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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

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Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-One

Table of Content or Part Fifty

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Word count: 4.6K

Warning(s): explicit language, drug abuse, minor sexual situations, violence

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My stomach aches with laughter as Duff delivers his punchline of his joke, my hands coming up to cover my mouth as I try to chew my fried mozzarella stick and he takes a sip of his beer, laughing as I snort, which only causes me to laugh even harder, until the both of us are laughing possibly the ugliest anyone has ever laughed, and I'm discarding my food into a napkin because I'm laughing too hard to try to chew it.

My eyes are watering, and thin tears roll down my cheeks.

We finally calm down, seeing people glaring at us for being so loud, but we ignore them.

"That was pretty good." I give him credit where credit is due, shifting in my seat a little and taking in a sharp breath as my sore thigh takes notice of the movement.

"Are you okay?" He asks me and I nod.

"It's still sore." I tell him, trying not to take notice of the expression on his face that flashes for a split second.

Nobody could understand why the hell I went right back home when I got out of the hospital like Nikki hadn't put my life in serious danger.

It wasn't like Nikki had intentionally shot at me. He didnt know what the hell I was and just kicked into to survival mode.

I didn't see the big deal in staying with him.

Tommy, Vince and Mick didn't even know what really happened. Doc had told them the same thing he told me to tell the press: I dropped Nikki's gun on accident, while trying to move it, and it went off and caught me.

He didn't want them to know the truth because they were working on the new album, and he didn't want to "create conflict" within the group.

So the only people that knew the truth aside from Fred, Doc and Nikki, was Duff, Slash, Steven, Izzy and Axl.

It wasn't long after that, that Axl informed me he wrote "You're Crazy" about me as a joke, but realized he was pretty right to write it because, in his words, "you staying with the crackhead heroin junkie that already treats you like shit, then fucking shot you, just solidifies my theory that you're actually, medically, out of your mind, and your insanity isn't just 'to be determined' anymore" and I asked him if he "wanted to be the pot or the kettle?"

The irony of him--out of all people--calling anybody else "crazy" was beyond me.

Thirty-two years later and he still dedicates the song to me every time they play it live.

After we're done eating our Sunday lunch, we pay and head to my car, slowly, because I'm limping and Duff's walking slow so he doesn't leave me.

"So, I kinda did something for your late birthday present." He informs me out of nowhere and I raise my brows.

"What do you mean?" I ask, fumbling to get my keys from my purse, shielding my eyes from the harsh sun in my face as we head to the parking lot.

"Mandy and I broke up." He states and I raise my brows.

"...You broke up with your girlfriend as my birthday present?" I'm confused and he chuckles it off.

"No!" He nervously rubs at the back of his neck. "She broke up with me, actually, but that's not what your present is."

"She broke up with you? Are you okay?" I ask.

"It's a girl, Viv. There's plenty more decent girls to choose from when I'm ready to be in a relationship again." He shrugs.

"Did she tell you why she was breaking things off?" I question.

"Just needed space or time or something like that, I don't know. I was kinda drunk when she called to tell me."

"She broke up with you over a phone call?" I raise my voice, my nostrils flaring.

"Viv, chill out." He let's out with a laugh, nudging me with his arm. "You haven't let me explain the good part of this."

"Well then explain." I clear my throat and he rubs his lips together.

"I talked to Nikki last night 'cause he and Tommy came around to hangout with us for a little while." He explains.

"Mhm?"

"I mentioned the fact that you were kinda getting back into dancing and he said he'd been meaning to ask me about it because you'd told him about Mandy letting you use their rehearsal space to dance."

"She didn't even know I was using it, you just sneak me in whenever she's not there. Well, at least, you did. I'm assuming she got the key back from you."

"You're not letting me finish." He points out and I roll my eyes and sigh.

"Okay. I'm listening."

"Nikki and I conspired together, and I'm buying the place from Mandy, and Nikki is going to pay for any renovations and cleaning up it probably definitely needs."

I stop walking, my face falling, unable to say anything.

"So...happy birthday?" He cautiously finishes, not able to gauge how I'm gonna react.

I just start crying.

"I-I'm sorry, if you didn't want that we can--"

"--I'm not crying because I'm upset, I'm crying because I'm happy." I tell him, wiping my running mascara.

"Viv." He smiles a little, and I hug him to me, my arms around him tightly as I squeeze my eyes closed.

"Thank you." I mumble to him and he kisses at my hair for a second.

"Happy birthday."

I knew on Nikki's part it was an attempt to apologize without actually saying "I'm sorry for shooting you" because if he said "I'm sorry" it would mean admitting he was wrong and I was right about his drug use.

And Vivian could never be right about anyone over-doing it with their bad habits.

I shut the front door, slipping my kitten heels off by the door before I calmly step through the house to get to our bedroom so I can change from my church dress.

Nikki's passed out in our bed. I've gotten to where I have to wake him up and get him to bed or just sleep next to him in the closet.

I accidentally rolled over and stabbed myself with one of his used needles a few nights ago so I've been praying he's been using clean needles and isn't going to transfer anything weird to me.

I change clothes and get into our bed, watching him sleep, at least I think he's asleep.

"How was church?" He asks me, keeping his liner smudged eyes shut and I run the tip of my finger over his bare chest.

"It was good." I reply. "It ran late again today." I lie, not wanting him to find out about Duff and I eating lunch again.

"Oh." He yawns, turning over to face me and I get a little closer to him, hooking my leg around his hip and he grins softly, resting his hand on the curve of my back.

"So, Zutaut called again." I tell him and he sighs out.

"Nope." He sits up and I untangle from him, rolling my eyes as I follow him into the bathroom.

"You didn't even let me finish." I argue, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorway as he puts the toilet seat up to pee.

"I don't need to let you finish. This is the second time he's called in the three days and you told me the first time he called he was wondering if I'd be up to produce your friends' album."

"I love how they're strictly just my friends as soon they inconvenience you. Which I don't even consider this an inconvenience."

"Then what is it, Viv?" He flushes the toilet and steps to the shower to turn it on.

"An opportunity to actually listen to our--'our' meaning 'your's, too'--friends' music. And help them get it put down on an album that actually stays true to their sound instead of trying to add all the extra bull crap that everyone else that's wanted to produce them, has done." I state as he gets his clothes off and gets into the shower.

"What's in it for me?" He asks over the sound of the water.

"Um, the satisfaction of helping a hungry band reach their dreams and share their music? Also helping them get money because once the kids see the album is produced by Nikki Sixx they're gonna buy it because they trust your opinion on good rock music?" I suggest hopefully.

"I want blowjobs." He cuts through the sentimental atmosphere I created in my mind surrounding friendship and dedication, and I glare at the shower as my face drops from it's smile into an unamused expression. "Like, on-command blowjobs. Anytime, anywhere."

"You want me to drop to my knees the second you snap your fingers? Ha!" I scoff.

"Then I'm not even gonna consider producing them."

"Oh my goodness gracious, fine!" I give up, letting out a heavy sigh. "For how long?"

"Um, until I come?"

"No, I mean over what duration of time do I have to sacrifice the wellbeing of my jaw for your disgusting and degrading satisfaction?"

"Until you get arthritic to the point of not being able to get down that low without throwing a joint out of place." He says and I raise a brow, yanking the shower open.

"I am not gonna be in my fifties getting on my knees every time you want some head." I state and he laughs.

"If I have to give you on-command BJs, you have to go down on me on-command."

"You don't even have to tell me to eat you out, I'll gladly do it without the say-so." He says as he shapes his lathered hair straight up with his hands and I have to keep myself from laughing at his childishness. "And can you close that, It's kinda nippley out there." He motions outside of the shower and I shake my head a little before pinning my hair off of my shoulders with a hair clip on our counter and start pulling my clothes off.

I get in with him and he smirks.

"Am I in trouble?" He asks and I raise my brows before reaching my hands up to squish down on his hair that he's got perfectly sculpted upward with shampoo. "No, Viv!" He tries to protect it, laughing loudly.

Tom Zutaut had pressed at me to convince Nikki to at least consider producing "Appetite for Destruction."

Everyone that was interested in Guns N' Roses wanted to alter their music or add unnecessary elements to their signature raw sound. He knew Nikki advocated for people not compromising on what they want, especially with their music, and knew he would never try to produce the album the way he wanted it, but the way the band wanted it.

The only problem there was in the plan...

I roll my eyes as Nikki takes a bump of coke to try to pull himself out of his heroin induced stupor as I fall back in the seat across from him in the limousine, wiping my smudged lipstick from around my mouth, panting, hot and bothered because he started something and couldn't get his prick up to finish it.

Oh, the joys of body function inhibiting drugs.

"Okay, c'mon." He says as he takes a deep breath.

I get back on him to straddle his lap, my hands pulling my dress up my hips and pushing my panties aside while he rubs at himself.

It doesn't seem like he's getting any harder, and the mood is ruined.

"Babe, it's okay." I sigh out, calmly, although I'm frustrated.

"Fuck." He curses, just as irritated, his boot harshly kicking the edge of the seats across from us, his fingers grasping at his hair.

I fix my panties back and move off of him, smoothing my dress back down as he tucks himself back into his pants and laces them back up.

"I'm sorry, Viv." He turns his head to the side to look at me while he's leaning his head back.

"It's fine." I assure him. "Not like I need to be putting that much pressure on my thigh anyway." I add and the atmosphere in the car immediately tenses up.

He doesn't reply, putting his shades on to prepare for the flashing cameras bound to find us.

He despises the press.

I don't blame him.

Once we get stopped, Nikki's opening the door, tightly grasping at my hand.

"Nikki! Nikki!" They all seem to be shouting, followed by questions such as, "you guys working on the album?", "what are some songs we can expect on the new album?", "when are you releasing a new record?", "is it true you went to rehab for heroin?", "are you still on drugs?"

"Vivian, there's pregnancy rumors, do you know who, in the band, is the father?" Someone shouts and I ignore them, keeping my head down and my eyes closed, letting Nikki cut through the reporters and get us into the venue to meet Tom and let Nikki experience his first official Guns N' Roses show.

...Nikki hated it.

He was ready to leave only two songs in and showed absolutely no interest in spending his time producing them.

He wouldn't even really pin point what exactly he didn't like about their music or their playing, he just didn't like it.

He admits now that he was so fucked up that night, in particular, that he wouldn't have known what was good music if it hit him in the face.

I figured that might have been the case since he was the first one to put in for Guns N' Roses to join Mötley Crüe on the "Girls, Girls, Girls" tour and advocate for their music.

His mood swings gave me whiplash.

"What do you think so far?" Tom asks Nikki as Nikki takes a sip of his drink.

"I don't see the fuss." He states, and Tom and I exchange looks, confused.

"W-What?" I ask, furrowing my brows. "Are you kidding me?"

"Did I stutter?"

"W--C'mon, Nikki, you haven't even heard some of their other stuff. These kids have the potential to be extraordinary, they're almost there. You can't just write them off like this."

"I'm not writing anybody off. They're my friends and I dig their enthusiasm but I can barely find the time to work on our own album, let alone produce someone else's and they're not striking me enough to make me want to sacrifice more of my time to produce them."

"Baby, if you would just give them a chan--"

"--Viv, I said 'no'." He sternly scolds me and tears swell up in my eyes because I could have sworn Nikki would have really liked their music.

"I'll be right back." I tell them, stepping to the bathroom to dry my tears.

At the time I thought Nikki was just being an asshole.

He didn't tell me he didn't want to produce them because he wouldn't have done the kind of job they deserved for their talent on their debut album.

He wanted to do right by them, and that meant staying as far away from their music as possible.

He didn't tell anyone that because that would have been him admitting he had a problem.

"Lose the nasty attitude, Vivian." Nikki orders as I stomp into our house while he shuts the front door behind him, locking it.

"Why? You gonna toss me aside, too?" I hiss, taking my jacket off and throwing my purse onto the coffee table, crossing my arms.

"Will you just drop it? It's not like there aren't thousands of producers that would love to help them out." He takes his jacket off, tossing it to the couch.

"What is wrong with their music? Is it their sound, their personality, their--"

"--Vivian, I said 'drop it'!" He barks.

"I have every right to be angry, Nikki! You clearly might not give a fuck about them but they are my friends--who I know good and damn well have immense talent and there's even some of it that's yet to be untapped--and I just wanted you to give them an actual shot at achieving the thing all of them have worked their asses off for and dreamed about since they were kids!" I throw my hands up.

"I'm done talking about this." He states, stepping to our bedroom.

"I'm not!" I take my heel off and throw it as hard as I can at his head.

It hits the back of his hair and he stops in his tracks.

"Tom said it himself, and you heard him: Guns N' Roses will be the biggest rock n roll band in the world if they just get someone behind them that can guide them to where they need to be!" I ball my fists up at my sides, digging my nails into my palms.

Nikki just slowly turns to face me, his eyes wild, his breathing labored, and a out of line theory sprouts in my mind, but the way he's been acting lately it won't surprise me if it's true.

"Is that why you won't help them?" I ask him, cutting my eyes. "Because they're possibly going to dethrone Mötley Crüe?"

The fact that I'm insinuating he gives a fuck about bullshit "competition", especially in regards to his friends, just infuriates him more. I see it in his eyes.

He just turns back around and goes to our bedroom, slamming the door shut.

I roll my jaw, my eyes drifting to the beautiful display of his gold and platinum records on the wall beside the hallway that leads to guest bedrooms.

My skin of my knuckles is splitting open when my fist collides with the glass of the "Shout at the Devil" Gold award.

Platinum's next.

Just before I'm going for "Too Fast for Love", Nikki's screaming from our bedroom doorway, Jack Daniel's in hand.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He shouts and I just shoot him a glare before taking the "Too Fast for Love" plaque off the wall. "Put the fucking plaque down Vivian." Nikki orders, stepping closer to me.

"Produce their album." I demand, acting as if I'm going to drop it.

"Put. It. Down. Vivian."

"Or what? You'll shoot me again?" I taunt him and he grinds his teeth. "Produce their album." I repeat.

"Go to hell, crazy bitch." He snaps.

"You go first!" I holler back, hurling the award at the wall and it crashes into another plaque and they both shatter to pieces.

I turn around just in time to see Nikki pouring Jack all over my Bible that he'd plucked from the coffee table, just before pulling his lighter out.

"Stop!" I shriek, rushing to him.

I'm too late, though, and he's lighting it up and throwing it into the empty fire place just as I make it to him.

A God-awful feeling of dread fills me as Sikki looks very proud of himself.

I can't even look at him right now.

Walking to the kitchen to wash my bleeding hand off and get it wrapped up, I start to think a mile a minute.

My heart clenches in my chest as tears line my lashes.

How predictable of Nikki Sixx to burn a fucking Bible just to piss off a christian who's had said Bible since childhood...but it somehow shocks me that he'd do it to me, I guess.

I glance down at my wedding ring.

I've noticed it feels more and more like a weight with every argument he and I have.

Our entire relationship was just an open body of water that, that freaking ring was dragging me deeper and deeper in to.

The pressure was starting to get painful and I needed air.

My finger tips tug at my wedding ring and I leave it on the kitchen counter before I'm walking to our bedroom-- while he's still in the living room-- locking the door and heading to the closet, quickly gathering every lick of heroin, coke, and pills before going to our bathroom and flushing all of it, all the while Nikki's banging his fist against our bedroom door.

I hear a loud crash, and realize he kicked the door in.

"Vivian!" He screams as I'm giving the final flush to the last bindle, opening the bathroom door.

He's pushing me aside rather roughly and stomping to the toilet as the sound of the tank refilling with water let's him know what I've been doing.

"What did you do?!" He seethes at me, finger in my face, eyes shot, five o'clock shadow framing his gritted teeth.

And I just turn around with the intention of getting my shoes back on and leaving.

His hand is catching in my hair and yanking me back to him.

"Nikki, fuck off!"

"Don't fucking walk away from me!" He yells.

"I should have walked away from you six years ago!" I exclaim, tears of anger rolling down my cheeks.

This gets his attention because he's letting me go, an obvious expression of hurt on his face.

"I should have never slept with you. I should have never dated you. I should have never told you I'd marry you and I never should have taken vows to love and honor and protect someone who can't even get off of drugs long enough to love and honor and protect me." I sniffle and he blinks at me slowly as if holding back on his emotions.

"Then walk the fuck away." He hisses at me, rolling his jaw.

I left.

Nikki called Vanity.

And I went to find Duff.

I shut my car door before making my way into the Seventh Veil, running a hand through my hair as music blares through the speakers.

I glance around, hoping they're here because I've been up and down the strip and they've been nowhere to be found.

My prayers are answered when I look to see the massive fluff of blonde hair and I walk over to the table where Duff, Izzy, Steven, and Slash are, yanking a chair from a neighboring table and sitting with them.

They give me weird looks, Steven glancing around to check for Nikki or any of the other guys, before exchanging looks with Duff and Slash while Izzy seems unphased, his eyes on the same thing mine are on: the dancer on stage.

"Um...Viv?" Steven asks me cautiously and I side eye him.

"Yeah." I mumble.

"Uh, a-are you here alone?" He asks.

"Yep."

"Do you like strippers or something?" Slash asks me next.

"Nope."

"Did Nikki piss you off?" Duff's next.

"Yep."

"Is your hand alright?" Steven motion's to my hand that's got a scabbed over, bloody cut over the top of it.

"Shh, guys, she has to keep a clear mind so she can properly construct her plan to ask the dancers if they've accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior." Izzy sarcastically puts in and I cut my eyes at him as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

"Talk all your shit, Stradlin. Just gives me more motivation to curate ideas to make your life harder."

"Your existence in itself makes my life harder." He scoffs.

"Good that means I'm fulfilling one of the purposes God gave me for my life."

"Is your other purpose getting your husband so heated he throws you out of the house?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." I pretend to feel sorry, poking my lip out a little. "I forget I can't be upset with Nikki around you because you get bothered at the thought of anyone being upset with your gothic, heroin hounding, drug buddy because you're kindred spirits that have bonded over being tortured artists."

"Oh, go read your Bible." He tells me.

"Can't. Nikki set it on fire." I shoot back and Duff chokes on his drink.

"He what?" Duff asks me, like he's trying to contain a little anger over it.

"So we can expect the Sixxes to get a divorce?" Izzy asks me, clearly joking, and I shake my head.

"No, he's just being a junked-out prick." I mumble, crossing my arms.

"Do you wanna get your anger out by aggressively throwing our money?" Steven asks and I blink.

"I'll go politely put the money on the edge of the stage." I say and Duff finishes his drink, setting the glass face down.

"Alright, let's get outta here." He tells me with a sigh, standing up. "We'll see you guys later."

"Alright, man." Izzy nods. "Viv." He adds.

"Izzy." I reply.

"Bye, Viv." Steven and Slash both say and I smile a little.

"Bye, guys."

I follow Duff out of the club, and he nearly trips coming out, causing me to grab at his hand and arm to try to help him keep balanced, and a few flashes go off, signaling paparazzi and I audibly groan as they move in.

My hand shields my eyes as my other hand holds tightly to Duff's arm as asinine questions are thrown at me but I ignore them.

The bastards got a good enough shot at just the right second--with me holding onto Duff with both of my hands, the two of us sharing wide smiles because we were laughing over him nearly tripping to the ground--that it definitely came across as "a picture's worth a thousand words" but the only words told by that picture was that we were a little more than friends...and that's what the headline spun it up as by the time it landed in Nikki's hands.

The argument it led to sparked the birth of "You're All I Need", delivered by the vocals of Vince, from the demented mind of Sikki Nixx himself.

"Where'd you park?" Duff asks me in my ear over the sound of photography and strangers talking at us, and I tug him into direction of my car that's parked down the street against the curb.

"Welp that's something I'm gonna get to explain to Nikki." I state as soon as we get into my car.

"He knows nothing's happening." He replies, laughing it off.

"Yeah, right." I say under my breath, as I start heading down the road. "Where to?" I ask, stopping at a stop light.

"Oh, I don't know I was just trying to keep you from swinging on Izzy." He admits with a chuckle and I shake my head a little.

"I'd never hit Izzy. Axl, definitely, Izzy, no. He's my favorite."

"Izzy's your favorite? How'd that happen? You two are, like, polar opposites." He asks me with an amused smile.

"He agrees that Sid probably killed Nancy." I inform him and he throws his head back and let's out a frustrated, but humorous, groan.

After finally deciding to just get milk-shakes, we sit in a corner booth of Denny's and once we get out orders, Duff's clearing his throat.

"So, I saw you guys at the show earlier."

He tells me and I raise my brows, sipping at my strawberry milkshake. "You didn't tell us you were coming, we could've told them to take you guys backstage."

"We weren't able to stay very long afterwards...Nikki just wanted to see you guys play together live." I explain.

"Oh." He nods, before asking the dreaded question: "what did he think?"

"He digs you guys." I lie, giving a little smile.

The guys never knew Nikki was approached to produce the album, each of them found out later.

I think they're secretly glad he never touched "Appetite for Destruction."

That album would have been an absolute train wreck under his junkie guidance, just like everything else that Nikki seemed to be apart of in 1987.

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

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