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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Five

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Four

View chapter on wattpad here

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Happy birthday to Nikki Sixx who is aging like wine. I'm so proud of how far he has come and here's to another 61 years and an eternity more🖤

Warning(s): Explicit language, Mentions of drug abuse, Abuse

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"Alright, assholes, shut up and listen for two minutes." Doc tells us in the airport we wait in line at customs. "We're gonna be here in Japan for a week. Japan is not like it is back home. You can't act like you don't have any sense. They will lock your asses up in a heart beat. Do you understand?" He warns Tommy, Nikki, Vince and Mick. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Daddy." Nikki sarcastically lets out, smacking his gum.

"Hey, wise ass, I don't need your comments, alright? I'm being serious, guys." Doc tells them.

"We got it, Doc. You don't have to worry about anything, bud." Tommy assures him, sincerely.

It was our first time in Japan and I've got to say, it's personally my favorite place ever.

The fans were extremely polite, and all of them had enthusiastic, wide smiles...my favorite part was that the girls actually respected the fact that Nikki's wife was with him, and didn't try to screw him in front of me like audacious rats in other places tried to.

They would just smile shyly and introduce themselves to us, and then get a picture with the guys.

If I had a dime for every time Fred has had to keep me from assaulting someone for grabbing Nikki's crotch in front of me, trying to shove their tongues down his throat, give them hotel room numbers to meet them in, etc. I would have been rich enough to afford Nikki's $3,500 a day on heroin.

Groupies were insane.

And I don't mean I saw these girls attempt this stuff from a distance.

I mean, I'd be standing right next to him, the girls would introduce themselves to me, then go on to grope Nikki before he could say a word about how it was nice to meet them.

In the midst of trying to get me on the ground before I could throw a punch, the girls would run off, and Nikki would always say "sorry, babe" and mean it.

He stopped apologizing when he stopped caring.

"...And we need blow." Tommy says to Sparkie, who's about to go on the hunt for a drug dealer in town for the guys, and I roll my eyes.

"Doc told you guys to behave because they don't tolerate bull crap here." I remind him and he and Sparkie look at me, and Nikki's grabbing at my waist and pulling me to sit on his leg before taking a swig of Jack, his striped outfit and bright, over the top makeup is the complete opposite of their Shout at the Devil era.

"What Doc doesn't know won't hurt him, Viv." Tommy says it like it's common sense. "Hey, Vinny, what do you want from a dealer?" Tommy asks him, a sharpness to his voice, and Nikki laughs.

I don't find their bullshit funny.

Vince just rolls his eyes and drinks his water with no reply.

Vince was on court mandated sobriety. And was being tortured by Nikki and even Tommy. They would offer him things they knew he couldn't have and then would play it off like they forgot.

They would have him pass them their drugs, pour them their drinks and count out how many pills they had left.

It ticked me off seeing Tommy go that fucking low all because he and Nikki were so close.

He even started being a little disrespectful to me whenever Nikki was.

Nikki's leg is shaking a little, despite him throwing back alcohol and I look over my shoulder at him.

"Are you okay?" I mouth so the others won't hear it, and Nikki nods, but I know he's full of it.

"On in five, guys, c'mon!" Doc calls out from the other side of the door and I pat Nikki's other leg and stand up, grabbing his hand and pulling him up.

We step out and head to the stage, and Nikki's turning to give me one last kiss before going on.

When he pulls away, my hands are quickly taking my crucifix off and reaching up to fasten it around his neck and it ironically overlaps with his pentagram necklace.

"For good luck." I explain and he gives me a little closed mouth smile and gives me a quick peck on the lips before following Tommy, Vince and Mick.

By the time they got off stage, Nikki was growing pale, and sweating, and not just because he was running around on stage.

Nikki had gone over 48 hours without heroin. Alcohol could keep his tremors to mere, barely noticeable shakes, but didn't do very much for his sweating and sickness.

The guys didn't know he was that deep into heroin, yet, so he didn't want to tell them it was making him that ill without it or they would realize he was further down the hole than they expected.

So, what did I do? I covered for him.

"He thinks he might have food poisoning." I explain to Tommy and Vince as they stand outside of mine and Nikki's room.

"Well, is he alright?" Tommy asks me.

"He'll be okay. He just doesn't feel like going out." I assure him.

"Alright, we gotta go." Vince nudges him.

"Tell him I hope he feels better." Tommy says.

"I will. You guys be careful."

"We will, goodnight."

"Goodnight." I reply and shut the door, hearing Nikki groaning in the bathroom.

The door's locked, and I sigh out in frustration.

"Nikki, open the door." I tell him calmly.

"Fuck off, Viv." He tells me for the hundredth time tonight.

"Open the door or I'm telling Doc." I threaten him, even though it's a complete lie.

"Tell him I want a divorce while you're at it." He snaps.

I don't say anything for a moment, and hear him sigh out, before he unlocks the door.

I step in, seeing him soaked in sweat, pale, the smell of vomit is potent and I try to keep a calm demeanor as he grips the side of the tub to help himself stand up.

He nearly falls, tremors spazzing through his body, but I'm quick to nestle under his arm and help him stay up.

"I just need some Jack." He tells me. "It'll help."

He doesn't sound like Nikki.

He sounds like a defeated child.

"Nikki, I don't think—"

"Okay, Viv, now isn't the time for your bullshit. Get me some Jack." He orders desperately, nearly pleading.

I get him on the bed, starting to tug his boots off, before pulling his shirt over his head, and unbuckling his belt.

"Never thought...I'd ever say this...but the last thing...on my mind right...now is...fucking around." He takes heavy breaths, squeezing his eyes closed and groaning when I get his pants off.

"Yes, because seeing my husband in so much pain really turns me on." I sarcastically let out.

"I'm cold." He tells me, his hand gripping mine.

I pull the bed covers over his naked body, glancing at my necklace he's still wearing.

"I'll get you some Jack." I say, stepping to the phone on the bedside table and ordering his necessity.

I turn back to face him once I'm done, and he's curled up and shivering, and he's kicked the blankets off of him.

"Nikki?" I ask, furrowing my brows.

"I'm hot." He cracks out, shot eyes looking at me, teeth chattering together despite his tight jaw and wet, black hair clings to his soaked skin that seems to be turning transparent.

That moment I realized I was married to a junkie, and Nikki realized he had become the very thing he had been in denial of becoming.

Neither of us said a word to one another about our revelations.

The alcohol and pills they managed to score kept Nikki's roaring withdrawals at bay and allowed him to play his illness off as the flu throughout the rest of the Japan tour, and the second we got home, he was phoning every dealer he could get a hold of.

One I had never met before, Jason, was the first one to come to his aid and it didn't take me long to come to the conclusion I would inevitably have to kill that motherfucker to keep him away from my husband.

He just wanted our money, laying out an elaborate display of everything from cheap tar to clean China White, cocaine, and a pharmacy of prescription pills.

I always left to "go to the store" anytime Jason came over.

Once I was practically having a full on emotional affair, I would go find Duff but before any feelings for him emerged, I would just drive my car around the corner of the street going by the house, pull into the driveway of a half-way burnt down house, and cry.

My husband, my Nikki, was destroying himself from the inside out, and the more I tried to do help him get better, the worse he got.

Every time I prayed for him, his demons would hold tighter to his legs and keep him shackled in place with a needle and lies that weighed him down and made him feel the need to do the only thing that made him happy, even if only temporarily.

By the end of '87, I was exhausted. I had been screaming, crying, pleading, for years for someone to do something, for someone to threaten the band, threaten them individually, get them off the road, at least try to start a conversation addressing their obvious addictions...

But they were making everyone above them money. That's all that mattered.

I was screaming into a void, and nobody could hear me. Well, they could...they were just ignoring me which was even worse.

I don't know how the hell I managed to face the same thing with Duff and his band years later.

I step into the house once Jason is gone, seeing Nikki by the fireplace, laying on the carpet, and I go to lay beside him.

We've been back from Japan a few days, and they're suppose to be preparing for their U.S. tour starting in a couple weeks.

Nikki's been in heroin land ever since we have gotten home.

And I've been in my own personal hell, being that I just added a third picture to my dead baby drawer as of yesterday.

I would go to a doctor to see if there's something wrong with me to prompt not ever making it past week twelve, but Nikki would find out somehow, someway. I've already risked enough as it is by going to the obstetrician.

"Babe," I nudge him and he opens his eyes just enough to show his pinpointed pupils, and he hums a little. "I gotta go get Tansy from the airport."

"Mmkay." He mumbles, and I force myself not to cry, remembering how miserable he was in Japan, and now we've gotten back and he's back to square one.

Was it really square one if he never wanted to move to square two in the first place?

Tansy gets into my car, wearing what I'm assuming she wore when they taped her interview with David Letterman hours ago, while a security guard puts her stuff in the trunk.

"Well." I say, looking at her as she lays her head against the back of her seat and looks at me from behind her sunglasses. "How did the interview go?" I ask and she tugs off her heels.

"I don't know." She tells me and I furrow my brows. "The bits and pieces I remember were great." She sounds like she's about to cry.

"Were you...?" I trail off and she moves her fingers under the blacked out lenses and sniffles. "Babe, it's not anything to cry about."

I grab at her hand as she starts crying even more.

"I bombed it, Viv." She says with certainty.

"Tansy, if you don't even remember it, how do you know for sure you did a bad job?"

"You know how I act when I'm fucked up."

"I also know, by the grace of God, somehow, someway, you manage to differentiate between a setting you need to be more composed in, and a setting you can be wild in. Even when you are stoned out of your mind. I have seen you do it." I assure her. "It's really freaking creepy."

My comment has her chuckling a little and she wipes at her tears again.

"It will be okay. I am sure you did great. And if you didn't you can just do what I do when I'm not acting normal and blame it on Mötley Crüe."

None of us, not even Tansy herself, knew why or how she scored an interview with David Letterman, but we were all proud of her nonetheless, even if she couldn't remember much of it.

"Sparkie said Japan went good." Tansy says after we're driving for a couple minutes.

"Yeah."

"Thank you for letting him go. I know you aren't the biggest fan of him." She adds.

"I didn't let him go. The guys insisted he went because they needed someone to find them drugs." I state.

"Point is, he went. And he had fun. So thank you." She replies.

"I only tolerate him because I love you." I tell her.

"I know, and I—" she presses a quick kiss to the back of my hand. "—love you, too."

I rub my lips together and get an idea.

"Would you be up for a girl's night?" I ask.

"What do you have in mind?" She asks and I raise my brows.

In hindsight, it was probably a bad decision to introduce Tansy to Guns N' Roses while she was still addicted to drugs and alcohol, because all it did was create toxic friendships that thrived on the struggles of everyone involved.

Tansy was very easily influenced by other people, but I figured if she had survived that long being friends with Nikki, Tommy and Vince, she would be just fine around Duff, Axl, Izzy, Steven and Slash.

Tansy and I make our way through the crowd, hand in hand, lacing through people and eager groupies.

She's heard me talk about them every now and then but now she has the opportunity to see what the hype is about.

The Troubadour is packed out, and a sense of pride swells in my chest.

"They must be good." Tansy comments, glancing around.

Normally at least one person would have already asked for her autograph or a picture of her, but everyone is too distracted by the anticipation of the band that's been tearing up and down the strip ever since Nikki, Tommy, Vince and Mick set the bar so high.

They're not even onstage yet, before all lights in the place shut down, and Axl let's out one of his infamous screams that somehow mimics a melodic siren.

The crowd goes quiet for a split second before realizing it's him, then they start screaming, clapping, stomping their feet.

The lights come back on to reveal Axl, Duff, Izzy, Slash and Steven, picking up into the fast paced rhythm of "Anything Goes."

With teased hair, heavy glam-rock influenced outfits and makeup, mixed with their sound, it's safe to say there isn't one dry vagina around...including Tansy, who's eyes don't leave the singing red head for the rest of the night.

Back stage is crowded, but Tansy and I manage to be the first females in their dressing room by the time their set is completely finished.

She's already broken into their Jack and Vodka stash, guzzling from both bottles simultaneously, and I look at her like she's crazy because I know it's got to hurt her throat.

"What?" She asks me, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You are a crazy person." I state just as the door opens, revealing Slash and Steven first, girls under each arm.

"Hey, Viv!" Steven pipes, smiling widely and Slash looks confused for a moment before realizing the blur standing before him is indeed Vivian.

"Hey, Viv." He repeats what Steven said.

Steven does a double-take really quick, seeing Tansy, his hand patting at Slash as he stands, starstruck. It's a domino effect.

First Steven, second Slash, third Duff, then Izzy and lastly, Axl.

Except Steven, Slash, Duff and Axl are frozen because Tansy Lyn is standing before them. I'm sure Izzy appreciates her beauty and participation in Playboy for the last four years, but he's more worried about her breaking into their alcohol.

"Man, that's Tansy Lyn." Steven states.

"Drinking our booze." Izzy adds and Tansy guiltily puts it back where she got it, smiling.

"Hi." She says to them, and they immediately pretend they weren't just remembering what her naked body looks like.

Steven, as always, is the first to make himself known to a beautiful girl, extending his hand to her.

"I'm Steven." He tells her.

Slash is shyly hiding behind his curly hair the best he can as Steven puts an arm around him.

"This is Slash." He adds.

"The grubby fingered alcoholic is Izzy." I tell her as he lights a cigarette.

"Read this grubby finger, Viv." Izzy states blankly, flipping me off and I hold back a laugh.

"I'm Duff." Duff introduces himself next, and Tansy has to look up so high, her head is tipped completely back before shaking his hand.

Axl doesn't introduce himself, he just stands and stares at her for a moment, black sunglasses blocking our eyes from his.

"Axl." Is all he says before grabbing the bottle of Jack, grabbing one of the girls Steven and Slash walked in with, and leaving.

"He's not an asshole seventy-five percent of the time." I try to defend him against her as she looks like her feelings have been hurt slightly.

"But when he is an asshole, just avoid him for a few hours and stay out of his way." Duff scoffs out, grabbing the bottle of vodka.

They all knew that piece of advice too well.

Not entirely sure how we ended up back at mine and Nikki's house, but Nikki wasn't home, and probably wasn't going to be home until early morning, so Duff, Steven and Tansy were all in my house.

"If you break a mirror, you buy it!" I call out to Steven and Tansy as Duff and I have our legs dangling in the pool water, hearing something breaking inside the house through the open french doors that lead into the kitchen.

Duff blows smoke out of his nose, laughing at Tansy and Steven calling back, "We didn't!"

"Jesus." I mumble, grinning to myself and Duff joins in with me, laughing harder at me as "Get Down Tonight" starts blaring through the speakers in the house.

Tansy has officially met her match.

"I'm glad they get along." Duff says smoothly.

"They both like weed and the same music taste. Seems like a beautiful friendship to me." I shrug and he smiles.

There's a pause in the air, and he keeps looking at me.

"What?"

"There's dancing trophies in your house." He tells me and I raise my brows, remembering the day Nikki had demanded my hard earned proof of years dedicated to such a difficult art form, be put on display on a shelf right next to his awards for Gold and Platinum records.

"Yeah? I told you I use to be a dancer." I reply.

"I thought you meant you were a stripper." He confesses and I widen my eyes, elbowing him gently.

"No!"

"Well, I'm sorry! You're married to a rock guy, you said you use to be a dancer, rockers and strippers go hand-in-hand. It's, like, written in stone or whatever." He tells me.

"Oh my gosh, Duff." I rub my face and he finishes his cigarette before pulling out another one.

"So, why don't you do it anymore?" He asks and I think for a second and lick my lips.

"It just wasn't really..." I trail off and he furrows his brows. "...I guess after over a decade of dancing, after graduating, it just wasn't my thing anymore. I just moved onto bigger and better stuff."

"What's your thing now, then?" It's obvious he doesn't buy my explanation.

"Being Nikki Sixx's wife." I admit and an odd silence falls over us.

"You gave up school--Julliard--and dance, only to be known as somebody's wife?"

"Well, damn, Duff, when you say it like that..." I try not to be hurt because I know he doesn't mean any ill will from it and he immediately starts apologizing.

"I didn't mean it like that." He tells me. "It's just a waste of talent if you never utilize it anymore. You can't just be dependent on being Nikki's wife, Viv. You need your own thing."

I wanted to tell him I couldn't afford to be anything but Nikki's wife, or else I'd lose everything.

Nikki's home sooner than I expect as I get ready for bed.

Steven, Tansy and Duff are all asleep on the living room floor, and Nikki comes into our bathroom to splash water on his face.

"The fuck is in our house?" He asks me and I raise my brows.

"Why're you home this early?"

"Jason's coming over." He tells me. "And he's bringing his girlfriend."

"Umm, baby, it would be nice for my friends not to wake up and be met with a drug dealer naming off poisons like an auctioneer."

"Tell them to fuck off." He mumbles, digging through his pockets of the clothes he was wearing yesterday. "Have you seen the check?" He asks me and I raise my brows.

"The check from the label for the Japan tour?" I ask and he nods. "You asked me to cash it yesterday and I did."

"Okay, so where did you put it?"

I step to my top drawer and hand him the stack of cash and he starts thumbing through it, his brows furrowing when he stops halfway through.

"The check was for $150,000, Viv. Where's the rest?" He snaps and I cross my arms.

"You said put 20% in savings and told me I could give 10% to tithes." I remind him, and he looks like he is going to murder me.

"You gave fifteen fucking thousand dollars to a church?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!" He seeths, his face twisting angrily.

"You told me I could Nikki." I try not to get upset. "I asked you and you said—"

"—I said 'yes' because I was fucked up and wasn't thinking, Viv!" He yells, throwing the pile of cash across the room, causing bills to fly everywhere. "And that's exactly why you waited until you knew I couldn't pay attention to care enough about what you were saying because you knew I would laugh in your face if I were sober!" He accuses me.

"Is it so bad if your money goes to something other than drugs?" I stupidly ask him.

He's lunging at me, grabbing my wrists, and pinning me to the bed while screaming in my face.

"That's my fucking money! Mine! How I want to spend it is my fucking business, Vivian!" He shakes me, and I can no longer hold back tears. "You're gonna go tomorrow to that fucking shit hole and tell those fallacious bastards you need that $15,000 back!"

"Nikki, I already told them it was their's." I try to explain, shaking my head a little, sobbing so thickly I'm not even sure he can understand me.

"You'll get my fucking money back or I'll give you something to fucking whine about." He threatens darkly.

He shoves himself off of me and storms out of the house, slamming the front door.

I go to make sure he didn't wake Tans, Stevie, or Duff up, but to my horror, Tansy and Steven are sound asleep while I hear the door slam a second time and realize Duff followed Nikki out.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mötley crüe #the dirt

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