Reggo
Blue Crack Addict
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2007
- Messages
- 26,992
Notes: It's baaack. 
I've gotten some good inspiration over the summer and I think I've come up with a pretty good storyline this time around. Unfortunately, the only similarity to the previous story is that the character names are the same.
This chapter is heavily influenced by Quentin Tarantino. You were warned.
Anyways, off with the horns, on with the show.
Disclaimer: Not real, never happened, Adam's still fully intact, all that fun stuff.
-----
Chapter One - The Buzzsaw Twist
Oh, how I wish it hadn't come to this.
New Orleans, 2006. September.
Adam and the boys had just kicked off the first home game of the New Orleans Saints football team with thier duet with Green Day, "The Saints Are Coming."
We were having a quiet, low-key get-together with the bands and their families in the hotel ballroom after the performance. We were huddled in little groups. I stood with my husband, Adam Clayton, Billie Joe Armstrong's wife, Adrienne, and Green Day's drummer, Tré Cool.
"So do you and Adam have any children?" Adrienne asks.
I can't fault her for it. It's an innocent question.
"We had a daughter. Aurora. She died six years ago," I reply, drowning my sorrows in a glass of Irish whiskey. Tré, a sweet if insane individual, puts his hand on my back between my shoulder blades. If I wasn't 11 years older than you, boy...
Adrienne gasps, "My God. What happened?"
"She was kidnapped and murdered. The guy had to shoot me four times to get her out of my arms," I explain.
"She also lost one of her tits," Adam adds. "She was trying to be brave and she almost got herself killed."
Adam Clayton, my loving husband.
And a complete asshole.
"I was trying to save our daughter, Adam!" I shout, a point he's refused to see since she died.
He sneers at me, "And you failed, Lucy."
I close my eyes and hang my head. I look defeated, but really I'm boiling with deep-seated rage.
Fuck him.
I open my eyes and I can see Tré watching me in my periphery. I take a deep breath and in the blink of an eye, I punch Adam in the face, ensuring he'll have a black eye tomorrow.
"Fuck you," I literally spit on his shoes, then go upstairs to our suite.
I can't cry. If he sees even a hint of tears, he will win. I take off the dress he made me wear, tearing it in two, then crumple it into the trash. Like I give a fuck how much he spent on it. I'm sick of this life. He never treated me like this when Aurora was alive. I wash the makeup off, take my hair down, take out the false breast I wear in the left cup of my bra, and set it on the bed. I pull on a Boston Red Sox shirt, jeans, and sit in the foyer of our suite, waiting for Adam's indignant entrance.
Predictably, Adam storms in two minutes after I sat down, slamming the door behind him. "You went too far tonight."
I stare at him blankly. I'm not going to argue. I take a quiet pleasure in his red, swelling eye.
"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" he snaps.
I point to my packed bag. "I'm leaving you. I want a divorce."
We've technically been separated since March, he's been toying with me about whether or not we're actually going to divorce.
"I thought you wanted to try to work things out," Adam's ego deflated.
"I did, but I'm sick of fighting with you. I'm sick of you blaming me for Rory's death, and I don't think I'm wrong when I say you obviously don't love me anymore," I put on a pair of red stiletto boots. "So I'm leaving. After 24 years, I guess we're finally sick of each other."
I stand and walk over to my bag.
"You think I'll let you go that easy? Are you out of your mind?" Adam folds his arms and stands in front of the door.
"So now I'm crazy because I don't love you, right? Is that it?" I fold my arms and stare him down.
"No! Wrong! You're not crazy and you do love me. That's the point, Lucy," Adam walks over to the bed and sits down, facing me.
"But I don't. I hate you. You were just some boy who made me laugh at a party once, and now I loathe the sight of you," I say through gritted teeth and curl my lip. "In fact, if you come any closer, if you touch me or anything, I think I'll scream." I stare down my nose at him, daring him to.
He reaches for my hand, "Oh, come on, stop this, Lucy."
The instant he takes it, I make good on my threat and scream as loudly and as shrilly as I can. I pick up my bag and walk toward the door.
"Fuck you, Lucy!" Adam follows me. "Fuck you and all your goddamn hateful--"
He shoves me onto my back on the bed and overshadows me, his fist pulled back to his shoulder.
"What are you going to do now? Are you going to hit me? To show me how much you love me?" I look him in the eye, the unswollen one, unafraid of him.
Adam shoves me into the mattress before he climbs off the bed. "Don't worry, I can't be arsed! You aren't worth the trouble it would take to hit you! You are an empty, empty hollow shell of a woman," he paces the floor, pointing at me to emphasize his points. I watch him, unimpressed. "I mean, what the fuck are you doing here if you hate me so much? Why the hell are you married to me? What the fuck were you doing carrying my child? I mean, why didn't you just get rid of it when you had the chance? Because--listen to me, Lucy, I got news for you--I wish to God that you had!"
Adam pants, staring at me, fuming at my blank face.
"Are you done?" I sit up.
"Yeah," Adam growls loudly as I stand up. I nod as I take three steps toward him. Before he can stop me, I punch him again, in the same eye, knocking him to the floor. I put the heel of my boot in his balls, crouching and putting most of my weight onto that ankle. I stare into Adam's eyes as he moans and whimpers. Something pops and he cries out in pain.
"Never fuck with a McManus," I say before standing and walking out of the hotel room, dragging my suitcase behind me.
I've gotten some good inspiration over the summer and I think I've come up with a pretty good storyline this time around. Unfortunately, the only similarity to the previous story is that the character names are the same.This chapter is heavily influenced by Quentin Tarantino. You were warned.
Anyways, off with the horns, on with the show.
Disclaimer: Not real, never happened, Adam's still fully intact, all that fun stuff.
-----
Chapter One - The Buzzsaw Twist
Oh, how I wish it hadn't come to this.
New Orleans, 2006. September.
Adam and the boys had just kicked off the first home game of the New Orleans Saints football team with thier duet with Green Day, "The Saints Are Coming."
We were having a quiet, low-key get-together with the bands and their families in the hotel ballroom after the performance. We were huddled in little groups. I stood with my husband, Adam Clayton, Billie Joe Armstrong's wife, Adrienne, and Green Day's drummer, Tré Cool.
"So do you and Adam have any children?" Adrienne asks.
I can't fault her for it. It's an innocent question.
"We had a daughter. Aurora. She died six years ago," I reply, drowning my sorrows in a glass of Irish whiskey. Tré, a sweet if insane individual, puts his hand on my back between my shoulder blades. If I wasn't 11 years older than you, boy...
Adrienne gasps, "My God. What happened?"
"She was kidnapped and murdered. The guy had to shoot me four times to get her out of my arms," I explain.
"She also lost one of her tits," Adam adds. "She was trying to be brave and she almost got herself killed."
Adam Clayton, my loving husband.
And a complete asshole.
"I was trying to save our daughter, Adam!" I shout, a point he's refused to see since she died.
He sneers at me, "And you failed, Lucy."
I close my eyes and hang my head. I look defeated, but really I'm boiling with deep-seated rage.
Fuck him.
I open my eyes and I can see Tré watching me in my periphery. I take a deep breath and in the blink of an eye, I punch Adam in the face, ensuring he'll have a black eye tomorrow.
"Fuck you," I literally spit on his shoes, then go upstairs to our suite.
I can't cry. If he sees even a hint of tears, he will win. I take off the dress he made me wear, tearing it in two, then crumple it into the trash. Like I give a fuck how much he spent on it. I'm sick of this life. He never treated me like this when Aurora was alive. I wash the makeup off, take my hair down, take out the false breast I wear in the left cup of my bra, and set it on the bed. I pull on a Boston Red Sox shirt, jeans, and sit in the foyer of our suite, waiting for Adam's indignant entrance.
Predictably, Adam storms in two minutes after I sat down, slamming the door behind him. "You went too far tonight."
I stare at him blankly. I'm not going to argue. I take a quiet pleasure in his red, swelling eye.
"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" he snaps.
I point to my packed bag. "I'm leaving you. I want a divorce."
We've technically been separated since March, he's been toying with me about whether or not we're actually going to divorce.
"I thought you wanted to try to work things out," Adam's ego deflated.
"I did, but I'm sick of fighting with you. I'm sick of you blaming me for Rory's death, and I don't think I'm wrong when I say you obviously don't love me anymore," I put on a pair of red stiletto boots. "So I'm leaving. After 24 years, I guess we're finally sick of each other."
I stand and walk over to my bag.
"You think I'll let you go that easy? Are you out of your mind?" Adam folds his arms and stands in front of the door.
"So now I'm crazy because I don't love you, right? Is that it?" I fold my arms and stare him down.
"No! Wrong! You're not crazy and you do love me. That's the point, Lucy," Adam walks over to the bed and sits down, facing me.
"But I don't. I hate you. You were just some boy who made me laugh at a party once, and now I loathe the sight of you," I say through gritted teeth and curl my lip. "In fact, if you come any closer, if you touch me or anything, I think I'll scream." I stare down my nose at him, daring him to.
He reaches for my hand, "Oh, come on, stop this, Lucy."
The instant he takes it, I make good on my threat and scream as loudly and as shrilly as I can. I pick up my bag and walk toward the door.
"Fuck you, Lucy!" Adam follows me. "Fuck you and all your goddamn hateful--"
He shoves me onto my back on the bed and overshadows me, his fist pulled back to his shoulder.
"What are you going to do now? Are you going to hit me? To show me how much you love me?" I look him in the eye, the unswollen one, unafraid of him.
Adam shoves me into the mattress before he climbs off the bed. "Don't worry, I can't be arsed! You aren't worth the trouble it would take to hit you! You are an empty, empty hollow shell of a woman," he paces the floor, pointing at me to emphasize his points. I watch him, unimpressed. "I mean, what the fuck are you doing here if you hate me so much? Why the hell are you married to me? What the fuck were you doing carrying my child? I mean, why didn't you just get rid of it when you had the chance? Because--listen to me, Lucy, I got news for you--I wish to God that you had!"
Adam pants, staring at me, fuming at my blank face.
"Are you done?" I sit up.
"Yeah," Adam growls loudly as I stand up. I nod as I take three steps toward him. Before he can stop me, I punch him again, in the same eye, knocking him to the floor. I put the heel of my boot in his balls, crouching and putting most of my weight onto that ankle. I stare into Adam's eyes as he moans and whimpers. Something pops and he cries out in pain.
"Never fuck with a McManus," I say before standing and walking out of the hotel room, dragging my suitcase behind me.
