Everybody has a past

A/N: Ok I'm really sorry this took SO SO SO long to update. I actually forgot about it and then figured nobody was interested anymore! But thanks to two recent comments I've decided to pick it up again. Updates should be more regular from now on, especially given these chapters are far shorter than my other fics I'm doing at the moment.
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1995. A club in Florida.

Much to Jeordie’s dismay, they played a great show. Manson got his kit off, Pogo smashed his keyboard and the new guy hit everything perfectly. Wanker.

Looking out into the crowd, he could tell that even THEY liked this freaky looking (though perhaps not so much by Manson standards) new drummer. Well, too bad.

“Nice work,” Daisy said quietly as they came off stage. Ken was grinning ear to ear. He was a shoe in.

“Well,” Jeordie sighed. “that was fun and all, but you can fuck off now, Mr. Las Vegas.”

“Twiggy, grow up, he was good, just get over your little spat.” Manson said, wiping his make-up off.

Fuck, what did he have to do to get everyone on his side? Jeordie was fuming. “Can I talk to you for a minute? In private?”

“Take your time!” Pogo called out. “We’re not getting picked up for almost an hour.”

Jeordie closed the door once Ken was inside. They were in a small dressing room that smelt like piss and alcohol. It was filthy.

“Look, Jeordie, I said I was sorry. I don’t know what else you want! Tell me!” Kenny pleaded. He wanted, no needed, this gig more than anything.

“Nothing you could say or do could change things, COULD IT?” Twiggy yelled. He thought he’d left that night behind him long ago, yet here he was, reliving it all over again. “You should leave.”

Kenny felt bad, he honestly did. He knew he’d fucked up, but what was he supposed to do about it now? “I can’t, Jeordie. I’m unemployed, I need this!”

“Well that’s too fucking bad!” Jeordie was fuming, this shouldn’t be happening.

“Ok, fine! But… can I at least play until you find someone else? Please, I really need the money.”

Jeordie scowled. He wanted Kenny gone from his sight at that very moment. But, the band had a bunch of shows lined up and they needed a drummer. “Fine, but the second we find someone else, you’re gone.”

***

The next few shows were miserable for Jeordie. He usually had a blast but he had been noticeably withdrawn since the new drummer had come along.

“Twiggy, what the fuck?” Manson asked, pulling the bassists aside after their latest club show.

Jeordie shook his head. He knew he wasn’t performing at his best. “Sorry, Maz.” He muttered. “It’s just this new guy. I can’t-“
“Look sort your shit out like a man.” The singer told him, finger in his chest. “We need a fucking drummer and I need you in this fucking band. If he fucked you over, fuck him over back and settle the score, then move on.”

Jeordie thought about this. For months and months after that night in Las Vegas he’d thought about revenge, though he doubted he’d ever be able to do the things he’d conjured up in his tormented mind. Then he had an idea.

“Oy, Kenny, in here!” he yelled at the drummer down the dirty backstage hallway.

Reluctantly Kenny followed him, expecting more abuse. “Yes?”

“Here’s what’s going to happen you little shit.” Twiggy spat, feeling much larger than he actually was. “You have two options. One, you leave this band now and never, EVER contact any of us again. Two, you stay but I own you. You obey my every whim down to the letter. Should you ever stray, so god help me, I’ll tell the others what you did. And you know they’ll believe me. I don’t think I really have to explain to you what Manson is capable of when people mess with ‘his things’.” The bassist grinned at the shocked look on the drummer’s face. “So, what’ll it be, tough guy?”

Kenny gulped. He was trapped either way. “W-what do you mean you ‘own’ me?”

“That’s none of your concern right now, is it?” Jeordie grinned wickedly. “What will it be?” he repeated.

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A/N: Comments of any kind appreciated.