35
Friday, June 17th, 1983, 12:47 P.M.
The sound of the doorbell echoing throughout the house thoroughly aggravated Kathy, especially since Belinda thought it was funny to push the button several times.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!!” she yelled out. “Quit ringing the fucking doorbell!”
Kathy opened up the front door and, lo and behold, there stood rock and roll’s most currently infamous She-Devils, standing on the concrete stoop with their arms full of goodies. They both looked like a technicolor version of Madonna: hair scrunched-up, sunglasses, red lipstick, and way too many chains and bracelets.
“What took you so long?” asked Gina, sarcastically.
“You know, when I buzz you guys through the front gate, you don’t have to ring the fuckin’ doorbell. I know it’s you— just let yourselves in,” Kathy instructed.
Belinda and Gina walked through the front door.
“Whoa— who peed in your Cheerios?” asked Gina.
“You guys just did,” deadpanned Kathy.
Belinda paused and pointed to one of the smaller bags.
“We got the good stuff,” she said.
“Wonderful,” returned Kathy, who still had lingering feelings that her day had been prematurely interrupted.
“Hey, hey, am I picking up on a vibe, here?” asked Belinda. “Do you not want us around?”
Kathy, whose nature was to always be accommodating, immediately changed her tone.
“No, no, it’s okay,” she corrected. “It’s just that.. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to party yet.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll change your mind once you crack open a beer,” said Gina.
Kathy looked around, then impulsively blurted out, “You know what? Why don’t we go downstairs?”
“Go downstairs? What the fuck for?” asked Gina.
“I don’t know— Let’s just go down there for awhile. Then we can come back up here,” stated Kathy. She seemed to be steering them downstairs as if she had something lying around that she didn’t want them to see. In reality, she had no concrete reason. She was simply befuddled and couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Whatever,” summed up Belinda. “As long as you got some tunes down there.”
“Oh, yeah, of course, I got my stereo down there,” said Kathy. “Let’s go.”
And so, without any further grumbling, our happy-go-lucky trio gathered their consumables and trudged down the stairs into Kathy’s awaiting dungeon. In fact, had she decided to nickname her basement “The Dungeon,” it would have been quite the appropriate title considering she had accumulated very few pieces of furniture and had only one light bulb dangling from the ceiling. The only decent amenity was brand new carpeting that she had installed over the entire floor. All in all, it looked like a gangster’s hideaway.
“Kathy, you haven’t fixed this place up at all,” observed Gina. “I thought you were gonna do that?”
“I will… I just need some more time… I haven’t decided what I want to do with it yet,” said Kathy.
“This should be your studio,” suggested Belinda.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Kathy agreed.
Gina reached into one of her brown, paper bags and pulled out a beer bong.
“Hey, Kathy, look what we brought,” she said.
“Omigod, aren’t we a little too.. sophisticated for a beer bong?” asked Kathy.
Describing themselves as “sophisticated” made them all do a “spit-take.”
“Us? Sophisticated?” questioned Belinda. “That’ll be the day. Nobody in the world thinks we’re sophisticated,” she added.
“Yeah, maybe you should do the first one,” said Gina, referring to the bong. “You seem like you got a stick up your ass today.”
“I’m fine,” defended Kathy. “Just.. gimme a beer and let me relax.”
After putting down their stuff and filling the all-important cooler full of beer to be iced down, The Three Amigos made themselves comfortable around the thick, round, wooden table that Kathy had positioned under the light. It was an old table and chair set that she had brought with her from her previous digs that, over the years, had developed some profound, sentimental value deep down in her heart. For some reason, she just couldn’t seem to part with it.
Feeling like teenagers with their parents upstairs, the girls spent the next couple of hours enjoying their youthful energy— laughing, telling jokes and stories relating to their lives, playing some cards, imbibing on their intoxicants, and having the usual good time. They didn’t necessarily like being cooped-up inside the house on beautiful days, but oftentimes had no choice. Being three of the most famous girls in America came with a price tag. They planned on going to the beach more often, but found it too uncomfortable once they got recognized. Being harassed by fans sucked all the fun out of simple activities, and finding private spots along the beach was not as easy as it sounded either.
Having her privacy invaded was something that especially bothered Belinda. Sometimes she fantasized about getting away from it all; meeting a simple, decent, loving man, and taking him out to the country to raise their family. Some place where she could enjoy the fresh air and the wide open spaces with her children. Some place away from all the madness of L.A. and show-business.
Some place away from the prison of fame.