Strangely Grace Jones performed SLAVE TO THE RYTHYM at the Queen's Jubilee, while spinning a hula-hoop around her waist. An odd choice for QEII, but Grace Jones has reached a broad audience over the years.
In 1995 Grace Jones had performed in LA and after the show she came to the Milk Bar in Beverly Hills, where I was working as the doorman. The singer greeted me with a kiss. We knew each other from New York. A fellow denizen of the night. We had mutual friends. Arthur Weinstein, the Prince of the Night, for one and when the night ended she suggested that I accompany her party of Hollywood bankers to the Beverly Hills Hotel for further fun. I had nothing else to do and rode their limosine to the famed hotel. I knew one of the bankers from New York. JZ was trouble and under investigation for insider trading, but this evening he and his friends were enthralled by the presence of the charcoal black disco queen.
We were seven in a limo counting two starlets. A gassed banker had a bag of blow for twenty. Inside the hotel suite Grace grabbed the stash and we locked ourselves in the bathroom rather than listened to three zooted investors brag about their millions to the coke-glazed starlets in a bad remake of Tony Montana from the last scene of SCARFACE.
Grace and I spoke about friends from New York in the toilet.
Drugs sex and rock and roll
In Hollywood was only the drugs.
The bankers banged on the door. I opened it and told them to fuck off. Grace and I spent a few more minutes in the bathroom, then rejoined the party. At dawn we shared a taxi home. Her to the Marmont. Me to a small bungalow over the Hills in North Hollywood. The sun was harsh. Both of us had sunglasses, I didn't get to sleep until noon.
That was in 1995.
Grace seemed to be my age.
41.
Maybe my math is bad.
Everyone lies about their age and weight after 30.
God save the queen of disco indeed.
