𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀 彡 [n. sixx] [✔]

𝔱𝔴𝔬!

✧･ﾟ: 𝔭𝔲𝔫𝔨 𝔴𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔞!

1989

Innocence, virtue, decency, or whatever it was that people called it nowadays was not something Tanya Ventura displayed in her daily life. The young women from Malibu and the up-and-coming actresses from the heart of Hollywood could come nowhere close to the crass attitude of someone like Tanya. Those girls were all pristine and polished in nearly every aspect, all the while, on the opposite side of the spectrum, Tanya claimed her spot on the imaginary throne as being one of the sleaziest chicks to ever walk the West Coast of the United States.

Okay, so maybe that in itself was a stretch, but Tanya did get around in more ways than one. One of the most egregious and disgusting words men referred to her as was the "punk whore from Ventura." Nothing more and nothing less. They didn't even have the decency to get her name and they barely knew anything about her even if Vicious Ventura—her band which was still going strong—had released three albums since their highly anticipated launch in the music realm. There was minimum praise for all their success despite the thousands of record sales they managed to secure. Tanya Ventura—even with the official change of her surname—was still known by some for being the daughter of the high and mighty Mr. Charles Sweeney.

The platinum blonde chick was still tied to that monster of a man. A man who refused to attend to his daughter's emotions when she was younger because his workaholic trait blinded him. This was also the same man who was too embarrassed to visit his wife in rehab after poor Georgia Sweeney got addicted to hallucinogens and not only that, but Mr. Sweeney also failed his second child—a sweet little blonde girl who fell off the apple tree in the backyard after trying to reach for the summer fruit. The sound plus the mashing red and blue lights—almost forming a deep purple—from the ambulance was still a very much reoccurring image in Tanya's lucid nightmares. Her dear mother's screams of agony had also been permanently implanted within the hippocampus of her brain.

And when the young punk rocker wasn't busy reliving childhood trauma, she was focused on inviting various greaseballs who claimed to be musicians in the making up into her dilapidated apartment which was about ten minutes from The Strip and show them the best time of their lives right before kicking them to the curb and then finding some other decent-looking young dude who would soothe her needs. The needs of never having loved and never having been shown the right amount of compassion. And while compassion wasn't what flowed through the veins of these no-good losers, for a moment, Tanya felt wanted, treasured, and needed.

The blondie was just afraid to keep any of them since disappointment was the last thing she was looking for in a world filled with rock n roll and temptation. None of her hookups were as notable as the passionate night she spent with Warren DeMartini—who was actually a giant personality in Los Angeles considering his band exceeded expectations with their multiple platinum records. Tanya was shocked and intrigued when the lead guitarist propositioned her to a night of recklessness in the comfort of his own house—a mansion actually.