Rock and Roll High School: Growing Up in Hollywood During the Decade of Decadence

by Marisa Tellez

  Over the course of the next few weeks, when Sheldon and Nima weren’t at our apartment, Missy and I would go meet up with Sam and Gary. We’d go to their company softball games and to parties at their house. It was a blast hanging out with them, although it was a little awkward on nights when it was just the four of us at their place. It was blatantly obvious Missy was hooking up with Gary, whereas Sam and I were most definitely NOT. I’m sure it was annoying for him, but he seemed to be a good sport about it. We’d usually watch movies or have drinks out on their humongous patio, laughing our asses off while we waited for Gary and Missy to finish um, whatever they were doing.

  While I did enjoy hanging out with Sam and Gary, I was tired of lying to Sheldon and Nima about where we were going, especially to Nima. We’d become pretty close since I started dating Sheldon, and he was like a big brother to me. He always looked out for me when I was on The Strip, and he’d recently surprised me by fixing up an old electric guitar of mine when I mentioned to him I wanted to start playing again.

  I didn’t always accompany Missy when she’d go over Gary and Sam’s house. But on the nights I stayed home, that put me in the uncomfortable position of having to make bullshit excuses to Nima anytime he’d call. On a few occasions, he even called in the wee morning hours and I’d have to say something dumb like she had a late night Del Taco craving to explain why she wasn’t home.

  I didn’t want to lie to Nima anymore, so I felt the best thing to do was to stop hanging out with Sam and Gary altogether. I also told Missy I wasn’t going to cover for her anymore and that she’d better figure out what she wanted to do with Gary. Naturally, this caused quite a bit of tension between us.

  Shortly after I came to that decision, a rumor started floating around that Nima was cheating on Missy, which made her absolutely postal. Even though I thought she was a total hypocrite, I kept my thoughts to myself because there was enough friction between us already. I just hoped that if I gave the situation enough time it would work itself out.

  Meanwhile, I had been making bank at Club Mustang for just over two months when I noticed a rapid decline in my customer base, and I couldn’t figure out why. At the end of another money challenged day at work, I was grabbing some things from my locker when Tina, a veteran hostess, struck up a conversation with me. Tina had been there for three years, and I’d really never spoken to her before until that night.

  “Had a slow night?” she asked.

  “More like nights. It’s been a gradual decline and I don't know why I’m not getting clocked out as much,” I said.

  “You’re kiddin right?”

  “Not at all. I’m nice to every customer and I don’t have a reputation of being a bitch. I have no idea what’s going on.”

  “Well you’re half right.”

  “About what?” I asked.

  “Your reputation honey.”

  I looked at her cluelessly.

  “Do I need to spell it out?” she continued.

  “It would help,” I said.

  “S-E-X. Girl you don't put out, that's the problem.” “WHAT? Wait a minute, who’s putting out?”

  “You must be walkin around with blinders on honey. Everyone around here knows you gotta do a little something to keep the customers coming back for more.”

  I felt like retching but kept a straight face. I didn’t need Tina dragging me out to the parking lot to beat my ass like she did with another girl who made the mistake of “disrespecting” her a few nights earlier.

  “Girl, when you’re new you get checked out like mad cuz they wanna see what you’re all about. But when they realize there ain’t no fire brewin in that oven…well you see what happens,” she continued.

  What the hell was wrong with me? I knew something was shady the moment Missy first led me up those steps. I let my good judgment be clouded just because I wanted to be a grown up and move out of my moms house. There was no question on what needed to be done. I had to quit Club Mustang immediately. Instead, I would get the job I originally told my mom about and work in a clothing store. It’s what most girls my age were doing for work anyway. It wouldn’t be an exciting job, but it was something I wouldn't have to hide from my family and friends anymore.

  I was so glad Missy had taken that night off work and wasn’t around to hear what Tina told me. I needed time to digest the reality of what Club Mustang was all about. Then it hit me as I drove Missy’s car home that night. How was SHE able to sustain her job at the club for so long?

  When I got home, Missy was in the living room watching TV, and I told her I needed to talk to her. When she turned around and looked at me with that sour puss of hers, I realized what a shitty mood she was in and how I couldn't have picked a worse time.

  “I’m quitting my job,” I bluntly.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Well...I haven't been getting a lot of business lately, and Tina told me something tonight that really creeped me out.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She basically said my business was slowing down because I don't fuck around with the customers.”

  “Oh please, like you didn't know that was going on,” she said as if annoyed by naivety.

  “How would I know? I’ve never seen anything happen at the club.”

  “Of course they don’t do anything AT the club, but you had to have known.”

  “I didn't, I swear!” I squealed.

  “Well now you know. God forbid mommy and daddy find out.”

  “Exactly. I don’t want them to know I ever worked in a place like that. That's why I'm quitting.”

  “So what if they find out? You're an adult now. You can make your own decisions.”

  “An adult? I'm an emancipated 17-year-old! I’m not going to stay at that fucked up job and start banging the customers like the rest of the girls. Gross.” I said as I crossed my arms.

  Although I didn’t know what or who Missy was doing at Club Mustang, I was willing to put it aside because I wanted so badly to stay in the apartment and not have to move back to my moms house.

  “Oh excuse me, Miss Perfect Statue of Virginity. Is Club Mustang beneath you?” she said as she bowed her head.

  “You know what? Ever since I stopped lying to Nima for you, you’ve been a total bitch on wheels. Especially since you found out he was cheating on you. So stop taking your problems out on me!”

  “Fuck you, you fucking cunt!”

  “Go fuck yourself Missy! You're just pissed because at 21 you still don't have the balls that I do at 17 to stand up for yourself!”

  Oh shit. Well at least I’d given her a justifiable reason for being mad at me.

  She grabbed her car keys, stomped towards the front door and said, “I don’t need to take this shit from a jailbait teenybopper!”

  Before I could answer her, she was already out the front door.

  “And stay out of my fucking room while I'm gone!” she yelled, then slammed the front door and stormed down the steps outside.

  “I will because I don’t want to get herpes!” I screamed at the already closed door.

  As much as I didn’t want to eat crow from my mom, it had to taste better than the knife crazy Missy would probably plunge into my neck in the middle of the night. I knew I had to move out. Not the next day or month, IMMEDIATELY. I ran to the phone and called Sheldon.

  “Hey do you have your car?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I just got home from dropping off my mom. Why?”

  “I'm moving out, like right now. Missy is straight up looney tunes. I'm going to have to sleep with one eye open if I stay here.”

  “Really? Wow baby that sucks.”

  “Yeah, can you ‘wow’ your ass over here? She just left and I want to be gone by the time she gets back.”

  I hung up with Sheldon and ran around the apartment like a panicked Chihuahua, collecting my things as quickly as I could. Luckily, there wasn’t much to pack. I had no furniture, and the only items I had aside from clothes, were my two g
uitars and a pile of blankets I’d been using as a makeshift mattress in my bedroom.

  I threw everything I had into a suitcase and a few trash bags. I grabbed my guitars, walked out to the living room, and sadly took one last look at my first apartment. Damn, it was such a cute place too.

  I thought for a moment and wondered if maybe I was overreacting by moving out. But in all honesty, I wasn't comfortable in that apartment anymore and hadn’t been for quite a few weeks. I was happiest when Missy wasn’t there. Anytime I’d hear her stomping up the steps to our front door, I’d barricade myself in my bedroom like a child hiding from an angry parent.

  I peeked into my bathroom to make sure I hadn’t left anything behind when I suddenly heard knocking on my front door. I opened the door and let Sheldon in. I threw my apartment keys on the dining room table as he began to grab my things. I did one last sweep of the apartment and walked into Missy’s bedroom to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. Sheldon grabbed the last trash bag of my belongings and asked if there was anything else. I told him that was it. I walked back out to the living room and picked up my guitars. I was about to walk out the front door when I thought of how Missy called me a cunt. I walked back in, turned on every light in the apartment, and set the A/C to it’s coldest setting. NOW I was a cunt.

  When I got to Sheldon’s, I thought about calling my mom to tell her what happened, but I decided to wait until the morning. I had enough drama for one night, and the last thing I needed was to hear her say, “I told you so.”

  The summer of 1991 was coming to an end, and I found myself jobless and living back with my mom once again. But it wasn’t long before I settled into my old routine of borrowing cars from my family and resuming my place once again on The Sunset Strip.

  By this time, Dancer had gone through two bass players and just hired their third, a short but cute brunette named Jason. With a new band member, came the need for a new band photo. So Nima booked a loft in downtown L.A. to do the photo shoot, and I came along to help out with hair and makeup.

  Nima and Vince were already at the studio when Sheldon and I arrived. I had just started laying out hair product when Jason walked in with two girls, who he introduced as his girlfriend Gina, and her younger sister Lisa. He politely declined my services, saying that the girls would take care of his hair and makeup. That was fine with me. I had my hands full prepping the rest of the guys anyway.

  While I crimped Nima’s long black locks, I noticed Lisa looking at Sheldon as he touched up his eyeliner. As a matter of fact, I caught her staring at Sheldon quite a bit over the course of the evening. She even went so far as to be mildly flirty with him, which naturally put me on edge.

  While we’re on the subject of photo shoots, let me tell you a little bit about the band wars on The Sunset Strip.

  When it came down to promoting a bands show, it was all about being raunchy during those days. The nastier the ad, the better, and it wasn’t long before Dancer jumped on the debauchery bandwagon. They had a headlining show coming up at The Whisky and planned on doing another photo shoot that would eventually be a full-page ad.

  The slogan for the ad was, “Miss this one and you’re going over my knee!” The premise had a girl lying on the lap of each band member in a bikini bottom, with the assumption that they were about to get spanked. I don’t know whose stupid idea that was, but I was not happy about it in the least.

  Being Sheldon’s girlfriend, he obviously asked me to be the girl on his lap. He must’ve noticed my apprehension because he said I didn’t have to do it and would respect my decision either way. He also casually mentioned that Lisa offered to take my place if I wasn’t going to do it, SHOCKER. Like I didn’t see that one coming. The mere thought of Lisa lying across Sheldon’s lap with his hand inches away from her barely covered bottom made me psychotically nauseous.

  The photo shoot was fast approaching, and I still hadn’t given Sheldon an answer on whether I would do the ad. The only reason I was even mildly considering it was to keep Lisa away from him. I sure as hell had no desire to be spread eagle across anybody’s lap publicly, even if it was my own boyfriend. Surprisingly, my good sense outweighed my teenage jealousy because a few days before the shoot, I told Sheldon I couldn't go through with it.

  The day of the photo shoot, I chose to stay home. I was practically chewing on the edges of my bedpost, wondering at what moment Lisa would be spreading her rat infested private parts across Sheldon’s lap. I was nauseous the entire day and breathed a sigh of relief once he called to tell me the shoot was over.

  A week or so later, the ad was a full-page spread in BAM Magazine and it was worse than I had imagined. Lisa was spread across Sheldon’s lap, BARE BOTTOM with her underwear dangling off her ankle. Her hands were near her mouth with an "Oh my!" look across her face, while Sheldon had one hand lifted in the air as if he were about to spank her. I would’ve loved to burn the pants Sheldon wore on that photo shoot with him in them. But after seeing that raunchy ad, I was more grateful that my rump was still anonymous to the greater Los Angeles area.

  I don’t know what happened on the set of that photo shoot, but Lisa’s flirting with Sheldon became more obnoxious shortly after that ad came out. It became the main subject of many fights between Sheldon and I. He swore nothing was going on, but I sensed otherwise.

  Rather than dwell on Lisa, I tried to focus my energies on my 18th birthday, which was just around the corner. Sheldon asked what I wanted to do for my birthday. I said I didn't care, but of course I did! The photo shoot with Lisa had caused quite a bit of friction between us, and I wanted retribution damn it!

  I didn’t want to make plans with my friends just yet because I was hoping Sheldon would put forth the effort to do something special for my birthday, so I waited. I waited for him to tell me that he was going to take me out to dinner or throw me a party. Some little something to show he was trying to make things better between us. But the weeks passed, my birthday was just a few days away, and he was still asking me what I wanted to do. I sadly relented and went with Hannah’s plans, which was to have Sheldon and I over to our friend Bobby’s house for dinner at 8:00pm.

  The day of my birthday dinner, Sheldon picked me up and brought me back to his house. He had to leave to band rehearsal but promised he would be home by 7:00pm. So I hung out with Laney that afternoon and made sure I was dressed and ready to go by 7.

  By a quarter after seven, Sheldon wasn't home. I was slightly annoyed but figured he was just running a little late. As long as he got home by seven thirty, we could rush to Bobby’s and be fashionably late.

  Seven thirty passed, eight, nine, and then ten. Shortly before 10:30pm, Sheldon casually walked in the door.

  “Sorry, rehearsal ran late. I'm gonna shower real quick, then we can go,” he said as he rushed past Laney and I.

  Laney followed right on his tail and bitched him out for fucking up my birthday dinner. God bless her, she always stuck up for me more than I stuck up for myself.

  A half hour later, Sheldon emerged from the bathroom ready to go. I grabbed my purse and walked out the front door without saying a word to him.

  By the time we got to Bobby’s, it was just past midnight. There were about ten people sitting in the living room, none of which were friends of mine. There were empty liquor bottles and beer cans lying around with a few dilapidating balloons and a half eaten birthday cake on the coffee table in front of me. Hannah peeked out from the kitchen, then ran up and attacked me with a big hug.

  “Happy Birthday! Where the fuck have you been? I had a big surprise party planned and everything!” she said still hugging me.

  My blood started to boil. I didn't even know what to say. I should've called Sheldon out in front of everyone for being an insensitive asshole. Instead, I apologized to Hannah for being so ridiculously late.

  “There were like a hundred people here. Watch!” she said as she ran to hook up her camcorder to a TV.

  I sat on the floor with Hannah and watched
my friends from the Alhambra crowd like Alex, Sasha, Jude, and Dagmar, along with a bunch of kids from Rosemead High that I graduated with. They were all drunk, yelling into the camera “Where are you? You're missing your party!”

  I grew livid as I continued watching the footage of my friends partying it up. There they were, having a great time while I had been waiting on Sheldon’s couch, twiddling my thumbs like an asshole. I really wanted to leave the party, but I couldn't. Not after all the trouble Hannah went through. I looked at the faces around the living room. All that were left were the random stoners that didn’t give a rat’s ass what the occasion was. They were just there to party.

  “I can’t believe they all left already. I know I’m really late, but it’s barely midnight. Where did they go?” I asked.

  “We were running low on alcohol, and they figured you had flaked on your own party, so they all went to Dave’s to finish off some leftover booze from his last party,” she said.

  I was ready to put my fist through a wall. Instead, I very calmly asked Hannah to make me a cocktail.

  “Ooh sorry, we actually drank all the hard alcohol. We have beer though. You want a beer?” she asked sweetly.

  I hated beer.

  “Sure, I’ll have a beer,” I said trying to smile.

  I sat on the couch next to Sheldon and didn’t say a word. He didn’t ask for a drink, and he didn’t even make conversation with me. He just sat there looking bored and annoyed, which of course pissed me off even more.

  I only made it halfway through my beer before telling Hannah I was going to leave. I just couldn't take it anymore. I had done my best to put on a brave face, but I didn't want to be around anyone much less Sheldon, so I asked him to take me home.

  When I got home, I walked into my bedroom and flopped down on my bed. I was so grateful that the day was over. What a shitty day and a shitty boyfriend I had. It certainly couldn’t get any worse right? That’s when I flipped on my TV and it got worse. There was a news report that my favorite male singer, Freddie Mercury, had passed away that day from pneumonia brought on by AIDS. Happy fucking birthday to me.