"Are you bitches behaving yourselves?" Kim Fowley growled into the phone.

Joan laughed. "Yeah Kim. We're really rockin' it. I mean, we're totally hot. But, you gotta send up some more money, man. We're starving."

"Look Joanie. I'm doin' what I can over here alright? We got a lot of debt still you know, and more comin. I'm workin on getting you bitches a record deal, you hear me? So you gotta pay your dues –"

"Spend money to make money. Yeah Kim, I know, I know."

"You keep things under control on the road, alright? I'm trusting you Joan. Because I know the shit talking that Scott Anderson does from time to time, but you wont lie to me right, Joan?"

"No, Kim. Everything's fine."

"That's my little pup. Now you go back to melting faces and fucking groupies, you got it? Make your master proud!" he said before hanging up the phone.

Joan sighed, slamming the receiver down. She was sick and tired of eating fucking burgers and fries all the damn time. But, that's all they could afford. Every week Scott would shell out money and they'd have just enough to eat something cheap and fast. But, the trade-off was they never had to pay for drugs or booze. So, in the end, she supposed it worked out.

She sauntered off back down the hallway to the room they were all sharing. She rolled her shoulders, the buckles on her leather jacket jingling. She smiled at Cherie who sitting on the bed. She looked over at Sandy and laughed.

"What the fuck are you reading?" she asked, grabbing the magazine from her. It was a dirty magazine filled with naked women and men standing over them.

"Hey!" Sandy yelled, grabbing it back. She blushed slightly. "I stole it from Scott."

They all laughed, peering over her shoulder as she flicked through the pages, twisting it upside down in confusion.

"What's the big deal with these anyways?" she asked. "It's just naked chicks and guys with limp dicks."

"I dunno, it's sexy I guess," Joan said, smacking gum in her mouth.

"That's not sexy," Sandy said, pointing at some young girl who looked like she was kind of in pain.

Cherie giggled.

Sandy made a face and closed the magazine sliding it off the bed and onto the floor.

"That's stuff's stupid," she said, laying down on the bed.

"Well, what's wrong with it?" Joan asked, picking up the magazine and flipping through it again.

"I dunno, it's just…it's not even hot. I mean, do guys really look at that and get hard?"

Joan and Cherie looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

"Uh, yeah, Sandy," Cherie said. "They're pretty easy to please."

Sandy rolled her eyes. "Well, not me," she said. "That's stuff's boring."

"Well then what do you like?" Joan asked, looking over at her.

A smiled crept across Sandy's face. "I dunno," she said, shrugging.

"Well, who do you have a crush on?" Joan asked.

Sandy thought for a moment. "No one."

Joan chuckled. "Okay, well what about…Farah Fawcett. You like her?"

Sandy smiled. "Yeah! Who doesn't?" she said excitedly.

Cherie blushed, nodding slightly.

Joan flickered her eyebrows suggestively. "Yeah, she's pretty hot," she said.

They all sat there quietly thinking about Farah Fawcett and her infamous pin-up photo shoot.

"Do you think it's weird?" Sandy asked, breaking the moment of silence.

"What?" Joan asked, dropping the magazine onto the floor, kicking it under the bed.

"That we think other girls are hot?" Sandy replied.

Joan and Cherie exchanged a quick glance.

"No," Joan said quickly. She looked down at her hands.

Cherie shrugged. "Well, I mean, Bowie and Elton John both came out saying they think that men are hot. So, what's the difference?"

Sandy nodded slowly. "I guess that's true. But, I mean, how do girls…you know…do it?" she stared at Joan.

"C'mon, man," Joan said, feeling all together too obvious. "Do we have to talk about this?"

"It's almost the same stuff as with a guy," Cherie chimed in. Sandy looked at her, a smile on her lips. "But, well, without the obvious bits."

Joan looked sideways at Cherie and she bit her lip. Sandy knew about the two of them, but she didn't think Cherie realized that. She took a deep breath, running her hand through the back of her hair. She shifted awkwardly on the bed.

"Oh, c'mon Joanie," Cherie said, shoving her shoulder playfully. "Don't be so embarrassed."

"I'm not," Joan mumbled. She looked away, feeling heat in her face.

Sandy laughed. "Yeah, Joan. Don't be ashamed that you're a huge queer now," she said.

Joan shot her a dirty look. "Shut up," she said sternly.

"I'm only joking," Sandy said defensively. Joan stood up, grabbing her cigarettes out of her pocket. She lit one, looked back at the two of them and walked out of the room.

"What's her damage?" Sandy asked, rolling her eyes.

Cherie shrugged. "I don't know. I guess she's just sensitive."

"She told me about you guys, you know," Sandy said absent-mindedly.

Cherie bit her lip. "Oh," she said.

"But, whatever. It's not like I care or anything."

Cherie sat there on the edge of the bed for a moment. "I'm gonna go see if she's okay," she said softly.

Sandy nodded, watching as Cherie left as well.

She found Joan outside by the pool, sitting on one of the chairs. Cherie sat down on the ground beside her.

"Can I tell you a secret," Cherie said, looking out across the pool.

Joan exhaled smoke, glancing over at Cherie through her sunglasses. "Sure," she said.

"I've never…you know…done it to myself before."

Joan laughed. "Done what to yourself?"

Cherie looked up at her. "You know." She smiled suggestively.

Joan held her cigarette between her thumb and index finger, taking a long drag, just looking back at Cherie. "I don't believe you," she said finally.

"Nope, I swear. Never done it."

"Why are you telling me this exactly?" Joan asked.

"I don't know. I just…thought of it."

Joan nodded slowly. "Well, you ever gonna try?"

Cherie shrugged. "I wouldn't even know how."

Joan chuckled. "Cherie, it's not rocket science. I mean, if you can do it to me, you can do it to yourself."

Cherie blushed. "I guess that's true."

"You, uh, want me to show you?" Joan asked, leaning closer.

Cherie bit her lip. "No," she said slowly. "I'll figure it out."

"Alright," Joan said, sitting up. "It's easiest if you do it in the shower."

"Why?" Cherie asked.

"Because," Joan said, standing up and flicking her cigarette away. "No one else is around." She smiled her familiar smile and signalled that she was going back inside.

Cherie got up, following behind before slipping her hand into Joan's.

Joan looked down at their hands and smiled slightly. "What am I, your boyfriend now?"

"No," Cherie mused. "Just my friend."

Joan nodded, laughing. "Right," she said.


"Cherie, I swear to god if you don't shut the fuck up, I will make you," Lita shouted from across the room.

Cherie glared back at her. She wanted nothing more than to tell her right where to go, but Lita could have her on the ground in a heartbeat, and she wasn't going to take any chances.

They had been arguing all day. This was a bad day for them; no one was getting along. Not even Joan and Cherie. They were all tired, exhausted even, strung out and getting a little sick of the close quarters they had been living in for the past 7 weeks. Life on the road was tougher than they'd ever imagined.

They all stood in the dressing room, each trying to get ready for the show they had in a few hours. Cherie had been complaining about how homesick she was and Lita had just about had enough.

"You think I'm not homesick?" She had said to her earlier. "You think I don't miss my fuckin' family? Well, I do. Just as much as you do. But, when I got back home I wanna be somebody."

Cherie had liked this, felt like it made sense to her. After all, this why she was doing this in the first place. To make something of her self, to be somebody. But, as time went on this attachment to this dream was slipping away and all she wanted was her own bed more and more.

Cherie shut her mouth, applying her make-up in the mirror. She could feel the others' eyes on her but she ignored it. She took a deep breath, reaching into her make-up bag and pulling out a couple of pills from a little baggie, throwing them back. Those ought to make her relax.

"Motherfucker!" Joan yelled as she opened up her guitar case. Three strings had snapped. "Is it so fucking hard for these fucking fatass roadies to do something right for once?" she screamed, barrelling down the hallway. They could all hear her reaming one of the roadies out. It took a lot to make Joan yell, but every little thing was just another addition to the shit pile that was this tour. She came storming back it, her face flushed, rage in her eyes.

"Fucking morons," she said under her breath, rummaging through her case and pulling out a pack of strings. She sat on the floor and began repairing her guitar.

Cherie watched her out of the corner of her eye. She wished that tensions weren't so high because she missed those tender moments with Joan and wanted nothing more than to kneel down beside her and put her arm around her shoulders. But, she knew better than to get in Joan's way.

The show itself went flawlessly, as it usually did. They were a tight act, and they should be since they had played nearly every night for the past 7 weeks. They had fun on stage; it was a place for let out some their aggression. Once they finished they piled back into the dressing room, getting their things together for another awful night at some sketchy motel nearby. They were all silent as they went about their business, collecting their belongings and packing them up, and they marched out of the room in a straight line. As they swung the back door open, they heard a wave of voices screaming. They all jolted, suddenly very alert and saw the swarm of faces on the other side.

"Holy shit!" Sandy said as she stepped out hesitantly. She felt hands on her and could barely hear herself think over the screaming. Cherie looked out and saw a few people lunge at her, she dodged them and ran forward but someone grabbed her, pulling her towards them. She couldn't see his face and she panicked, pulling away. Before she knew it, Joan was there, shoving the guy's shoulder's back, telling him to back off. She grabbed Cherie's arm and pulled her, throwing her arm around her shoulders protectively, shoving her forward. They finally made it into the car, exasperated.

"What the fuck was that?" Lita said, half smiling.

"Fans," Scott said from the front seat.

"One of them just grabbed me!" Cherie said. "Just pulled me right into the middle of them."

"Yeah, man. We need some security out there or something," Joan said to Scott. "That was messed up! The guy was huge. But I scared him off," she smiled sheepishly, lighting a cigarette. They all sat there for a moment, buzzing from all the excitement. Cherie looked sideways at Joan.

"You okay?" Joan asked her quietly.

Cherie nodded. They locked eyes for a moment and it felt as if the tension from early had been lifted slightly. Joan sighed as they weaved through the road, the streetlamps flickering. They were all quiet for the ride, both tired and speechless. Cherie peered out the window, feeling homesick again. She felt her eyes get heavy as she pressed her head against the window, watching the road signs whiz by. She felt Joan stir beside her and then looked over as she felt Joan's head rest slightly on her shoulder. Cherie smiled, placing her head gently against Joan's and closed her eyes for a moment, wanting sleep.

A/N Well this is the last chapter…I felt like it kind of blends nicely into the first chapter of Don't Abuse Me. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading! I'll try on work something soon!