Desole's first encounter with Gerard doesn't go so smoothly
In only half a year the band had accomplished so much. We released our debut album “The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets Nest” and started touring right away. At first we toured in a mini van that Milo’s mom bought us even though she hated what we were doing. We did little mini tours throughout the West Side, then started to make our way across the entire country. And by some miraculous feat, our music became insanely popular. Every show there would be more and more kids that would show up. Ever day we got news about more and more record sales. The singles were going through the roof, the videos we made to go with them spread like viruses.
I felt so unbelievably lucky that we were becoming successful. It was amazing how far we had gotten with how little we had started with. Being a band was literally a last ditch effort for me and I knew from the beginning if it didn’t work out I would be screwed. But amazingly, it did work out. I felt blessed and stunned because all I really did was write songs about what I knew. I wrote about strip clubs, I wrote about cherry sodas in the summer, I wrote about the way the right lip stick could make you feel alive. My lyrics were pure, simple and basically bubble gum pop.
One song had more meaning than all the others combined. It was called “Song For A Blonde Girl” and it was about my first girlfriend and my first relationship with anybody, Leah.
I met Leah at the strip club. She was two years older than me with bleach blonde hair and dark brown roots that were always showing. She liked cheetah print lingerie, jell-o shooters, older men and whisky. She taught me how to dance, sing and perform. She showed me how to be confident and love myself. And in turn I fell fatally and deeply in love with her.
Leah was a lot like Milo, which was good because at the club I didn’t have Milo. She took care of me and watched over me like a hawk, never letting anybody take advantage of me. Every night she would tuck me into my bed and stroke my hair and kiss my forehead the way my real mother never bothered to do. She was like a mother and a sex goddess wrapped up into one.
But we never had sex. There were a few times when we came close but she always insisted that there would be somebody more special than herself. She told me to hold onto my virginity with an iron fist because once it was gone I could never get it back. As badly as I wanted her, I obeyed because I loved her so much. Besides, to me virginity didn’t really have to do with things going up your vag, it was a state of mind.
But one night the cops raided the club because of some sort of drug bust. They found I was a minor and shipped me back home to Seattle, where my less than enthusiastic mother awaited me. The last memory I had of Leah was seeing her getting thrown down against a cop car, her eyes wild and her hands cuffed behind her back. That was the last time I ever saw my Leah.
But a few weeks later I got a letter saying she had died of a drug overdose. If the pain of having her ripped away from me wasn’t enough, this totally killed a part of me. A piece of my heart literally died that day. I cried for weeks. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep. My only comfort was Milo, who helped me every step of the way. Leah left me all her money on her will along with some cheap jewelry and I note. I kept that note with me at all times and had it tucked into my bra during every show our band ever played. It read:
I really hope to god you get this. I just wanted you to know how much I love you, in case we never see each other again.
I remember the first day I saw you. You entered the all shaking and scared and starved half to death. You reminded me of a lost little rabbit looking for her mama. You were so innocent, so clean and pure. I wanted to scoop you right up in my arms and hold you so close that nobody could hurt you. I all too well how brutal the world is. People take bits and pieces of you and they don’t stop until you’re nothing left. Everybody wants a piece of somebody because nobody is happy with themselves. I wanted to take up and fight off anybody who tried to take from you.
But I couldn’t do that because it wasn’t realistic. You were such a young, pretty thing with your dirty blonde hair and rail thin body. I hope you can forgive me for not protecting you the way I should’ve. I should’ve shielded you more than I did and I’m sorry. I hope you can find it in your pretty little heart to forgive me for that.
I don’t know if I’ll ever see you’re gorgeous face again, I hope I do. I hope you work things out with you’re mother and I hope you and Milo stay best friends. Be good, stay out of trouble, stay out of drugs, have fun, change the world…”
“Change the world”. That’s exactly what I intended to do. And when the band found out we had gotten onto the Van’s Warped Tour, I realized that this would be my big chance to do so. What I didn’t realize was how my world would also be changed.
That first night we played on the tour was magical. It was one of the biggest gigs we’d ever done and we were all terrified. I was shaking with excitement and it was only heightened when I stepped onstage to hear thousands of screaming teenagers. The sounded as anxious as us for the show to begin.
“Are you ready to make your parents ashamed?” I shrieked into the microphone. The crowd roared and I felt a rush of adrenaline surge through me. “ARE YOU READY TO GET INFAMOUS?” I screeched, getting an even more wild response from the audience.
We sang, we danced, we moved. I whipped my blonde hair around and strutted around in my tight leather short shorts. My fish nets got ripped and I tore off my shirt during our last song, revealing my spiked leather bra. I did back bends, summersaults and tons of other moves I had learned at the club. And in the last song, I glanced over and saw some of the other bands that we were touring with watching, their jaws hanging open. I guess they figured we wouldn’t be the opening act for much longer. They were right. During the last few notes of our final song, I did a perfect split just to tease the guys eye balling me from backstage.
Fred, our tour manager handed me a towel as soon as I stepped backstage. I thanked him with a smile and wrapped it around my neck. I was sweating so badly that my hair looked like it was soaked. I was out of breath and all my bones were radiating pure pain. But I loved it. God, how I loved it. I loved it and I couldn’t wait to do it again tomorrow night. But at this exact moment all I really wanted to do was find a nice cold beer, have a cigarette or two and get my flirt on with some of the boys that were watching me perform.
I was strutting around backstage, smiling playfully at any guy or girl that crossed my path in search of somebody with a beer or some sort of alcoholic beverage. I spotted a door backstage that said “MCR Dressing Room”. There was lots of noise, laughter and music coming from within and I figured that that was where the party was. So I invited myself inside. Instantly, I spotted the beer cooler but it was behind two guys, both scruffy and greasy looking. I realized that they had been some of the few watching from backstage so I put my game face on and sauntered over to them.
“Hello, hello.” Said the dirtier of the two, lowering his sun glasses. I wondered why on earth he was wearing them, we were inside. I bit my lip a little bit and flashed him a shy grin.
“Hey.” I said smoothly. “You boys got anything for a lady to drink?” I asked, giving them both the once over. The one that had said hello to me and medium length hair that was so knotted and greasy and almost wanted to gag. He was also unshaven and smelled like pot. The other one was wearing a long waist coat that matched his jet black hair, which was also unkempt. His skin was pure white and his eyes were lined with reddish shadow and it was hard for me to make out what was his real dark circles and which ones were fake. They were both pretty tall, but then again being only 5’3” most people were tall compared to me. But these guys were taller than me even though I was wearing heels.
“If you want I could give you something else to drink.” Said the scruffy one. I looked at him as if to say “as if”. The other one, the shy one, nudged him.
“Can it Bert.” He grumbled. Bert McCracken? Of The Used? Oh dear lord! I felt my face get hot but tried my hardest not to let it show that I was embarrassed.
“Whatever man, catch ya later.” Bert said to his friend, patting him of the back before meandering past us.
“Sorry ‘bout Bert. He can be a bit of a prick sometimes.” Said the shy one. I smiled graciously and batted my eye lashes.
“Its fine. I’m Desolé by the way.” I introduced myself.
“I’m Gerard. You were really great tonight.” he said. As in Gerard Way from My Chemical Romance? That’s probably what the MCR stood for on the dressing room door! My heart rate quickened but I refused to let it show. The minute when Gerard opened his mouth I could smell the vodka and almost gagged. Vodka and cigarettes, lots of cigarettes.
“Oh, well thank you. Nice to meet you Gerard. I saw you guys watching me from the side stage. So, could you hand me a beer?” I asked, smiling a little flirtier. If I was going to be on tour with this guy for months on end I might as well have some fun with it!
“How old are you? You look like your fifteen.” Gerard said, sounding suspicious. I got a little heated. I hated being treated like a child.
“I’m eighteen for your information. But everybody tells me I’m wise beyond my years.” I said slyly. Gerard scoffed and I was instantly put off.
“Well, your not twenty one so technically its illegal for me to hand you a beer.” He said. I rolled my eyes. I could tell that no matter how hard I flirted he was going to treat me like I was twelve and that we would not be getting along.
“Are you for real?” I asked, letting my frustration show through my voice and facial expression. Gerard shrugged and I rolled my eyes again. I practically had to stand on tip toe when I stood up and plucked the beer from his hand and downed it in one big swig. It was refreshing and cold but not nearly as refreshing as the shocked look on Gerard’s face as I handed him the empty bottle.
“Watch yourself short stack, I’m afraid you might get tipsy from such a big drink.” Gerard warned. I was infuriated by the statement.
“Short stack? Really?! Shut up Gerard, I wear heels bigger than your dick!” I snapped at him. He only chuckled lightly and tossed the empty beer bottle in the trash can near by.
“Woah there, somebody should wash your mouth out with soap!” Gerard laughed at me. I saw that no amount of comebacks would get him to shut up so I decided that I would have to at least get the last word in.
“I guess I was just born to be bad.” I said calmly, swiftly stealing the cigarette from his mouth before popping it into mine. I shot him a wink and then turned on my heel and left.