behind the music

it was one of those blurry nights between christmas and new years, in an apartment complex on cherokee. his walls were painted red, no furniture, just a desk and a guitar. he poured whiskey into brightly colored glasses. we sat on the hardwood floor. he tore my dress by accident. like a college girl i pretended not to notice. we almost did this one year ealier in a jacuzzi with my best friend at his manager's house. what is it with these LA DJs and their managers? get fucked like rockstars under moonlight in the hills. on the roof. details please. well, i let him write his name. dyed my hair so i wasn't his type. said hi and not much else at moscow. i went back to school, back east, hit up new york city, killed some time. he showed up in italian vogue as paris hilton's backing band. the next time i saw him he already had a new gig.