The Start of a Great Evening
We’re in the car, streetlights are flashing into the windows with velocity, blinking blurs my vision as I continue to watch the dashes in the lines. Must focus. As soon as the car stops, I am running. I contemplate this again. I haven’t the legs to run with, they will inevitably give out on me and he will fuck me up. Okay, I’ll wait until he gets into the house, then I’ll drive off. This is, after all, a pit stop. If I’m still being logical I tell myself, then I’m not that drunk. If I can get out of this, even to just around the corner, I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.
And it would have been okay had I not been too drunk to drive his stick shift piece of shit car.
He catches me in the driver’s seat and asks me, “What do you think you’re doing?” I don’t have much of answer, but I am sure I have a dead drunk stare.
This is the part where the memory forces itself to sharpen up – can’t have any dull blades here, must keep wits about me. I see the gray hues in the black gravel alley way and the glaring sensor garage light flicks on when he shoves me into the pavement. For a second I humor myself and look around to make sure I still have my wits about me, I do. So far so good. As long as he doesn’t go for my purse which I have tossed behind a trashcan to keep him from taking my cell phone out and destroying it for the third time this month, I’ll be good. My car is parked on the other side of the alley. I will call Seth and Elijah and one of them will rescue me. This drill occurs every couple weeks.
He calls me a few names, tells me to get the fuck off his property as I sit on the pavement with whiskey tears and no words. He’ll go inside soon. He looks at me with pity and starts to approach me to tell me to get up, but anger overcomes him and he glares at me with disgust. I see him fade into the walkway of his apartment building. I hear the door open and slam. He’ll pass out any minute now.
I get my purse; make my phone call to Seth.
“Get inside your car, lock the doors and I’ll send Mikey for you, okay? We’re at the Barrington towers and we’ll come to get you – just wait a few minutes, he’s running an errand for me.” I say okay. He tells me not to cry, they’ll take care of me, whatever I need, come out and hang out for a while and they will get me home and have someone drive my car to a safe spot. Again
Second Wind
Mikey picks me up. His friend takes my keys and drives off in my car. We turn the corner, in the darkness of Beloit Avenue, he hands me a CD with a line. I oblige. After the burn passes and I wipe the tear off the left eye, I am clear again. The blurry streetlights now look like stars lighting the way and off we go.
We reach the towers, exit the car, and wait for White Boy Chris to bring me my keys. Mikey reaches in his pocket and hands me a pack of cloves. Tweekers are thoughtful beyond belief I think, they remember the details, details are so important. “You remembered?” I said and smiled.
“Yeah, I figured you couldn’t smoke around Diablo, so I bought a pack on the way to see you, are they the right kind?” He asks. They aren’t but I tell him they are.
I like Mikey. He is the silent type, Seth’s right hand man. I get him to talk in corners of rooms when everyone is fucked up and ranting; we are listening and quietly talking. Chris walks up and hands me my key, tells me the car is on the corner. We roll into the building, Chris gets the elevator, and we arrive at the Penthouse.
To think, earlier I was getting my head smacked by Diablo behind Gabe’s bar on Sepulveda, a local dive with shitty karaoke for entertainment and lousy pool players who spill more pitcher beer on the table than balls into pockets. Now, I’m in Light’s penthouse and Seth is standing in the corner, he smiles when he sees me.
“You okay?” He asks. “Mikey, hook her up.” Mikey looks like he is about to say he did but he nods and breaks out the shit and hooks me up for a few bumps. White Boy Chris walks over the fridge and gets me a beer. I’m home again. I’m okay. No one asks me what happened or how it happened. It’s just known. I don’t have to explain or add to the drama, I am in my safe haven now.
“Okay, Light was worried that you might not be cool, but I told him that you will be. So, you have to be. You cannot get star struck over this shit okay?” Seth tells me. He’s delivering an urgent message to me and I don’t know why it seems so important.
“Christian Slater is coming over to buy coke.” Seth finishes. I tell him I’ll be cool, I wish it was a cooler actor, but I don’t care. Woe is me, I’m high as a kite, drinking with my friends and they are playing my music telling me the latest with their girlfriends, baby mama-drama and the latest improvements they’ve made to their Chevys.
“Okay, everyone be fucking cool, he’s here okay.” Seth says. I am amused at how worried he is. Light comes out of his bedroom, shakes my hand and smiles at me.
“I didn’t realize it was you, how are you Sarah?” I say fine and he gives me a lingering look of respect, picks up my beer to make sure it’s still full. “Let me know if you need anything at all.” He sets my beer down and gets the door.
The atmosphere changes as the door opens, suddenly things are loud and there is an obnoxious stripper trailing behind Christian Slater who has introduced himself as Michael, please call him Michael and she is whining his name asking for champagne.
Introductions are made. Seth has become star struck which tickles me. He gave us a lecture on not mentioning movies and daunting over this short actor and now he is all over him commending “True Romance” as if it was up there with Scarface, Casino and the Godfather series. I have not seen True Romance yet, so I am not enamored by anything Christian Slater has done, the only thing I can remember is Heathers. Which overall, was a great cult classic.
The stripper is exhausting my patience but this is not my room anymore, I cannot expel her, Christian would have to. I contemplate this, make faces, and think; I can get rid of her. I am uninterested in doting on Christian Slater, which makes him continue to glance my way.
“Sarah, that’s your name right?” He says as he plops on the sofa next to me. I see Seth watch him like a hawk.
“Yes.” I answer.
“Michael. Nice to meet you haven’t heard much out of you, what do you do for a living?”
“Presently, business management for stars like you.” I say dryly. He begins to tell me how he doesn’t even have three hundred dollars in the bank. “That doesn’t surprise me, actors aren’t any good with money. You need someone to manage you and then someone to manage your life so you can be places like this. What brings you here tonight, guilt, pleasure, boredom?”
“No bull shit about you, huh? I’m here because I missed my daughter’s ballet recital.” He holds his head in his hands, shaking his head as if he’s about to cry.
“That’s pretty shitty. So to make up for it, you went out and got loaded.” I light a cigarette and Seth is looking at me to shut up. “I thought you were sober. Not that I keep up on the tabloids, last thing I read about you was something about you grabbing a maid’s ass in New York.” Christian looks up at me with wide eyed wonder and narrows his brows like he does in the movies.
“I was sober. Let me tell you about that New York thing. I did not, repeat not, grab that fat ass old black lady’s ass. Shit, if I was going to grabs somebody’s ass she’d be hot and I don’t need to do that.” I tell him I’m sure he doesn’t as Miss Stripper is getting impatient about not being the center of attention. Light takes care of this situation and retreats with her to his room. I have my castle back now.
“So, I came out here this week to sign a contract on a movie.” He tells me.
“Out of money? That’s generally why actors of your stature make a new movie. You haven’t put out a good one in a while, now it’s just a job, huh?” I don’t know why I am feeling so sarcastic tonight but Christian seems to enjoy my banter and every time Seth apologizes for my behavior, Christian tells him it’s quite alright and locks eyes with me.
“I’m on Broadway right now doing a play.”
“Redemption. Now you’re a real actor.”
“Are you a journalist?” He asks me.
“Nope. Just an observer.”
“You know all the right answers, and ask all the right questions and there’s just no bull shit to you. It’s incredible. I could talk to you all night.” He says and his hand lingers on the sofa cushion, I stand up and get another beer. I walk over to him and just as I am about to hand him, an unopened beer he looks at me with puppy pity eyes and I realize, he’s so spoiled now he doesn’t even open his own beers, I open it and hand it to him.
He tells me that I remind him of his wife, whom he met in rehab. She was sarcastic and mean and he thinks that’s why he loved her so much, she was sharp. He said the happiest time in her life was when she was pregnant and after the baby she turned back into a bitch, so he got her pregnant again thinking it would snap her out of the personality disorder, but it did not and all the Affleck drama and what not made them fall a part. He consumes lines like a vacuum collects dust with an empty bag.
He tells me all about the tabloids and what his side of the story is. For the most part, I had no idea about these things but listen attentively and Seth continues to interrupt our conversation to discuss True Romance and John Travolta.
As eight am approached, I knew it was time to go home. I usually have myself in bed by 6am when I run away like this but Christian Slater coke stories are too good to pass up.
“Can you take me home Sarah?” He asks me. I tell him maybe, if I’m not too fucked up. He puts me on the phone with his agent and the agent yells at me like I said he would and I hand him back the phone.
“No, man she’s not a whore, she’s a nice girl, you’ve got to meet her.” He is now past reasonable and his addictive personality has taken over.
“So, I have this movie script idea.” He says at the pinnacle moment of his annoying behavior where the entire room has had their patience shot. “It’s called the button pushers.” I laugh, he has no idea how many buttons he’s pushed with the people in the room and how close he is to getting choked out.
“You’re making me nervous,” he tells Seth. Seth has his hand in the back of his pants. “Are you going to shoot me, man?” He asks. Seth gets overly offended by this.
“What just because we’re in a fucking penthouse and I’m a fucking gangster you think that I’m going to shoot you?” I feel like I’m in a Tarantino movie. Seth pulls his arm out like he’s about to shoot Slater and laughs with a finger gun bang.
It’s over from here on out. I am gathering my stuff and Seth is asking me if he’s out of line, I tell him yes, but so is Christian so I understand. This is when Christian crosses the last line.
“You’re not going to take me home? Oh, wait, you two have been talking in corners all night, are you blowing him?” He spills as if he is wise.
“What did you just say?” Seth approaches him. Fuck, it’s over now. I feel like I’m in that movie Slater did called “Very Bad Things”.
“What did you just fucking say about my girl?” Seth demands.
“That’s what I thought, is she your girl?” Christian is lost.
“You think I cheat on my lady? You think that Sarah is a fucking hooker like the one you brought in?” Seth’s voice escalates. Doesn’t it always end like this? It’s all fun and games til someone says the wrong comment, it is blown out of proportion, and someone is choked out against the wall.
“No, no, man. Hey Seth, I’m sorry I offended you. Hey Sarah, I can take a taxi, I’ll call you this week before I leave.” Christian pussies out and I pick up my purse and walk to the door. I can’t bare to see the next few minutes. The party is deconstructing.
Seth calls me later that Saturday.
“Sarah, you okay? I’m sorry about last night, this morning.” Seth says. I tell him not to worry.
“We’re you offended? Was I out of line?” Seth asks me.
“You both were. I don’t care. It was too early to continue on.”
“I ended up choking him out against the wall.” Seth says. I start to laugh.
“Why wouldn’t you? That’s how these nights all end.” I say.
“That’s not true, when you, Elijah and I hung out-“ I interrupt him.
“It was different.” We both become silent and bid good-byes.
We’re in the car, streetlights are flashing into the windows with velocity, blinking blurs my vision as I continue to watch the dashes in the lines. Must focus. As soon as the car stops, I am running. I contemplate this again. I haven’t the legs to run with, they will inevitably give out on me and he will fuck me up. Okay, I’ll wait until he gets into the house, then I’ll drive off. This is, after all, a pit stop. If I’m still being logical I tell myself, then I’m not that drunk. If I can get out of this, even to just around the corner, I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.
And it would have been okay had I not been too drunk to drive his stick shift piece of shit car.
He catches me in the driver’s seat and asks me, “What do you think you’re doing?” I don’t have much of answer, but I am sure I have a dead drunk stare.
This is the part where the memory forces itself to sharpen up – can’t have any dull blades here, must keep wits about me. I see the gray hues in the black gravel alley way and the glaring sensor garage light flicks on when he shoves me into the pavement. For a second I humor myself and look around to make sure I still have my wits about me, I do. So far so good. As long as he doesn’t go for my purse which I have tossed behind a trashcan to keep him from taking my cell phone out and destroying it for the third time this month, I’ll be good. My car is parked on the other side of the alley. I will call Seth and Elijah and one of them will rescue me. This drill occurs every couple weeks.
He calls me a few names, tells me to get the fuck off his property as I sit on the pavement with whiskey tears and no words. He’ll go inside soon. He looks at me with pity and starts to approach me to tell me to get up, but anger overcomes him and he glares at me with disgust. I see him fade into the walkway of his apartment building. I hear the door open and slam. He’ll pass out any minute now.
I get my purse; make my phone call to Seth.
“Get inside your car, lock the doors and I’ll send Mikey for you, okay? We’re at the Barrington towers and we’ll come to get you – just wait a few minutes, he’s running an errand for me.” I say okay. He tells me not to cry, they’ll take care of me, whatever I need, come out and hang out for a while and they will get me home and have someone drive my car to a safe spot. Again
Second Wind
Mikey picks me up. His friend takes my keys and drives off in my car. We turn the corner, in the darkness of Beloit Avenue, he hands me a CD with a line. I oblige. After the burn passes and I wipe the tear off the left eye, I am clear again. The blurry streetlights now look like stars lighting the way and off we go.
We reach the towers, exit the car, and wait for White Boy Chris to bring me my keys. Mikey reaches in his pocket and hands me a pack of cloves. Tweekers are thoughtful beyond belief I think, they remember the details, details are so important. “You remembered?” I said and smiled.
“Yeah, I figured you couldn’t smoke around Diablo, so I bought a pack on the way to see you, are they the right kind?” He asks. They aren’t but I tell him they are.
I like Mikey. He is the silent type, Seth’s right hand man. I get him to talk in corners of rooms when everyone is fucked up and ranting; we are listening and quietly talking. Chris walks up and hands me my key, tells me the car is on the corner. We roll into the building, Chris gets the elevator, and we arrive at the Penthouse.
To think, earlier I was getting my head smacked by Diablo behind Gabe’s bar on Sepulveda, a local dive with shitty karaoke for entertainment and lousy pool players who spill more pitcher beer on the table than balls into pockets. Now, I’m in Light’s penthouse and Seth is standing in the corner, he smiles when he sees me.
“You okay?” He asks. “Mikey, hook her up.” Mikey looks like he is about to say he did but he nods and breaks out the shit and hooks me up for a few bumps. White Boy Chris walks over the fridge and gets me a beer. I’m home again. I’m okay. No one asks me what happened or how it happened. It’s just known. I don’t have to explain or add to the drama, I am in my safe haven now.
“Okay, Light was worried that you might not be cool, but I told him that you will be. So, you have to be. You cannot get star struck over this shit okay?” Seth tells me. He’s delivering an urgent message to me and I don’t know why it seems so important.
“Christian Slater is coming over to buy coke.” Seth finishes. I tell him I’ll be cool, I wish it was a cooler actor, but I don’t care. Woe is me, I’m high as a kite, drinking with my friends and they are playing my music telling me the latest with their girlfriends, baby mama-drama and the latest improvements they’ve made to their Chevys.
“Okay, everyone be fucking cool, he’s here okay.” Seth says. I am amused at how worried he is. Light comes out of his bedroom, shakes my hand and smiles at me.
“I didn’t realize it was you, how are you Sarah?” I say fine and he gives me a lingering look of respect, picks up my beer to make sure it’s still full. “Let me know if you need anything at all.” He sets my beer down and gets the door.
The atmosphere changes as the door opens, suddenly things are loud and there is an obnoxious stripper trailing behind Christian Slater who has introduced himself as Michael, please call him Michael and she is whining his name asking for champagne.
Introductions are made. Seth has become star struck which tickles me. He gave us a lecture on not mentioning movies and daunting over this short actor and now he is all over him commending “True Romance” as if it was up there with Scarface, Casino and the Godfather series. I have not seen True Romance yet, so I am not enamored by anything Christian Slater has done, the only thing I can remember is Heathers. Which overall, was a great cult classic.
The stripper is exhausting my patience but this is not my room anymore, I cannot expel her, Christian would have to. I contemplate this, make faces, and think; I can get rid of her. I am uninterested in doting on Christian Slater, which makes him continue to glance my way.
“Sarah, that’s your name right?” He says as he plops on the sofa next to me. I see Seth watch him like a hawk.
“Yes.” I answer.
“Michael. Nice to meet you haven’t heard much out of you, what do you do for a living?”
“Presently, business management for stars like you.” I say dryly. He begins to tell me how he doesn’t even have three hundred dollars in the bank. “That doesn’t surprise me, actors aren’t any good with money. You need someone to manage you and then someone to manage your life so you can be places like this. What brings you here tonight, guilt, pleasure, boredom?”
“No bull shit about you, huh? I’m here because I missed my daughter’s ballet recital.” He holds his head in his hands, shaking his head as if he’s about to cry.
“That’s pretty shitty. So to make up for it, you went out and got loaded.” I light a cigarette and Seth is looking at me to shut up. “I thought you were sober. Not that I keep up on the tabloids, last thing I read about you was something about you grabbing a maid’s ass in New York.” Christian looks up at me with wide eyed wonder and narrows his brows like he does in the movies.
“I was sober. Let me tell you about that New York thing. I did not, repeat not, grab that fat ass old black lady’s ass. Shit, if I was going to grabs somebody’s ass she’d be hot and I don’t need to do that.” I tell him I’m sure he doesn’t as Miss Stripper is getting impatient about not being the center of attention. Light takes care of this situation and retreats with her to his room. I have my castle back now.
“So, I came out here this week to sign a contract on a movie.” He tells me.
“Out of money? That’s generally why actors of your stature make a new movie. You haven’t put out a good one in a while, now it’s just a job, huh?” I don’t know why I am feeling so sarcastic tonight but Christian seems to enjoy my banter and every time Seth apologizes for my behavior, Christian tells him it’s quite alright and locks eyes with me.
“I’m on Broadway right now doing a play.”
“Redemption. Now you’re a real actor.”
“Are you a journalist?” He asks me.
“Nope. Just an observer.”
“You know all the right answers, and ask all the right questions and there’s just no bull shit to you. It’s incredible. I could talk to you all night.” He says and his hand lingers on the sofa cushion, I stand up and get another beer. I walk over to him and just as I am about to hand him, an unopened beer he looks at me with puppy pity eyes and I realize, he’s so spoiled now he doesn’t even open his own beers, I open it and hand it to him.
He tells me that I remind him of his wife, whom he met in rehab. She was sarcastic and mean and he thinks that’s why he loved her so much, she was sharp. He said the happiest time in her life was when she was pregnant and after the baby she turned back into a bitch, so he got her pregnant again thinking it would snap her out of the personality disorder, but it did not and all the Affleck drama and what not made them fall a part. He consumes lines like a vacuum collects dust with an empty bag.
He tells me all about the tabloids and what his side of the story is. For the most part, I had no idea about these things but listen attentively and Seth continues to interrupt our conversation to discuss True Romance and John Travolta.
As eight am approached, I knew it was time to go home. I usually have myself in bed by 6am when I run away like this but Christian Slater coke stories are too good to pass up.
“Can you take me home Sarah?” He asks me. I tell him maybe, if I’m not too fucked up. He puts me on the phone with his agent and the agent yells at me like I said he would and I hand him back the phone.
“No, man she’s not a whore, she’s a nice girl, you’ve got to meet her.” He is now past reasonable and his addictive personality has taken over.
“So, I have this movie script idea.” He says at the pinnacle moment of his annoying behavior where the entire room has had their patience shot. “It’s called the button pushers.” I laugh, he has no idea how many buttons he’s pushed with the people in the room and how close he is to getting choked out.
“You’re making me nervous,” he tells Seth. Seth has his hand in the back of his pants. “Are you going to shoot me, man?” He asks. Seth gets overly offended by this.
“What just because we’re in a fucking penthouse and I’m a fucking gangster you think that I’m going to shoot you?” I feel like I’m in a Tarantino movie. Seth pulls his arm out like he’s about to shoot Slater and laughs with a finger gun bang.
It’s over from here on out. I am gathering my stuff and Seth is asking me if he’s out of line, I tell him yes, but so is Christian so I understand. This is when Christian crosses the last line.
“You’re not going to take me home? Oh, wait, you two have been talking in corners all night, are you blowing him?” He spills as if he is wise.
“What did you just say?” Seth approaches him. Fuck, it’s over now. I feel like I’m in that movie Slater did called “Very Bad Things”.
“What did you just fucking say about my girl?” Seth demands.
“That’s what I thought, is she your girl?” Christian is lost.
“You think I cheat on my lady? You think that Sarah is a fucking hooker like the one you brought in?” Seth’s voice escalates. Doesn’t it always end like this? It’s all fun and games til someone says the wrong comment, it is blown out of proportion, and someone is choked out against the wall.
“No, no, man. Hey Seth, I’m sorry I offended you. Hey Sarah, I can take a taxi, I’ll call you this week before I leave.” Christian pussies out and I pick up my purse and walk to the door. I can’t bare to see the next few minutes. The party is deconstructing.
Seth calls me later that Saturday.
“Sarah, you okay? I’m sorry about last night, this morning.” Seth says. I tell him not to worry.
“We’re you offended? Was I out of line?” Seth asks me.
“You both were. I don’t care. It was too early to continue on.”
“I ended up choking him out against the wall.” Seth says. I start to laugh.
“Why wouldn’t you? That’s how these nights all end.” I say.
“That’s not true, when you, Elijah and I hung out-“ I interrupt him.
“It was different.” We both become silent and bid good-byes.
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