*You might wanna go and remember chapters 5 -to-9 of the first book.

𝅘𝅥𝅮 Kashmir - Led Zeppelin

15th March, 2009. Sunday

Last night after they left Troubadour, Slash had Matt over. Matt didn't leave until around 2 a.m., so it was a late night, and Slash didn't wake up until 11, with no plans and nothing to do.

His life felt like a void. The kids were with their mom, and on top of that, he had to jet off to New York for a couple of days to record for Williams Riley.

It was close to midday when he finally dragged himself out of bed and went to make some coffee.

The kitchen cupboards still felt unfamiliar, like he was staying in some random rental. Nothing about this place felt personal, nothing felt like his. If he was going to live here, he knew he'd need to add his own touch, but he couldn't muster the energy. Everything was a blur, his new lifestyle lacking any real direction. Hence the procastination.

After his second coffee, he drove out to Nona's Bakery to grab some bagels. And he polished them off on the drive home.

He decided to turn to what always seemed to work. Pick up a guitar.

In his studio, he started working on a song he had originally came up with in Atlanta, one he'd playfully titled "The Morning Climax." It was a sexy, bluesy tune, and as he strummed the strings, his mind kept drifting back to the girl he'd had his eye on for a while. And all thanks to Matt, he unexpectedly met her yesterday in Troubadour.

As he played, images of her filled his mind. The way her hair moved, her plump lips, her long legs, the way she danced on stage... He winced, trying to shake the thoughts away.

All his life, he'd been drawn to voluptuous chicks, usually redheads or brunettes.

But there was something different about this blonde. She seemed like a nice girl, but with a dirty twist.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

***

20th March, 2009. Friday

Slash had just gotten back late last night from New York, where he'd been recording the debut album for the country band, Williams Riley.

On Friday, he spent some time with Fergie and Eric Valen, his producer for his solo album, at Barefoot Studios. They were going over the song "Beautiful Dangerous", bouncing around ideas. After Fergie left, Eric and Slash found themselves out in the backyard, sipping on lattes.

"I really wanna meet that singer you mentioned," Eric grinned. "If she's as good as you say, feels like I gotta meet her, man."

"I'm still debating whether to ask her," Slash replied, his face serious, like he was only thinking about the business side of things.

"She hotter than her?" Eric smirked, nodding towards the door, hinting at the booth where Fergie had been.

Slash chuckled, caught off guard. "That's... not the point," he said, his shy smile flickering as he rubbed his palms together.

After about half an hour of Slash working on his next guitar part alone and Eric chatting with the second engineer, it was already 6 p.m.

They decided to swing by Matt's deli, Carter's, which was just a ten-minute drive away. They usually snuck in through the staff door at the back, cutting through the kitchen. Matt always had a more private, corner booth reserved for Slash.

"There you are!" Matt greeted them. Slash had been bringing Eric here at least once a week since they started working together, so the two were already well-acquainted.

They settled into the corner booth and ordered double pastrami sandwiches with chips. Eric went for a milkshake, while Slash opted for a Dr. Pepper.

Matt soon showed up at their table with their orders and joined in the conversation.

Slash and Eric had mentioned to Matt that they were flying out to Vegas next week for an unofficial album party they were co-hosting to honor the artists who had contributed. Slash had invited a bunch of big names from the album to join the bash at his penthouse. Before that, Eric and Slash planned to scout for session musicians for the project, both for some recording tasks and possibly a future tour.

After they finished eating, Slash suggested catching a late-night movie. He was feeling pretty bored with life, and even a cheesy thriller remake like Friday the 13th, which he knew was showing, sounded appealing.

Matt and Eric weren't too into the idea, though, so Eric suggested they hit up El Cid on Sunset instead. His friend Nigel's band was playing at 11 p.m., and they could hang out and watch the show.

Slash wasn't really into the whole bar-and-venue scene anymore. The rows of liquor behind a flashy bar could be a trigger; even though he was solid in his sobriety, he didn't want to tempt fate. Plus, wherever he went, fans would swarm him, making a normal night out nearly impossible.

After battling some heavy traffic, they arrived at the venue a little after 9 p.m.

Eric spotted Nigel outside in the smoking area in the backyard; it was unusually quiet since the first act had already started inside the venue.

They spent about thirty minutes chatting while the band inside got louder and wilder.

Nigel was a sound engineer and producer like Eric, and he occasionally played bass for a local band called The Dusty Needles. Soon, his bandmate Richie joined them. Both men were in their forties, slender and a bit scruffy, with faded tattoos peeking out from under their worn t-shirts.

"We've been working on Slash's solo album lately," Eric mentioned to Nigel.

"I remember hearing about that." Nigel turned to Slash with a grin. "How do you put up with this guy?"

Slash chuckled, taking a drag from his cigarette. "More like he puts up with me."

The muffled sound of the band inside drifted out, the crowd singing along with a loud "Oooooooh..."

"They're killing it," Richie commented. "Warming up the crowd for us," he joked, glancing at Nigel.

"Or wearing them out?" Nigel chuckled. "Let's hope the crowd sticks around for our set," he said, lighting up his cigarette.

"Who's playing now?" Matt asked.

"It's, uh, Frou...Jailors. Frou, Frau, something like that," Nigel replied.

"Frau Jailor, singular," Richie corrected him.

Slash and Matt exchanged a look. Matt snorted, barely holding back a chuckle, trying hard to keep a straight face.

Slash was better at maintaining his composure. He turned to Eric, a smirk playing on his lips through a cloud of smoke. "You lucky sun of a gun."

Eric frowned, puzzled. "Why?"

"You wanted to meet Mia. That's her in there, apparently," Slash explained, as if seeing her again was the last thing on his mind.

"No way." Eric's eyes widened in disbelief. "Shit, I had no idea she'd be here."

"We believe you," Matt quipped, nodding. 

"Alright, let's at least catch some of their set," Eric suggested. After finishing their cigarettes, they headed inside.

The band kept the energy high, performing original songs and covering tracks from Queen, Aerosmith, The Stooges, and finally, Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" for the encore.

It was easily one of the best "Kashmir" covers Slash had ever heard, especially from a local band with no strings or keys.

He couldn't take his eyes off Mia. The way she moved—hips swaying, hair cascading—she embodied the spirit of rock 'n' roll. She wore a sheer white blouse over shimmery black, studded hotpants, with black platform heels that made her long legs look even longer. He thought that she must have been in her mid-twenties. With a Les Paul slung over her shoulder, she sang while backing up the lead guitarist with the skill of a seasoned pro, commanding every inch of the small stage. Her presence, combined with the band's tight chemistry, left him thoroughly impressed. They had the looks, the talent, the energy. He could easily picture them on a bigger stage, with a sound system that did them justice. How weren't they already huge?

Towards the end of the song, Mia peeled off her top, revealing a sexy black bralette underneath. Her hips rolled to the hypnotic outro as she sang, holding Slash's attention. The crowd roared, cheering as the band took their bows and waved goodbye.

Nigel and Richie gave a nod to Slash, Eric, and Matt as they headed backstage. They surely had a tough act to follow.

The trio made their way back outside, joining the buzzing crowd on the patio after Frau Jailor's electrifying performance.

After smoking two more cigarettes and finishing an ice-cold Arnold Palmer, courtesy of Matt, Slash excused himself to the restroom, acknowledging the fans who were thrilled to see him.

With 15 minutes until Nigel's band was set to perform, Slash felt drained. Another loud gig wasn't what he needed; he'd rather be home, playing his own guitar. But the thought of being alone in his big, empty house didn't appeal to him either.

As he stepped back outside, he noticed Mia heading to the bar. She'd swapped her long heels for a pair of red Vans, and donned a loose, white t-shirt. There was something effortlessly graceful about her silhouette as she strode, a sexy confidence that showed no sign of fatigue. Youth, he mused.

This was the second time he had an open chance to talk to her, and this time, she was all alone at the bar. He decided to approach, timing his steps with the sultry rhythm of NIN's "Closer" as it started pumping through the speakers. It felt oddly fitting and undeniably amusing.

Mia turned just as he got close, her eyes narrowing slightly before a warm smile spread across her lips.

As he reached the bar, he fought the urge to take off his Ray-Bans so he could see her better, but he knew he wouldn't. Not a chance.

Her smile only grew more welcoming as he stopped in front of her.

"OK, I'm not really stalking you," Slash quipped, trying to keep his smile in check. He hated how shy he felt around this girl the other night at the Troubadour, and yet here he was, feeling worked up again.

Mia's warm smile only intensified his nerves. She looked so comfortable and radiant with energy; it was impossible not to be drawn to her.

"I was in the neighborhood tonight and my friends suggested we come here to catch whoever was playing, and..." he trailed off, "I'm glad I did. Pretty cool show, again." He mumbled. "Enjoyed the set."

He just couldn't stop smirking. Fuck.

"Oh!" Mia beamed, "Let me thank you with a drink?" she suggested, her tone flirtatious. Her loose Pixies t-shirt complemented the strap of her bralette peeking out from her tan shoulder.

"No, well, I've actually been sober for a couple of years now," Slash replied, regretting having to burst her bubble. He fumbled for a cigarette, his fingers twitching slightly as he pulled one from his pocket.

Mia's expression morphed from surprise to concern, her brow furrowing. "Oh... Sorry, I had no idea. That's amazing," she added, nodding appreciatively. Her "Sorry" gave away a hint of a Canadian accent. "Are you here alone tonight?" she asked. 

Slash hesitated, the seductive chorus of "I wanna fuck you like an animal..." pulsing through the speakers. He struggled to focus, the lyrics tempting him to sing along despite his notoriously terrible voice.

"I'm here with my producer," he finally managed, flicking ash from his cigarette. "We just left the studio. He actually wanted to meet you too, but I'm not sure where he is now..." His eyes scanned the crowded bar. "Where's the rest of your band?"

"Just came to grab a drink for myself," Mia replied, gesturing vaguely towards the patio. "They're over there somewhere."

"Good," he grunted, his heart rate quickening. "I kinda needed you alone for this." 

Mia seemed unfazed, her eyes locking onto his with a slight head tilt. She looked sort of exotic, leaving Slash wondering about her ancestry.

He met her gaze, fighting to keep his composure. "I know this might not be the most professional way to say this, but since I ran into you now, I might just fucking mention it," he began. "I'm currently recording a solo album," he continued, clearing his throat. "And I wanna include some female vocals that I... admire. Lately, I've seen you perform in a couple of venues, and I thought you could be a fucking good fit... you're just phenomenal." He paused, secretly pleased with his long-winded explanation. "Would you be interested?"

Mia's expression shifted from puzzlement to delight. She giggled, a rosy blush creeping across her cheeks. "Interested?!" she exclaimed, her voice melodious and excited. "Are you kiddin'? Where do I sign?"

"Great," Slash chuckled softly, relief washing over him. "We could discuss the details soon..." he added, his shyness returning. "Maybe next week?" In truth, he had no idea what his schedule looked like. His fingers found the lighter on the counter, fidgeting restlessly as he swayed slightly, a nervous habit he just could not shake.

"Next week..." Mia said, confidently, "We'll be playing at a festival in Vegas, though."

"What, is it Extreme Thing?" Slash asked, scratching his cheek absently.

"Yeah!" Mia confirmed.

"I think I'll be there, believe it or not!" Slash chuckled, leaning forward slightly. His nerves still jangled, and the inappropriate lyrics of "Closer"'s chorus weren't helping his composure.

"You are?" Mia exclaimed, her hand diving into her purse to also retrieve a cigarette. Marlboro Lights.

"Yeah," Slash nodded, his voice gaining confidence. "I'll be watching a couple of bands, scouting for session musicians with Eric, my producer." He paused, a hint of hope in his tone. "Pretty cool, huh? We could see each other there for a change?" His words came out calm and low, but warmer. "I'll be staying at the MGM. Maybe we could have a meeting there, all three of us. Or somewhere else."

Wherever...

Mia tapped ash from her cigarette, considering. "Yeah, I'll talk to the boys first and let you know..." She glanced up at him. "Could you give me your PA's number so that we can arrange time and place and whatnot?"

"No, I'll give you my number instead," Slash replied, hoping his smile came across more seductive than shy.

She handed him her BlackBerry, nearly identical to his own. As he took it, their fingers brushed. The contact felt electric, though Mia showed no outward sign of attraction. Hell, he was probably not even her type.

Feeling playful, he entered his number and saved it simply as: iii]; )' – an emoticon of his own creation from a few years back.

"I'll try to catch your show in Vegas," he said, finally feeling more at ease. The hard part was over.

Unsure how to end the encounter, he gave her a quick, awkward pat on the shoulder and immediately regretted it. "I'll leave you alone now. I've been hogging you," he said, his nervous grin returning. "Hopefully, I'll see you next week," he added, wishing they could have chatted longer.

"Not at all, take care," Mia replied warmly as he waved goodbye.

The song's outro pounded through the speakers as Slash walked back to his corner across the patio, inwardly cursing his nervousness around her.

Settling back into his spot, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. His fingers found his cigarette pack, debating whether to light another. Smoking always helped him relax, but tonight, he definetly craved something stronger to quiet his mind.

***

22nd March, 2009. Sunday. Rodeo Drive.

"And then they all clashed, bumped their heads together, and... BOOOM!"

Cash's animated voice filled the air at Mastro's Steakhouse in Beverly Hills. The young boy regaled his father and brother with tales of the video game he'd been watching London play, his eyes wide with excitement.

"That's awesome," Slash mumbled, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Cash's attention shifted to the huge plasma TV screen mounted on the wall, now displaying a General Mills commercial. "And the B-Gang team lost, they always do," he added, watching the cartoon characters playfully measure the kids' heights.

Slash's gaze settled on London's untouched plate. "You haven't touched your food, man," he observed, concern creeping into his voice. "Didn't like it?"

"It's fine," London replied listlessly, staring at his double cheeseburger as if it were an insurmountable challenge. His eyes flicked from Cash to his father. "When will you really come home, dad?"

London's expression tugged at Slash's heart, and the 7-year-old seemed aware of his power. "I don't know yet," Slash managed, his words feeling inadequate. "But we'll figure out something soon, alright?"

London's face crumpled further, his forehead dropping onto his hand in a picture of dejection.

"Hey, don't be like that," Slash said softly, draping an arm around his son's shoulders. "Stuff's gonna be alright, you just need some time to get used to-"

"So does mom," London interrupted, his voice quavering. "She cries at nights," he whispered.

Crap. Slash felt the conversation spiraling, desperately needing a change of subject.

Cash provided the distraction, his eyes glued to the TV. "DAD!! Look, it's that new Nintendo I want!" he exclaimed, wonderstruck.

"I know," Slash replied, a calm but playful smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe if you two are nice, one of these days you might find one of those back at home."

The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated using bribes to buy their understanding, to create a buffer between himself and their mother. But for now, it was all he had. At least for today.

***

"Hey you. You guys had a good time?" Perla asked, attempting to hug the boys as they scrambled out of daddy's Aston Martin parked in the driveway of their Beverly Hills mansion.

"Yeah," they both murmured, eager to break free and retreat upstairs to their video games.

Slash prepared to say goodbye and leave, when Perla stuck her head in from the back passenger door. "Hey. Wanna come in?"

"Uhm, I'll meet the guys soon. I gotta-"

"Gotcha." She said and closed the back door abruptly, moving to open the front one. "I just need to talk to you for a sec," she said, casually sliding into the front seat. "Let's do it here then."

Slash remained motionless, his expression betraying his desire to end the conversation quickly.

"You good?" Perla asked, crossing her legs.

"Yeah," he replied curtly, offering no elaboration.

"Okay so..." she began, her tone flirtatious yet controlled, "I've been meaning to ask you. The Tom Morello thing on Wednesday... I'm still goin' with you, right?"

Caught off guard, Slash hesitated. "Uh," he paused, exhaling sharply. "Well-"

"I mean, we've talked about it ages ago and I wanna see Susan and Denise**. I wanted to make sure it won't be like a huge deal for you," she pressed, her tone suggesting she expected no refusal.

"Uh... Okay..." Slash conceded, pouting slightly. "But I can't come pick you up or anything. I gotta be there a little before the show starts."

"Yeah, yeah. I can drive, remember?" she chuckled, her cheerfulness ringing hollow. "I'll talk to Susan. Hey, we'll all be there. We can have some fun at last." Her words met with silence from Slash. "Alright Mr. Chatty. See ya soon," she added, giving his knee a soft pat.

"Yeah," he grunted, as she exited the car, flashing him a big grin and a playful wave before closing the door and heading back inside.

As he drove through the secured gates, Slash reached for his phone to call Juno about the final RSVPs for the Vegas penthouse party on Saturday. A text notification caught his eye, from an unknown 310 number.

"Hey, this is Mia from Frau Jailor. I wanted to thank you again for your offer the other day and let u know that all is OK on my end. See u in Vegas!"

It looked like she eventually deciphered his little game of hiding his number under the special emoticon, "iiii]; )'".

His face lit up instantly as he drove away to meet Kevin and Sam, the tension from moments ago melting away.

***

It was a little past 10 pm when Slash stirred from his nap in the living room, the TV blaring with Donald Trump's voice, hosting "Celebrity Apprentice" on NBC.

What an absolutely fruitful Sunday it had been, he thought sarcastically, exhaling deeply.

After returning home from his outing with the guys, he'd simply grabbed his guitar and played for a while. Then he'd turned on the TV, dozing off while watching Dateline.

His entire routine was shifting. Normally, the little time he spent at home was divided between the kids and playing guitar. Now, having sort of moved out, he found himself with an abundance of extra time, especially without any tour dates on the horizon. The need to establish new routines was slowly dawning on him.

It was beginning to sink in that this house in Woodland Hills could very well become his new home, not just a temporary refuge for a couple of weeks to cool off.

He despised being in limbo. Velvet Revolver had been without a lead singer since April 2008, when they parted ways with Scott Weiland. They'd auditioned several singers and occasionally worked on new material, but Weiland's departure seemed to have killed some of the joy, leaving the superband's future uncertain.

His schedule for the week ahead was sparse: joining Tom Morello's Justice Tour on Wednesday in Hollywood, then jetting off to Vegas for the weekend. He planned to audition a couple of musicians for his solo album and potential future touring. Next, he was hosting a party in his penthouse suite at MGM.

Suddenly, he remembered something else on his agenda. He hadn't replied to Mia's text yet. Or had he?

He checked the message again. Indeed, he hadn't responded.

Quickly, he typed, "Great! Just let me know whenever u wanna meet and i'll try to make it work." He thought for a second and added, "have a killer show!" All that was missing was to repeat the joke,  iiii]; )' 

He was smirking at the thought of seeing her again. It felt good to have something light and exciting to distract him, especially amidst all the chaos swirling around him.

Setting his phone down, Slash leaned back on the couch, his mind wandering. He recalled their second and last conversation at El Cid on Friday, trying to picture her, but all he could conjure was her silhouette and her smile. And the undeniable attraction he felt towards her.

His instincts warned him to be careful with that chick, although he welcomed the distraction in any form.

** Denise Luiso is Tom Morello's wife, in March 2009, they were probably getting ready for their wedding.