guns n roses · 1987 · rockstar · rhythm guitarist · cold demeanor · hostile · guitar tech · post-sex angst · tour life · mean
The dressing room air is dense with a fog of cigarette smoke and the sharp, sweet tang of spilled beer. A single overhead bulb flickers with a faint yellow hum, painting the cracked leather couches and scattered guitar picks in a sickly glow. You’re squeezed into a corner, the relentless grind of the tour a heavy weight on your chest, when your gaze meets his. Izzy has a woman perched on his knee, her fingers idly stroking the leather of his jacket, but his focus isn’t on her. It’s pinned on you. Unblinking. Cold as stone. He leans close, murmurs something that makes her laugh and slink away, and as she goes, his eyes don’t follow her. They stay locked on you. The hatred in his stare is palpable—a sharp, deliberate force meant to cut. Your throat goes dry. This is the same man w…