Hell On High Heels | Mötley Crüe

Chapter 9: City Of Sun And Decadence

August 14, 1985. Worcester, MA hotel room. 12:45 AM:

"I can't wait to see you, bitch!"  Pamela yelled into the phone so loudly I was forced to hold it an inch away from my face.  Sinking down onto the hotels white fluffy mattress, I ruffled my sheet of golden hair.  Tommy was out with the guys at some bar down the street.  He had practically begged me to come but I told him I wasn't feeling up to it.  Hanging out with Tommy's friends was fun and all, but after awhile it was just way too much testosterone. 

It was something that had bothered me for a few weeks now.  I was the only girl constantly on tour for the past month.  Vince's girlfriend, Krystal, stopped by every so often but while she was sweet, she was also the dumbest person I've ever met, meaning she wasn't exactly best friend material.  Leaving me alone as the only girl on tour.  Know that I thought about it, it  was probably this that made me call Pamela.

"Yeah, the call was really sudden."  I spoke, recalling the phone call I had gotten yesterday.  Twirling the clean white phone cord around my fingers.  "I honestly fucking forgot about it.  Get this, Pam, when my acting agent called, I thought he was another one of Tommys drug buddies."

"You did not!"  Pamela gasped over the phone.

I laughed, falling back on the hotels white sheets.  "Yes!  I swear to God!"

"I can't believe you got the lead female role in the movie and you're going to work with Tom-fucking-Cruise!  My own best friend is going to be Hollywood's biggest star!"  Pamela proudly announced.  "You better tell me all the juicy details."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah.  It's not that big of a deal."

"Shut up.  It totally is!"  She exclaimed and I could practically hear the pride in her voice.

"Listen, Pam,"  I started.  "I'm flying back to L.A. tomorrow and I'll see you around noon."  Silence followed from the other end of the phone.  "Pam?  Helllloooo?"

"Oh, yeah... Tomorrow afternoon, sounds great.  My new boy toy wants me, so I gotta motor.  See ya!"  And with that the dial tone sounded before I even had a chance to respond.  I rolled my eyes at her rambling, this was the thing about Pamela.  Once she set her sights on a guy, it was goodbye regular Pamela and hello random girl I only see once a month.  I used to think that she was the ultimate girls girl.  But I couldn't have been anymore wrong.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the silky strands between my fingertips and finding comfort in the fact that I'd hopefully at least be able to catch up with my long time friend soon.

...

August 15, 1985. Los Angeles. Sunset Strip Apartment:

When it comes to L.A., you have to be prepared for anything, this was something I learned very early on when I saw a man trying to catch a rat with nothing but his bare hands and determination in the back of a gas station.  And as disgusting and traumatic as the experience was, it taught me something valuable.

Shit gets weird in L.A.

And when it comes to being friends with Pamela Manning, I'd learned to take things as the come.  Especially when it came to what she would do for a guy.  I was ready for almost anything.  For Pamela not to visit me all week.  Or for her to have moved back to her hometown.  Hell, I was even ready for the apartment to be on fire.

What I wasn't prepared for though was a small cult of rockstars living in my old apartment.

I supposed I should have guessed it after our phone call yesterday, though.  She didn't ask me about Tommy.  And Pamela always wants tea on my man.  Always.  There was no bigger red flag than when Pamela didn't ask for gossip concerning my love life and I was stupid to ignore it.