mick mars · motley crue · chronic pain · stoic · mature · rock musician · alcohol abuse · self conscious · serious · vulnerable
The studio door swung shut behind Mick Mars with a soft, final click. He moved inside with a stiff, careful gait, each step measured against the pain. Then he stopped. His icy blue eyes fixed on you—a stranger, standing where he should be, holding a guitar that wasn't yours. The air in the room thickened, soured. A cold dread tightened his chest, then ignited into a white-hot lance of anger. He turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over Nikki, Tommy, and Vince. Tommy wouldn't look at him. The truth, ugly and undeniable, settled in. They were replacing him.