Blind Item #9 - Elegant Degradation – A Himmmm Blind Item Story – Part 2

With us at the Rainbow was another close friend of mine named Ben, aka Himmmm 3, or H3.  Ben was a writer-director-producer of movies and was just starting to rapidly gain acclaim.  In fact, several of his indie projects had landed him his coveted first studio film which he was slated to begin shooting very soon.  Growing up in Los Angeles with a father as an actor – Ben was a happy-go-lucky guy, with a touch of genius.  Rounding out our group of friends was a music producer/engineer named Duke, aka Himmmm 2, aka H2.  He too had grown up inside the industry, specifically the music industry as his father was a legendary record executive/producer/manager.  Duke originally hailed from the eastern U.S., and he also happened to be a cousin of mine and a life-long friend. He was about the size of a Miami Dolphins' Tight End, but a gentle giant.

It wasn't just my birthday that brought Lemmy and others over to our booth, but probably the beautiful females who had joined us to celebrate.  Among those was a former child actress named Gillian, whom you'd probably call B-list in her heyday.  Still acting at present, and still beautiful – she'd probably be considered C+ list now.  That night she was as gorgeous as she was brilliant and she and I had re-kindled a long-lost teen flirtation.

Another smart beauty in our party was Jessica, who worked at the William Morris Agency.  Jess was another cousin of mine, and she helped keep me in line.  (Or tried to anyway).  Jess had brought along a guest for the evening, Sara.  This lady was like a vault of walking Blind Items.  She was a beautiful young CPA at a top business-management firm.  She was secretly dating a man who was 30+ years her senior.  He was an A+list songwriter who'd written some of the 70s most iconic songs (alongside a Rock Hall of Fame group with which he was associated).  On the sly from him, Sara also dated a legendary A+list movie writer-director known for his odd proclivities and his weed habit which Sara revealed he was always trying to write off as a business expense.

At our gathering that night at the Rainbow, Jess and Sara seemed to be having the most fun of anyone, teasing and torturing poor Lemmy.  Contrary to published notions of most metal legends, Lemmy was a perfect gentleman there.  But even I had to warn the ladies with that biblical proverb: "You mess with the bull and you'll get the horns."  During Round #455 of drinks, Sara just so happened to remember that she'd brought my gift with her. "Oh, you didn't have to do that", I said.  "I didn't", she said.  "I was on my way over here from the office and ran into JN, (a former Playboy Playmate).  She dropped it off to give to you from her and her husband." Now that was truly sweet.  JN's hubby was a Cartier executive.  Sara said, "But I brought it to you so that much counts at least".  Uh, thanks?

I opened up the bag and found a nice Cartier pouch.  Jessica's first words: "Ooh! Me! Me, me, gimme!". I opened it up and inside was a stunning gold and diamond cross necklace.  A very LARGE necklace, with seven very perfect diamonds in it.  The note read: "May this forever bring you a lifetime of blessings. Love C-J".  Holding it up to the light was truly brilliant.  Doc then said, "Good God – do you think that's real?".  I just laughed and told him I didn't think a Cartier exec gifted too much cubic zirconium.  Which despite laughs, lead into Duke asking what it was worth, and Sara settling the matter by appraising it for five-digits.  All pointless because I'd never part with it for any reason, ever.  An overwhelming gift of generosity and beauty, from two extraordinary friends of mine.

The crowd in the Rainbow got thicker, and we all got more spirited.  Doc and I stepped outside a few moments.  I entrusted no one but Lemmy with that necklace since if anyone dared rip it off of him? They'd lose far more than dollar amounts – they'd lose limbs.  Outside in the car Doc and I did some stupid stuff.  Since it was a special occasion? We did it together.  And by "together", I mean that I smoked a joint while watching him smoke heroin.  We shared a rail of cocaine.  I appreciated his offering to share his drugs – especially since I'd paid for them with the loan I'd given him earlier.  "Happy Birthday, buddy", he said. "I'm going to get you like a giant brick of Mexican weed, any day now.  Just as soon as you spot me the money to cover it."  Really, that's fine.  I'm good.

As we floated back inside, we suddenly found ourselves the center of attention.  Everyone was having a great time dancing, eating, flirting, and singing.  In what had been a long-standing tradition among us friends for years, we always did a "Birthday Crawl" for my special day.  Not unlike a pub crawl, it is where we bounce from place to place drinking and partying over the period of around a day (or longer) until I've had enough and swear off birthday's forever.  Well, not birthdays but…the parties anyway.  A movable feast that usually results in famine.  This year we decided to do the Rainbow, followed by The Whisky, followed by the "real" day-long party – at a Los Angeles-area motel.  Since we had in mind just such a long-established "home away from home" over in Burbank? We spread the word.  Sadly, in was Summer in Hollywood – June exactly, which meant most people were on vacation.

As the drinking and cavorting continued up to midnight at the Rainbow, we were informed it was time to stagger down the street for "Round Two".  Our friends headed to The Whisky-A-Go-Go (aka The Whisky) first, for the first set of the rock show.  It was one of those alt-rock showcase nights with multiple bands playing.  Bidding our goodbyes and thanks, we stumbled down the Sunset Strip sidewalk's short distance from Rainbow to Whisky.  We wrangled everyone we knew to join in our little party led by the giant Duke.