DIRT: the grunge diaries (𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒶'𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃)

entry # 12 - come over, Cherry

October 2, 1992
فيكتوريا

I hop off my Triumph Bonneville, I take my helmet off, I free my red mane of curls and I manage to walk my way to the entrance door of my block of flats. Keys in hand already, ready to slip on the couch and have a pint party with my girls. Today has been one hell of a day, it started with university classes at 8am, went on about with a coffee in front of the essay paper I'm writing at Bessie's bar at 5pm. Then I headed to the set of one of my adult movies at 5:30. I made out with a gorgeous brunette all afternoon long... long legs, tiny waist and a real pretty pussy. We got eachother off wonderfully, and I'm supposed to catch up with her later tonight 'cause she wants to be taken on a ride and, I guess, have some more sex. But my sex drive died the exact moment I bumped into Kim Thayil, my non cousin cousin, down the street... not so long after I finished filming. Kim and I took it on the road with my Triumph, went to guitar lane together, then he bought me a beer and he took me to dinner at McDonald's. Without hitting on me, 'cause he still believes we're related... and turns out he calls me Thayil now. No more Cherry, it's Thayil now. My last name is Khair, so it didn't exactly rock my world... but at least now my biggest fucking Seattle nightmare doesn't hit on me anymore. And the only man who calls me Cherry now is Sean. Sean. I've spoken to him a bit, over the last few days, and he's still in Texas. He's still being all cryptic. Cryptically interested in me. Very cryptic, always cryptic. One second before I get the feeling that he's into me, one second after I get the feeling that he thinks I'm his drug counsellor. Then I get the feeling that he wants to fuck me. Then I get the feeling that he is a softie, under that elusive, I don't give a fuck, I've got my shit together façade. And his unpredictability makes me fall for him more and more, over and over again, day after day.

I rush all the way to my floor, helmet in my one hand and keys to the front door in the other hand. I let the key slide into the lock and I open the door to our shared apartment, to find Chrissie and Bessie sitting on the couch with two beers in hand. It's 9pm, it smells like it's been cooked in this house, and it looks as though as no band is playing in town tonight. Or they wouldn't be at home, wearing lounge stuff and chilling. They would be standing in front of the mirror, fighting on who has to take it over and check her butt first. Classic Grunge's Angels demeanour. Owning the mirror before leaving for a concert is the only thing we argue about. Ever.

Cock Soup is taking a nap on his cage, and I can see a bunch of red roses on the coffee table right next to it. I look at the flowers, brows furrowed and quite perplexed, and Bess and Chrissie shrug as if they're trying to tell me that they aren't from one of their boyfriends'. They're for me. What the actual hell? I am away from home for twelve hours in a row, and a penis-equipped human being comes over and brings me flowers ?

'Red roses for my beautiful red Rose,
- Mike'.

I can read, as I grab the tiny envelope attached to the gorgeous bunch of red roses. Red roses, many of them, from Mike Inez to his beautiful Rose, aka me. This isn't the first time he buys me flowers, but this is the first time he buys me flowers while he's away and touring. Mike is a cutie and the nicest guy on earth, and he calls me Rose from time to time. I love him, but his use of possessive adjectives freaks the living hell out of me, now that I've fallen out of biblical love for him. He thinks that a bunch of red roses is going to be enough to convince me to go all the way to California to see him, but he couldn't be any wronger. I will go to California, next week, but not for him. I mean, I will have to be with him at some point ... but unless I go there to find Sean being blown by another chick, I won't fuck Mike. I will hit the road for the fun, the music... and to gravitate around Sean. And that's pretty much it.