When the bassist from Mötley Crüe, Nikki Sixx, falls for their stage manager, Bella Mejia, who has to maneuver her way around his life style, and chooses to aid him in getting clean.
"Better turn me loose, better set me free, cause I'm hot, I'm youn...
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BELLA - I WAS STILL at Nikki's so when I woke up I took Duffin on a walk through the neighborhood and went to the store to buy stuff to make Nikki and I breakfast.
I got back to the house and unleashed Duffin he ran straight to an angry looking Nikki.
"Sit," he points at the seat in front of him.
"Okay?" I sit down and he stands strongly, "what's with this weird attitude?" I eat some of the peanuts I bought at the store.
"Why'd you buy peanuts?" he gets in my face and just stares me down.
"Because I wanted to eat them," I back away, "why are you being so weird?"
"What's the point of them you're gonna regurgitate them anyway," he scoffs.
"Nikki what are you talking about-"
He slams the bottle of Ipecac on the island making me flinch. "I thought you were fine," he says angrily.
"I am it was just a few times, I slipped up," I freak out but I try to stay away from crying.
"I thought you were doing good Bella," he says sternly.
"I am I am, just didn't want to tell you that I relapsed, but I'm really trying," I was freighted.
"Well clearly you aren't if you're taking drugs to help you fucking throw up," he throws the bottle and dramatically walks out to the backyard. "I knew you shouldn't have topped going to those fucking meetings!"
-
I didn't know what to do so I just left, I had work today anyway. I went back to my place then to work, Dylan and I didn't have much to do today which was good but I got called into the office toward the end of my shift.
"Isabella, why don't you take a seat," the person who owns this theater tells me, "I understand you asked for a raise yesterday?" She folds her hands together.
"Yes, yes I did," I keep my legs crossed.
"Well we gladly decided to give you a raise," she starts, "50 cents."
"Oh okay thank you," I smile. I can work with that.
I walked out of the office, "what was it?" Dylans asks following me.
"I got the raise," I cheer.
"How much?" He gives me a highfive.
"50 cents," I smile.
"Thats good," he nods, "when was the last time you got a raise?"
"God I can't even remember, I think '81 or '82," It's all a blur.
"Bella," Dylan says.
"What?"
"If it's been 4 or 5 years you deserve a bigger raise," he argues.
