Mike and Roxy, chapter 6

Chelsea Hotel, 1978
Mike's POV

"Asshole!"

"Slut!"

"You fucking drugged up scum!" Roxy screamed, hurling one of her black high heels at me. My vision was already blurred and I wasn't in the right condition to be dodging heels. It hit me right on the head with a loud thud. I collapsed onto the carpeted floor and passed out. "Jerk," I heard Roxy mutter, kicking my sneaker as she walked past me.

When I finally woke up again, it was because of the someone screaming.

"What the fuck is wrong with him ya whore?!"

"I don't know! He just passed out! Mike, help me! Wake up, please!"

At the sickening pleads of my girlfriend, I lifted my head up and opened my eyes. I saw Billie hanging Roxy out the window by holding onto her ankles.

I jumped up, ignoring the terrible pain shooting through my body. "Billie!" I shouted. I walked up to him, pulled Roxy through the window, and punched my "best friend" across the cheek. He stumbled backwards but charged at me, tackeling me to the floor. As we scuffled, Roxy screamed, "Stop! Both of you, stop it!"

"You druggie. Look what she's done to you!" Billie hissed, pinning my arms to the floor. I struggled for a couple minutes while Billie simply looked at my scrunched up face. A little sense went into my brain and I kicked him in the stomach with my thick-layored boot. My kick must've been very powerful because Billie flew back ten feet and crashed against the wall.

"Oh Mike," Roxy ran over to me and cupped my face in her hands, "Are you okay?" Billie slowly stood up, his face dripping with thick blood. He pointed a finger at me and said, "You're outta the band." Mine and Roxy's jaw dropped at the same moment.

"No," I stuttered, "You can't. Who will play bass?"

Billie chuckled and said, "You think you're that hard to replace? You could be taken up in a second." He wiped away blood dripping from his nose which smeared it scross his face. Rage and anger took over my whole body.

I stood up, ran at him and threw him against the wall while digging my nails deep into his shoulders. He stared up at me in fear. "You can't kick me outta the band," I barked, "I'm Mike Dirnt. The crazy mother fucker who plays bass for Sweet Children. No, no, no. You can't kick me out."

Billie took a shaky deep breath. He glanced over at my nails still peircing into his flesh. I backed away, letting his body crumble against the wall. "Please Billie," I bent down next to him, "Don't kick me out. I'll do anything for this band, please."
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