The car is silent, despite there being so much to talk about.

Beside me, Michelle's arms are crossed. Duff wouldn't let her sit in the front seat.

Ten minutes ago, we were in eighth period. Now, we're on our way to a recording studio in downtown L.A. The band wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow. I haven't mentally prepared for this.

"What time did you guys get back?" I direct my words to Michael.

Michelle doesn't even move, her gaze focused on the streets outside the window.

"Right as the sun came up! Axl thinks it's metaphorical or spiritual or some shit, like a new beginning," Duff makes a gesture with his hands that makes me laugh before he puts them back on the wheel. "All I know is that I'm fucking exhausted, and when he said that we had to go to the studio today to record all the songs he just wrote, I wanted to fucking quit right then and there. I hate being in the studio. It's too. . . Corporate for me. And there's no windows, and everything is shaped like a box."

Duff is claustrophobic.

"So you're making us go suffer with you?" Michelle finally speaks.

"Yes, I am, dear sister. And don't even try to complain. I won't turn this car around, I'll drive faster!"

"This is kidnapping!"

"No, it's not, Michelle."

She's just mad because right when Duff pulled up, Billy was walking away from her.

Apparently, he told her he would pick her up. Tonight.

As in, tonight is the night Michelle could of done it.

Not anymore.

And as if on cue, Duff asks who the kid with the red and blue hair is.

"A burnout," I answer.

"No one," Michelle says.

That makes him laugh. "I saw him talking to you, Michelle."

My wrist burns as Michelle squeezes me, her way of saying that if I don't back her up she'll kill me. 

"He asked about the math homework."

As if she would be able to manage sneaking out of the house at midnight. . .

"Is that true, Chasity?"

Of course he does this. Duff already knows something is up.

When I don't answer, Duff sighs but he doesn't push it. I see Michelle smile a little to herself beside me.

Ratting her out completely feels wrong. I'm not much better. I'm worse.

Definitely worse after what I found sticking halfway out of my locker today, where anyone could've grabbed it before I did.

The picture might be blurry, but it's apparent what the subject matter is.

Axl and I weren't alone that day outside the video shoot. Not at all.

The picture was taken mid-kiss, Axl's hands looking huge on my waist. Our faces aren't very clear, with there being too much hair in the way. But there's more than enough evidence to compensate.

It felt like I had pulled out a Playboy in the middle of passing period when I looked at that polaroid. It was like I couldn't shove it into my pocket quick enough, the seconds ticking by slower and slower the more I started to freak out and attempt to get rid of it.

Blackmail is what Dylan Reynolds is  getting into now in his attempts at reeling me in, and it's my secret to carry with me until Axl splits the burden.

So stupid of us. . .

"You've gotta stay away from guys like that. He's in a band, isn't he?"

No one answers Duff. We're both too busy worrying about our similar yet different dilemmas.

"Michelle, don't get involved with guys that wear safety pin earrings, and don't even pay any fuckin' attention to guys in bands. Promise me you won't," Duff looks at us in his mirror. "Both of you."

At the same instant, Michelle and I both say one word. "Fine."

"Guys in bands are no fucking good, let alone burnouts in bands. They're all fucked up. Every. Single. One. If you knew what I did about some of these people that play music, you wouldn't be able to stand any of it."

No one says anything else the rest of the way to the studio. I look out the window, and try not to let my feelings consume me entirely.

***

We're able to see all the shouting before we actually hear it.

Steven marching around the live room behind the glass, his head in his hands. Slash is laying on the floor, his guitar beside him. Izzy is furiously pointing fingers at the both of them, the ash coming from the cigarette between his fingers falling onto the ground just missing Slash, who only appears to grow more upset.

All it takes is one click from the guy sitting before the huge console of buttons for us to figure out just what it is we're looking at.

"-You can't fuckin' play! You can't! If you could, we would've had this down already! It's really not that hard. You're just an idiot!" Izzy directs his words to Steven, his voice isolated.

Steve's curls are tangled around his face from his pulling at them. "I'm-I'm an idiot? Slash can't even fucking stand up 'cause he's so drunk! At least I'm kinda sober."

"Yeah!" Slash slurs. "And you still suck!"

It's as if Izzy is breaking the fourth wall in a movie when he turns to the glass, and stares right at us. "I can't fucking do this anymore. I'm done."

He doesn't wait for anyone's reaction before he throws down his guitar and matches into the control room we're standing in.

Duff can't get a single word in before Izzy is gone, storming out into the hallway.

All I can do is look at Michelle as she looks at me. Steven and Slash are still bickering, like they hardly care that Izzy just walked out.

I have no clue where Axl is. We've been here for nearly ten minutes already and there's no sign of him.

Already, the opinion I'm forming about recording studios is a bad one. Really, really bad.

Things only continue to play out as if Michelle and I aren't here.

Duff enters the soundproof room, and Michelle and I decide to take a seat on the expensive looking leather couch, moving beer bottles and cigarette butts out of our way. The engineer that's supposed to be mixing the record and facilitating this whole thing is unbothered as he lights his own cigarette. When he turns in his chair to look at us, arm and pack extended, Michelle and I both shake our heads.

No adult has ever offered me a cigarette before. . .

Slash apparently can't get up off the floor, his body hidden from our limited view through the glass now that we're sitting down. Steve only continues to argue, talking shit to Duff now.

"-You-You can't even show up with the rest of us! What kind of bassist are you? At least I was here on time." Steven points with at him with a drum stick.

"Would you calm down? I went to pick up the girls."

"Girls? You mean Adri-Adriana?"

Michelle giggles beside me at Steve and his inability to talk fluidly, the alcohol he must've had for sure taking over.

"No, Chas and Michelle."

It's easy to ignore Michelle and her annoying little wheezes when I hear what Steve says next.

"Oh. Well Axl was talking about Chas earlier. He'll be happy to uh, know she's uh, here."

My heart swells, even though it shouldn't. Steven probably doesn't realize what it is he's saying.

"Where is Axl, Steve?" Duff is trying his hardest to stay calm, it's written all over his face that he's losing his patience.

I see why he didn't want to come here. It almost makes me feel bad for him.

"I dunno, I'm not his keeper! Ask somebody else, man. I want another drink. Where-Where's the beer-"

"You stay here, okay? Slash too. I'm gonna go find Axl." Duff looks back at Steven one more time as he opens the door to the control room, practically slamming it shut behind him.

"They've been like this the entire time, Duff." The engineer says, tapping his cigarette over an ash tray. "I can only do so much."

"Where's Alan?"

"Missing too. Haven't seen Axl for a good hour."

Duff runs his hands through his hair, sighing. He stares at the wall for a second, an attempt at regaining his bearings after dealing with his drunken bandmates.

I feel bad. Really bad. And angry at Axl for apparently disappearing when the rest of the guys are drunk. I cannot even imagine how much money Duff is going to loose from all the lost studio time, let alone the rest of them. Poor, poor Duff. . .

"C'mon, girls. Let's go find everybody."

Duff still retains his manners as he opens the door to the hallway we came down, holding it open as we step outside.

Things are still quiet here, the padded carpet beneath my shoes still expensive, and the building still seeming too nice for Guns N' Roses to be lost and fighting in it.

People outside the glass door at the end of the corridor catch my attention over Michelle and Duff's agitated voices. People that look a lot like Axl and Izzy.

The metal of the door is cool against my hands as I push the door open, stepping out into a different part of the parking lot. The sun is incredibly bright, and it only bounces off of Axl's hair as he turns around to look at me, Izzy still yelling.

"-I'm done! I cannot do this! And now you're not even listening to me!"

Axl smiles wide at me. "Chas! Hi! It feels like I haven't seen you in so long, c'mere."

My body automatically closes the space between us, Axl nearly lifting me up with his arms as he hugs me.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! I'm not done, Axl. You cannot just have a sweet little reunion right now! We're in the middle of a crisis."

"Yes I can, Iz." Axl turns his head to look at Izzy, his arms around my waist only getting tighter. "I missed her," He says just as he pulls back to look at me. "I missed you," He whispers.

I nearly kiss him right here, only the squeaking of the door makes me freeze, because I know who would see.

"There you are!" Duff's voice is just as angry as Izzy's.

Axl moves his hands up a little higher on my back then, just before he pulls away completely, and I have to hide my blushing and how good my whole being feels from him touching me in the slightest.

I remember that I'm supposed to be annoyed with him. I'm supposed to not want to kiss him right now.

How absurd.

"Hey-" Axl starts.

"Don't 'hey' me! You left Stevie and Slash totally shitfaced in the booth and expected things to go just fine?! Izzy can't control them, you know that! He's trying to record too, not babysit! Now they're probably charging us another thousand for wasting time. And where the fuck is Alan?!" Duff doesn't stop for anything, not even air as he yells at Axl, pointing fingers and all.

My jaw drops when he gets to the money portion of his lecture. Michelle can only stand there and laugh hysterically. Izzy folds his arms in a matter of factly way, only able to agree with Duff.

Axl remains calm, sighing. "Listen, we all need to calm down! Let's order some food for the terror twins, sober them up a bit. They'll be fine."

Izzy just stares at Axl. "That leaves the money and uh, Alan still."

"They'll take it out of my paycheck, just like they do with everything else. It'll be fine. And Alan isn't here, he left hours ago."

"What the fuck are we payin' him for then?-" Duff nearly starts to freak out all over again, until Axl walks over and pats his shoulder.

"Calm down. You don't gotta yell."

Duff nods his head then, eyes glued to the pavement. "Yeah. Sorry."

Axl hugs him then. "It's okay, man. You just go back to Slash and Steve, keep 'em in the live room and put 'em on mute. I'll go get some burgers, I'll be back in half an hour tops."

"Okay."

And just like that, everyone is calm and everything's fine. All because Axl made it so.

When he manages to corral everyone inside, sending them back to the control room, he turns to me.

"Do you wanna go with me?"

"Yeah. I actually needed to talk to you." The weight of my pocket comes back into focus now. The problem so much worse than a few drunk band members and a missing manager.

Axl begins to walk back outside now, bringing me along with him. "I'm all yours. What's up?"

"You're not gonna believe it, Axl. . ."