![]() I grabbed on to Rodney Bingenheimer and said I was with him. I had probably kissed boys by that point, but I wasn’t ready for David Bowie. Next time Bowie was in town, though, maybe five months later, I got a call at home from his bodyguard, a huge black guy named Stuey. He told me that David wanted to take me to dinner. I wasn’t spending a lot of time at school anyway. I said that I would like to go but that I wanted to bring my friend Sable. I figured that she would sleep with him while I got to hang out and have fun. At the time, Sable and her sister Coral were both dating Iggy Pop, spending time at the home of Tony DeFries up in Laurel Canyon. People there were so high all the time - Quaaludes, heroin, whatever. In the limo ride to the Rainbow, Sable said, “If you touch David, I will kill you.” I didn’t think she was kidding. We sat at this corner table in a private room. John Lennon and Yoko Ono stopped by to say hello. We were drinking cocktails and looking at menus when some crazy guy dove over the table and said to David, “You flaming fucking faggot. Kill Bowie!” Next thing you know, Stuey’s got the guy pinned down and we’re being escorted out a side door and back into the limo. “Danny’s Song” was playing on the radio and Sable started singing to David: “We ain’t got honey, but I’m so in love with your money.” He laughed so hard. We got to the Beverly Hilton and all went up to Bowie’s enormous suite. ![]()
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