#but as much as it's fucking my internal clock up- i'm sort of mainly getting shit done !
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i've taken to writing with the curtains shut and all lights turned off save for my little desk-lamp, no matter the time of day!!! and despite teetering on the verge of vampirism, i've got to say it is rather successful in forcing me to focus!!!
#i don't know if it's the fact that i'm creating a space and routine- ie this is now the writing zone- or if it's just me shutting out#sensory input. most likely a combination of both#but as much as it's fucking my internal clock up- i'm sort of mainly getting shit done !#i'm working on my thesis proposal#and am doing that by working backwards .#annotated bibliography is now complete#so i need to write the actual proposal#which i do have all the information for in another document#it's just... taking that info. making it comprehensible and nice to look at it and all flow-y and organized#and truth be told. my brain is not switched on for that today!!! but i reallyyyy need her to be!!!! babygirl!
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Gateway Drug | Part Eighty-Six
Words: 3K
Warning(s): explicit language, violence, drug abuse
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The only sound is the clock ticking on our lawyer's desk, and the soft pattering of rain coming down.
"Just sign and initial and we'll get these back to the judge for approval." Nikki's lawyer tells us and I rub my lips together.
We both grab the pens he hands over to us, hesitantly, and Nikki clears his throat, his hand hovering over the first page of lines to be signed.
If he signs them, I'll sign them, I say to myself.
His pen presses to the paper, and it's as if he's trying to force himself to sign them...nothing happens, though.
The lawyer notices this.
"They can't be registered for approval if they're not signed." He adds, looking at the both of us.
Nikki just rolls his eyes and taps his foot, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask him softly, hoping to God he says, "no."
"Yeah, Vivian. I'm sure." He states, still looking at the papers, pen still…
I get the "V" of my signature written and he looks down and scribbles across his paper, standing up.
"Fuck this, c'mon." He hisses and I look at him, wide eyed as he grabs my hand and pulls me up.
"W-What?" I ask.
"I'm retracting." He tells his lawyer as he walks out, taking me with him.
"Nikki, what the hell are you doing?" I ask him, confused as we walk down the stairs of the law firm.
"I've broken every fuckin' vow except 'till death do us part' and I'll be fucked to hell if we stuck it out and stayed with each other after the worst bullshit just to fucking divorce." He tells me.
One Month Earlier
I went to see him to try to understand where exactly we were in our relationship, if he even really wanted a divorce or if he was just wanted to start over, but, like always…
"I don't understand why you're being so stubborn, Viv--"
"--Because you want me to sign papers you filed less than 24 hours after you freaking died, Nikki!" I whisper yell.
"I assure you, I'm well aware!" He replies in the same quiet tone. "Sign the fucking papers."
"None of my grandparents ever divorced, my parents aren't divorced, I am not getting divorced. I'm a Christian, we don't do divorce."
"Well, you're not supposed to do sex before marriage or adultery, either, but that sure as shit didn't keep your panties on." He mumbles.
"Do you really bring up who did what because I assure you, your list is a hell of a lot longer than mine." I reply.
"Oh, is it?"
"Oh, it so is and you know it is."
He covers his ears and glare at him, flaring my nostrils.
"Are you serious right now?"
"I can't hear you." He tells me and I reach across the table and snatch his hands away from his ears, scowling.
"You are acting like a child right now!" I scold him.
"Now you know how I feel while trying to get you to just sign the damn papers!" He replies, crossing his arms. "But if you stay like this I might reconsider." He adds, his eyes on my chest where I'm leaning over.
"You aren't even taking this seriously, Nikki." I shove at his shoulder before sitting back down and he chuckles.
"I am, too," He argues. "You just look good."
"You're changing the subject."
"I can't compliment you?"
"Not when it's just to change the subject."
"I'm not changing the subject."
"Just like you to file for a divorce and then not want to discuss it with the woman who's put everything into the marriage you want wiped from existence."
"Now, you're pissing me off."
"You pissed me off when I got those damn papers with no warning."
"That's a lie, Vivian, the past year has been a fucking warning--especially with the amount of times you've thrown divorce in my face if I didn't straighten up. Remember that?"
"That's different. It was incentive to get you to act right."
"I didn't have any 'act right' left in me by that point." He states. "Unless it was for you." He smirks and I kick him under the table.
"Quit being a pervert."
"That's not perverted."
"This is a serious talk, Nikki, and you're trying to get out of it."
He opens his mouth to talk but I cut him off.
"And I swear to God if you say, 'I'm trying to get you out of something,' I'm going to come across this table and make you wish you had died."
"Is that a promise?" He raises a brow.
"I forgot how ridiculously immature sober Nikki is." I hiss.
"No, no, baby, this isn't even 'sober' Nikki. This is 'I don't have even the slightest sprinkle of anything in me for the first time in ten fucking years and I'm slowly starting to lose my fucking mind just a little bit' Nikki. Now just imagine staying married to this." He explains to me and I cut my eyes.
"Why the hell are you trying to convince me to want to divorce you?"
"Because you told me to fucking divorce you, remember?"
I furrow my brows.
"The day I got home and we got into that argument and you told me to just divorce you. So I'm trying to."
"You know that's not what I meant, Nikki."
"What the fuck did you mean, Vivian, because you fucking said, 'just divorce me then'."
"I didn't mean the next fucking day."
"You're crazy." He tells me.
"I'm crazy? I tried to throw myself off of a balcony when I thought you died and you thought it'd be a good idea to break up with me hours later?! Are you sure I'm the only crazy one?!"
"You told me you wanted out--multiple times."
"And you told me you loved me."
"Oh, oh, oh, woah, woah, wait a damn minute, that was a fucking coke binge mixed with alcohol, talking."
"Wasn't much talking, just a lot of crying and begging." I point out and he shakes his head a little, rolling his jaw. "Just for you to come home and file for divorce."
"Fuck you, Vivian."
"Fuck you, Nikki."
We both puff up and pout, arms crossed, glaring at each other with "go to hell" looks.
"...So?" Doc asks us when he comes back to check in on us.
"She's still that bratty little spoiled prude that would argue with me for the hell of it that she was when I first fucking met her." He snaps.
"And he's still Satan's evil Spawn." I bark.
"I'm about to take you to the bathroom." He threatens me.
"I'd rather have sex with Bret Michaels." I shoot back.
"At the rate you're going, I believe it."
"Do we need to talk about the threesome you had with Tansy and Vanity, now, or…?"
"Wasn't Tansy." He states.
"Really? Then who was it with?"
"Let's not do this here." Doc says quietly, apparently we're getting louder than we thought, other visitors and patients glancing at us uncomfortably.
I wanna see them be married to Nikki Sixx and try to handle their shit quietly.
"Sign the damn papers, Vivian." Nikki tells me as I stand up, grabbing my purse and scoffing.
"You and your damn papers can go burn." I mumble to him.
"You know I'm right!" He calls after me, I just flick him off, turning my hand to him as I walk away.
When I get back to the house, I'm faced with the boxes I've got stacked and packed, groaning at the mess I've made trying to get our things sorted out--well, my things.
"Viv?!" Sharise calls from our guest bedroom.
"It's me!" I call back, hearing Whisky running from where she is to me.
"Hey, baby boy." I greet him, patting his head.
"I didn't know what to do with this," she carries down the big white box with my wedding dress in it. "And Sky's asleep, she's had a big afternoon with woof-woof." She states, using Skylar's nickname for Whisky.
"Aww," I say and take the box from her and carry it to the dinner table. "I haven't opened this since we got married."
"I wonder if you could still wear it." She adds and I raise my brows.
"Hell, if I know." I mumble. "I'm not gonna need it anymore."
"Oh, don't say that." She tells me.
"He's serious about the divorce, Sharise." I state.
"He's gone through a lot of stuff, Viv. You both have. He's not thinking clearly."
"Well, I am, and I don't want a freaking divorce."
"Yeah, but that's you." She reminds me. "I'm sorry it's something you're having to go through but you don't need to be with someone that wants to leave the marriage."
"I guess."
"Or you two will work things out and it'll be fine." She says next, optimistic.
"Work it out…"
I'm hunched over the toilet a week later at the house, puking my guts up, trying to take deep breaths as I think I finish, only to be met with another wave of vomit, my throat and nose burning as regurgitated stomach acid stings at it.
"Shit." I grumble to myself, taking deep breaths…
I glare at the positive pregnancy tests--the reason for my nausea, mainly.
"Damnit, Vivian." I say to myself, tiredly, trying not to start crying.
Whisky's standing under me and I just sit on the bathroom floor and cry, hugging the dog when he gets closer to me to run his nose against my hand.
What the hell am I going to do? What the hell am I going to tell Duff? What am I going to tell Nikki? I want him to stay with me but I'm pregnant with a baby that isn't even his. I know he knows about me and Duff, now, but a baby from it would be a constant reminder that, "hey, remember that time you and your wife fucking hated each other and she fucked Duff McKagan while you were overdosing?"
I hit myself internally, wiping my eyes.
I knew this was a risk, so I'm not surprised--just pissed at myself.
I'm not on birth control, I don't like condoms, I'm lucky I don't have an STD but a fucking baby with Duff?
What's my dad going to think?
What's Duff's family going to think, especially if by some miracle Nikki and I do stay together...what will happen with his chance to find someone else. Most women in their 20s in L.A. don't want to play step-mom right now.
The press will have a field day with this…
My mind shifts to Nikki's granddad.
Damn it.
I glance at the clock that reads 1:34a.m. and let out a breath, exhausted, before opening the bathroom drawer and putting the pregnancy test in it, sniffling.
I rummage through our cabinets for something to help me sleep, finding some NyQuil.
I decide to take it since the only reason I had a reaction to it last time was because I mixed it with my antidepressant, and I go lay down, looking at Whisky getting in beside me, laying on Nikki's side of the bed, my mind plucking at a familiar sight not too long ago.
"Where the hell is Nikki at?!" I hear Doc shout over the bustle backstage, and I furrow my brows, stopping my conversation with Tawny Kitaen--who's here with David Coverdale--as Doc looks at me.
"You know where the fuck Sixx is?" He snaps at me.
"No, I came with Sharise and Heather." I tell him.
"Is Nikki even fucking here?!" He shouts next.
"How the hell am I supposed to know, Doc?!" I yell back, getting pissed.
"Maybe because you're his wife?" I hear someone cut in, sounding irritated, and I slowly turn around and see Bobby Dall leaned against an amp, his arms crossed.
"Maybe lick my twat." I snap back, harshly.
"I'm missing a fucking bassist that's supposed to go on in fifteen fucking minutes!" Doc yells over everybody, making me and Bobby shut up our bickering that's about to inevitably start. "Has anybody seen or heard anything from Nikki Sixx?!"
We all glance at each other, not saying a word.
"Fuck!" He outbursts, storming away to call the office back home.
Bobby huffs out a breath and pushes past me and Tawny, while I just glare daggers into him.
It was Day on the Green, a big music festival in Oakland, California, and on the second day, Whitesnake, Poison, and Mötley Crüe were set to perform. But once it was Mötley's turn, nobody could find Nikki. I had come with Sharise and Heather. Nikki had attempted to kick smack, again, so we all thought that's what delayed his arrival...come to find out…
"I've been up three fucking days freebasing, Tommy, alright?" He snaps to a pissed off Tommy and Vince after, "You're fucking shooting up again," leaves Tommy's lips.
The guys are pissed off--the most pissed I've ever seen them at Nikki--and the fans, who've been waiting for nearly an unacceptable amount of time for Mötley Crüe, are bustling with impatience as Nikki steadily drinks from a bottle of Jack to bring himself down some.
He glances at me and snarls.
"Get her outta here. I can't do shit with her looking at me like I'm dead." He snaps to Fred and I roll my jaw and leave him be.
By the time the show goes on, it's so obvious that Nikki's out of it, his eyes wide and wild, his brain fried…
Once the part of the show happens where Vince brings out bottles of Jack for Nikki and Tommy to chug on stage, I feel my eyes water, seeing Nikki scrambling to get up where he threw himself down the stage, to grab the fifth of Jack from Vince.
He chugs half, Tommy chugs half, and when Nikki comes to grab some water to try to keep up and finish the show as strong as he can, he takes two big gulps of water and hisses a bit of it back up, coughing and hacking.
I'm assuming he grabbed Micks straight vodka by accident.
The show ends soon, and Nikki's slobbering drunk, looking tired and worn down.
"I'm fuckin' going home." He tells Doc, pushing past him. "Vivian, baby, c'mon." He tells me, surprisingly gentle, slurring and taking heavy breaths.
I think he's just that damn tired.
"You don't want to stay and try to sober up some?" I ask him, calmly.
"No, I just wanna go home." He repeats.
I tell the girls and boys, 'bye,' right before Doc hammers us with when we need to be at the airport to leave for the next shows on the tour.
I can see Nikki being bombarded with Doc, bitching him out for being late while simultaneously threatening him if he doesn't get his shit together before they do the next line of shows...his eyes growing more and more distant with each word.
"You know how many fuckin' people you disappointed tonight, Nikki?" Doc asks him next.
"Doc, he gets it, alright." I interrupt since Nikki's not saying anything to him. I take Nikki's hand and pull him to the door.
"He obviously doesn't get it, Vivian." He bites at my heels, following after us.
"I get it, you're pissed, but can we please do this another time?" I hiss, snapping around to him, glancing around at the different roadies backstage, some of the members of other bands and their girlfriends and wives looking uncomfortable with Nikki getting his metaphorical asshole torn into a million pieces by Doc.
"You've both been saying that for the past year, Vivian, so no. We can't do this another time." Doc tells me, fed up.
"Well, me and him are." I argue, turning back around and grabbing Nikki's arm to keep walking.
Nikki's not even here mentally. It's like he's sedated.
"Just go ahead and enable him, Vivian." Doc outbursts to me, still behind us with each step, and I turn and throw my fist to his face as hard and fast as I can, hearing a satisfying crack in his cheek.
Eyes widen around us, Fred is rubbing his face as he steps to us, Tommy, Vince and Mick glaring at me...they can all think Nikki Sixx married a batshit bitch.
I don't care anymore.
When we get on the plane Nikki flew in on, he sits down and stays quiet as I sit across from him.
The only thing he tells me the entire hour and a half worth of flight is, "I've fucking done it again," I'm assuming in reference to messing things up.
He locks himself in the closet when we get home, and I spend the night wide awake, staring at Whisky where he's laying on Nikki's side of the bed.
"You and me again." I say to him, reaching out and rubbing his head as he stretches.
I blink the memory back, still looking at Whisky.
"You and me again."
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