58
Saturday, June 7th, 1986, 11:20 A.M.
“Then I woke up, Mom and Dad, were rolling on the couch.”
“Rollin’ numbers, rock and rollin’ got my Kiss records out!!”
Charlotte was belting out the lyrics to “Surrender” at the top of her lungs as she raced down the freeway towards North Palm Springs, constantly pressing the buttons on her pre-set to find the right song, and cranking up the tunes on her Blaupunkt to 11. She was driving rather recklessly, weaving in and out of lanes to pass up the slower motorists, all the while gyrating in her driver’s seat to the swinging sounds of the seventies. Feeling invincible, she stuck out her tongue and flashed the “rock and roll” sign to a poor, elderly couple from Encino, who returned the favor by expressing a look on their faces like they had just seen El Diablo. She also scared the shit out of a family of tourists from Japan, who went back home to Honshu wishing the results of World War 2 had ended with a more favorable outcome.
Now that her libido was filled to the brim from Jeff’s previously mentioned wonder-wiener and his dogged love-making, (they barked that out a few times also) Charlotte couldn’t wait to get out to the compound, make herself a slushy drink, take a dip in the pool, then lay out in the sun and relax. God knows she deserved it. Even though she kicked off the weekend the night before, her life was essentially a ball-busting whirlwind of work, work, and then more work. She didn’t have to justify her actions to anybody.
The Go-Go’s estate and accompanying mansion was the result of all that hard work. It was the crown jewel of the corporation and Charlotte’s personal pride and joy. All of her life she dreamed of having such a place, eventually becoming more fixated on the idea after visiting the Playboy Mansion on several occasions. After having many personal conversations with Hef himself, Charlotte became more determined than ever to outdo that pipe-smoking, cradle-robber by having such a place of her own. And what better way to do it than to have it co-owned by her four, favorite compatriots. It wasn’t just a matter of having more than Hugh, it was—well—oh, fuck it— it was ALL about having more than that over-sexed narcissist.
Back in the early days, the girls talked about having a special kind of retreat to go to when it was time to work on an album. You know, like one of those cool, old castles that the British superbands went to when it was time for them to do the same thing? Unfortunately for our five, fabulous foxes, CBS came along and quashed those fantasies by placing them under contract and keeping a close watch on them. The only castle they would ever get to go to was White Castle.
One of the more ironic and whimsical things about the outline of the estate, was that the girls essentially designed it all by themselves. Naturally, they knew nothing about architecture, and so it was hilarious to watch the five of them sitting around the table with construction paper and magic-markers, drawing out what they wanted like a bunch of thirteen-year-old teenagers working on a school project. After explaining their drawings to the key architect of the firm they hired, the rest was up to the experts. It came out almost exactly like they wanted. It wasn’t as involved as they thought it would be.
Starting from behind the house, the girls all wanted the tennis courts and the swimming pool in the back yard, with the man-made lake surrounding those two amenities in a U-shape. The three-hole golf course was to run along the west wall, ending up with the horses’ stables and riding area on the south end of the property. The servants quarters were to be situated on the circular drive, directly across from the main entrance to the mansion, with the classic, stone, mermaid fountain sitting in the middle. The bandshell sat out on the west lawn. Like Gina mentioned before: It was wretched excess. Something sorely needed.
The girls were more than pleased with the final results of the outside of the house. The inside of the house, however, entailed one, controversial feature that required a majority vote in order to be installed. The mansion was to have only five bedrooms built—one for each member of the Go-Go’s, with their names etched out in solid oak above the doors. Belinda thought it was tacky and hated the idea. Gina eventually sided with her after Belinda strong-armed her in private. Jane was the deciding factor.
Poor Jane. Once again, our sweet, little, sugar cookie had to be the scapegoat.
Well, the rooms eventually got built according to plan and everyone slowly got used to the idea. Belinda pouted about it for a few months, then just decided to keep her mouth shut about the whole thing. She was a woman that fully understood the importance of democracy and realized that it was the best policy for the health and well-being of the band. If only the same Nazi-like tactic had worked on Jane the same way it worked on Gina.
The rest of the dwelling included an indoor swimming pool, a movie theater, and a state-of-the-art recording studio.
Nobody had a problem with any of that.
Copyright 2021
by Clark Wright