Ironically enough, moments after making this declaration in my apartment, standing on the sofa with remote in hand, as if I were delivering the Gettysburg address, the phone rang. Heather giggled on the other end, practically hyperventilating, as she invited me to a party in the Hollywood Hills for Heidi Fleiss’ birthday, Madame to the stars, and I didn’t want to ask Heather how she knew her. I politely declined, informing Heather of my new constitution in dating and life. Heather griped and groaned, lying on the thick guilt sweater of,
“You know I can’t go alone, and I can’t go with anyone besides you.” So, eventually, I agreed to go. I just promised myself to stick to my guns: only construction workers and record executives from now on.
When we arrived, the entire winding road leading to the mansion was lined with cars. The valet took ours, and we slowly made our way through the front door. As we entered, we were blasted with a rush of sound and cool air and the smell of vodka and fresh white leather. Heidi spotted Heather immediately, and ran over to greet us.
“There you are, Ho! Who is your gorgeous friend?” Heidi asked, flipping my hair over my shoulder.
“This is Peggy. We model and act together,” Heather said.
Heidi grabbed us both by the hand and rushed to the nearest bathroom. Heather and I put on lipstick as Heidi cut a few thin sweet lines of cocaine across the black marble counter top. We sat around in the bathroom, laughing and gossiping like old friends. I liked her; she was funny and nice, and very in your face. Looking back now, I see how happy she was, like she had the entire world by the balls.
Heidi then paraded Heather and I around the party like her new toys, introducing us to all her lovely ladies who were looking vicious in scantily clad outfits. I had a slight anxiety in the back of my running mind as far as what someone would think if they saw me here. What was I doing here? But I just had to remind myself it was just the high, everything was fine.
There were only a few other women there who didn’t work for Heidi, and a whole lot of fine looking men that I had sworn off only hours before in my apartment, wearing sweatpants. I saw Charlie Sheen and Pauley Shore, a few bigwig producers and directors, and then, as I turned the corner near the pool, someone else caught my eye. It was Billy. I practically jumped in the pool to avoid being seen by him. I hadn’t spoken to him since I broke it off, and I had ignored a slew of phone calls from him, knowing I wouldn’t be able to resist if I heard that voice of his. He saw me.
I saw him slowly making his way toward me, and I wanted to run, I wanted to evaporate, but there was nowhere to go without looking like the fool of the century. So, I just waited. Heidi told me he hired her girls all the time, “and I mean like all the time,” she repeated, unknowing that him and I had, well, whatever it was we’d had. I felt like a fool. I felt like such an asshole for giving it away for free when these girls were getting their rent paid with no broken hearts. Maybe they had it right; maybe I was going about this all wrong.
I was abruptly brought back to the moment when I felt Billy’s hand on my arm, gripping it like I very well may run for the high hills.
“What the hell are you doing here? Are you one Heidi’s tarts?” he demanded, loud enough for everyone within earshot to start pretending like they weren’t listening.
“Me? What are you doing here? Never mind, it’s very obvious,” I said hurtfully, and flung my hair in his face as I ripped my little arm from his grip and made my way inside with Heather in tow.
I started to cry right before I could lock myself behind the bathroom door.
Heather took me by the chin and told me, as if she were my mother, “You have got to stop letting them hurt you, and you have to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve.”
“I just want to leave,” I said, pulling myself together with the last bits of resolve I had left.
“Okay, you just go wait in the living room; no one is in there. I’ll go find Heidi and say goodbye, and then I’ll take you home,” Heather said, kissed my cheek, and then left.
I went to hide out in the living room where people were only passing by with half empty drinks, looking for the bathroom. I stood there, wiping tears from my eyes, and wondering if Heidi had ever read one of the thousands of books that covered the entire west facing wall. I felt someone behind me, but, afraid it was Billy, I ignored the energy. I figured he would just leave.
A voice came up quickly from behind me, whispering in my ear in a sweet and elegant British accent, “Now, now, what beast caused such a pretty lady to shed tears?” I turned slowly around to find myself very close and face to face with Mick Jagger. He pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped the tears from my face. Then he kissed me softly on the forehead and said,
“My name is Mick, and what, my lady, may I call you?”
“Peggy,” I answered in complete shock. I am surprised my jaw wasn’t on the floor.
“Well, Miss Peggy, would you like to join me for a drink?”
I was completely under his spell from the moment I heard that voice in my ear. I completely forgot about Heather, and wanting to leave, and Billy, and really everything else in the world, as I followed Mick Jagger over to the bar. I was thinking the whole time in my head, “Holy shit, is this really happening? Of course this is really happening, holy shit!”
We were sipping bourbon in the corner of some unnecessary and lavishly decorated room just off the main entrance, and Mick said, “This party is truly a bore. You’re clearly the best part of it; would you care to join me somewhere more appropriate?” He spoke like he was from another century, with a grace and elegance that I had never heard before in the English language. It was just then that Heather found me again.
“I was looking everywhere. Holy shit,” Heather blurted out upon noticing my company.
“I found a ride home. Heather, this is Mick, Mick, this is Heather,” I said calmly, having had more time than Heather to adjust to the reality that I was sipping bourbon with Mick Jagger.
Mick lifted Heather’s hand and kissed it valiantly, as he assured her, “I will take very good care of your dear friend, Peggy, here. I can promise you that.”
Heather smiled, and, relieved she could stay at the party, gave me a great big hug and whispered in my ear, “you lucky bitch.”
There was a limo waiting outside the gates, and, as we made our way down the driveway and he held my hand, I laughed to myself. Of course Mick Jagger would come along and knock me off my high horse the second I had sworn off all musicians and movie stars. Life and I always had a funny relationship like that, always showing me who was boss when I thought I was in charge. But there I was, being whisked off into the night by the most charming man I had ever known for twenty minutes.
Once inside the limo, the indiscernible night went passing by outside as Mick sat close to me and kept his hand on my knee.
“Shall I call you Lady Peggy?” he asked.
“My father used to call me Lady Jane,” I said.
“Then Lady Jane it is,” he said, and kissed me with a sweet, soft kiss that had me melting into the seats.
We arrived at the Regent Beverly Wilshire, the same hotel they’d filmed Pretty Woman in, and, for a moment, everything felt very surreal as I passed the bellman. Everyone in the lobby stared as if Jesus Christ, himself, had walked through the doors. Mick didn’t seem to notice; his eyes were on me. That was when I realized they weren’t just staring at Mick, they were staring at us. He took me to a dark corner of the lobby bar and ordered us champagne and caviar. No one bothered us, and we got to talking and laughing like we had known each other for ages. Mick had this way of putting me at ease, and yet simultaneously reminding me of how lucky I was, every time he smiled.
He kept brushing the hair from my eyes, and lifting my face by the chin to kiss me. He would just lay his lips upon mine, never an open-mouthed kiss, unless we were behind closed doors. Yet, they were some of the most passionate kisses I had ever had the pleasure of receiving. He would take a moment and look into my ey
es before breaking his gaze to take a drink. The chemistry between us was effortless and lit the entire room with fire. I had never known anyone with such charm and intelligence.
It was obvious to me where the whole night was going, but being the gentleman that he was, when the time came, he took me by the hand and looked me squarely in the eye.
“Would it be rude to ask you to my room, Lady Jane?”
“I would have been very disappointed if you didn’t,” I said, and smiled.
He then got up, holding my hand, and led me to the elevator. His penthouse suite was unlike any room, if you could even call it that, I had ever seen in a hotel. It was five times the size of my apartment, and a sweet young butler greeted us, offering to retrieve anything we needed.
“I have everything I need right here,” Mick said, and kissed my hand. “You may take the night off, thank you.” The sprawling suite had floor-to-ceiling windows and lavish floral arrangements on every table. It looked as if Mick had barely spent time in the room, as everything was in a proper order. There was another bottle of champagne chilling on the counter. He took my coat and hung it in the hall closet before making his way over to the grand piano at the end of the living room. He motioned me to come and sit next to him.
He started playing melodies, and I laid my head upon his shoulder, watching his fingers move and dance across the keys.
“I’m afraid I am better on the guitar,” he said, blushing. He started to play a familiar song, and slowly went into Lady Jane. I swear, I almost started to cry right there in front of him. He sang slowly and softly into my ear,
“Just heed this plea, my love, on bended knees, my love, I pledge myself to Lady Jane...”
When he finished playing, and the notes were still ringing in the air, he turned to me asked, “Can I kiss you?”
I thought it odd for a moment, because clearly he had already kissed me, but as I nodded yes, I learned quickly that this kiss was far different from the one in the lobby and the one in the limo. When his lips parted mine, our tongues met. The connection we had shared all night was made very clear to me. He pressed one hand hard against my back and pulled me on top of him against the piano. It was a kiss that could change a girl’s mind about just, well, anything.
“Shall we retire to the bedroom now?” He asked, or said - I couldn’t really tell anymore. I was complete Jell-O. As I followed him down the hall, he unbuttoned my shirt and slid my skirt down my legs. I paraded myself around in a matching black bra and panties.
“My God, you are truly a work of art, Lady Jane,” he said before forcefully, yet sweetly, tossing me onto the enormous bed. He spent the next half hour teasing me and kissing me in his leather pants, disappearing between my legs until I screamed for him to stop and come up for air. I wondered if pleasing women in this way was an English thing. As if their sweet accent somehow translated to the art they made down there with their tongue.
He stood at the end of the bed, watching me catch my breath, and smiled proudly at what he’d made of me. Then he took off his leather pants and stood with even more pride as he watched a look of excitement cover my face. His frame was thin and strong, and he was large in all the places that mattered. He grinned this grin from ear to ear in an almost sinister matter that I will never forget. Then he crawled across the bed and on top of me.
He continued to tease me until I could hardly breathe, only giving himself to me for a brief moment when I begged. When he finally let me have it, I could just hear his breath in my ear and my screams bouncing around the expensive walls of the hotel room. When he finished, we were both dripping in sweat and out of breath. He kissed me again as he had on the piano, and ran his hands through my hair. Then he winked at me and took me in his arms to the shower.
In the shower, he ran his hands all over me, washing me from head to toe. He shampooed my hair like I was a princess, and then I did the same to him. We had a grand time laughing and playing, and when he would kiss me, the whole room fell away. When I came back, he was still there, in front of me, rinsing soap from my eyes. We sat at the big vanity in the bathroom, blow-drying our hair and drinking champagne. It had to be the middle of the night by then, and I couldn’t think of sleeping a wink.
He disappeared for a moment. I sat at the mirror and looked at myself and my glowing hair, thinking of how, even though I was wearing no makeup, and I was sitting next to Mick Jagger and hadn’t a care in the world. When he came back into the bathroom, he was dressed again and I was somewhat surprised because of the hour. He stood behind me, running his fingers through my hair, and kissed my forehead.
“You know, I would ask you to stay, but I have to be in the recording studio in less than an hour,” he said, smiling, and reached into the pocket of his tight leather pants. He pulled out a roll of hundred dollar bills and looked at me in the mirror, speaking to my reflection, still as sweet and gentlemanly as he had been the entire night.
“It’s $2000, right, love?”
My jaw just about hit the marble counter top as a look of shock came over my face. I didn’t know whether to be angry, embarrassed, or both. I realized that he’d thought I was one of Heidi’s girls at the party, and I cursed myself for being such a goddamn fool. I started to say,
“No, no, you don’t understand; I was at that party as a guest with my girlfriend. I am absolutely not a call girl.” I stood up and started to make my way to the bedroom to collect my clothes and get the hell out of there.
Mick followed me casually into the next room. I was looking for my purse and was clearly upset, flustered, and damn near in tears. He grabbed me and held my close, petted my hair, and told me to calm down. He kissed me and looked me in the eye and said,
“Lady, shhh, it changes nothing between us, changes nothing with this. I am sorry if I have managed to offend you, for it was the furthest of my intentions. You are a vision, and I am only a lucky man to have come across you.”
I could feel my heart beat return to normal, understanding how he could have made this mistake. I was relieved that he wasn’t simply trying to cast me aside. He kissed me again and said,
“Gather your things,” he set the money on the table and said, “Take it, anyway, and buy yourself something pretty to wear for me.”
Mick took me home and assured me on the way that he was sorry, but that, had I been a call girl, his feelings for me were still the same. He asked if he could see me again, if I would forgive him for what was clearly a mistake. I looked at him and smiled. How could anyone say no to that face, that voice, that smile, and the memory of that tongue? When we got to my apartment, he walked me up to the front door and took my face in his hands.
“This has been truly wonderful, and I will never forget a moment of it,” I said.
He kissed me and said, “Neither shall I, and for the many more to come, I bid you adieu, my fair Lady Jane.”
I watched the limo disappear around the corner as the very first signs of daylight started making their way over Los Angeles. As I let myself back into my little apartment, I thought, that this truly was a city of dreams.
The Concerts
I think knew the entire time what was taking place with Mick. I never deluded myself about our relationship. I was his city girlfriend in L.A., probably one of many. If I could tell you one thing about Mick. It was that he was a damn good time. Mick was one of the best times I ever had; completely out of this world, write a book about it, good times. At the end of the day, though, that was all he was. I was looking for someone to share my life with, and, although things with Mick and I carried on for years, it was always the same story when that tour bus would head out of town.
Dressing up in lingerie and slipping through the back doors of venues and into his tour bus before a sold out show was an adrenaline-pumping, world-rocking good time. Fucking him and then watching him on stage was like post sex foreplay. I revelled in just how lucky I could be in life sometimes. The snide stare of girls in the crowd as they ogled my backstage pass let me fe
el superior for the time being, but the next day, I was always sure to come back down to Earth.
It’s hard to say now how things really ended with us. Between time making its usual erosion, and my moving around L.A. a few times, as well as changing numbers, we simply lost ourselves in the shuffle. That’s life. Mick never promised me anything he couldn’t deliver, and his ability to shine through the seemingly raw deal he was offering was one of his greatest qualities. He never pretended we were something we weren’t, and his honesty was always refreshing. Since the moment I’d met him, he made me feel better about life and living. He made me a master of my own world and helped me realize the powers I had within myself. If people come into our lives for very specific reasons, then that was Mick's reason for being in my life. He helped me become who I was going to be next. Our relationship carried on through everything else I saw in Hollywood, and the ending of it was certainly the end of an era, although I couldn’t see that at the time.
Once Upon a Star - Celebrity kiss and tell stories Page 11