Babylon Confidential: A Memoir of Love, Sex, and Addiction Read Online Free PDF

was on the floor, and it looked like the aftermath of a burglary. The only things in the fridge were water and champagne.
    On a glass coffee table were some really tacky earrings, and Billy wanted me to wear them.
    “Put those on, darlin’. Put ’em on, put ’em on. They suit you.”
    No, they fucking don’t. Imagine earrings with three fluffy snowballs hanging on a gold chain. I wore them all night and only found out later that they belonged to Billy’s insanely jealous live-in girlfriend and that if she’d seen me wearing them my odds of surviving the night would have been slim at best. I think Billy was hoping that she’d run into us and he’d get to watch a catfight.
    But thankfully that didn’t happen, and instead Matt and Billy decided that they’d show us their favorite New York haunts. We ended up at the Limelight, which was this huge Gothic Revival church that had been a rehab center before it was converted into a nightclub. That night Jimmy Page and Robert Plant surprised the audience by playing an impromptu set. I was a huge Led Zeppelin fan, and there I was in the front row just a few feet from my idols. Matt Dillon and Billy Idol faded into the background; I forgot they were even there until Billy tapped me on the shoulder. Matt was taking my girlfriend from Kentucky off to the bathroom for some recreational activities, and he thought that we should follow suit. And from memory he didn’t put it that delicately.
    By then my girlfriend had told me the story about the earrings, and to be honest, as much of an Anglophile as I am, I just didn’t find Billy very attractive or interesting. Add that to the fact that Led Zeppelin were playing, and without giving it a second thought I brushed off my first celebrity paramour. He should have known he had no chance when stacked up against Jimmy Page working the fret boards of his double-necked Gibson.
    The next day I was back at the modeling agency.
    “Claudia, darling, you’re the perfect height and you’ve got a nice face but please, we have to weigh you before we can go any further. Do you mind stepping on the scales? Thank you, darling.”
    I climbed onto the scales. I was 5'9" and 120 pounds. Zero body fat.
    “Look, darling, we like you. You’ve got an interesting look but if you want to be a model you’ve got to commit to losing another five to ten pounds.”
    “Ten more pounds?”
    It was ridiculous. How much more could I starve myself? I wasn’t carrying any weight. We left the meeting, and I told Pam that I didn’t know how to become the person they were looking for. I was upset, anxious, worried that I might be passing up my one big shot. And then Pam stepped up to the plate.
    “You know what? You’re fine as you are, I’m not gonna let you do this. Let’s go home.”
    Thank God she said that; it was just what I needed to hear. I was a thin, pretty teenager and they wanted me to be anorexic. I went out and bought a bagel with cream cheese and felt a huge sense of relief. My friends at school couldn’t believe that I’d turned down the chance to be a model, and I’ll admit that the lifestyle had certainly been dazzling, but at fifteen I wasn’t ready psychologically, and I sure wasn’t going to kill myself for it. I refocused on my real goal—becoming an actress—which was a dream worth killing myself for.

    In Laguna Beach my best friend at school was Kara. She was this beautiful, tall brunette. She was carefree and her own person, and that resonated strongly with me. When I was with her I felt that it just might be possible to move to Hollywood and realize my dream.
    My mom had this very cool 1959 Mercedes 190SL, which looked like it belonged in a James Bond movie. We’d drive it down to the beach and buy chocolate chip croissants and lattes. That was our little pleasure. Sometimes Kara and I would go to the gay bars, the Boom Boom Room or the Little Shrimp, and drink—in our cheerleading outfits, no less! We’d watch drag queens