“Stop yer whining and take these” he advised, grabbed George by the back of his jacket, pulling him to his feet and shoving the pills roughly into his hand.
George knocked the pills back, grimacing slightly and waiting for them to take hold.
* * * * * *
“Rock n roll is for dicks” Jerry Garcia laughed, taking a sip of his coffee.
Montana nodded “This is true”
Joan Baez laughed and rolled her eyes “you just can’t say as much about things that matter with rock n roll… that’s all”
Bob Dylan sneered “It’s for pussies”
Gabrielle let her forehead fall against the table they all sat around d. Trixie was doing a set at a little coffee shop on the Hiaght Ashburry.
They were all dressed alike, Jeans, long hair, and work shirts, and leather sandals. Gabrielle’s brown jacket was slung over the back of her chair, the afternoon sunlight flittered in through the large window of the coffee house. She had a kip in the van at around noon before Bob and Jerry caught up with them, saying they were going for a coffee and Trixie had a gig.
And so here they were. Discussing the meaning of rock n roll and music. Again.
“You know what Bob, you’re a pussy” Gabrielle sneered, she lifted hr coffee to her lips. She hated the smell. Honestly, she preferred the burning sensation of vodka to the bitter taste of black coffee. She felt tense all over. Her arms and chest had began to hurt for some reason that she couldn’t place her finger on. She disliked the west coast, that much she knew. It didn’t rain enough, especially with Christmas three weeks away.
At least in New York she had the comfort of a telephone and a warm bed. She was living in a van and she hated it. Perhaps she would live in a van if it meant traveling around England with the Beatles. But no way in hell would she enjoy traveling around America for a lark.
Her thoughts were uncharacteristically bitter as of late. She wasn’t happy with herself. She didn’t like herself. She was missing class. She wanted to be back in New York, studying, or better yet, in London with her boys. Even her physical appearance was taken a turn for the worse. Where as before she had been able to get away with being a skeletal freak of nature, she thought angrily, now she couldn’t even get a shower for days at a time. Her hair was long, to the middle of her back and constantly matted. She had her camera but was not inspired to take pictures of anything.
Gabrielle had determined her unusual misery was due to one of two possible things. One, she was running on speed all the time and not sleeping. It didn’t cross her mind at all that she could be addicted. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing that would happen to her. She just knew she was doing it a lot and wasn’t sure why.
The second reason was that as much as she loved these people she was hanging about with, Montana, Trixie, and Joan were great and Bob and Jerry were a treat to get to know, she wasn’t with the people that she truly loved. She wasn’t supposed ot be there.
Bob laughed and shook his head. Joan winked at her.
“Bob we’ve got to get together sometime and write something” Jerry offered
“No thanks, I’m not gonna be your ride to a record deal” Bob said lazily
Gabrielle pursed her lips “I’ll just be back in an hour.” She said standing up abruptly and walking out of the coffee house. She strode out to the street and watched the people go by for a bit. All dressed in jeans and sandals and looking happy and free. Why? She wasn’t sure.
She walked along the street for a bit until she saw a small drugs store. She ambled about in there for a bit and finally bought a packet of gum and some paper and a pen, then resumed walking until she came to a bar she’d not been to yet.
The difference between English pubs and American bars is not very big. And yet, looking around she was missing home again.
A woman with scraggily light brown hair sat at the bar, a pair of round sunglasses perched on her nose. Gabrielle dug round in the pocket of her shirt until she found the oversized sunglasses with the large conspicuous Channel logo on the side. Oh well. She slid them on her face and strode over to the woman.
Being underaged she couldn’t’ buy anything alcoholic so she asked for a coke and sat silently with her pen and paper until for a while.
“So doll face” Gabby startled at the oddly accented voice coming fromt e woman next to her.
“Ah… me?’ she asked nervously
“You” The woman said “What’s a pretty little girl doin in a big nasty city?”
“San Francisco isn’t nasty” Gabrielle frowned “It’s lovely. I quite like it”
“Psh” the woman shook her head “You ain’t seen the city then” she stuck her hand out “Janis” she said “I’m Janis, haling all the way from Texas. and you?”
“Gabby” she smiled, shaking hands with the strange woman “From Liverpool”
“Liverpool!” Janis laughed “That’s a silly name for a town. In England?”
“Yeah”
“Man, that’s strange.” She was quiet for a bit and then “You don’t have any dope do you?”
Gabrielle was taken aback “Ex… excuse me?”
Janis gave he a big grin “OT’s just the money’s been a bit low and I’ve got nothing. You know how hard times are… and well” she shrugged and lifted up her sleeves. Gabrielle’s eyes went wide. Her forearms were covered in tiny scars. Needle track marks. It looked a bit infected almost. Janis pulled her sleeves down muttered “oH god… sorry… you didn’t nee do see that. That’ was fucking stupid”
“No” Gabby shook her head “I’m a … I’m into it too. I’m on pills I haven’t been.. er..”
“Shooting up” Janis shook her head “Man, I tell you, it seems good for a while… every time you stick the needle in your arm. But then it’s just.. sick” she sighed and then looked up “Ah crap” she moaned seeing something over Gabby’s shoulder. “I’ve gotta run, my roommates out there. nice talking to you Gabby” she cackled and then leapt up from her seat and was gone.
Gabrielle sat still for a bit an then cradled her head in her arms. Every instinct with in her told her to cry and yet she could not. She exhaled a long deep breath and picked up the pen.
*
Dear Beatles,
*
