I'm With the Band by Pamela Des Barres

Author:Pamela Des Barres [Barres, Pamela Des]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Non-Fiction, Genre.Biographies and Autobiographies, Music, Biography
ISBN: 9781556525896
Google: bmyW7ns3ycgC
Amazon: 1556525893
Barnesnoble: 1556525893
Goodreads: 50039
Publisher: Chicago Review Press
Published: 1987-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

6

IT’S A GAS GAS GAS

I climbed my Snow White wallpaper waiting for a long-distance call from my demented prince across the sea, and my baby-blue phone sat mute and mocking, only ringing when local yokels felt like saying hi or if some poor fool wanted to order one of my cowboy creations. I really wanted to avoid sleeping with someone new, to prove to Jimmy that I was dead serious about sleeping with him, but this pent-up passion didn’t keep me from looking, gazing, staring, dribbling, and contemplating. Michele and I went to the Palamino and sat right in front of Waylon Jennings—the sexy country-stud he-man with the dirty look in his eye. He played a hand-tooled leather guitar with “Waylon” carved into the strap, and he had a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth as he promised to take sweet mental revenge on the unlucky lady who had dared to break his heart. I sat with my legs slightly spread apart, staring hard at him, sweating over his black-leather wristbands and greasy pompadour, and he couldn’t help but notice me licking my lips. He growled and sounded threatening, a big, tall grown man with a serious chest and big cowboy boots, picking on his guitar with an incredible lip-curling suave. I believed he was out of my element, but I desired him immensely, and passed a note to Michele, just like in junior high: “What a hunk! He’s staring at me, can you tell? I could be tempted.”

After his set, we sidled up to the bar to tell him just how really great he really was, and he called me “angel” with a very unangelic look in his eye. I’m sure he was surprised to see two freaky little hippie girls panting in his presence, and he kept hiking up his belt and squinting out from under his black cowboy hat ringed with silver conchos, saying “I’ll tell you what,” before every sentence. “I’ll tell you what, it sure was great havin’ you girls up front tonight. . . . I’ll tell you what, I could hardly get through my set with those panties staring me in the face. . . .” Sweat was trickling down my side, so I poked Michele and we sat down to wait for his second set.

I thought about Mr. Page in between gadding about Hollywood, attending any event I could get myself invited to. The most bizarre party I ever went through was for Frank Sinatra, Jr. He was so desperate to be talented, it broke my heart. An entire crowd of major celebrities was forced to endure an hour-long screening of a TV special that featured Mr. Junior and his special guest, a pair of boots that were made for walking. I like being in a room full of movie stars; Robert Culp and Sammy Davis, Jr., were chatting away like two normal people, and I was awestruck by Rod Serling. I couldn’t help but notice how many something-on-the-rocks he was putting away, and I worried about his liver.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.