Gin and Juice

Kale’s POV

“Maybe we should have played The Beast and the Harlot instead,” Matt told me backstage, sticking his hands in his pockets. He shifted around uncomfortably. I didn’t see why, he had too many tattoos and piercings for me to be attracted to him.

“Yea, sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Actually, it is. I kind of egged her on. I told her to give him hell; I just didn’t think that she would get that out of control.”

Matt thought about it a moment then shrugged. “To each his own, I guess, and, to be truthful, Brian did sort of deserve a little of it. I have to admit that it was hilarious to begin with. I don’t think I’ve had that much fun on the stage in awhile, and I know the guys would agree with me on that…even Brian.” He flashed his dimples at me- the only thing that I really liked about him. “Well, good luck on the nomination again.” He added, clapping me on my back.

Nodding, I tore off in the direction that Danni took only a few minutes earlier. It was pretty easy to find her- I just had to listen to her phone’s ringtone. I turned the corner and saw her staring at her phone in amazement. She looked so lost and confused.

“Who is it?”

“My mother,” she whispered.

“Better pick it up. Don’t worry, I’ll be in our seats if you need me.”

I saw her nod before accepting the call.”

Danni’s POV

“Hey, mom,” I greeted with a cringe, knowing that whatever she had to say wasn’t going to be good.

“What was that tone for? Can I not call my daughter to see how she’s doing?”

I walked over to the furthest wall, into a dark crook, and slid down to a sitting position. “What do you want?”

I could feel her smirk on the other end. “So, I was flipping through the channels and I came across a peculiar site. You. Flitting onstage and whoring yourself over every guy that was with you. Seems you’ve come a long way from House of Wolves. A real upgrade.” I refused to let me tears fall as she spoke of my old work place. “Tell me, how much of a raise did you get? I bet those rockstars pay a heavy fee. Then again, you were always the cheap one in the family.”

“What do you want?” I repeated myself, my jaw clenched and my free arm wrapped tightly against my legs.

“Now, why would you ever think that?”

“You have taken my birthday and Christmas money from me ever since I was six to support your Delilah needs to support her habit fund. You also took every penny of what I rightfully earned at that hole in the wall, not to mention all of my graduation money!” A lone tear escaped my eye.

She clacked her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Oh, poor Danielle.”

“I’m not supporting you and that bastard that you live with. Who is it now? Mark, Larry, that stupid Mexican? Get them to support you, you fucking whore.”

“Do not speak to me like that. I am your mother.”

“You’re nothing but a fucking whore.”

“Then that makes you the daughter of one. And they say that apples don’t fall far from trees. And, baby, you’re a rotten one.”

Tears were flowing freely down my face now. I was sure that I had identical black streaks on my cheeks right now.

“Ooooh, look, they just mentioned your name! It would be funny if you lost.” I could hear the volume being turned up. “And the results are…..HA! You lose. Fancy that. The one time I win…but I guess that doesn’t matter to you.”

I closed my eyes and slowly counted backwards from ten.

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” Pop. “Too bad I can’t see you right now. It would be better than this shit on TV. My, my, Madonna makes being a whore look glamorous. Ask her for some pointers for me, will ya? I assume that you could use them, too.”

“I just have one question to ask you.” I said, gritting my teeth and bracing for the answer. “Is there a time where you were ever proud of me? Did you ever love me?”

“My, what a silly question!” she cackled with her dry and damaged throat. “Who could ever feel proud or love someone as stupid as you?!”

I hung up my phone and buried my head into my knees. I had pretty much guessed what her answer was, but it still hurt. I think the only reason she kept me was for her welfare check. She was using me to get money and drugs since the day I was born. Come to think of it, I’m surprised I’m alive and breathing today with all the shit she shoved down her throat, pumped into her veins, and snorted up her nose while she was pregnant. When I was really little, she would leave me on random street corners and in buildings. I guess it was a ploy to abandon me, but I always found my way home (only half-starved since strangers took pity on me)…and with a good chunk of change, to boot.

Reliving my childhood brought more tears to my face. I thanked the stars that the award show was in LA, as I ran outside and grabbed a cab, ordering the driver to take me to a familiar haunt. I gave the driver his fare and thanked him for the ride before stepping out of the cab. I spent a few minutes taking in the exterior that I had always hated.

From the outside, the bar looked like a ragged shack that had never been refurbished nor had a facelift in its entire pathetic life. Spray paint practically dripped off the stucco walls and warped boards that had been nailed together to patch up various holes that had accumulated over the years. The neon lights over the entrance were the only things that had ever been replaced. It was a basic square outline sign with “House of Wolves” scrawled in red. Rumor has it that My Chemical Romance got their inspiration for the song here, but that’s only a rumor and I highly doubt that MCR had even heard of the pathetic joint I was standing in front of.

Inside the building was much worse. It was way too small for the amount of people that filtered in every night. The only furniture in there was the long bar that spanned the length of the room (complete with three stripper poles and all the alcohol you can imagine) and only a few puny tables and chairs (the ones that had withstood countless bar fights). Despite the destitute appearance of the place, I racked up a lot of tips from it, and I know that Meeri, the owner, had several thousand dollars tucked away somewhere in the ratty building. At night, the room would come alive with music, shouts, and dancing, fueling the atmosphere in the dingy bar to live up to its name. I can’t recall how many times I danced, sung, and sweat on that stage… I can’t remember how many times I was grabbed as well… We made the bar in Coyote Ugly look tame.