Rock N'Roll Chick

The Strip

The sweat was dripping off my arms and back. It was so damn hot up here I thought I was gonna melt. Damn. Does it have to be so hot??

The guitar solo was about to start so I ran off stage grabbed my bottle of Jack downed it, sprayed cool water on me and ran back to finish the set.

Our set was over and my band and I waited to get paid. In the meantime we just got drunk. I was still warm. Sitting in my tight black leather pants, tight Harley Davidson tank top and hooker boots. My blonde hair was very long with a few pink highlights in it.

My eyes were blue but I made them up black giving me a sexy,smoky look. I had bracelets up both arms and last count 6 necklaces.  I was gorgeous and I knew it.  And, I used it.

I could get all the booze all the coke whatever I wanted just for screwing the guy who had the stuff. And, I did. Men were toys to me. I never settled down with one for more than 1 month. That was my limit.

I slammed my hand down on the table.

"Hey Mac! Give us our money. I'm tired of waiting."

Mac was sitting at a table over counting bills. He was a short sweaty balding guy who was as sleazy as they come. He presently owned the Whiskey A Go Go where we played almost nightly.

"Just a minute Tor.  I'm coming. Keep your pants on." He spat back.

No way in hell did he just say that to me!

I jumped up and smashed my glass on the floor. "Shut the fuck up Mac. I'll break your fucking nose. Now give me our money or I'll go get it myself."

My temper was also legendary on the strip. I've jumped more guys than I can count, kicked the ass of any chick who eye balled my current guy and if my band got stiffed out of our pay, they paid in other ways.

One night I actually got into a fist fight with the singer from Motley Crue, Vince Neil. He was walking out, I was walking in I said something to him about looking like a chick and he smacked me.

Big mistake. So, I punched him. Hard. We went at it and our bands had to pull us apart. That is really where my bad reputation started. The girl who kicked Vince Neil's ass was not to be fucked with.

My band was my life. These guys were my family.  We bled together, starved together,fought together,robbed together.  We were made up of two guys and two girls. I was the lead singer/ song writer Kris,the other girl was the drummer. Danny was the lead guitarist/ song writer too and Tony the bassist.  Our name was Mental Disorder.  Hell, it fit. We were a bunch of fucked up misfits.

Mac stood up and hurried over to us. I scared him. Good. Don't mess with us. He handed us our pay. We downed the rest of our drinks and left the mess. We always did.

The strip. Where we lived. We walked back home to the rat\cockroach infested place we call home. We actually named the rats. Along the way we passed other bands. We were competitive but we shared drugs and hooked up all the time. Its what we did.

I waited by a lamp post as my members were each picking up whomever they wanted to bring home. I lit a cigarette when I heard a name that stopped me cold.

"Torrence?"

Who knew my old name?

I turned and almost choked.

"Bret Michaels. "