It's So Easy - Duff Mckagan [117]
After the interview, he said, “Hey, man, I know you’re sober now and that you’re not into model chicks and all that shit. But there’s this girl, friend of my family. We’ve been friends since we were kids, she’s really cool, she’s been modeling in Milan and Paris. She just moved to L.A.”
I wasn’t sure what he wanted, and just said, “Yeah, sure, man, I can show her around or whatever when I get back.”
“Great!”
But instead of giving me her number, he reached for the phone in my hotel room and dialed her number.
“Her name is Susan,” he said as he waited for her to answer.
He quickly told her about me and then just handed me the phone. We exchanged pleasantries and agreed to meet up at some stage when I got back to Los Angeles in October. She sounded nice.
After that, Stain and I left the room to get coffees, and as we walked past a newsstand he pointed to a magazine cover.
“That’s Susan there,” he said.
“Oh!”
Call me shallow, but I was much more interested once I saw that photo. She had long brown hair and dark almond-shaped eyes. Fucking beautiful. She was nearly naked in the shot, too, and her body was absolutely slamming.
“Yeah,” Stain said, reading my mind. “She’s the real deal. I didn’t want to say it, but the photographer Steven Meisel gave her the nickname ‘the body’ after a shoot.”
“What’s the body’s last name?”
“Holmes.”
I called Susan Holmes again the next day. We talked for a long time. I called her again a few days later. We started talking a lot. I still had a few dates to play in Europe, but by the time I was ready to fly home from Germany at the end of September, we had agreed she would pick me up at Burbank airport.
When she approached me at the airport, it was marvelous to be able to look her in the eyes without craning my neck: she was five foot eleven. At six foot three, I appreciate tall women.
I wore a ratty tank top for the long flight. It was comfortable, of course, but I also had a clever plan. Susan and I were supposed to go out to dinner when I arrived.
When we climbed into her car, I said, “Listen, why don’t you just come up to my house? I can shower and change …”
Susan wasn’t having it. She suggested we go to a supercasual sushi place instead and hang out there.
Wow, she has morals. This was getting interesting.
She had no real idea of what I had gone through beyond rumors and the little I had already told her about what I had been like once upon a time. When she ordered a sake to calm her nerves (of course … I am a stud!), I was not bothered in the slightest. I was beginning to get comfortable in situations like this. The Neurotic Outsiders tour had helped a bunch. I was no longer “gripping” every time I went to a bar or spent time around people who drank. Socializing with “normies”—people who function normally rather than abusing alcohol—helped me see just how screwy my life had been and how bad an alcoholic I was. Being around normal drinkers actually started to make me feel more secure in my sobriety.
I soon learned that when Susan got together with her girlfriends, they often had a glass of wine or a cocktail—the stuff normal people do. Susan wasn’t a big drinker, though. Not even close. One glass of wine was almost too much for her. I always found this amusing. Back in the day, a bottle of wine was like taking a sip of water or chewing a piece of gum for me. It didn’t affect me.
I was sober and honest, so the first few weeks with Susan were emotionally intense. A month together felt like a year—in a good way. Without the bullshit, we got to know each other quickly and built a solid foundation. And when Susan did finally come to my house, Chloe took an instant shine to her.
I called Cully soon after I started hanging out with Susan.
“Holy shit, I hit the lottery,