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 smut - PLANE RIDE went well overall. Tommy was still a little off, wasn't as bubbly as he typically was.
"Holy shit this place is huge," I say admiring the huge ass cabin in front of me.
"Okay guys, we'll get rooms situated and then you'll start working on the album tomorrow," Doc says clapping his hands once.
Nikki takes my hand in his, "let's go pick out a room," he smiles and pulls me into the house. The living room had an L shaped couch with clean brown carpet.
We find a room with a queen sized bed and a balcony where you could see over the trees, "it's almost like our first vacation together," then there was a big crash outside our door, "except with your entire band while you guys are creating an album." I say with a nervous smile. - It's the next day and we're at the studio, well waiting outside the studio. In this weather you could definetily tell I'm from California, it's cold as Satan's balls.
Then the one and only, Bob Rock opens the door, "Let's get this album started!" Tommy yells in celebration. - This sucks, almost everyone in this room is congratulating themselves on sobriety. Sobriety from drug-use. And what am I celebrating? The fact that I can eat a full meal without puking my guts out. It's stupid, compared to what these guys have done, its not that big of a deal.
"What do you think Belle?" Tommy asks and I look up from the journal I was told to write in.
"Excuse me?" I ask.
"Should it be 'he's the one they call Dr.Feelgood' or 'I'm the one they call Dr.Feelgood?' It's hard to pick," Nikki states, tapping his pencil against the wood.
"I personally think 'he's' but you guys do whatever," I remark hoping not to jeopardize their career.
"We'll try 'I' in the demo," Vince nods.
"I'm gonna go get some tea," I stand up and make my way to the cafeteria-like area and put hot water in a styrofoam cup.
Then the clacking of heels approaches the room and Emi comes in, "you doing okay?" She touches my hair and leans against the counter.
"I'm okay, just been thinking a lot, that's all," I smile, struggling between mint tea or green tea.
"About what?" She sighs.
"Just I feel like I'm getting a lot more help than I need with this eating disorder," I groan, "like those four men out there had literal problems, drugs, alcohol, you name it. But I'm going to meetings for bulimia."
"Hey, you know drugs and alcohol aren't the only problems people have, people get help for different things, just some are more shadowed than others," she smiles.
"Thanks," I smile.
"No problem, now let's go make that album," she playfully smacks my ass, "wait!" We both stop in our tracks, "let's have another girls day while we're here, it'd be so fun!"
