Amazing:My Life with Steven Tyler

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The concert in Cleveland went fine. The boys played for a sold-out crowd at a college. Steven and I were flying by plane to New Hampshire to visit his parents and mine. It was weird to me that we could afford to do things like this now, flying I mean. It was only a month ago that we would have had to drive ourselves.

Steven got out of the cab at Cleveland Hopkins International Airport and paid the attendant to check our bags for us. I had on big rimmed glasses and a black leather one piece suit, with a plunging neck line. We were coming right from the concert, so I didn't have time to get changed. Steven opened the cab door for me and took my hand, helping me out. Within minutes, we were bombarded by paparazzi. This was something I had yet to get used to.

"Steven! Where are you heading without the band? Aren't you still on tour?!" screamed one reporter.

"Steven! We hear that your getting married this weekend! Is this true?" screamed another. Ugh, no it's not true. But I wished it was.

Steven just grabbed me by the hand and guided me through the crowd. We hopped on the plane and we were off to Portsmouth International.

It was only about a two hour plane ride, and we got there by the early morning hours. Steven's car was waiting for us at the airport, and we drove the hour and a half to our lake house in Sunapee.

Steven had a house built while we were on tour. We had only been here once since its been finished, but I was so excited to be back. I love the lake. The house had 4 bedrooms, 4 baths, a nice, big eat in kitchen, a dining room that sat twelve, and a huge living room. It also had a beautiful boat house.

Around 9 AM, we arrived at the lake house. I was exhausted. Steven, on the other hand, was not. He had been snorting lines of coke since before the show last night, and he was still wide awake.

"Baby, I'm tired. Come to bed with me." I pleaded. Steven's drug habit was killing him. He'd lost about twenty pounds, he rarely ate, he rarely slept, and he drank alcohol like a fish. I was really worried about him.

"I'm not really tired, but I'll come lay with you." he said.

"You have to come down sometime, Steven." I was getting annoyed. We were meeting my parents tomorrow for breakfast and here he was, still snorting lines.

"I'm fucking fine. Will you just stop? They'll never even notice." he said. I couldn't believe this. For the first time my parents were going to meet my boyfriend, and he was going to be high as a kite.

"Steven. You are not meeting my parents high. You can barely look me in the eyes and your fidgeting all around. You've got to stop. At least while were meeting my parents." I was stern about this.

"I don't know why this is such a big deal. You can't even tell." he wasn't happy. "Whatever. Since you insist." he finally gave in.

For the next few hours, I watched him sweat out the cocaine. He was in pain and he couldn't stop shaking, he didn't even get out of bed. After the better part of the day, he succumbed to the eternal sleep. I stayed and laid with him for most of the day. I had done this before, and I knew how it felt. Like the devil himself was coming out of you. It took all your strength to keep him from killing you, but when he was finally gone you collapsed from exhaustion.

Around 6:30 at night, I started getting hungry. I knew Steven would be hungry too. I got up and made my way to our kitchen. Steven must have had someone go grocery shopping for us, because the fridge was full. I pulled out two steaks, some fresh broccoli, and potatoes. I began cooking the filet mignon on the stove, adding a few spices here and there. I steamed the broccoli until it was soft, and I baked the potatoes in the oven.