Straight Life - Art Pepper [192]
We goofed around, talked about everything, and finally she said, "It probably was pretty hard there being without sex." And so we made love, without really any feeling. I noticed that she smelled clean, and her cunt was pretty, and she made love good. Then she said, "Where do you think you should stay?" I had to find a place to live for the parole department. She took me to a hotel and I got a room and she said, "Well, what are you going to do now? Why don't you come over to my place. You won't have to eat out. It'll be cheaper." We ate, and she said, "It's no use you going home. You're welcome to stay here if you want." So I spent the night, and instead of doing anything else I ended up staying with her. She was so strong. She eventually just always seemed to keep me around. That's the way it started. I stayed there. And pretty soon I was just there.
3
1966-1978
19
Christine
1966 - 1968
WHILE I WAS in Quentin the last time I got a letter from a counselor at the women's prison at Corona. She said that Diane was there at CRC, a lightweight prison for little kids and lame little girls that I was never able to go to: I was too evil and bad, a wild monster convict. Diane wanted to write to me, so her counselor wrote first to make sure I wanted to correspond. I wrote back and said yeah, sure, because I was already formulating a -plan.
I had never been able to do all I wanted to do to Diane. I'd put her through a lot, but we'd gotten hooked again and that had stopped it. I wrote to her, and she answered. She had written Les Koenig at Contemporary Records. She'd used my name and begged him for my albums. He sent her about seven of them, and she had the albums all up in her room. That was her claim to fame at CRC. She was the Great Art Pepper's Old Lady. All the chicks would say, "Wow, is that your old man?" We corresponded, and she tried to clean up for all the things she'd done when I was in Quentin before and she was in Frisco. I wrote back, "Don't worry about a thing. I can hardly wait until we get back together again. Everything will be different." I had her completely strung out, and she thought everything was cool, but I'd never forgotten what she'd done. I'd heard millions more stories about her being used by black pimps, and balling chicks, and blowing everything I owned.
As it happened, I got out first and went to Hollywood and called Christine, and we started making it together. But I kept writing to Diane, telling her I was out and everything was great and I was going to send her money and I was going to come and visit her. Here I was for the first time with her in prison and me out, and she's dying for a visit. I'd tell her, "Don't worry. I'll be up as soon as I can. I'll send you money. I love you." And she's falling all over herself telling the girls, "He's coming to see me! He's going to send me money!" She's getting all prettied up. I wrote and told her, "I'll be up on the weekend. Get all ready for me." Which she had done to me. I had waited week after weekend all dressed up. I wouldn't even sit down because I didn't want to wrinkle my pants. I'd paid to have my clothes pressed to be as clean and handsome as I could, and I'd stand out in the yard waiting for my name to be called, and week after week passed without a word, and I never saw her, never got a penny from her, nothing but stories from people saying