Sex, Booze & Tattoos

Reagan

I wake up with a start...just another bad dream. I wonder where I am until the terrible memory of mine kicks in and I remember I’m in LA. Good old Metal Hammer, free trip, get to check out the sunset strip, once ruled by the infamous Motley Crue, crash with my best friend and meet Marilyn Manson of all people. Can this be the greatest job on the planet? Possibly.
My head spends a few seconds gathering momentum before remembering what today's job entails and what I want to do next.
I shift my weight upwards and sit on the hotel bed, with messy sheets and the pillow most probably stained with makeup, seeing as I cannot recollect the events of the previous night one bit...until I look around the dimly lit room.
The curtains are drawn making it hard to see much at all, however I do make out the shape of a person, [hence the SEX part of le title] suddenly I remember parts of the alcohol driven evening as if it were merely a few hours ago...which it actually was.
I scan the room for clothes lying around that are within reaching distance. I pull on a huge printed t-shirt then gather some clean clothes from my almost bare suitcase, before diving out of my bedroom and towards the shower that I am sharing with my best friend for the weekend.
After washing my hair and body under hot water and steam, I dry, put on normal plain black underwear and jump into a pair of black, baggy, Criminal Damage jeans and then do up the buttons on a tight fitting black shirt that has a Cradle Of Filth patch on the top pocket, which I sewed on myself. I reapply a lot of black eyeliner around my bright green eyes, forever noticing the specs of yellow, while drying my hair. When my red hair, streaked with black, is dried perfectly straight and shiny I leave it down, then concentrate on drawing on my eyebrows and putting some black lipstick on. I then find my lip ring attached to my necklace, an ankh that I never remove, and put it back in. I check my red nose stud is perfect on the left side. Once I am satisfied with myself, I find my Doc Martins and tie up the red laces, not caring that I am considerably smaller than most people at 5'4. Might be considered too small for a 20 year old but I like being small; at least I’m not Elvira, she's a year older and a good inch shorter than me.

I go back into my room to tidy up a bit while glancing over at the latest victim.
"Ah geez, I really should stop getting so damn wasted," I sigh out aloud to myself, as I remember it is in fact Wednesday 13's bassist that is lying asleep under my loaned bed sheets. How interesting [we're always gonna get wasted because of the BOOZE part of le title].
I shuffle back into the main room and sit myself on the leather sofa in front of the television set, tracing my faint scars that lie on my lower arms, serving as a constant reminder of my fucked up past.
Constantly moving until the age of seven until my new parents decided they didn't like what I was 'turning into'. Geez even strict Christians that are supposed to respect everyone and be relatively nice, they were complete assholes and always hated my best friend ever since they met her. That is until I put a stop to it and got them to throw me out at sixteen, just so I could have the satisfaction of living with her.

I reach to my lower back to pull the waistband of my pants up and then can't help but trace the tattoo I have there, as if it would disappear if I didn't check for it. It is merely bleeding words that spell GOD IS A LIE.
I flick the TV on to MTV2 then go to see if I can be bothered ordering room service. Before I know it, I have a huge mug of tea and bowl of cereal to devour while watching old Daria reruns. But who cares if they're reruns and I have the DVDs at home, its Daria.

It's not long after the second episode has started that the doorknob of Elvira's bedroom is turned and her afternoon yawns are heard throughout the room.
"Evening" I say wistfully glancing at her once before looking back to the TV.
"It's too early...what time is it?" are her first words to me.
"1.30" I inform her.
"Fuck, it's too early" she yawns again then shuffles into the bathroom. The water can be heard running and I roll my eyes.
I finish the bowl of cereal and empty the last of the mug. Setting them down on the coffee table I peer around Elvira's room hoping to find out who she got last night. If I did she did, and if she did then I did, it's the obviousness of things really.
I run my badly painted fingernails through my hair then take a few steps into the room, careful not to wake the fatality. I catch sight of black hair over hanging the bed - could be anyone - then quickly scan the room with a flicker of eyelash and retina, I see black platforms and clothes that resemble something of non other than a former Amen guitarist and 'fit guy list' topper of Elvira's lately. Matt Montgomery, AKA Wednesday 13's Pig. I have one happy girl for the rest of the day, even if she does complain that she always wakes up too early.

I hear the water turn off in the adjacent room, making my form sharply vacate the dark living space and leap onto the sofa once more as if I weren't at all nosey.
Around two minutes later Elvira appears from the bathroom in a cloud of steam with nothing but a towel, perfected hair and makeup to see; makeup being merely black eyeliner around her dim green/grey eyes of course. She looks me over before going back into her room.
"Lucky bitch" I mutter thoughtlessly.
Not very long after, she comes back from her room wearing a small top with under-bust corset that pushes too much, too far up [I say nothing though], tight black PVC pants with chains, 3/4 PVC jacket with the sleeves rolled up to show off the tattoos; cobwebs on her lower outer arms, like Marilyn Manson, a specially designed heart on the inside of her left arm which has barbed wire, metal stitches and blood, though her other tattoo is a hollow black heart shape hidden beneath her many tens of shag bands in different colors on her left inner wrist, its hollow because whoever she thinks is hot at the time, she can write with a biro, because it always changes. Finally she has her many necklaces and a spiky bondage collar clinging to her throat.
"Why hello you nosey lady" she smiles, her lips glimmering with a faint tint of glittery gloss beneath her lip rings, one set in the centre and the other to the left.
"Me? Nosey? Hah who do you take me for, you?" I say then pat the space beside me for her to become new found company.
"So...what do you think?" she asks raising a real left eyebrow decked with a surgical steel bar and ring that lye beside one another.
"I would like to give congratulations" I say, the corner of her lip climbs a little into a small smile of triumph.
"What prize did you catch?" she enquires.
"You say it like they are stuffed teddies from a claw machine or huge fish that get reeled in after a hard day of angling" I reply with a faint chuckle.
"I don't care how I make it sound. You know that. Who is it though?"
I don't reply, merely sit back and roll my eyes secretively. She sighs heavily and goes to look for herself.
"Nice work I must say. He's cute" she tells me.
"Yeah...I know. So what time is it we have to get to the interview...you know I can't remember anything."
"And I can't remember more than you...though I do put it on my calendar cuz I'm not a complete moron," Elvira looks down, and her mid-back length black and purple hair falls into her face as she fishes in her pocket for her phone.
She pulls her hair back behind her ears to show the tragus bar, 3 rings and scaffolding up her right ear aswel as the ring through her nose, as she tips out the contents of her pockets anyway. That being a packet of Silk Cut cigarettes, silver lighter engraved with skulls on one side and EDDY on the reverse [she sometimes gets called Eddy because her initials are E.D], eyeliner, mirror, a stick of lip balm, black nail varnish, a permanent marker, iPod, earphones and eventually, her phone.
"Ah finally" she groans while trying to press the keys with very long thumb nails.
"We got three hours, I'll get my shit and we should go in about...say fifteen minutes, seeing as I heard traffic here is so bad...and it looks kinda shit too from what I’ve seen already," she says looking up at me while blindly gathering her stuff back into her pockets. I nod in agreement then stride back into my bedroom.
I collect my bag, putting my phone, makeup, various important papers, a few pens, tape recorder, camera and laptop into it. I check my makeup is ok then scribble a note, leaving it stuck to the door then close it behind me.

"Come on you gotta go. I have work to do!" Elvira says pulling Matt from her room.
"Do I have to go? Can't I wait here for you?" he asks, almost pathetically.
"Yes you have to go!" she says, although smiling and shaking her head at the same time.
He smiles at me and I can't help but smile back.
I walk down to the elevator and get to the ground floor not really taking much in.
I pull up a cab finally, while Elvira and Matt stand messing about. I get into the cab without saying a word then Elvie jumps in beside my form, waving goodbye but it doesn't look like numbers were exchanged.

After what seems like forever we finally reach the extremely high class, posh restaurant that we are meeting Mr Manson at.