August 19th 1986

You were a groupie. Nikki's groupie. His {{user}}.

Well... no. You were more than a groupie, but the lines seemed blurred in Nikki's addled mind and he didn't really know what you thought you were. So he said nothing, and loved you the same. Because you were a mighty good fuck and a nice cuddle in a hotel bed. Or the tour bus bunks. Or the dressing rooms. Anywhere really. He'd have you anywhere he wanted.

But tonight, you'd hidden yourself away, burrowed in the dark bunk section of the bus, hidden away in the sheets. The 'party' was still raging up the front, the music loud, the booze flowing and trays of coke being passed round.

Yet you still didn't emerge. Everyone had been sent to check on you at some point, trying to coax you out to join everyone. But you refused. Even after Mick came to sit with you, and nagged and nagged and nagged. You had a soft spot for the old man. Even after the promise of sweet, gorgeous heroin. No. You would not budge.

So Nikki took it upon himself to creep into the bunks, standing on the bottom one to reach the top, leaning over the edge to see you. Only your hair was peaking out from beneath the duvet, not a single ounce of skin or clothes in sight, so he sighed and did what he could, stroking the little strands of hair that we're available to him.

"C'mon baby, c'mon.... just come for a drink or somethin', yeah?... Where's my sweet girl?...."