A Compelling Life

6. The night before

We're in this bar on Sunset Strip called the Rainbow, and there's SUCH an amazing vibe here. It's like the place couldn't decide if it wanted to be a restaurant, a seedy rock club or a high-class strip joint, and then just settled with being all of them combined. The smell of food, cigarettes, booze and cheap cologne fills the air and there's a crazy crowd. Wannabe rock stars make up the majority of the customers; leather-clad bad boys with teased hair and a penchant for eyeliner, marking their territory with loud voices and heavy drinking. They're surrounded by scantily dressed girls, their dangerously short skirts just barely covering their upper thighs. There are obvious junkies and undeniable drunks, fresh looking youngsters that probably came to L.A. hoping for their big break in acting or music, slick men in suits that could either be Hollywood agents or mobsters, and everyone in between, gathering under the flickering neon lights for a night of fun and games.

And yet somehow, with all of these fascinating people attending this place, we got stuck with Stanford and his frat boy friends. I've been talking to Stanford for a while now and he seems to be a bit irritated by me calling him that, since it's not actually his name. But his sweater says "Stanford University" and I keep forgetting his real name. I just remember that it's something really preppy, like Winston Lawrence Churchill-Smith The Third or something.

I'm not really complaining since they keep the free beer coming at a record pace, but damn, that guy is like the definition of boring. He can't shut up about some prestigious price his rowing team once won. I kinda zoned out halfway through his endless story to be fair, just nodding at what I hope are the right moments while I'm trying to grab Coreys' attention through thought transference. Come on Corey, look this way! Save me from this mindnumbing dullness! But Corey's way too engaged in his conversation with one of the other Stanfords to notice me, and I have no idea where Paulina and Vicky are, so I'll just have another beer I guess.

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Stanford became 3 times more interesting after 3 beers, which, unfortunately, is still uninteresting as hell. I'm relieved when I feel Corey tapping my shoulder -my telepathic powers are finally showing!

"Hey KareBear," he slurs as he points in the direction of a group of 4 men sitting in one of the booths behind us, "don't look now but....-Jeez, I said DON'T look now-.....over there. They're the Guns 'n Rose guys."

Oh my god, Axl's bandmates? Maybe he's here too. What are the odds of just running into him in a city as big as this? This must be destiny!

I can't help but observe the guys intently. They look so effortlessly cool, slouching on the red leather couches and chugging bottles of whiskey like it's lemonade. And their hair! There's so much of it! I love their wild hair hairstyles, especially the abundance of black curls on the one sitting on the right.

"I wanna touch his hair!" I yell, pointing in their direction.

"Karen, you can't just go and touch random people's hair like that!" Corey reacts, his voice feigning shock. But he's not fooling anyone, by the way he's been eyeing up Curly over there I can tell that he's just as eager to meet these dudes as I am.

So I reply with a "watch me!" as I turn on my heel towards them, leaving poor Stanford in the dust with an astonished look on his face.

"Hi! I'm Karen! Can I touch your hair?" I glance the dark-haired stranger my most irresistible smile, earning a lazy smirk back from him.

"Pretty little thing like you can touch me everywhere."