by Vince Neil
Sharise and I are similar in many ways. We just went out a couple weeks ago. Thankfully we got along well when Skylar got sick—it would’ve been horrible if she hated me. Of course, I had nothing to do with their breaking up; she had no reason to hate me. She didn’t exactly welcome me at first with open arms, but what ex-wife would? But we all had to work together for the sake of Skylar. She was a wonderful little girl. She used to stay with us all the time. I was the stepmom. I have a tattoo of Sklyar. What a wonderful little girl, so full of life. We used to play dress up and all kinds of girl stuff—another reason why it was good that Sharise and I got along. I guess the thing is, all of Vince’s wives or ex-wives, what have you, all of us like to believe that we were the greatest love of his life. My thing is that I went through the hard times with him. When he was not with Mötley Crüe, when he was really adrift. Sharise was lucky. She was there during the excess and the great times and the helicopters and all that. Beth got the pure times, in the early days. But things were really crazy then. Your husband kills somebody? Oh my god. I can’t imagine. I was with him the longest and went through the hardest times. I don’t like the new wife. I call her Trixie, because she’s a groupie like all the rest of them. I’m pretty sure he started seeing her when we were still married.
One important thing I learned in my marriage to Vince was that you can only fight with somebody who fights back with you. I know I was responsible for part of our, for half of our fights. I fought with him. So I was part of it. You know what I mean? It takes two people. But he would always take the side of denial. He would literally be like, “It wasn’t me. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I love you. I wouldn’t do that. I love you. What are you talking about? I love you more than anything. I’ve never loved somebody so much. I love you. Look at me.” And then he’d cry, the whole nine yards. I’d be thinking, Is he really this good of an actor? And then I’d think. Okay, maybe he means it.
During Skylar’s illness I would talk to Sharise. And she’d be like, “He’s great at apologizing.”
And I’d think to myself, I really thought I was different. That he was going to be different with me. I really thought I was going to be the one who saved him. It was going to be me. Come to find out I was no different. I was exactly the same as every other wife.
I actually I did leave him. I found he was cheating. He had fucked some girl. I took all my dirty clothes, put them in my suitcase—I figured everything in the hamper was what I liked the best. I called Delta, got a first-class ticket, drove to the airport, called my manager, and left a message. I said, “My car is at LAX; will you please pick it up and take it back to my house?” And I flew to Florida. And yes, there was another man. A plastic surgeon. But I didn’t go to him. I went to my girlfriend’s house. He didn’t really mean that much to me. He was all about safety and getting away. And I had to, I had to get away. I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d had enough.
In October 2002 I moved into a house in the Hollywood Hills for ten days as part of a new Warner Bros. reality series called The Surreal Life. The concept for this show was really hot at the time—reality TV, who’d have thought it would have gotten so big? This was just the early days. I figured it would be fun and would also raise my profile. I went for it.
It was quite a group they assembled. There was Emmanuel Lewis from the TV show Webster; Corey Feldman from The Lost Boys and some other classic movies; Mindy Cohn from The Facts of Life; the Baywatch actress and Playboy model Brande Roderick; Jerri Manthey, the hot bitchy girl from Survivor; and the rapper MC Hammer. There were six half-hour episodes recorded in this house in the San Fernando Valley. The cameras were on us 24/7 and they filmed everything. I saw the show as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; I felt I just had to do it. And the great reviews and high ratings justified my doing so.
Watching the show now, of course, I see how a lot of it is bullshit. But I think it really does show the real Vince in action in parts. You can see how I’m pretty charming most of the time, and how the chicks always just naturally gravitate toward me, and how the guys and I get along great. You can also see what it’s like when I get pissed off. At one point, they drive us to Las Vegas—I kind of lost it when the bus driver went the wrong way and got us stuck in endless traffic. I guess you could say I displayed a rock star moment. Then, when we finally got to the hotel and I was reunited with my then-girlfriend, Lia Gerardini, you could witness me in another mode—drunk off my ass. People have said to me it’s amazing how I seem to keep going when I’m totally out on my feet. I guess it’s a form of alcoholic sleepwalking. I do know it’s gotten me in a lot of trouble over the years.
In January 2005, I married Lia at the Four Seasons Hotel in Las Vegas. I’d been living in Vegas pretty much full-time since a year or so after Skylar died. The officiating duties were performed by MC Hammer, my new pal from the show, who also happens to be an ordained minister. It was my fourth marriage and I was determined this one would work.
Some people would have given up on marriage by this time, but not me. I don’t like being alone. My man Hammer did a great job. It was pretty cool. He’s a good guy, a genuinely nice person with a great heart. When we were done he shouted, “It’s Hammer time!”
Lia is an amazing person—she looked so beautiful on our wedding day. We honeymooned in Miami and I was the happiest I’d been for years. We remain together to this day. She is my partner and my rock.
Lia Neil Vince’s Fourth Wife
I grew up the ugly duckling. I was teased at school. I didn’t have the boobs then. I had red hair and boys used to make fun of me. I was not the popular girl. I wasn’t with the cheerleaders.
I was born in East Oakland, adopted at birth, and raised by a nice Italian family in Pleasanton, California. I’ve had the same phone number my whole life.
I went to a local junior college called Ohlone. Then I went to work at the front desk for the Marriott Corporation. I kind of didn’t know what I wanted to do. I did a lot of temp jobs for a while. I finally found my niche in plastic surgery. I was an administrator for a plastics and reconstructive office in Northern Cal.
Ten years ago, when I was thirty-two, I met Vince and my life took me in a different direction. We met at one of his concerts. A bunch of girls and I all went. I was really into Mötley Crüe in high school. Vince was the pinup poster in my room.
I went to the concert wearing these little cropped holey jeans with butterflies on ’em. My top was black pleather and tied mid-waist. My boobs were out, my hair was big; I had my highest heels on.
We were sitting way back in the lawn section—really far from the stage. We started drinking and it was like liquid courage. Out of nowhere, I just said, “I’m going down there.” My friends were like, “What?” I was always the commonsense one. I was the designated driver. I was always everybody’s mom. I said, “I am going down there. I used to have the biggest crush on Vince Neil.” I told them about the poster in my room. My friends were like, “Oh my god! You’re crazy. You’re going to get kicked out.” And I said, “Well, if I get kicked out, I’ll just meet you guys back at the car.”
I started working my way past the barricades. I was living in the moment. I was really tipsy. Clearly I had gone insane. I was having this weird groupie moment. For one day, I had been transformed. I worked my way all the way down to the front.
I stood there a moment. All of a sudden it hit me. What am I doing here?
I looked around and noticed my old hairdresser. She happened to be at the show, sitting down front of course. She’s a total rock chick. Her brother was in a band. She asks me, “Lia, what are you doing here?” I said, “Oh my god, Renee… I don’t know. I just wanted to come down and see the show.” And we’re looking up at Vince and we’re listening and she says, “He’s singing to you.” And I was like, “No, he’s soo not singing to me.” There were like multitudes of people there.
Next thing I know this big bouncer guy walks up to me. He says, “Vince would like to see you aft
er the show.” It was sobriety all at once; I might have been a little tipsy before, but the surge of adrenaline put me totally sober. I wondered, How did he pick me out of the crowd? It was the boobs, I think. I was flattered. I asked if I could bring my girlfriends with me. He said the backstage pass was just for me. I said, “Then there’s no way.” I don’t like to put myself in predicaments.
So we went backstage—with my girlfriends. Vince came out. He was all sweaty. He had on a pair of shorts. He sat down and he was a normal guy—really complimentary. We exchanged a few words. He was adorable. I never asked him for his autograph, nor did I get naked. We all just had regular chitchat. Then he asked for my phone number. I thought, He’s never gonna call. At that point I didn’t know that he was married. We exchanged numbers.
He called immediately and he kept calling.
He asked if he could fly me to New York, or Dallas, wherever he was. I would just say, “No. I’m not that kind of a girl. When you want to date me, you can come here and date me.” He would call from Osaka, Japan. It was kind of cool. At some point I found out he was married.
Then he said that he and his wife had split. He was taking the next flight out. He said he wanted to meet my parents.
My dad seemed okay about meeting him, but my mother thought I was off my rocker, and there was a part of me that agreed. She was born in Italy. Neither of my parents had ever heard anything about Mötley Crüe. That was probably a bonus for me. Just knowing that he was in a rock band made my mother think I had lost every marble in my head. But I was having a good time. I wanted to let this romance play out. I’d be crazy not to.
Vince met them wearing a long-sleeve shirt and his hair pulled back in a ponytail. He was very respectful. He impressed my dad. Last year my dad passed away. He was a mechanic. He owned the only garage in Pleasanton for years. Vince’s dad was a mechanic, too. The minute they all met they were enamored with him. They loved him. He was just sweet and courteous and kind and they just loved him. I miss my dad. I will never be able to replace him as a person in my life who thinks so fiercely about my needs. His death has made a big hole in my life. I think everyone who knew him feels that way. I know it’s tough on my mom. I do my best to be there for her.
What they didn’t know is that Vince had been an alcoholic pretty much his whole life and, unlike me, he had no connection to his parents. We would travel and holidays would come and go. I’d ask him about his parents. I’d try to bring them into our lives. I’d say, “They’re getting older. You’re getting older. They don’t know you. They don’t know me.” Vince would only say that his mother was a little crazy.
By the time we moved to Vegas his parents were living in Laughlin, Nevada. I thought that would be the opportunity to meet them. Vince invited them over and we met. They seemed relatively normal. I was really good to his mother, very gracious. We let them stay at our house. I knew they drank and that was okay. I mean Vince drank and they drank. Everything changed on our wedding day. His mom totally crossed the line.
On our wedding day, everybody was drinking. It was a wedding, of course. My dad was in his eighties and in ailing health. He hadn’t been diagnosed with cancer yet, but for the last five years he’d been in and out of hospitals. It was a huge thing for me to have both my parents there.
After the ceremony, Vince and I went to sit at a table with my parents and some neighbors that lived across the street from them. Vince’s parents came over and Vince’s mother starts asking how come we’re not sitting with her. We tried to tell her it’s not arranged seating. A couple at the table got up so that they could sit down.
Vince’s mom looks over at my dad, and she says, “Your daughter’s lucky that my son is marrying her.”
My dad laughed it off. He smiled and he said, “They’re both lucky. They have each other.”
So she says, “My son is going to make your daughter very rich.”
It’s been five years now and I still don’t speak to her.
Chapter 10
VIVA LAS VEGAS
I finally got sober on March 4, 2007. That’s the date I give. I’m not gonna subject you to the whole AA testimony… the fact is, I don’t believe I’m an alcoholic, per se. I still drink on occasion. I have a little champagne now and then, sometimes a little more probably than I need. And sometimes I’ll have a shot of tequila, but only Tres Rios, my own brand.
I’ll tell you how I got sober. What’s remarkable, I guess, is that it wasn’t that remarkable at all.
I had been going through a period when I was really drinking heavily for about a month, maybe a couple months. And it all kind of came to a head. I remember I went to Guadalajara, Mexico, where they make my tequila. I was there for about a week, just drinking every day, kind of nonstop. They had this big fiesta all week with the mariachis and all this stuff—they wanted to show me a good time down there. Everybody kept calling me El Jefe, the Chief.
And then I went straight from there to South Beach, Florida, for the food and wine convention. I was staying at the Ritz-Carlton in South Beach and I was drinking a lot. We’d wake up and go to breakfast and have some Bloody Marys or whatever. And it just continued; I drank all day long. I’d pass out in the afternoon, wake up, drink again, pass out again, wake up again…. It was just a vicious, terrible cycle. It’s like I had no control of myself. My bar tab was about nine thousand dollars while I was there. Maybe even more. Maybe it was like eleven thousand. I can’t remember. It was fucking crazy.
Things just snowballed from there—I don’t know how it happened, but I just started drinking and I couldn’t stop. My mind-set just purely focused on drinking. It wasn’t that I was actually physically dependent. I wasn’t that kind of alcoholic. I wasn’t sick in the morning and had to have a drink. It wasn’t like a DTs kind of thing. It was just like you wake up and your friends are there. And they say, “Let’s go to the bar… let’s drink… let’s go to the beach and drink… let’s go get a drink.” And that was it. It just kept building. And that ended up going on for a couple of months.
Finally, I just got tired. You see you’re in a pattern. You just want to get off the merry-go-round. It came to a point where I just couldn’t do it anymore.
I called Lia and I said, “Find me a place to go. I gotta get some help.”
As I said earlier, I have no idea how many rehabs I’ve been to. I’m not sure what was different this time. I was tired, I guess. Drinking wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t any fun at all. It was expensive.
Plus, I didn’t get anything done. I was going nowhere. I was where I was for a reason. I had bad people around me. I let it happen. I guess drinking becomes your hobby in a way. For me, I don’t think it was ever about the alcohol. I think it was about the socializing that goes with drinking. It’s that not-wanting-to-be-alone thing again. That’s the biggest part. It’s like 90 percent of it. I never drank at home by myself. I never would just go sit somewhere by myself and drink. I was not pouring myself shots at home. It was all about the socializing. Being with the crowd. Having a drink in my hand was part of it. I always had to have a drink in my hand—social lubrication, if you will. Remember, I’ve always been the shy one. The frontman who didn’t necessarily want to be in front—in the early days people say I sang with my back to the crowd. If you watch me on Surreal World I always have a glass or plastic cup in my hand, almost every single time you see me, in every scene. I always felt more comfortable that way.
But over time I sort of realized that drinking was not working for me anymore. I realized that I’m the kind of drinker who blacks out. I try to drink and have a good time, but it never really works well for me. I get to a point where everything’s… it’s like a switch, you know? All of a sudden I’m gone. I don’t know what happens. I don’t remember anything the next day. I’m like on autopilot, I guess, where I’m not making sense—you get into that mode and then you’re not fun anymore. You know what I mean? ’Cause it’s weird. It’s like this switch goes off. It sort of sneaks up on you. I
t surprises you, you know? One second you’re having fun, and the next… who knows?
In the past I would try to go out with a limit in mind. A plan of attack. I would say to myself okay, I’m only going to drink three or four drinks. Or okay, I’m only going to drink white wine; I’m not going to drink, say, Jack Daniel’s. And it might work a couple of times. But eventually, you’re back to where you started again. You can’t control it. You can switch up drinks, you can do what you want, but basically it is what it is, you know. It’s all your body’s chemistry.
These days, now that I’m sober, I’m way more productive. I’ve got the book and the album; I’ve got the Vince Neil Band; I’ve got the Mötley touring. I’ve got the Feelgoods franchises—coming to a town near you, I hope. I’ve got my lifestyle here in Las Vegas. I really love it here—our other house in Northern Cali is more for Lia, to be close to her mom and her roots. Myself, I feel like I need a little more pulse around me. You can feel it here in Vegas. It’s the strong beat of life pulsing beneath the surface.
These days, I wake up early, feeling clearheaded. I’m up in the morning, I make the coffee. I get stuff done. Would you believe I produced the entire video shoot for the title song of my new album? I won’t be credited as the producer, but I was on the phone, calling people, pulling strings, making things happen the right way. This is how I roll now. I was on the phone all morning with this guy who wants to do a licensing deal with his airplanes to be part of Vince Neil Aviation. I have so much stuff going on right now. There’s been so much stuff going on in the last couple years. It’s been nonstop, you know?
