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I don't remember how or why . . . All I remember is the Mexican heat. Night. Drunk. Cass and I, alone, top down, careening
along the coast highway with Cass scrunched over in the corner crying.
I'd told her about Michelle. She called me an asshole! "Stop thinking with your dick. Try thinking with your big head
for a change .. She doesn't really like either one of you. She loves herself more than anybody in the fuckin' world
anyway - you both know that. Michelle will never leave John for you . . . ah, take me home, shithead."
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A few days later, back in LA, I woke up with Michelle sitting on the bed. We started to make out and then -
I looked up through the dining room and saw John standing on the stairs. He was really thrilled with the whole thing.
I tried to explain . . .
Explain, right. Neither of us knew what to say, or do, so we didn't do anything.
They left the house. John found a little place up in Laurel Canyon. Cass just gave me a glare that said everything
there was to say and moved into her own place too. I moved into Sandy Koufax's Tropicana Motor Hotel down on the
flats . . . and we just kept on recording.
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Months pass. California Dreamin' comes out and that helps - driving down Sunset Strip in a brand new, red Cadillac
convertible with your music blaring out of the radio? No denying that feels like a flat stone should.
And the star part of it? Our private table at The Whiskey A Go-Go? Limos idling at the curb? Affairs with the rich and
famous? Cass was in her element. John and Michelle held court. I ... I held quarts. Seagram's Crown Royal in one hand.
Harvey's Bristol Cream in the other. I called it lollipop juice and pretended everything was just fine.
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But, John and Michelle couldn't live together. So, John and I ended up living together instead - in a big house up on Wood's Drive in the Hollywood Hills. We're in a holding pattern, suffering, by the pool and Irma The Happening Girl, Typhoid Mary, Alice The Horse, The Hummer Twins and the entire The Lido Revue of Paris could not mend our broken hearts. And the neighbours are up in arms. "For God's sake turn off the pool lights! You're frightening the children." We cannot go on this way and survive. Solution: we'll make Michelle decide. So, when she shows up for rehearsal we say, "We both love you. Choose."
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Stupid or what ? Michelle bursts into tears and rushes out just as Cass shows up. "What's going on?" I try to explain and she says: "You people are too civilized. It's sick. Like bartering. It won't work. None of you should be respected." And Cass storms out of the house. So, John and I are stuck together - mooning over Michelle. New solution. We went out and bought matching motorcycles. Noisy things motorcycles. Every time either one of us leaves the house, the other knows it. That way neither of us could sneak off and see Michelle . . .
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