet the bed.

"I'll scrub the mattress, I promise." She assures me and I shake my head.

"I'm scrubbing it and mine, anyway, so don't worry about it." I tell her. "You do need to wake him up, though, alright? He's got rehearsal in a couple hours."

"Yeah, I'm already on it." She assures me. "Right after I puke my guts out." Her face pales and I scramble to grab a boot off the floor at our feet and she throws up into it as I hold her hair back.

"Viv?" Stevie asks tiredly from the couch, a naked girl passed out on top of him and I run a hand through my hair.

"Okay, how many of you are here?" I ask him.

"Him, Slash, and Duff." Slash's girlfriend replies after dry heaving some more.

"Duff?" I think I mishear her.

"Yeah?" His tired, hungover voice is asking me and I take a few steps into the living room seeing him shirtless, covered in lipstick marks, by the fireplace, passed out, two completely naked girls on either side of him.

When I'm standing over him, his eyes are slowly blinking open before closing again.

"Hey, Viv." He mumbles.

His bloodshot eyes are soon bugging open and he's sitting up so fast, he has to vomit, and he's accidentally spewing it all over girl number 1's torso, causing her to squeal out in disgust.

"I am so sorry, holy shit." Duff apologizes to her as I rush to grab some paper towels to help her clean herself up.

When I get back, he's helping her wipe off with his discarded t-shirt.

"You can use our shower." I tell her, helping her up, and she covers her exposed body the best she can as I lead her to mine and Nikki's bathroom.

When I get back in the living room, Steven's pulling his clothes on, and Duff's standing up, and they both have something in common.

"With all due respect, please put your bushes away." I say in reference to their pubes hanging out of their unzipped pants.

"Oh, sorry." Duff says, zipping his pants up.

"Gimme a second, Viv, alright, it's a process." Steven tells me. "If they get caught in my zipper--"

"--Got it, Stevie." I squeeze my eyes shut as I tell him.

"I'm gonna go get Nikki up an--"

"--Hey, I'm sorry about your mattress but, I didn't mean to." Slash slurs, his pants nowhere to be found and I keep my eyes closed the second I get an eyeful of everything down south.

I have seen too many penises in the past twenty minutes I am...I am..." I try to speak. "...I am...I am going to church. That's what I'm gonna do. And when I get back, I want the girls gone, I want Nikki and Tansy up, I want my guest bed mattress cleaned up, and I want the penises put away." I sigh out, going to my bedroom to get dressed. "Also, if any of you happen to find my wedding ring, I would appreciate it."

Duff ended up meeting me after church to apologize, which he really didn't have to.

There's a lot of stuff he's apologized for that he really didn't have to.

He just likes to keep peace and make sure there's no ill feelings left undisclosed.

He's always been that way.

"Duff, don't worry about it, alright?" I ask, stepping to my car.

"No, seriously, Viv, we helped trash your house and I'm sorry."

"Duff--"

"--And I-I know Nikki's got his shit he's struggling with and last night none of us tried to keep him out of trouble and it was just really shitty." He goes on.

"Duff, it's okay. I'm not mad." I tell him, honestly.

"Really?"

"Yes, now get to rehearsal before Axl shits a brick."

"I just came from rehearsal. He didn't show." He shrugs.

"He didn't what?" This catches my attention. "That's like the fifth time this single month."

"Well, it's just how he is. If everything isn't perfect, he just stays to himself until it is in his mind." He explains.

"But that's useless because everything gets to him."

"...Yeah, but, I mean, we're all use to it by now so it's really nothing. He does take it seriously, he really does. He just handles things the way he handles them is all."

"He just handles things the way he handles them" is something I'd hear repeatedly in the years to follow from everyone around Axl as he became more and more difficult.

He didn't make rehearsal? "That's just him."

He didn't make a show? "He's just going through some stuff."

He indirectly started a riot that hurt and killed fans? "He's trying, he really is."

The issue: all the "yes" men he had surrounding him that refused to argue or speak up against him.

And all the guys would just keep their mouths shut to avoid pulling the pin on the angry-Axl bomb.

I had to have an eye on me at all times when I was around him because I reached a point I'd just start fights with him--especially after Steven was kicked out--anytime he did something assholish, because Axl always went big or went home no matter what he did, and they'd sometimes get physical.

But unlike Nikki or Vince or Robbin or anyone else I'd hit over the years, Axl would hit back, and hit back hard.

We'd be as bad as drunk frat boys with everybody and anybody trying to get and keep us separated while Monroe would be in the next room oblivious that his mom and God-Father were going at it like a dog fight.

I found out later that, that big party was a "goodbye" to Nikki's smack addiction because he actually managed to get it together somewhat in the months to follow.

Nikki's gaining a tighter grip on my hand as Doc and Rich Fischer, the bands tour manager, go over the schedule for the tour with us.

"We will staying in the same location for about a week, and just traveling to the surrounding locations for the actual shows an--"

"--Woah, woah, woah," Tommy starts, "why?"

"You guys will have a jet so it'll just be easier that way instead of having to try to fly to a city that's just an hour away if we drive." Rich cuts in to explain.

Translation: if we travel city to city, you have a higher chance to get into trouble, whereas if we stay in the same city for several days at a time, you'll get bored with it quicker.

What actually happened: staying in the same location for so long just gave them more time to rack up dealers and figure out what places they shouldn't have gone, but went anyway and still get into plenty of trouble without Doc's knowledge.

"Now, we sent in the request to have your jet spray painted black with the naked chick on the side, but the best they could do was a half naked girl riding the bomb." Doc states next and Nikki groans like a child, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses.

"Tansy, you and Sparkie are gonna be tagging along, so we've already booked rooms for you guys, as well." Doc assures her and she nods.

"Thanks, Doc."

"And guys, since the past tours have been a little hectic because kids will come into the hotel or be at the shows and pick up on what you're up to or where you're at because they'll hear us say your names and they'll start tuning in, we've given everybody a number for security purposes." Fred adds, pulling a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. "1: Doc, 2: Me, 3: Rich, 4: Tansy, 5: Vince, 6: Nikki, 6½: Vivian, 7: Mick, and 00: Tommy. And Tommy, Vince, when Sharise or Heather is along with us we'll have Sharise set as 5½, and 00½, alright?"

"Sounds good." Vince nods.

"Dude, '00'." Tommy grins, happy with his code number before he turns to Mick. "We're 007, man." He nudges Mick in the arm. "Except instead of killing bad guys, we're killing pussy."

"Yes, because that's exactly what I'm known for." Mick replies sarcastically.

"I think it's cool." Tommy states.

"And that's all that matters, drummer." Mick assures him, his hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Does Sparkie get a number?" Tansy asks next.

"If he gets sought out and mauled, he gets sought out and mauled. There's nothing we can do." Nikki bluntly replies to her and everybody attempts not to chuckle.

"4½, Tans." Fred forces his laughter back to keep from hurting her feelings.

"Be nice." I say quietly to Nikki and he smirks.

"I am." He argues lightly.

"North America through November, then Japan until the end of December, then Europe at the start of '88, and back to North America in the Spring." Rich tells us. "Of course you'll have breaks in between, but that's that for the most part. We'll be on the road for almost a year. Any questions?"

They all stay quiet and he nods.

"Alright, I'll see you guys in a couple weeks and we'll head to Tucson." He assures us.

"Woo!" Tommy gives a couple of claps, a happy smile on his face as we all stand up to leave our meeting.

Once we get out in the parking lot of the office, he's nudging at my shoulder.

"Where we goin', Viv?" He asks me and I raise my brows.

"What do you mean, Tommy?"

"Tonight, remember? We've got a date." He adds.

"We do?"

"Yeah, I told you last week I wanted to hangout and you said tonight would be fine." He explains.

"Oh, yeah." I nod, glancing at Nikki. "Are you--"

"I'm meeting up with Steven anyway, babe, you go." He rubs his jaw and I look at Tommy.

"So, what do you wanna do?" He asks next and I raise my brows.

"Umm..."

Within a few minutes we're sitting in my car, listening to "Space Truckin'" by Deep purple, eating icecream while he rambles on about his love life.

"And I love her, Viv, I really do, ya know? But she doesn't take in to consideration my feelings and how I feel about stuff. It's bullshit."

I gasp dramatically, sarcastically.

"You mean, Heatherland isn't as fun as advertised? Oh, no. How terrible."

"Ha ha, Viv, funny, but I'm being serious." He states. "Like, right now. We're in a rut."

"What kind of rut?"

"Like...okay, we love each other. I know we do. But I don't feel like I'm in love with her anymore."

"Tommy that's normal." I tell him. "If you're with the same person, you're gonna eventually feel like that. It doesn't mean you aren't in love with her, it just means you're out of the honeymoon phase." I shrug. "Do you still like her?"

"Of course." He tells me.

"Then you're fine. When you stop liking her, is when you may need to talk about some stuff. Also," I take another bite of icecream, "sleeping with other women probably isn't helping anything so I'd stop that, too, if I were you."

He doesn't say anything before letting out a breath.

"I know I shouldn't do it, but, Viv, it's not like it really means anything, really. It's just a pastime, ya know?"

"Tommy, Chess is a pastime. Girls aren't, when you're married." I explain.

"Well, you don't really get it, Viv." He shrugs.

"Agree to disagree." I mumble, taking another bite of dessert.

A long moment of quiet passes before he chuckles a little to himself.

"What?" I ask him and he shakes his head a little.

"Just remembering the look of horror on your mom's face when she came and found us after she found out I was in Mötley Crüe." He explains and I also remember how terrified she was, and start laughing.

"We had to hid Nikki under the table at the Rainbow when we saw her car pull up." I recall.

"She was so freaked out, dude. I thought her mouth was gonna start foaming."

"Then you freaked out when she started speaking in tongues."

"Oh, she was? I just thought she was so pissed she forgot how to talk."

We're both almost wheezing at this point.

"Viv?" He says when he calms down and I raise my brows and look at him.

"Yeah?"

"I miss being close like we use to be." He admits. "And I know we stopped hanging out for a while after I got married but that's partly my fault, too."

"It's mine, too, Tommy." I assure him. "And I'm sorry I haven't really tried to spend time with you one-on-one after Nikki and I got married."

"I was upset at first, but now that Heather and me are married, I get that sometimes you gotta prioritize."

"Yeah, you do." I finish my icecream.

"Especially when you start having kids." He adds and I try to play off the spiking of my nerves.

"You guys want kids, right? I mean, you were both pretty ready for it when you thought you were pregnant that one time right after you got married."

"I'm waiting for Nikki to get it together before we try for any." I say.

"He told me he's gotten off Methadone and he's holding up pretty good."

"He is." I confirm. "He's doing good."

It wasn't a lie. Nikki had finally given up on trying to fix his problem himself and asked Bob for help.

He got in on a Methadone program and got off of it as soon as he could to avoid getting hooked on it, too. He still drank and snorted a little coke, but he went weeks without touching junk or smoking crack.

I really should have told him more than I did, how proud I was of him.

I also should have told him I experienced disappearing twin syndrome before miscarrying altogether, and every single one before that, but it would have knocked him off his sobriety in a heartbeat.

I planned on telling him, I just didn't know when or how, but I knew I wanted to wait until he was at least a year sober.

It obviously didn't turn out like that.

I drop Tommy off back at the office to grab his bike before I head home to see Vanity sitting on the front steps by the door.

"Is Nikki not with you?" She asks me.

"Um, no, I think he went to meet Steven." I explain to her.

"Oh...well, do you know where they may be?"

I open the door and sigh out, turning to face her.

"Vanity, Nikki's doing well. He's got his shit together for the most part and I don't think it would be a good idea to be around him if you're just going to bring him back down to where he use to be." I tell her.

Her soft smile falls.

"I'm really not trying to offend you. You're my friend and I love you but that stuff isn't good for you and maybe you should follow Nikki's example. I mean, if he can do it, almost anybody can."

"You don't get it, do you?" She asks me and I furrow my brows. "I'm not the one causing him to do any of it, Viv. You are."

"What?" I furrow my brows.

"You have a tumultuous relationship and it makes him want to escape." She explains.

"Vanity, you don't know a thing about our relationship so don't go there."

"I know what he tells me."

"What Nikki tells you, or what who he is when he's stoned, tells you? Because Nikki takes responsibility for his shit. Who he is when he's strung out, avoids it at all cost and just points his finger at everybody else." I state.

"I know all I need to know simply based off how he acts when you aren't around." She insists.

"And how exactly does he act, Vanity?" I start to lose my patience, taking a step toward her.

"Like. Himself." She says through a clenched jaw.

"You don't know him like you think you do." I tell her, shaking my head.

"And neither do you." She guarantees.

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #gateway drug

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