14
THE ZEBRA ON MULHOLLAND DRIVE
One day we were out shopping for stuff for our new house on Mulholland Drive, right next door to Quentin Tarantino. In the Galerie Michael on Rodeo Drive we found a zebra. Not a real one, mind, but a huge impressionistic painting of one. You had to look a few times to make out the face, but it was a zebra alright, and Tans and I clocked it at exactly the same time.
I said, ‘We’ll have that, shall we?’
Tans said, ‘Yeah, we’ll have that.’
This was our American adventure just beginning.
We’d rented a place to begin with and kept a foot in the UK by hanging on to the house in Shootersway because we weren’t sure that we’d move to the States permanently. But then all that changed when I bought Tinker.
It was the day before Valentine’s Day, 2007.
Tans and I were passing a pet store in Beverly Glen and we noticed a teacup Yorkshire terrier in the window, and I thought, ‘Fucking hell, I’ve got to have that little puppy.’ Tans was adamant that we were not getting a dog, so I pretended that she’d put me off, but I knew myself, and her, better than that. The morning of Valentine’s Day I went back to the store and picked up the dog. I also bought a pine four-poster bed for it (I’d usually keep a dog in a cardboard box in the house, but this guy deserved better than that). Back at the apartment, I put the dog in the bed outside the door upstairs, banged on the door and ran back down to hide. Tans opened the door, screamed and shouted, ‘Oh my god!’ and that was it. Tinker, boom, done.
You’d think Tans had just given birth again – she loved that dog instantly. When she told Kaley about it, it was clear to Kaley that we were staying for good.
So this was it: this was L.A. life done big. We had bought the place on Mulholland for a million and a half and probably spent another million on it, all told. And the zebra was crucial.
It was the first thing we did, hanging that zebra. Then I had the two walls out front both painted with the word ‘sunshine’ for the John Denver song Tans loved so much, ‘Sunshine on My Shoulders’. Then we did everything out to match the zebra theme: black-and-white throughout, with glass and chrome, that’s all. Zebra-themed high chairs at the kitchen counter; zebra-print throw cushions on the cream couch; outside, a cabana for the men with a black-and-white Union Flag on the wall and another cabana for the women. Deep brown covers on the beds, facing a black fireplace. I even hung a signed picture of Alan Shearer wearing his black-and-white striped Newcastle kit in the gym. Sure, there were flashes of colour: my big red Sex Pistols poster; photos of Tans looking as gorgeous as ever; a poster for Snatch, just off the living area. But even the poster for X-Men: The Last Stand, in which I played Juggernaut, was mostly black-and-white.
And we filled that house with people, including Kaley. Realizing we were staying for good, Kaley, who was 21, joined us, bringing her dog, a bichon frise called Baby. Sadly, Baby didn’t do well after her long trip. She never seemed to settle and, after a couple of years, I found her dead in her little bed. Burying her that day loosed something very strong in me; I cried and cried and cried as I dug a place for her to rest in the backyard at Mulholland. Perhaps I realized that nothing lasts forever, even as we built an extraordinary new life in the United States.
We truly did create the most unbelievable Los Angeles lifestyle at ‘Sunshine’. Non-stop friends arriving at the door; non-stop people coming in from England. We thought it might wear off, but it didn’t – it just kept going.
For Tans’ birthday each year I would fly Julie and Joanne, her two best friends, over for her. She never wanted a Gucci bag or a Louis Vuitton purse – no, she just wanted her two best friends. And it’s no exaggeration to say that she got as excited the fifteenth time they came as the first time. She’d leave insanely early to pick them up from the airport. I’d say, ‘Babe, it’s an hour, hour and a half to the airport. Why are you leaving five hours before they land?’ but there was no stopping her.
And still everyone kept coming. LAX airport became like a revolving door for us, because as Tans was dropping people off, others would be arriving. In the first year of us living in the States, she did 62 separate trips to LAX – she’d literally drop people off at departures, kiss, hug, all that, then run up to arrivals to greet the next lot, more kisses, more hugs. Sometimes it was my sister’s family, or her family, or all of mine. And then friends and more friends and more friends.
Tans was so happy, welcoming everyone, making sure they were settled, giving them tours of L.A. We nicknamed them Tans’ Tours. She’d do them in my old Cadillac convertible – that car would be full of kids and friends and it was swaying around … Tans would drive everyone up to the Hollywood sign, then they’d drive around all the houses in Beverly Hills. She always made sure to stop at Priscilla Presley’s house – she loved Priscilla. She probably saw something of herself in Elvis’s wife – the woman married to the famous guy. Then they’d all head off to Venice and Santa Monica, where she’d get a henna tattoo, every time: it always said, ‘I love Vin’.
With the henna in place, Tans would make sure she got her palm read. She and all the girls would head off to some spiritualist and fork over their 50 bucks or whatever; she loved all that. To end the day, she’d take everyone to the Hot Wings Cafe on Melrose, or Mel’s Diner, or some deli up in Beverly Glen. Wherever she went she always wanted the chicken wings. She didn’t like fancy places where the Hollywood women would go to be seen and do lunch. She wanted to be with her family and friends and eat chicken wings. Sometimes potato skins, but usually wings.
And it would take all day because of Tans’ driving.
Tanya Jones was the only human being who ever drove around Los Angeles without using the freeway. You really have to know what L.A. is like to appreciate what that means. L.A. is basically one big freeway, or a whole load of big freeways. There’s the 5 and the 10 and the 101 and the 110 and the 210 and the 405 and the 605 and the 710 and on and on and on. Los Angeles is very spread out, too – to get a sense of scale, it’s about 45 miles from San Fernando in the north to Long Beach in the south; that’s basically Watford to Sevenoaks as the crow flies.
So, to get around you will definitely have to use a freeway or several … and everyone talks about how they got somewhere and what freeway they used. There’s a really funny skit on Saturday Night Live called ‘The Californians’ where all they do is compare freeway routes and that’s what it’s like there. (One of my favourite bits in ‘The Californians’ is when Fred Armisen shouts at Bill Hader, ‘Get back on San Vincente, take it to the 10, then switch over to the 405 north, and let it dump you out at Mulholland where you belong!’)
None of this mattered to Tans, though – she never used the freeways. And she drove everywhere at 22 m.p.h.
One year, my son Aaron came to stay and, being a military lad, he had an idea to see the RMS Queen Mary, a legendary cruise ship/troop carrier which is docked in Long Beach, right at the bottom of L.A. – it’s basically as far south as you can go before you fall into the Pacific Ocean. 7475 Mullholland is about 40 miles to the north and, at rush hour, in the worst traffic, it takes about an hour and a half to get down there (you can take the 101 to the 710, or jump on the 5 in Glendale and pick up the 710 in East L.A. – see? Everyone talks about which freeway to use, even me.)
Everyone, as said, except Tanya Jones. She quite happily offered to drive Aaron to see the Queen Mary, but she had no intention of taking the 5, the 101, the 710 or any freeway, in fact. No, she was going to stick to local roads and, like Mr Magoo, she was going to peer over the steering wheel and stick to her 22 m.p.h.
Tans and Aaron left at 10 a.m. … and arrived just before 6 p.m. I think the Queen Mary was closed, actually, so they drove right back. I was well asleep when they finally made it to the house.
Aaron had had a wonderful day, nonetheless. That was Tans. Life and soul. Best person ever.
Tans driving was the funniest thing, because it didn’t matter whether
the car had cost a hundred grand or five dollars – she was in a world of her own. Driving with her was a nightmare, to be honest, but it was even worse having her as a passenger. She’d shout, ‘You’re going too fast! You’re too close! That lane! That lane!’ Fortunately, she was quite happy to ride in the back – anything to avoid the front with me, and I wasn’t going to argue; she was a terrible passenger. She just couldn’t get over someone else – i.e., me – driving a bit faster than her 22 m.p.h.
Not only that, but when she drove, she was completely oblivious to everything around her. She’d say, ‘Oh, why do they keep beeping at me?’ Most days she’d come home and say, ‘Oh, this bloke was really going mad and waving his fist at me. And I was just driving along …’ She just didn’t get it, the driving part. It was so funny.
When we lived next door to each other at Hunter’s Oak, Tans was driving a real old banger, an old black Citroën, with stuff hanging off it. Suzy Barnes, who was married to John Barnes at the time, lived up the road, and they had the superstar lifestyle – the red Mercedes, the whole bit. Suzy would beg Tans to not embarrass her. ‘Tans, please,’ Suzy would say, ‘don’t park outside the house with that car.’
Tans was having none of it.
‘Shut up, Suzy,’ Tans would say, ‘it gets me from there to there!’ But god knows how – the thing didn’t have a lick of oil in it. I tried to drive it one day and it sounded terrible – when I popped the bonnet, it was as dry as a bone. So, on our first Valentine’s Day together, I bought her a car – a little black Mazda sportscar with a personalized number plate: 20 TJ. (She hated that plate; she was so modest, always. I’ve always loved plates; I’ve had loads, and I’ve bought them for her mum and for Kaley, but Tans never cared for them.)
Even though she was a terrible driver, she still had taste – and Tans’ dream car was a red Bentley. I bought her one of those in the end, too. She had it about four years, but then she was too sick to drive it.
But money was never the point for Tans. From the day we stayed up all night talking in Hunter’s Oak to the night she died, she didn’t know to the nearest £10, £100, or hundred grand how much we had in the bank. She never saw a statement; she never asked to see a statement. All her stuff, all her jewellery, Cartier, Louis Vuitton – I bought all of it. She never once came home with a Louis Vuitton bag, never once said, ‘I bought myself some new shoes.’ Everything she bought would be from H&M or Venice Beach. She’d say, ‘I bought two dresses for 40 dollars!’ She looked better than anyone, but she’d be in a $20 dress – it looked like a $20,000 dress on her. Tans always looked a million times better than anyone – she was gorgeous and gracious and she didn’t have a hundred grand dripping off her arms and ears. Tans didn’t even have her ears pierced. She’d go to Cartier and buy me a lighter or something for my birthday and buy herself nothing.
So, cars? It honestly didn’t matter to her whether she was driving a little Citroën or a 150-grand Bentley. And it wouldn’t matter to me either, if she was still here to drive at 22 m.p.h. What I’d do to see that again.
We were living the grand L.A. lifestyle, but I hadn’t even been sure I wanted to move there initially.
I had done a movie called Gone in 60 Seconds – the first one – and everybody was telling me I needed to move to L.A. if I wanted to be a big star. During filming I was really missing Tans, who’d stayed back with Kaley who was still in school. It was 2 a.m. and it was really hot in downtown L.A. I called her and said, ‘It’s fantastic here. Babe, I’m walking around missing you, but it’s two in the morning and it’s boiling hot.’
And that was it. Tans said, ‘OK, yeah. We’re coming. We’re going to come.’ And they did.
We had a wonderful, wonderful, ridiculous time at that Mulholland house. We were up there next to Tarantino, for a start; tour buses would swing by every five minutes. I had a Union Flag flying proudly over the property. There were huge electric gates next to the signs reading ‘Sunshine’ and, once inside, Tans was so proud to show everyone how I’d remodelled and rebuilt the place around the zebra theme. I was making movies, and tons of dough, and I managed the Hollywood All-Stars football team, too.
We had some amazing people on that team: Dermot Mulroney, Jason Statham, Ziggy Marley, Robbie Williams, Eric Wynalda, John Harkes and Frank Leboeuf, to name just a few. And I took it seriously. Forget John Sitton ranting at his Leyton Orient players and his famous, ‘And you can bring your fucking dinner ’cos by the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll fucking need it.’ Forget Neil Warnock’s infamous rant at his Huddersfield Town players (‘Third in the league, and we’ve got two thousand fans getting pissed on!’). Forget Phil Brown making his Hull players sit on the pitch at Manchester City at half time – here’s a partial transcript of one of my half-time team talks to Hollywood All-Stars:
What I do get pissed off with is the fucking decisions. When there’s a guy stood in front of you there, why go for this fucking worldy, when it is 90 degrees?
Danny, you’re six-three and you ain’t won a fucking header all day. I’ve been in the game too long, Danny, for this bollocks. Either fucking win it or fucking get off.
We’ve got to do the fucking hard work. John and Ollie, your job is in the middle of midfield. You can’t be going fucking roaring in like fucking Roy of the Rovers. It’s too fucking hard.
Don’t waste my fucking time on a Sunday by coming here and wanking it off. This is just fucking bullshit. That looks to me like some of you have had a game this morning, some of you have got fucking airports on your mind. We’re here for an hour and a fucking half, let’s worry about this, not who you’re picking up from airports. The effort here is dog shit.
Mikey – fucking get in there or I’ll fucking throw a chair on for you. Will you be more comfortable then, if you’re sitting down?
I’m fucking gutted for the lads on the fucking sideline, because they shouldn’t be fucking there. All the fucking time and effort that goes into this fucking club. Lads, I’ve been at the highest level you can get, I can see who’s fucking cheating. I can see that nearly run. Danny, I can see all that, ‘Oh, the sun’s in my eyes.’ It ain’t in his eyes, is it?
I’m telling you something right now – my money’s on them winning this game unless you can show me one bit of fucking character. There’s my prediction: my money’s on them, unless you wankers can fucking pull yourself out the fucking bed and fucking get in here, and fucking work hard, and win the fucking ball.
Get yourselves sorted out.
Shakespeare eat yer heart out.
The Hollywood All-Stars games were on a Sunday, which was fantastic because we turned it into a proper day out.
All the girls used to get ready, Tanya and all her mates, to come down to watch. There was a little outdoor restaurant right on the side of the football pitch and Tans would arrive and be the anchor of it all; she was a fantastic entertainer.
The few times Tans didn’t come down to football, I’d call her and say, ‘All the lads are going to come back. We’re on our way, would you go get 40 steaks?’ By the time we’d get back she would have phoned a couple of her mates and they’d be there too; there’d be steaks going on the barbecue, the full Monty. And the house was spotless and there’d be food and drink, as much as you want. It was one of the highlights of our lives together – us lads in one cabana, eating steaks under a black-and-white Union flag; Tans and her girlfriends in the other cabana, having a few drinks and probably comparing horror stories of us lads. Most Saturday nights too there would be 30, 40 people at our house. We had the off license on speed dial.
But then the first signs of Tans’ cancer arrived. Weirdly, if you say ‘skin cancer’ it doesn’t sound as bad as some of the other kinds, and I think that’s how we viewed it, at least initially. Kaley remembers that she was getting something out of the fridge in the house on Mulholland when her mum offhandedly told her that they’d found a bit of cancer, but it was nothing to worry about. ‘I have really good doctors, they found
it early, they can treat it, nothing to lose sleep over, darling,’ Tans said. Kaley remembers being comforted by that. Like all of us, she figured her mother had been through worse and prevailed.
We never thought it would lead where it led, and we stayed hopeful, but it felt like we needed a new kind of lifestyle in any case. I gave up the team and we had to put a line under those years. It was time to sell Mulholland. I instigated the decision (well, me and the termites we found).
It was time to change everything once again. We were never really the full-on Hollywood types in any case and now we wanted to build ourselves something away from the hype. So, in the meantime, while we searched for the perfect place, we rented a place on Greenleaf Street in North Hollywood, about 15 minutes west of Mulholland.
Even though we loved all our friends and family, and had a brilliant time getting them all together, we were at our best watching a film on the couch in our sweats or pyjamas – that was better than any premiere. It just wasn’t us. We surprised a lot of people, I think, by never being the couple who were open to this premiere or that party. We weren’t that couple at all; it didn’t really interest her. For us to be home having a cuddle on the sofa, making dinner, and then watching a film or something, that’s what we wanted. Tans didn’t want to be out in Hollywood with people who are not interesting or kind or real. And she was completely unfazed by stardom – she once told a story to OK! magazine about me being an actor: ‘It’s not such a big thing. People say things like, “Wow, how was it with Madonna,” and I just reply, “Yes, she was ever so nice.”’
That was Tans to a tee.
15
SOUTH DAKOTA
People loved Tanya Jones – everyone used to say, ‘I love Tans; I just love her.’ And it was genuine, every time.
Lost Without You: Loving and Losing Tanya Page 13
