November 7th, 1990

Drusilla remembers how fun everything used to be. The limelight seemed so refreshing, so exhilarating, and nothing could stop her. She and Rick had shed sweat, blood, and tears to get where they are now. They've met so many people on the road here, and nothing seemed impossible, so why did she feel so desolated?

Somewhere along the way, the sex, the drugs, and the alcohol weren't nearly as appealing as they once were.

All she wanted to do was get this interview done and go to bed, but life always had other plans for Drusilla Mortimer.

June 20th, 1986

"I'm fuckin' done, Dru." Rick rants, kicking off his steel-toe boots at the front door of the cramped apartment they shared.

The apartment was small, old, and needed more maintenance than they could afford. Los Angeles wasn't cheap and it was a struggle to make ends meet. Drusilla shared a room with Rick, which was a pain in the ass itself. But she'd rather share with him since she was the most comfortable with Rick. They knew each other since high school.

"What happened now?" Drusilla commented, putting the last of the dishes into the drying rack by the sink. God, it would be nice to have a dishwasher but that shit is expensive.

"I fuckin' hate working at that pizzeria. Bob is a slavedriver, I swear!" Rick complained, sitting at the counter. The band usually ate at the counter, with the metal stools as seats. There was no need for a dining table when the apartment barely had space for it.

"I know, it sucks ass, but we're all slaving around to make ends meet," Drusilla replied, wiping her hands with an old kitchen towel. She then opened the fridge, frowning when she realized she'd have to go grocery shopping again.

"Mornin' guys." Chris greets, still half-asleep and underdressed, only wearing his blue boxers and a white tank top. His long blond hair was disheveled, sticking out everywhere.
If this had been two years ago, the sight of Chris would've embarrassed Drusilla, but now? It barely fazes her.

"Good morning, Chris. What time are you heading to work?" Drusilla asked, slamming the old fridge door shut.

"Around 8 PM...it's another late night shift," Chris replied, rubbing his eyes to wake himself up. Unlike the other residents in the apartment, Chris was on another sleep schedule due to his job.

Drusilla had gotten off her job around 4 PM and spent an hour cleaning up the kitchen before Ricky came home. If she didn't clean, the apartment would look like a horde of elephants went by and Drusilla couldn't handle that.

"I should've brought food home from the diner. We got to go grocery shopping. Our fridge looks so depressing and desolated." Drusilla said.

"I'll go with you. I think Jeremy should be getting off soon too." Ricky said, running his hands through his light brown hair.

"I hate working. I'd rather just play the bassist and write, y'know?" Chris complains, but the other two nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I agree but I'd rather not starve either. But at least we have a gig soon and at least it isn't at your bar!" Drusilla exclaimed, trying to bring up her bandmates' spirits.

"Yeah, that's true. I really hope that label picks us up soon. Everything seems so promising, especially the crowds at the bars." Ricky replies, laying down on the couch. It's an old and small couch, but it's relatively clean (thanks to Drusilla) and comfy. It was a good buy at the garage sale Chris and Jeremy went to a few months ago.

"Are you sure the crowd ain't making googly eyes at Dru?" Chris jokes, but it was half-serious. It wasn't a lie, Drusilla DID attract the male gaze, which sometimes brought more attendants to their show.

Sometimes, it was beneficial, other times it would just annoy Drusilla.

"Haha, very funny," Drusilla answered back, rolling her eyes at Chris.

Chris kept snickering in reply. It was fun poking fun at Drusilla, mostly because she was so easy to rile up. Eventually, Chris went to shower and get ready for another night at the bar.

"Let's go to the grocery store before it gets too late, Ricky," Drusilla tells Ricky, throwing him his leather jacket.

"Yeah, yeah," Ricky mutters in response, putting on his jacket.

By the time Ricky and Drusilla came trudging upstairs with arms filled with groceries, Chris was gone and Jeremy was home.

"Food!" Jeremy cried out in excitement, noticing the grocery bags in Drusilla's hands.

"Don't just stand there! Help me, you butt!" Drusilla yells at Jeremy, who hurries to grab a bag from her dainty hands.

"Are you cooking tonight, Dru?" Jeremy asks, setting the bag on the counter and taking the groceries out.

"If I don't want to starve, then yeah. I'll need help though, mister." Drusilla said, following the same routine as Jeremy.

Ricky set down the remaining groceries, before heading back to close the front door.

Ricky sat on the stool, looking at his two bandmates put away the food and prepare dinner, "Are you ready for this weekend's gig, Jeremy?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. I have a really good gut feeling about this, y'know?" Jeremy replied, a grin gracing his face.

"Yeah, I sure hope so. It'll be so nice to do something that we all love than lame minimum wage jobs." Ricky responded, before asking for a beer, which Jeremy (out of the kindness of his heart) gave to him.

"It'll be even nicer to get a bigger apartment. Hell, even a house, because our shit barely fits in here, especially Rick's drums." Jeremy replied, washing his hands while Drusilla pulls out various ingredients.

"I'm just happy we have a damn roof over our heads. It could've been worst." Drusilla mentions and the boys simply shrugged in response.

"It could be better. I just hope the deal pulls through." Rick rejoined. Everyone wanted the deal to go through. The Watchmen spent too much time, sweat, blood, and tears on their dream. They couldn't give up, not now, not ever.

"Dru, there ain't anything to be scared of, you pussy!" Chris slurs, feeling a bit drunk already. Drusilla glares at the blond but appreciates the odd way of Chris's comforting.

"But he's out there! What if I mess up?" Drusilla frantically questions, the doubt within her was brewing.

The man Drusilla speaks of is a representative of the record company they're trying to get a deal with. The man was Henry Stone from Prism Records, and if the band made a stellar impression him, then it would seal the deal. All they needed was some luck.

"Look, he liked our demos. We've had a good relationship with him and Prism so far, so nothing gonna stop us now. Dru, you are amazing." Chris reassures Drusilla, patting her head. If this had been another time, Drusilla would've complained, but she appreciated this gesture more than she wanted to admit.

"Thanks, Chris, I really needed to hear that. I think I'm ready now." Drusilla said, adjusting her guitar strap. Her black Gibson Explorer was tuned and ready to go for tonight's gig. In the distance, Drusilla can see Ricky banging his drumsticks on anything out of excitement. Ricky always got a huge rush of excitement from performing, which contrasted with Drusilla's stage fright.

Jeremy's voice was ready for tonight's performance too. Jeremy shot a smile at her, which instantly comforted her. Drusilla adjusted the bottom of her black leather skirt once more before following the boys along.

The four of them soon arrived on stage, their moods instantly changing. They weren't individuals now—they were The Watchmen—and they were going to kick ass.

The lights shined brightly in their faces, but it didn't faze the band too badly. Instead, Jeremy gave a smirk to the crowd and spoke into the microphone, "Hey, we're The Watchmen and we'll start off by playing a song called Hangman's Joke."

As soon as the sentence left Jeremy's mouth, Drusilla started strumming her guitar, and Chris followed along. Ricky's drumming ignited the crowd, and The Watchmen ended up owning the night. This wasn't the band's first gig together, and it definitely wasn't the last, but it was safe to say it was their best gig so far.

From the crowd, lingering at the bar was Slash and Steven Adler. Duff and Izzy were somewhere else around the bar, out of sight, and the other two weren't too concern about it. As for Axl, he stayed home at their rundown apartment. He was in another huge writing mood and couldn't be bothered. Whatever.

Steven was already demanding more Night Train when Slash noticed the female guitarist leaving the stage. The band onstage had played for about an hour or two, and they weren't bad at all. But nothing had stood out more than the girl and her Gibson.

Her long hair was jet black, and her bangs seemed to frame her face perfectly. Her vibrant red lipstick complemented her sun-kissed skin tone, and the grin she wore was electrifying. And shit, the girl could dress too! From her black leather jacket and white tank top down to her red leather skirt and those black boots, Slash swore he was in love. Or in lust. What's the difference?

"Stevie, look at her! Isn't she hot?" Slash nudged at his best friend, his words slurring as he watched Drusilla make her way to the other side of the bar.

The blond glanced at Drusilla's direction, his blue eyes sweeping down her body, "Damn, she is. Wasn't she the girl on stage?"

"Yeah, she was. I'm gonna go talk to her." Slash proclaimed, taking his drink as he headed towards the unsuspecting Drusilla.

Steven watched his friend go and shrugged. There were more girls in the bar to go after and the night was still young. But first things first, he really needed another round of Night Train.

"I think I'll have a 'sex on the beach,' please!" Drusilla ordered from one of the bartenders, flashing a grin. If she smiles and acts cute, then hopefully the bartender will bump down the price on the drink.

"That's a pretty fruity drink." Someone comments from beside Drusilla. She turns her head and the first thing she notices is the curls. Oh God, whoever this man was, his hair was beautiful. In fact, he was a sight for sore eyes, even if Drusilla could tell that he was drunk as hell.

"Yeah? I like fruity." Drusilla replied with a smirk. She quickly thanked the bartender for her drink, and the first thing she decided to do was pluck the cherry out her drink. Drusilla felt a bit mischievous, deciding to suck on the cherry a bit before chewing it.

Slash stood, feeling bewitched by the nameless girl before him. It wasn't the first time he's come across a seductive girl, and it sure in hell won't be the last. Although, it wouldn't be a lie if he said he was turned on by the girl before him. On top of that, her playing the guitar was a huge plus in his book.

"Me too. Uh, what's your name? I saw you on stage. You're pretty good." Slash said, focusing in on her lips, especially when Drusilla decided to tie the cherry stem with her damn tongue. It was official: this girl was going to be the death of him...or at least in his dreams for the next few nights.

"Thanks! My name is Drusilla. What about you? What's your name?" Drusilla asked, putting the cherry knot on a piece napkin by her drink.

"It's Slash," Slash answered, taking another swig of his drink. Drusilla—the name was somewhat fitting yet unique.

"Slash? That's pretty cool name." Drusilla replied, drinking her beverage. Her eyes were so brown and welcoming, and jeez, Slash felt like he was becoming a sap for only knowing the girl for only two seconds.

"Yeah, I'm in a band too. I'm the guitarist." Slash replied, trying to act nonchalant, even if Drusilla noticeably got excited.

"You are? That's awesome! You look like a guitarist anyways. What band are you in?" Drusilla began to ramble. She always loved talking about music, and it was even more fun talking to another guitarist.

Slash smirked, "Guns N' Roses. We're gonna have another gig soon at the Whiskey Go Go soon. You should check us out."

"Sounds cool. I think I will!" Drusilla answered back, feeling excited. She wasn't sure if it was the fact that Slash might have been into her, the energy left from the concert, or the alcohol that was making her feel this way. But it didn't matter, all that matters was that tonight was a very good night.

"Drusilla! Let's go! We've been lookin' for you!" Chris called from the distance, managing his voice to be loud and clear in a crowd of drunk people.

"You're leavin' already?" Slash asked, feeling a tad bit disappointed. He was hoping to get into Drusilla's pants, but it looks like he'd have to raincheck on that with her.

"Sadly! I'll see you around Slash." Drusilla responded, winking at him before taking off into the crowd, blending in with the rest.
Next time it is.

A day or two after the gig at the bar, Ricky saw Henry Stone. Luckily, The Watchmen managed to get signed to Prism Records. According to Ricky, Stone was impressed with the bar gig!

"I can't believe we fucking did it, Dru!" Ricky shouted out, feeling so overjoyed. Chris and Jeremy were just as delighted, lounging on the couch, and drinking cheap beer. They started their celebration early.

"I can't believe you fuckers are drinking again. Don't you still have a hangover from the night before?" Drusilla replied back, but nevertheless, she was just as thrilled as them.

"Don't act like a mom now. It's time to celebrate!" Jeremy exclaimed at Drusilla, taking another swig of vodka. Drusilla seriously wondered how Jeremy's esophagus wasn't burning from the raw alcohol alone.

It was time to celebrate though. From here on now, it was only uphill for The Watchmen.

Author's Note:
Word Count: 2380
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I apologize for any grammar, spelling, or punctuation errors! I also apologize for some characters appear OOC. Other than I that, I hoped you enjoyed!