The play wasn’t going to be an official, school wide production performed in our schools auditorium. Instead, it would be in the classroom where we had our drama class, which was twice the size of a normal classroom. It was going to be an intimate performance, only for family and a few friends of the students that were in my drama class.
The day of the performance was absolute chaos. I wasn’t able to go home after school because I had to stay for last minute rehearsals. I rushed to eat a brief snack and had just enough time to put on my costume before my drama teacher literally threw me on stage for my first scene. When I finished my dialogue and walked off stage, I peeked from behind a corner wall to see where my family was sitting. I scanned the packed room, full of parents and friends with bouquets of flowers in their hands and I realized not one member of my family showed up to see my performance.
Despite being blown off by my family, I decided to focus on my new budding relationship with Sheldon. One of the downsides of dating him was the constant flow of groupies who had less than no regard for our relationship. Oh and of course every musician has to have at least one stalker. Sheldon’s happened to be a plump, curly haired brunette named Misha.
Misha was a Sunset Strip regular, and the first time I’d heard about her was through Faye. According to Faye, Misha had walked up to her at The Whisky a few months earlier and threatened to beat her ass if she ever came to Hollywood again. This didn’t surprise me though. Faye was always having problems with girls in Hollywood. They absolutely hated her, and I couldn’t understand why. She was always super sweet to me, and I never saw her to be mean to anyone. I just chalked it up to them being jealous of her beauty.
Going back to the subject of Misha, Sheldon did admit that he had sex with her, but it only happened once. According to him, it happened almost a year earlier and only because he was really drunk (isn’t that always the case). He avoided her after they hooked up, so naturally, she got pissed and quickly resorted to crank calling and other antics like putting sugar in his gas tank. But her cries for attention didn’t faze me in the least. Compared to the nightmare Ronan had just put me through over the last few months, her hijinks were total child’s play.
Regardless of Misha’s shenanigans, I continued to see Sheldon. He had just moved to a small house in Sylmar with his mom and younger sister Laney, about forty-five minutes north of Hollywood. His mom seemed to like me the few times I did see her. She was a nurse who constantly worked double shifts at a nearby hospital. As for his dad, well he never spoke about him. Then there was Laney who he didn’t get along with, to put it mildly.
Laney and I were the same age. She hated most of Sheldon’s girlfriends with the strange exception of yours truly. We got along quite well and when Sheldon would go to band rehearsal, I would stay at the house and hang out with her till he got home.
Laney was quite a character. She was abrasive, in your face and didn’t hold anything back. She always told you exactly what was on her mind. I can understand how that would rub people the wrong way, but it didn’t really bother me. I’ve always preferred people to be up front with me rather than smile and lie to my face. She had a constant string of violent relationships, but underneath the cigarettes and foul mouth, Laney really was a nice person, well to me at least.
Even though our sixteen-year-old lives were 180 degrees different from each other, we somehow found a common ground on which we could relate. She was living a tumultuous life that I was mildly curious about…well until I got a little taste one Saturday afternoon of what a day in the life of Laney was all about.
Sheldon had just left the house to go rehearsal, so I spent the afternoon hanging out with Laney as I always did. She had been dating a guy named Miller who had a psycho ex-girlfriend. She was telling me all about him when the house phone rang. Laney answered and started cursing at the person on the other line, then slammed down the phone. A few minutes later, the phone rang again. She angrily picked up the phone.
“Go ahead bitch! Come to my house and I'll beat your fucking head in!” she yelled and slammed the phone down again.
Laney stomped into the kitchen and came back to the living room with two large knifes in her hands. Meanwhile, I'm sitting on the couch, munching on carrots and trying to watch a harmless episode of I Love Lucy.
“Here, in case they try to come in the house,” she said as she shoved a steak knife into my hand.
I think a bit of carrot actually fell out of my mouth as I stared at her.
She opened the front door, leaned against the doorframe and stared out the screen door, glancing back and forth at the street. About fifteen minutes later, a truck pulled up to the front of the house.
I peeked out the window to see three girls hop out of the back of a truck and walk up to the front gate. Each had small, potted plants in their hands. Despite the screaming match Laney had on the phone, I stupidly wondered if they were friends of hers since they came bearing gifts. The next thing I know, one of the girls hurls a plant at the front door like a pitcher in the 9th inning.
CRASH! The plant and its ceramic pot exploded all over the small porch. I flew away from the window like a scared cat and ran to a recliner on the other side of the living room. Laney kicked open her screen door.
“This is MY house you fucking cunts! Just try and come onto my personal property!” she yelled.
I sat straight up on the edge of the reclining chair like a prairie dog, wide eyed with knife in hand, trying to focus on I Love Lucy, rather than the real life version of Boyz in the Hood that was taking place outside.
CRASH! Another plant came flying and hit the frame of the door.
“Why don’t you come outside your gate you chicken shit!” a girl yelled from outside.
“You’re the chicken shits! Come into my yard so my girl and me can cut you into little bits you fucking whores! You didn’t think I would have backup did ya!” she yelled.
Then it hit me that I WAS the backup.
The banter went back and forth for about ten minutes with Laney screaming and pots flying. I was actually glad they were causing such a spectacle because it prompted a neighbor to call the police, who showed up just minutes later and were able to diffuse the situation.
I never told Sheldon about what happened that afternoon because he and Laney already had a pretty volatile relationship. He would’ve flipped if he knew that she had involved me in any of her hijinks.
My social and personal life seemed to be going at a comfortable, steady pace. Naturally, that’s when my dad dropped the bomb that he was getting married to Pamela and I would be inheriting two younger stepbrothers.
I wanted nothing to do with my dad’s wedding to Pamela and neither did Lucy, but my dad wanted us to attend the wedding. Shortly after my dad broke the news, there was a family get together at a nearby park. When Lucy and I arrived, it was packed with people from my dad’s side of the family. We worked our way through, saying hello and hugging cousins, aunts and uncles when we finally came upon a table where my dad was sitting with Pamela. We hugged him hello and she immediately chimed in.
“Do you girls mind going for a little walk with me?” she asked sweetly.
Lucy looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said.
The three of us took a walk around the park and Pamela went into a long speech about how she wasn’t trying to replace my mom and how much it meant to my dad to have us at their wedding. She wanted us to be honest about any issues we had in regards to them getting married. I knew that was the last thing I should do because the things I had to say to her were going to be far from pleasant. As far as I was concerned, she was nothing but a home wrecker.
Lucy and I exchanged occasional glances as Pamela went on with her monologue. I knew by the look in Lucy’s eyes that she was ready to pull the trigger on this if I was. Of course that was my first instinct, but as I listened to Pamela drone on, I thought about my dad. The dynamic in my house was drastically different from n
ot having him there everyday. I was only seeing him once a week or every other week when he’d come to pick up Ginger. I knew causing a blowout with Pamela at a family function wouldn’t accomplish anything. It would only put more distance between us. So for the sake of wanting to keep some semblance of a relationship with my dad, I decided to bite my lip and make things copacetic with Pamela.
Their wedding took place a few weeks later. I felt like a total traitor getting ready for the ceremony in front of my mom, but she seemed to be keeping a brave face. The wedding itself was fairly uneventful. It was a short, little ceremony at a chapel in San Gabriel, filled with some family and a few of my dad and Pamela’s friends. The reception on the other hand, was a little more colorful thanks to my Aunt Mona, one of my dad’s older sisters.
The reception was held in a small banquet room at a hall in Alhambra. When Lucy and I got to the banquet hall, half of the guests had already arrived. My dad and Pamela were sitting at the main table with her two sons sitting to the left of her. Sitting to the right of my dad were a man and a woman who I didn’t know. I figured they were there to chat with him for a little bit and then move. Certainly they would have to move because those two seats were reserved for Lucy and me. I mentioned this to Lucy, and we noticed they weren’t even talking to my dad. He had his back turned and was talking to Pamela and a few other people standing behind them. I don’t even think he knew those two people were sitting there. Lucy and I decided to take action and find out what was going on.
“Hi there,” I said with a smile as I walked up to the two people. “We’re his daughters and I believe these are our seats,” I continued.
“Oh…uhh...well we are Pamela’s cousins and we were hoping to sit here,” the man said in a stern, yet friendly tone.
Just then my Aunt Mona walked up.
“What’s wrong meja?” she asked me. “Everyone is taking their seats, why aren’t you girls sitting down?”
“We were trying to, but I guess these people want our seats,” I said innocently.
I certainly had a temper, but it was no match for the wrath of my dad’s sisters. Some were calmer than others, but there were no wallflowers in that bunch. They were upfront, no bullshit, strong Mexican women who weren’t afraid to tell you what was on their mind. I knew the situation with Pamela’s cousins would be resolved in a matter of seconds by my Aunt Mona. Lucy and I stood back, smiled at each other and waited for the fireworks to fly.
“Who the hell are you?” My aunt asked bluntly to the gentleman.
“We are Pamela’s cousins, we were hoping to…” he began to say.
“I don’t give a shit what you were hoping for. These are his daughters, MY nieces. So get THE HELL out of their seats before I throw you out,” she said looking at the man dead in the eye.
The two people grabbed their things and hurried away.
“PENdejo. Who the hell does he think he is? You girls need anything else?” she asked me sweetly.
“Nope, we’re all good now. Thank you!” I said smiling as I took my seat.
My dad was still talking to the people behind him, so I don’t think he noticed what took place with my Aunt Mona. Or maybe he was so used to that kind of thing with his sisters that it didn’t even faze him anymore. Pamela on the other hand, saw everything that happened and seemed disturbed by it, but I didn’t give a shit. Let her take on my Aunt Mona. Served her right for having rude family members.
Luckily, the rest of the reception went off without a hitch. There were no more outbursts from Aunt Mona, and Pamela never confronted her about what happened. Smart woman.
With the wedding out the way and my dad embarking on his new life with Pamela, I felt I should do the same and put my focuses back on my personal life as well.
Although I had met Sheldon on The Strip, now that I was his girlfriend he wasn’t thrilled with me hanging out in Hollywood. Apparently there was band girlfriend etiquette that I wasn't aware of according to him. For starters, he felt it was disloyal for me to see other bands shows, especially other headlining bands that were in direct competition with his. One band in particular that he had major issues with was The Glamour Punks.
The Glamour Punks had a punk sound with the look of a glam band (thus the name) and the only of their kind playing in Hollywood during that time. They were well known for their violent shows, which always resulted in a guaranteed mosh pit no matter what club they played. Sheldon told me that the Punk’s bass player, Dizzy, had recently busted the rear view mirrors on car belonging to a friend of his. That’s the main reason why Sheldon didn’t like them. I had never been to a Glamour Punks show before and neither had Sasha. So when we heard they had a gig coming up at The Whisky, we made plans to go, on the down low of course.
When I went to The Strip, I never spent a majority of my time with Sheldon anyway. He was always busy "promoting", which basically translated to passing out flyers and talking to pretty girls. With him being preoccupied, I figured he wouldn’t notice if I disappeared into The Whisky for a half hour or so to see The Glamour Punks play.
MANDIE( TheGlamourPunks):I movedtoLosAngeleswiththe sole intention of starting a band called The Glamour Punks. I never sanginabandbefore,I’donlyplayed drums. Ihadthiswholeplanof whatIwantedit tosoundlike,andIhadsomesongs written.Iknew whatIwanted to do, I just didn’t have anyone to be in a band with me.ImetFlyT.Hookerthe first nightI wasinL.A.andfromtherewe metMickeya fewweekslater.Stacimovedoutfrom theeastcoasta fewmonths later andthat was it.Wewereformed.
SKITZ ( The Glamour Punks): I was living in New York City and playing bassinaband called TheLoveTribewhenIfirstheard ofThe Glamour Punks. I instantly knew that I would fit into the band perfectly.Idecided to packmybagsand takeabusto LosAngeles.I was in L.A. for about three weeks when I heard they were having some internalproblems andmight be lookingfor aguitar player.
I walked straight up to Dizzy an d said, “I’m gonna play guitar for the Punks.” He said, “WHATEVER! You’re a bass player!” and I said,“FuckOff!I’mprettysure Icanhandle twomore strings,it’s not BRAIN SURGERY.” One thing led to another, and although I don’t remember the exact details, he ended up shoving a large safety pin through my arm, told me I had balls and said, “If you can play the songs thenyou’rein”.
I didn’t ownaguitaroranamp atthetime,soIborrowedone from a friend of mine and auditioned by playing along to a cassette tape inDizzy’s bedroom. HeandMandiestoodtheresnickeringatme while Irockedout allbymyself.(laughs)Thatnightwecelebratedby drinking ahalf-gallonofJimBeam.
S omehow it ended with all of us on the roof of an apartment building, beating the shit out of each other while helicopters hovered overand yelled atusto getoffoftheroof.Weranfromthecops,and I threwupwhilefallingdowna flightofstairs.
The next morning , I woke in the back of a car with a note pinned to my chest. It had directions for me to get back to where I was staying at the time. I walked home battered and bruised. Dizzy calledaboutfiveminutesafterIwalkedinthedoorandsaid,“How’sit feel to be a Punk?” I remember thinking, “It doesn’t feel all that great.“
The weekend of The Glamour Punks show, I picked up Sasha and we made our way out to Hollywood. As we walked down the always-crowded sidewalks on Sunset Blvd., I noticed Sheldon standing near The Whisky. There were quite a few people around him and he seemed to be busy chatting away, so we tried to sneak by. Just as I thought I passed him without recognition, he called out my name.
“Marisa! Where are you going?” he asked. “Um, just across the street to AM/PM,” I said casually walking back to him.
“Oh. Well I'm heading up to the Rainbow, then I'll probably head home.”
“Cool, I’ll be leaving soon too.”
“Okay honey bunny, call me tomorrow.”
Sheldon gave me a kiss then walked off with Nima. Sasha and I walked to the corner and stood there, pretending like we were waiting for the light to change. But once Sheldon was a good distance away, we scurried back like rats and ran into The Whisky.
The
Glamour Punks were already onstage when we walked in. A mosh pit of punk kids with an overabundance of safety pins and brightly colored hair was already in full effect.
“Lets go in the pit!” Sasha said with enthusiasm.
“You're out of your fucking mind, we'll get killed in there!” I said.
Without saying another word, Sasha grabbed my arm and dragged me through the pit where we ended up dead center near the stage. I got shoved and bumped around a bit throughout the show, but it wasn’t that bad. For the most part, the crowd was like a small wave of water swaying back and forth across the club and no one found themselves in the same spot for more than a few minutes.
The last song of the set was a cover of Beastie Boys “No Sleep Till Brooklyn”, at which point a very tall, skinny kid with purple hair jumped behind the drums to play. The band was thrashing and Punk Rock Dave, the unofficial band mascot, was stomping around the stage in his straightjacket and bugged out eyes. Just as they finished the song, Dizzy grabbed a microphone.
“Do you wanna hear a bass solo!” he yelled.
The crowd cheered and yelled.
Dizzy laid down his bass, pulled out a bat from the drum riser and started to smash it on stage. A huge chunk of his red bass came flying in my direction, and I caught it before it nearly took my head off. The next thing I know the singer, Screaming Boy Mandie, takes a few steps back towards the drum riser and stares out to the crowd from behind his fire engine red hair. Before I could bat my fake eyelashes, he was already airborne towards my side of the crowd, with his steel toe combat boot landing perfectly on the left side of my face. I dropped to the ground, flat on my back and felt the remnants of spilled drinks start to soak into the back of my shirt. Hands suddenly clamped all over my arms, as a handful of people sprang me back up on my feet like a yoyo.
“Oh my god, dude! Are you okay?” Sasha asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said bewildered.
Rock and Roll High School: Growing Up in Hollywood During the Decade of Decadence Page 12
