Sasha was always a bit outspoken and used to say crazy shit like that from time to time, so I wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or just trying to get attention. Not wanting to take any chances, I told her I was coming right over.
When I got to her apartment, she was lying on the living room floor mumbling. I knew it wasn’t the doings of alcohol because I had seen her at every stage of a drunken stupor, and this was nothing I had ever encountered before. So I dragged her to my car and drove her straight to the emergency room.
They ran some blood tests and made her drink a fluid that looked like black liquid coal. She threw up a little bit of water, then out of nowhere a few nurses ushered me away and told me they were going to pump her stomach. She ended up staying in the hospital overnight for observation, and they sent her home the next morning.
Later that afternoon, Hannah and I picked up Sasha. We decided to spend the day with her to make sure she was all right, so we ended up going to a nearby Taco Bell to get some food. When Sasha tried to eat, she said her throat was sore from the tube that was used to pump her stomach. A few moments later, she pulled out a baggy of coke from her purse. She licked her finger, dipped it in the coke, and tried to rub it in the back of her throat, I’m assuming to numb it. Yes, she did this right inside Taco Bell.
A few weeks later, Sasha found out she was pregnant by a guy she had been dating for about a month. She did say she was keeping the baby and seemed to be happy about it. As she prepared to nest, she became a total recluse, and I lost touch with her a short time later. I can only hope that being pregnant saved her life.
By the winter of 1991, I’d been licking my wounds over the Sheldon breakup for several weeks. But I was finally starting to feel like myself again and ready to resume my place as a fixture on The Sunset Strip. Unfortunately, I was finding it hard to leave the warm confines of my cozy home to hang out on the freezing cold boulevard. Okay maybe it was wasn’t freezing but as cold as Southern California could get in the winter, which was still pretty damn cold.
Even in 40-degree weather and brisk winds, girls would still dress up in their slinky, barely there outfits and shiver their way up and down The Strip in spiked heels. I on the other hand, opted for the cute and warm look. I’d wear my baby doll dresses or plaid skirts with colorful tights and stomp down Sunset in combat boots instead of heels. When it came to gloves, I couldn’t find a pair that kept me warm until I stumbled upon a pair of bright sky blue mittens that worked wonders.
My mittens never matched anything I wore, and they certainly were far from sexy. No normal person over the age of 7 should’ve been wearing them, but I didn’t give a shit. They kept my hands warm…well until half the musicians on The Strip started to borrow them. They would borrow one mitten and move it back and forth on each hand every few minutes to keep both warm as they passed out flyers. Apparently, most of them didn’t care about aesthetics either when it came to the cold.
With another chilly weekend ahead of me, I made plans to meet Faye on The Strip. I had borrowed my dad’s truck and noticed it was low on fuel, so I stopped at a gas station near my house. I had just started pumping a whopping $5 in gas when I noticed Brandon pull up to the gas pump directly behind me.
We had already made eye contact, so it would’ve looked ridiculous for me to rip the nozzle out of the tank and speed away. I didn’t really know what to say to him, so I said hi. He said hi back and ran inside to pay for his gas. I looked at the display for my pump and mumbled for it to hurry the fuck up. I was hoping to reach the $5 mark before he got back outside. I only got to $4.05.
“So what are you up to tonight?” he asked.
“Going to Hollywood. What about you?”
“I’m just about to head home actually.”
There was uncomfortable silence between us because we
hadn’t seen each other since his graduation over a year earlier. Things obviously weren’t good between us, and I wasn’t about to act like they were by having a friendly exchange.
“So are you still with Grace?” I asked bluntly as I put the nozzle back on the handle.
“Yeah, I am,” he said.
“Well I finally got rid of Ronan. He turned out to be a big
psycho. I just couldn’t take someone trying to control my life ya know? Yeah, of course you know.” “Speaking of Ronan, it was him that caused the problems between you and Grace.”
“No, I think it’s because Grace is a crackpot and was jealous of our friendship.”
“No really, it went down at Kaitlin’s grad party.”
Kaitlin was a senior in Brandon’s graduating class. She had thrown a pool party for the class of 1990 shortly before their graduation. Naturally, myself and a few other juniors mooched in on the celebration.
“You’re crazy. Ronan wasn’t even at Kaitlin’s party,” I said.
“Not while you were there. He came after you left,” he said.
I had to leave Kaitlin’s party early because my friend Brian ended up throwing me in the pool about an hour after I got there. Bastard.
“Ronan never told me he went to that party,” I said.
“Of course he didn’t because he ended up having one hell of a conversation with Grace.”
“Why in the hell would he talk to Grace? They don’t even know each other.”
“Apparently he had a problem with you and I being friends too. He found out Grace was my girlfriend at the party and told her that you and I had hooked up a few weeks earlier. He said he forgave you for cheating on him but felt she should know about it too.”
“What a fucking liar he is! He knows damn well that never happened!”
“Of course he knew that, but he said it to piss her off.”
“Well you told her the truth right? You told her that never happened and that he’s a psycho liar?”
“Of course I did, but she didn’t believe me. She thought I was just lying to get out of being caught cheating.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because I just found out about it a month ago.”
“So he purposely pissed off Grace, knowing that would put a wedge between you and I.”
“Yeah, pretty calculated huh?”
“Of course it’s calculated. That’s exactly why I dumped him. It looks like he got his wish though, about putting a wedge between you and I.”
We stared at each other for a few moments and then a click went off on his gas pump.
“I guess I better get going,” he said as he put the nozzle back on the handle.
“Yeah, I guess I should too,” I said.
I didn’t want to go though. I missed Brandon so much. I really wanted to just stay and talk to him. Every time I thought I had gotten him out of my system, it only took one look at him to get my heart fluttering again.
“Well uhhh, I guess I’ll see you around then. Have fun in Hollywood,” he said smiling.
“Yeah, thanks. Have a good night,” I said smiling back.
That was the last time I ever spoke to Brandon. I heard through the grapevine that he eventually married Grace a few years later and settled down in Arcadia where they had three kids.
When I finally got to The Strip that night, I had only taken one lap down Sunset before the cold set in, and I started to freeze my ass off. So I ran across the street to AM/PM for a warm beverage.
As I walked back towards The Whisky, I was juggling a pile of flyers in one hand and a cup of hot chocolate in the other, when a guy by the name of Ash Lee approached me, and I nearly choked on my mocha soaked marsh mellows.
To me, Ash was a dead ringer for Nikki Sixx. He had the same black spiky hair, same body type, and the same beautiful green eyes. He introduced himself, and I took a mitten off to shake his hand. I was swooning.
“Do you have room for one more?” he said smiling as he handed me a flyer.
My heart fluttered as he placed a flyer in my mitten.
“If you play bass, I’m going to drop dead,”
I said bluntly.
“I play guitar actually,” he said mildly confused.
Okay so he was ALMOST like Nikki Sixx.
He said he was in a band called Wikked Gypsy. By far, he was one of the sweetest guys I had ever met on The Strip. He didn’t pitch his band or try to sell me tickets to his show like everyone else. We spoke about our favorite bands, how he was from Iowa and well, my random mittens. He rolled up his bundle of flyers, put them under his armpit, and blew inside his hands, rubbing them together to warm them up.
“Do you want to borrow a mitten?” I asked innocently.
I wanted to slap myself in the forehead when I heard those words come out of my mouth. What the hell was I thinking? Of course he didn’t want to wear those butt ugly things. My mittens were more uncool than the leopard pants and matching headband I wore six years earlier at the Ratt concert.
“Yeah, sure,” he said.
Surprised at his reaction, I gave him the mitten I had pulled off earlier to shake his hand. He smiled as he took it, and I turned into a big pool of melted butter.
“Are you gonna be here for a while?” he asked.
“Yeah, totally. I’ll be around.”
“Okay, I’ll come find you in a little bit and bring it back. Thanks!” he said raising his mitten covered hand and walked off.
I figured I’d never see that mitten again, but it didn’t matter. I had sacrificed it to the hottest guy on The Strip. I took a big sip of my hot chocolate and walked off in the opposite direction to find Faye.
I chatted with a few people as I made my way up Sunset and planted myself on an Astroturf staircase near Frankie & Johnny’s Pizza, where the bikers always hung out. I was organizing my flyers and polishing off the last of my hot cocoa when a blond rocker walked up and glared at me.
He was extremely thin, with blue eyes and long stringy hair. I’d seen him on The Strip a few times before. He always wore the same black leather jacket, which had broken pieces of a mirror glued to the back. I was fairly certain he wasn’t in a band because he never passed out flyers like every other guy on The Strip. He just always seemed to be lingering around the boulevard, especially near the Rainbow. He continued staring at me for a few moments and asked if I wanted to go with him to his car to do blow.
“No thanks,” I said politely as I continued arranging my things.
“You sure honey?”
“I’m sure. I’ve never done it before anyway.”
“Well in that case, I’d be honored to pop your coke cherry.”
I started to get irritated and said, “Nah, I’ll pass.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re missing. How about I give you a quick bump right now to give you a little taste?”
“Am I starring in a bad Afterschool Special right now? Fuck off already!”
“Suit yourself Prudence,” he said.
He shot me a dirty look and walked off. Moron.
I wasn’t about to do blow on Sunset Blvd just for some loser to think I was cool. I couldn’t give two shits what he or anyone else in Hollywood thought of me. If people couldn’t accept me for being a tomboy with horrible blue mittens and a dislike for cocaine, then that was perfectly fine with me.
After getting my things organized, I picked myself up off the stairs and made my way towards The Roxy. I finally ran into Faye, who was carrying her very inebriated friend, Pixie. She had her arms wrapped around Faye and could barely walk.
Pixie was a regular on The Strip. I’d been told on several occasions that we looked like sisters, but I’d never really met her before. I only knew of her through Faye.
“Can you do me a huge favor?” Faye asked with hopeful eyes.
“Of course what’s up?” I said.
“My ride is picking us up at The Whisky, but there’s no way she’s going to make it down there. Can you look after her so I can run down and have them drive up here?”
“Um…yeah. I guess so,” I said.
“Thanks!” she said as she unloaded Pixie on me like a sack of potatoes.
“Oh and if you see Strange from The Glamour Punks, he’s coming with us too. So feel free to leave her with him if you need to take off!” she said as she skipped off.
I noticed an empty bus bench nearby, so I dragged Pixie over and propped her up next to me like a puppet. She was wearing a short miniskirt, and as soon as I sat her down, her head flopped onto my lap, causing her skirt to fly up. I pulled her skirt down over her ass with one hand and used the other to pull her hair away from her face so she could breathe. A few moments later, she mumbled something and sloppily tapped my knees with her hand.
“What?” I asked.
I leaned my head down to hear her, but she said nothing. She started tapping the inside of my knees again as if to separate them. I immediately knew what her taps meant and quickly spread my knees right before she barfed between my legs.
I’ll give her credit though. Even in her wasted stupor, she still had the consideration to not barf all over me, which would’ve been completely understandable. So I just sat there with one hand holding her hair and the other holding her skirt down as she lay heaving between my legs.
A few minutes later, Strange walked up and asked me what happened. I lifted my legs to show him the puddle of barf beneath me, and he thanked me for taking care of Pixie. After leaving Pixie with Strange, I felt the cold wind was a bit much for my thin California blood, so I decided to leave.
I made my way up The Strip and noticed Ash Lee in front of The Roxy. He was talking to a few people and still wearing my bright blue mitten, which was beaming from his hand like a lighthouse beacon. I felt silly asking for my goofy mitten back and didn’t want to bug him about it, so I kept walking until he suddenly yelled out my name. I was smiling before I even turned around to acknowledge him.
“Are you leaving?” he asked as he walked up to me.
“Yeah, I’m freezing my ass off.”
“Well thanks for lending it to me,” he said smiling.
He pulled the mitten off his hand and gave me a big hug goodbye. I put on the mitten he gave me, said goodbye, and floated off to my car.
Over the next few weeks, I settled back into my routine of going to The Strip every weekend and had essentially gotten Sheldon out of my system. I was feeling only the slightest remnants of being in rebound mode, and that’s when I started hanging out with Charlie, the bass player of Electric.
Charlie was a really sweet guy I met when I first started going to The Strip. I know it’s mean to say he was a rebound, but he really was. He totally wasn’t my type of guy. He was a hesher with wavy brown hair that streamed down his back. We had made out a few times, and that was basically the nature of our relationship. I wasn’t even really attracted to him, so I certainly had no intention of sleeping with him or trying to make him my boyfriend. God knows if I was in my right mind, I should’ve been pursuing Ash Lee.
During that time, I started going out with Faye quite a bit too. That was fun for the most part, except when I happened to spot a guy I might like. With her stunning good looks standing next to my goofy ass, I knew I didn’t have a chance in hell.
I picked her up one night, and we went to see a show at The Whisky. We walked in during the set of a band called Mudd Jr. and decided to stand a few rows back from the stage. The singer immediately spotted Faye and started singing right to her. She smiled at him and started walking towards the stage. When she reached the front of the stage, he squatted down and continued singing to her. They looked at each other for a few moments, then she put her hand behind his neck, pulled him to her, and started making out with him. She stopped after a few seconds so he could continue singing his song, and she walked back over to me.
“I take it you know that guy?” I asked sarcastically.
“Oh I totally don’t,” she said as she wiped her mouth.
“Why did you just make out with him then?”
“I dunno. It was just something fun to do. Lets go to the bathroom s
o I can fix my lipstick.”
I envied Faye for being so bold. I could’ve never gotten away with something like that because my braces were still in full effect and scaring guys away by the droves.
After Mudd Jr. finished their set, Faye and I walked outside to get some air. We were standing in front of The Whisky talking about nothing in particular, when to my beautiful eyes did appear the one and only Brent Muscat, one of the guitarists of Faster Pussycat. Visions of scarves and Les Paul guitars danced in my head as the last five years of my life flashed before my love struck eyes.
Naturally, you can sense when someone is looking at you, and since I happened to be staring at Brent like a lunatic, he looked over at me. We locked eyes for a few moments, but once his eyes moved over to Faye, I knew it was over.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Brent walked over and introduced himself to us or rather Faye. He was with Dave, the guitarist of Blackboard Jungle, and they were talking about the third Faster Pussycat album that was coming out in a few months. Brent pulled a cassette out of his pocket that said, “Faster Pussycat” and asked if we wanted to hear a few rough tracks from the new album. I immediately said yes, so we walked off to Brent’s car, which was parked in the Tower Video parking lot about a block away.
Dave opened the car door and Brent immediately hopped in the back seat with Faye. Disappointed, I sadly took my place in the passengers seat while Dave hopped in the drivers seat.
Dave popped in the cassette, and we listened to a rough mix of a song called “Big Dictionary”. I was still a huge Pussycat fan, so I was genuinely interested in hearing the new songs. But my interest was overshadowed by the sounds of Brent getting comfortable in the backseat with Faye.
Dave rambled on about the logistics of the track and guitar techniques. I don’t know what gave him the idea that I would care to hear those details. I wasn’t a sound engineer, and I didn’t know what the hell his terminology meant anyway. I nodded as if I was paying attention, when really I was listening to Brent whisper sweet pre-coital nothings to Faye.
Rock and Roll High School: Growing Up in Hollywood During the Decade of Decadence Page 17
